Chapter Forty-Two: Four Pavilions, One Hall, and a Garden

At the summit shrouded in mist, the scene was clear and bright. A colossal lotus flower, as if born of heaven itself, bore a grand palace that stood proudly between earth and sky—a truly magnificent sight.

The lotus leaves were divided into seven petals: red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and purple. Each petal was the size of a small mountain. Chen Hongxu stood upon the purple petal, gazing down the cliff below, feeling an illusion of looking down upon all living beings.

He called out to Fan Caobao, who was still handing in his pledge to the corpulent immortal crane, then followed Wang Qianxu, who had already reached the lotus’s heart.

Fan Caobao turned and hurried after the two, muttering through gritted teeth, “One day, the heavens will have to swallow you whole.”

Chen Hongxu found it somewhat amusing—Caobao was actually quarreling with a mere bird. It seemed the journey had indeed been harsh on him.

Wang Qianxu observed everything quietly. Was it because he had realized that Caobao could never defeat that flying crane in his lifetime, or had his heart grown so cold that others’ lives and deaths no longer mattered to him?

He continued on, stopping and starting as if every corner of this place held memories from years past. He said nothing, only pausing briefly in reminiscence before moving forward again. Chen Hongxu and Fan Caobao followed closely, gradually gaining a rough understanding of the layout on the lotus.

The palace gates, gardens, and dwellings were arranged along a central axis. Four pavilions stood at the southeast, southwest, northwest, and northeast corners, their purpose unknown. Behind the residences was a suspension bridge extending straight into the sky. According to Wang Qianxu, this was a precarious spatial rift carved when the War Spirit was young and impetuous—no one else had dared ascend it.

Wang Qianxu led Chen and Fan through the garden, lingering briefly on the arched bridge. He touched the stone lion there, murmuring to himself, “Back then, the master’s favorite pastime seemed to be standing here alone, teasing the thousands of crimson carp in that pond.”

Chen Hongxu glanced toward the pond bottom. The water was crystal clear, but so clear that not a single fish could be seen—let alone thousands of crimson carp.

“Everyone’s dead. What’s the use of fish now? It only stirs sorrow,” Wang Qianxu sighed deeply, folding his hands behind his back and continuing onward.

Fan Caobao stuck out his tongue, eager to catch up, but was suddenly pulled back by Chen Hongxu’s outstretched hand. Bewildered, he turned to Chen, who was staring dumbfounded.

Suddenly, the pond beneath the arched bridge erupted with several thunderous booms, like celestial thunderclaps. The once-clear water instantly turned a deep crimson. Then, a pallid white streak floated atop the surface, and countless crimson carp inexplicably surfaced, flipping their white bellies above the water.

Chen and Fan exchanged glances, both puzzled by Wang Qianxu’s eccentric temperament. They dared not linger longer and hurried to catch up with the seemingly unaffected old man.

Passing through an exquisite corridor, the three arrived at the first pavilion on the left. Wang Qianxu, naturally, wore a nostalgic expression, while Fan Caobao cast sly glances and nodded toward Chen Hongxu.

The “Armory Pavilion” was naturally where the sect stored its weapons. Given the formidable might of the Luo Shen Sect, it would be unreasonable if the armory lacked at least a few divine weapons.

The three stepped inside, but all they saw were spears—nothing but spears.

Fan Caobao swallowed hard, eyes gleaming with greed. Chuckling foolishly, he asked, “Brother Chen, why do the weapons on the floor look exactly like the golden spears the War Spirit used to carry back then?”

Chen Hongxu didn’t know, but Wang Qianxu explained, “The Broken Immortal Spear ranks eighth on the Immortal Weapon List. Back then, the master borrowed one from the Spear Immortal to toy with. Finding the feel quite satisfying, he forged over thirty-six thousand replicas. Though their power doesn’t match the real Broken Immortal Spear, the master’s craftsmanship ensured these are still fine halfway divine weapons. Want to pick one to play with?”

Chen Hongxu gestured for Fan Caobao to choose one. After all, the spear looked stylish—far more imposing than the battered stick Caobao often carried.

Fan Caobao shook his head with a smile. It wasn’t that he didn’t want one, but carrying just a few was useless, and too many he couldn’t take along. Besides, though these mass-produced weapons were good, he simply had no use for them. Their best purpose was to equip armies. More importantly, his own stick was quite famous—it was just that his strength was insufficient for now.

Wang Qianxu seemed to have anticipated this, turning to lead the two toward the next pavilion.

“Hey, old man, this pavilion is four stories high. You just showed us the entrance and want to leave? That’s just fooling us!” Fan Caobao’s skills in petty theft were nearly bursting from restraint; there was no way he’d let Wang Qianxu off so easily without a look around.

Although the Armory Pavilion soared to the heavens, it indeed had only four floors. Wang Qianxu didn’t even glance back. “The upper three floors are for the Eternal Life, Human King, and Human Emperor levels. You two aren’t strong enough to enter, and I won’t pick good weapons for you up there. Fate is fate—if your strength isn’t sufficient, don’t always expect to get something for free.”

Fan Caobao silently cursed, too afraid to shout. After all, Wang Qianxu had embarrassed him more than once—he bore a shadow of that in his heart.

Following Wang’s footsteps past two more pavilions, Chen and Fan found them utterly useless.

One was called the “Nation-Guard Pavilion,” housing various imperial seals collected by the War Spirit across the Three Thousand Worlds. Though these seals exuded a certain regal aura, it was of little practical use to outsiders—except for the legendary invulnerability. Trying to sell these seals? Both Chen and Fan found that burdensome, and even if they wanted to, Wang Qianxu wouldn’t allow such a desecration of the War Spirit’s lifework.

The second pavilion was useless not for lack of function but because neither Chen nor Fan could enter it. With Wang’s tacit consent, they both shook their heads helplessly. This pavilion, called the “Star-Gazing Pavilion,” corresponded to one in the World City, hinting at a mysterious maternal connection. Each realm could enter it once; Chen and Fan had already entered it back in World City, so here it was inaccessible.

Wang Qianxu glanced approvingly at Chen Hongxu, as if acknowledging he had mastered the ever-changing runes. Since the two couldn’t enter, he led them toward the final pavilion.

Three months later, Chen Hongxu stood on the stone arch bridge, respectfully bowing to Wang Qianxu. “Thank you, sir, for relieving me of this worry.”

Wang waved off the thanks casually. “The Jiuzhou Great World, with its nine major sects, has since the fall of World City been crystallized by the master’s great divine power, and that one province vanished from this world along with it. The current Jiuzhou World is a shadow of its name—more like an Eight-Province World. But no one dares say that openly.

“I am a disciple of the Luo Shen Sect. Back then, over thirty-six thousand of us perished in that divine war. The scenes in your mind are not imaginary. The master’s crushing defeat and the gamble of the sect’s survival forced him to flee to a small survival world. It was because human hearts are inscrutable—the so-called Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, long suppressed by the master, secretly wished to eliminate him and become the true rulers. But these talented frogs at the bottom of the well do not know that without the master’s relentless support, their peaceful reign as emperors would never have existed.

“Moreover, the Luo Shen Sect today is no longer what it once was. Except for this old, stagnant man—me—seven other sects each rely on different powers. This pond of crimson carp has long been an informant for some faction, but since I’m rarely here, I choose to ignore it. Now that you appear with the master’s presence, you may disrupt this balance. Those old villains fear you might become another master, so they want to snuff you out in your cradle.

“When your friend emerges, return to your original small world. There’s no need to come back until you reach the Human King level. Jiuzhou is on the brink of chaos—without the master’s suppression, who can command whom? The great sects like Nine Veins and Miao Yin, once mighty, have been fractured by the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors. Their annual sect competitions are meaningless in my eyes. They’re all from the same sect, just in different provinces. Is there really that much to fight over? If you want to train and break through, show courage and fight at the top. People only grow through internal strife...”

Wang suddenly stopped speaking and looked toward the last pavilion, smiling with satisfaction.

Chen Hongxu stared at the beam of light shooting skyward from within the pavilion and murmured, “The Tower of Ascension—Caobao is really trying to poke a hole in the sky…”

Wang Qianxu looked up at the heavens and laughed through gritted teeth, “The sky…?”