Zanxing (Retranslated)

Chapter 345 - Sage Yushan (2)

“How much longer do you intend to linger here?” Shaoyang Zhenren spoke calmly, “Are you not going to continue forward?”

The black stone, engraved with the words of Sage Yushan, still lay quietly by the bridge, but their footsteps could no longer pause here.

After all, every moment was precious now. The rain in Douzhou was still pouring, and the messages from the communication talisman indicated that the floodwaters had already reached halfway up the mountains. If this continued, the people would have no place to hide and would be swallowed by the flood along with the mountains.

Sage Yushan had ascended a century ago, and while he left relics behind, they only served as proof that he had once been here.

“Let’s enter the hall.” Rong Shuang gripped her longsword tightly and took the lead, heading down the bridge.

As they descended, the mist before the hall gradually dispersed, and the grand structure hidden in the haze began to emerge clearly.

It was a dilapidated palace.

It was vast, much larger than the main hall of Taiyan Sect. Its carved eaves and walls were exquisitely crafted. It did not resemble a typical ceremonial hall but rather the palatial residences of the immortals in the Nine Heavens, with golden halls, magical instruments, and nine-branched candle holders.

Yet, both inside and outside the hall, everything was covered in a faint gray mist.

This palace had clearly fallen into disrepair.

It was as if the people who had once lived here had left many years ago, leaving behind only traces of their former splendor, reflecting a past glory.

“Do you feel the spiritual energy gathering toward the center?” Fu Ronghua suddenly asked.

In truth, he didn’t need to say it. Everyone had already noticed. It felt as though something within the hall was opening a wide mouth, desperately absorbing the surrounding spiritual energy. Their vital energy was involuntarily being drawn toward the center, and they could feel it slowly draining away.

“There’s more to it,” Rong Shuang’s expression was grave. “I think I hear the sound of water.”

It was as though a torrential downpour was crashing down from the sky, or a waterfall was plunging heavily from a cliff, the splashes echoing through the streams. The loud, chaotic noise came from the depths of the hall, yet there wasn’t the slightest trace of water on the ground.

Everyone’s hearts tightened.

This place was truly strange.

“Shall we keep moving forward?” Bu Jiang urged impatiently.

“Let’s go,” Shaoyang Zhenren replied.

Since they had come this far, no matter how strange it was, they could only grit their teeth and explore further. Besides, if cultivators lacked even this much courage, they would be stuck at this stage forever, never reaching the Great Dao.

Zanxing walked at the rear, while Mimi hopped to her side, hesitatingly looking up at her.

The Silver Moon Lion, which usually loved to race ahead, hesitated for the first time.

Zanxing patted its furry head and softly said, “Let’s go.”

After bypassing layers of curtains and crystal bead drapes, the space before them suddenly opened up.

This was a gigantic ceremonial hall, yet it was very different from the ceremonial halls in their sect.

The hall was shaped like a gentle circle, surrounded by white, as if enveloped in a void. At the four corners of the hall stood four massive silver pillars that seemed to pierce the clouds.

Yes, this hall had no roof, and above it was a vast expanse of white mist, floating and swirling endlessly.

But calling it a sky of clouds didn’t feel quite right either. It seemed as though a corner of the sky had been pierced, and from that corner, countless streams of pure white water flowed down.

The sound of rushing water came from here.

However, as the waterfall hit the ground, it didn’t create a splash. It scattered briefly in midair before turning into smoke and vanishing. When they stepped on the ground, they could feel a warm sensation rising from beneath their feet.

“Wojiao,” Shaoyang Zhenren suddenly spoke.

“Wojiao?” Tian Fangfang was puzzled. “What is that?”

Gu Baiying, gazing at the waters falling from the sky, answered his question, “When Yi shot down the nine suns, they fell into the sea and became Wojiao.”

According to legend, the warrior Yi shot down nine suns, and the fallen suns turned into Wojiao in the ocean.

“The water pours endlessly, and the rivers flow into the sea, but it never fills,” Meng Ying murmured. “Could this hall have been built from Wojiao stone? Because it’s so scorching hot, any water that touches it immediately evaporates.”

Otherwise, such a massive flood would have drowned the hall in an instant.

The sound of rushing water continued to echo, yet the hall remained eerily empty.

No, calling it empty wasn’t quite right. At the very center of the hall, it seemed as if someone had used a ruler to divide the space into countless small squares. At first glance, it was easy to overlook, but upon closer inspection, one could see that these squares formed a chessboard at the heart of the hall.

On the chessboard, there were numerous glowing figurines.

Zanxing’s heart stirred as she approached the figurines and squatted down to examine them closely.

It was unclear what material these figurines were made from. They felt smooth and cool to the touch, resembling white jade, and they glowed softly. Each was only about the size of a fist, with finely detailed features that seemed almost lifelike.

The one before Zanxing was an old man with meticulously groomed hair, his expression rigid and stern, as though slightly uncomfortable. He held a blood-red long blade in his hand.

Though it was only a figurine, when Zanxing looked at it, it felt as though she was gazing across time and space into the eyes of this old man, catching a glimpse of his cold, hardened expression.

Next to the figurine, a few strong, sharp characters were carved with the tip of a knife: Kongtan Laojun.

Zanxing hesitated for a moment before asking, “Who is Kongtan Laojun?”

“Kongtan Laojun?” Fu Ronghua looked toward Daoist Lingxin. “Isn’t that the ancestor of your sect?”

Years ago, Kongtan Laojun and Sage Yushan were the two most renowned figures in Douzhou, with cultivation levels nearly equal. As they neared ascension, Sage Yushan successfully ascended, but Kongtan Laojun fell. Perhaps out of jealousy, the members of the Chihua Sect had since held a grudge against the Taiyan Sect, constantly making snide remarks and picking fights. This enmity had lasted for years.

No one had witnessed Kongtan Laojun’s death. Only his direct disciple had received his final transmission. And now, a figurine of Kongtan Laojun was found here.

Could it be that Kongtan Laojun had also been here?

Daoist Lingxin was visibly shaken, quickly stepping up to the figurine of Laojun. He was so shocked that he couldn’t speak for a long time.

Kongtan Laojun wasn’t the only one. Rong Shuang spoke up, “This is… Zhuang Mengdie, the Soul Dream Master?”

The figurine depicted a young man of exceptional beauty, smiling at the group, with a blue butterfly resting on his fingertip. His gentle gaze seemed to draw them into a blissful springtime dream, evoking images of blooming flowers, verdant willows, and vibrant splendor.

Fu Ronghua exclaimed in surprise, “Zhuang Mengdie was the first and only Soul Dream Master in Douzhou. It’s said that his mental power reached the pinnacle, and he could topple tens of thousands of people through dreams. He, too, was once expected to ascend. Later…”

“Later, he vanished, and people rumored that he had fallen,” Bu Jiang finished the sentence. Noticing Zanxing’s gaze, Bu Jiang continued nonchalantly, “It’s said he was unmatched in beauty and charm. I once intended to meet him, but when I heard of his death, I gave up.” Her gaze lingered briefly on the figurine. “Now that I see this figurine, it seems the rumors were true. His appearance is indeed extraordinary.”