Volume One: The Celestial Cloud Palace Chapter One: The Immortal Realm

Chapter One: The Immortal Domain

“Could immortals truly exist in this world?”

The fierce wind howled, but the roar of the air around him was no longer as violent as it had been moments ago. Now, a man dressed in a dragon robe, appearing to be around forty or fifty, stood upon the clouds. Beneath his feet, the layers of clouds seemed to be descending, while the entire sky above appeared to draw closer to him.

Indeed, this man was undergoing “ascension.”

Yet he was, in every way, a mortal. He wore the imperial robe of a sovereign, once ruling a vast land, beloved by millions. But now, compelled by a strange stone, he was to bid farewell to his earthly throne and journey to a celestial realm teeming with the unknown.

Beneath his feet was a pitch-black stone slab, about the size of a washbasin. The stone, ancient and unadorned, resembled basalt in its natural form. But its connection with the man ran far deeper than mere coincidence.

At his birth, a meteor fell from the sky in an event the world called “A Celestial Descendant.” The northern heavens were ablaze with gold and silver light, so dazzling it was impossible to open one’s eyes, yet the radiance was benign. Instead, mortals on the ground heard ethereal music, as though from the immortal realms, stirring their hearts to dance, as if they might themselves ascend and become immortals. It was an indescribable, utterly marvelous scene.

Because of this “Celestial Descendant,” the emperor—this man’s father—immediately led his troops to the site where the meteor had fallen. Alas, the newborn prince, only a day old, was ensnared in a deadly struggle for power in the harem. By fortune’s grace, a loyal courtier intervened; what would have been a secret murder was averted, and the young prince escaped death. Thereafter, he began a long and humble life among common folk.

“Truly, you and I share a remarkable destiny.” Though he was in his forties or fifties, the man stood upright, his bearing still vigorous. The resolute lines of his face, chiseled as if by a blade, showed little of age’s erosion; one could imagine how striking his countenance had once been.

“You and I came into this world on the same day. You were enshrined in the palace by my father, while I, after many brushes with death, was raised among villagers. Yet my childhood was a happy one. Green Grass Village was my… no, it was my first real home. Father, mother, and Qingqing—thirty years have passed in a blink, and they have been gone these thirty years. If I hadn’t chosen to join the army, could I have protected Green Grass Village? Might I have remained by their side, given them the happiest of homes?” Gazing down at the black stone, Zhou Hao’s thoughts drifted into the past.

At seventeen, he enlisted. The entire realm was gripped by unrest, for several ambitious warlords were gathering forces to assault the weakened Great Zhou dynasty. Corruption and incompetence plagued previous emperors, who neglected their duties and weakened the military, causing the nation’s decline. The once-mighty empire was a shadow of its former self.

Through a thousand years of history, the Great Zhou had risen from chaos. The founding emperor swept away all foes with ruthless strength, showing no mercy to enemies, yet governing his own people with benevolence and justice. Thus the dynasty flourished for a millennium, revered across the land.

But over time, rot set in, as it does in any great forest. Four emperors had sat the throne in a mere century, none short-lived, but each entrusting power to sycophants who undermined the state. It was as if fate itself decreed that unity must yield to division.

“At seventeen, I fought in seventy-three battles. By twenty-six, I was made ‘Marquis of Victory,’ honored across the realm as a great general. At twenty-nine, I learned the truth of my birth and ascended the throne as the victorious emperor of Great Zhou. At thirty, I fulfilled my lifelong military dream, crushing the Eight-Nation Alliance and restoring peace. Now I am forty-seven. After all these years, I thought this stone had no more surprises left, yet today it carries me to realms unknown. Is there yet some unfinished destiny awaiting me?” Stroking his beard, Zhou Hao stared at the stone beneath his feet, lost in thought.

Today was to be the grand “Heaven-Sealing Rite,” held once every fifty years. The emperor was to lead all officials to Mount Tai, praying for prosperity and peace. To mark the occasion, Zhou Hao intended to offer up the celestial stone that had accompanied his birth.

But none could have predicted what happened next. Midway through the ceremony, as Zhou Hao placed the stone upon the altar, a miracle occurred.

In that instant, sun and moon lost their light, mountains and rivers changed hue, and the world grew dim—except for the altar, shrouded in immortal mist and radiant brilliance. Zhou Hao, nearest the altar, was swept away by the light. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself as he was now.

Looking down, the land he once ruled was gone, replaced by endless clouds. Zhou Hao dared not move; his life depended entirely on the small area provided by the stone. A single misstep, and he would plunge to certain death.

“How much longer? You black thing, can’t you stop? Am I to stand here forever, starve, or die of exhaustion? It’s too small to lie down. Will I simply die of hunger?” Zhou Hao realized that if the stone never stopped, or stopped somewhere unsuitable for human life, death was all that awaited him.

Rumble!

Suddenly, everything changed. The sky darkened in an instant, thunder and crimson lightning filled the heavens. Though Zhou Hao was no stranger to worldly wonders, never had he seen red lightning. Shadows and ghastly cries encircled him—figures like headless specters, beasts with blood-red eyes, grotesque forms emitting shrill laughter. The chill seeped into his bones, and he nearly collapsed atop the black stone.

But the stone was not without its own “temperament.”

Though its surface was pitted and worn, countless golden lines rose from it, forming a curtain that protected Zhou Hao within.

No evil could penetrate.

“Amazing! What are these golden patterns that can repel all manner of demons and phantoms? This stone’s origin must be extraordinary. Perhaps today I will truly see immortals! This is wondrous, unbelievable.” As he watched the shadows claw in vain around him, Zhou Hao was both shocked and delighted, caring little for danger.

Perhaps it was the power of distraction.

Time passed—how long, he could not tell—before darkness was finally trampled beneath his feet. In a blink, the sky was blue again, and the stone continued to carry him upward.

“So this is what ascension feels like? How dull. When will it end? I’m starving! Will this last ten days, half a month? How can I survive?” His stomach growling, Zhou Hao squatted down, grumbling at the golden curtain, “I feel like a prisoner. No, not even that—I don’t even have the right to eat.”

Yet the stone rose on, ever faster, accelerating beyond even lightning. If not for the golden curtain, Zhou Hao would have suffocated or died from the strain.

Hunger still gnawing, Zhou Hao and the stone entered the cold, desolate void of space. As a mere mortal, he had never witnessed such grandeur.

“My heavens! What is this place? So many stars, so beautiful, but so far away—and yet, this one is so close, as though I could reach out and touch it. So vast! The blue must be oceans, the green must be forests, and all those mountains… Could that be the earth? I lived on a star! Stars are so immense—they hold mountains, rivers, forests, lakes, all within themselves.” Zhou Hao was near delirious. In all his years, having seen countless wonders and landscapes, only now did he truly feel his vision expand. He realized, too, how small and powerless he was, how insignificant was humanity.

“I come from a star!”

Looking down, as the stone accelerated, the world he once knew was lost from sight in mere moments.

“Black fellow, isn’t it tragic? Born and dead, we never truly know the world we live in. The sky is so vast—no wonder it’s said that heaven is high and earth low! Compared to heaven, the earth is truly nothing. So much of life is wasted on power, wealth, war, and peace—it’s all so pointless. If immortals truly exist, I too wish to become one, to roam the universe, see the true world, and marvel at the starry sky!” With no living creature for company, Zhou Hao used the black stone as a confidant.

He made his vows, his bold ambitions echoing as he took in the unprecedented spectacle—the dazzling stars and black sky of space.

Many times had he felt the world was vast.

But now, he truly realized his own insignificance. At seventeen, setting forth from Green Grass Village, the sight of the mighty camps and ten thousand soldiers had shaken him. Yet his swift horse could carry him across the land, and he believed he could one day traverse it all.

But here, he could no longer comfort himself with the idea that man could conquer heaven. The universe was absurdly vast; no matter how swift the horse or the eagle, no mortal could travel far here. Only the legendary immortals, with their boundless powers, might roam the cosmos. Man? Impossible.

“The shifting stars—this is what that truly means!” At this moment, all imperial dignity vanished. Through the golden curtain, Zhou Hao saw the stars recede, spinning away from his position. For him, there was no earth turning, only the heavens revolving.

Growl, growl.

Yet again, his stomach complained. Clutching his belly, he looked upward, muttering over and over: “Stop, stop, stop, stop…”

“Ah, what’s that?”

At last, his gaze fixed upon a place unlike any other. All the stars seemed to flow toward it, a confluence of light. Rivers of starlight, like crystal, crossed and intertwined, sending ripples that filled the void. It was a source of the starry sky, as if it were a world unto itself, or perhaps the very center of the universe.

Vast, pure white clouds stretched endlessly into the depths of space—a land of immaculate purity, wrapped in clouds, boundless and terrifying in its grandeur. But what captured the eye most was a white stone stele standing there.

At that moment, the black stone beneath Zhou Hao’s feet began to slow, finally coming to a halt on what could only be called a cloud platform, directly before the stele.

“It stopped? It really stopped?” Zhou Hao could hardly believe it. He had thought he would starve, yet the stone had truly halted.

The golden patterns faded, the stone quieted. Zhou Hao looked up. Ahead stood a white stele, ten zhang tall and three wide.

“The Immortal Domain!”

Two blood-red characters shone upon the stele, as if freshly written—majestic, with the force of dragons and phoenixes, a masterpiece of calligraphy.

Zhou Hao was stunned, then burst into wild joy. “The Immortal Domain! This is the Immortal Domain? Heavens, I, Zhou Hao, have come to the Immortal Domain! I will become immortal, I shall be a god! Hahahaha…”

“No, no, this can’t be real. How could immortals truly exist? It’s absurd—I must be dreaming. Yes, I’m dreaming.”

“Ow, that hurts! No, it’s not a dream. This stele stands in this sacred, spotless land—the very center of the universe. The stars gather here, the galaxy shines—how could this not be the Immortal Domain?”

At last, Zhou Hao gathered his courage. Swearing to uncover the truth, he took the black stone in his arms and strode forward, intent on examining the stele—after all, this was the first time he had ever seen a monument erected in space.

Bang, bang, bang!

He touched the stele up and down, except for the parts out of reach. Finding nothing unusual, he grew bolder and even struck the stele with the black stone.

At that, the stele responded. The blood-red characters for “Immortal Domain” sent out ripples of golden light. The expanding ripples reached Zhou Hao, and he immediately felt an overwhelming force pulling him in. As a mere mortal, he was powerless to resist.

In the next instant, he was sucked into the stele, which opened a black vortex. Poor Zhou Hao—before he could even cry out, he was hurled into the unknown, dropping his only protective charm, the black stone, beside the monument on the cloud platform.

“My stone! My Celestial Descendant! My stone! My stone! My stone!” Zhou Hao’s frantic shouts echoed through the black vortex.