Volume One: The Celestial Palace of Mist Chapter Two: The Ascension Platform

Chapter Two: Ascending the Immortal Platform

"So dark... Where am I?"

He couldn’t see his hand before his face, the roar of rushing air still echoed in his ears, yet Zhou Hao sensed himself being propelled toward the unknown by some force. That stone stele inscribed with 'Immortal Realm' was actually a device akin to a portal—perhaps it could be said Zhou Hao was on his way to the Immortal Realm!

Endless darkness, a path veiled in uncertainty, and Zhou Hao’s consciousness began to slip away. His body fluctuated between chills and fever, at times swelling, at times shrinking; his blood sometimes flowed, sometimes curdled and ceased. Several times, he nearly felt himself slipping into death—an agony he would never forget.

"Ah!"

Within the black void, Zhou Hao’s body convulsed incessantly, twisting and contorting. It was an intolerable torment; though he was forty-seven and still robust—fit enough for the battlefield—this ordeal, so unheard of, was beyond his endurance. His screams filled the darkness, but gradually faded as unconsciousness claimed him. Yet in that pitch blackness, his body underwent a transformation as profound as the turn of the earth.

His entire body was blood-soaked, tendons and veins shattered, features blurred beyond recognition; internally, chaos reigned, as if he’d endured a thousand cuts. Anyone who saw Zhou Hao in that state would surely declare him utterly dead!

Time trickled by, though in the void, its passage was indiscernible. Zhou Hao’s ruined flesh began to stink and rot, pale bones and shriveled skin presenting a ghastly sight, drifting swiftly in the dark tunnel of nothingness—until a beam of gentle, life-giving white light appeared and bathed him.

The white light was soft, pouring over every remnant of Zhou Hao’s body. In an instant, bone and flesh knit together, tendons reformed, and that ruined figure was resurrected, transformed from decay to wonder.

Zhou Hao lived again!

At that moment, he slowly opened his eyes and found himself in a world of pure transparency, white light illuminating him as if he were undergoing examination.

Even more astonishing, glancing unconsciously at his hands, Zhou Hao saw smooth, delicate skin, so fair he could hardly believe it. These were the hands of a youth—perhaps fifteen or sixteen years old—yet they belonged to him.

"What? What's happening? My hands? My face, my body?" Zhou Hao stared tremulously at his hands, then touched his face in disbelief. His fingers met soft skin; beneath them, a handsome visage, sharply defined, sent the truth through his fingertips—he had regained his youth!

"Is this... is this rejuvenation? Have I truly become young again?" It was impossible to believe at once, yet Zhou Hao could not deny it.

His loose dragon robe, his strong, vigorous body—everything told him the Immortal Realm was real, and he had received new life from the baptism of the stone stele.

Buzz!

As Zhou Hao reveled in his joy, suddenly a cascade of golden symbols descended from above, swarming into his body. Instantly, he found himself light as a swallow, floating as if he could fly with a single step.

The golden symbols then streamed from his feet and vanished, and Zhou Hao felt normal once more, though brimming with vitality. Not only that—his body seemed truly reborn, every muscle, every bone, every tendon, each drop of blood pulsed with communication. He could clearly sense every change in his body. It was an unprecedented sensation, as if his soul and flesh resonated in harmony, or perhaps, he truly felt he possessed a soul.

The soul—ethereal, indefinable—a term that only appeared in tales of gods and ghosts. Yet now, Zhou Hao, a mere mortal, had gained the right to command his soul. It sounded unbelievable, but the evidence was undeniable.

In the next moment, the white light flashed, the surroundings changed dramatically, and Zhou Hao felt as if someone had pushed him out of the transparent world. When he stopped, he found himself standing atop a platform of white clouds, surrounded by billowing clouds and a rainbow bridge arching across the heavens.

"Eh? There's a stele there, too." Zhou Hao’s gaze swept ahead to where a white stone stele stood, though this one was only ten feet tall.

"Immortal Ascension Platform!"

Again, the same crimson script; Zhou Hao read the inscription aloud. Suddenly, he became alert, for from the distant sky, over a dozen beams of divine light were flying toward him, all targeting this spot. Zhou Hao felt as if he had been locked onto by their gaze.

His current location was also a cloud platform, white flooring shrouded in mist yet not heavy—like a celestial waystation, though empty of people.

"Hahaha! The ages pass, yet another mortal has succeeded in ascending to the Immortal Ascension Platform! Fellow cultivators, are you here with the same purpose as I?"

From one of the divine lights, a voice rang out. It was an elderly man, white-haired and bearded, robed in the Taiji pattern, riding a crane, a whisk in his left hand.

"Yunfang, you're being unreasonable. The lower realm is cold and barren, spiritual energy thin, treasures rare—anyone capable of ascending must possess extraordinary talent. Such promising disciples, every immortal hall will vie to take as their own!" Another divine light revealed an old woman astride a blue luan bird.

"Hmph! I didn't expect all you old fellows to show up—good! My Eight Fiends Fire Divine Art is just waiting for a trial. Today, let us compete: whoever wins takes the youth!" A rough voice boomed like thunder across the platform.

The speaker rode a black tiger, flames surging beneath its paws, exuding fierce majesty. He wore a fiery red robe, and even his hair flickered like flames.

"Brother Chiyuan, after a century, your temper remains explosive! Even if you win today, I doubt this youth would accept you as his master," said Yunfang, the white-haired elder.

"Hehe, greetings, elders. I am the Noble Cai of the Rainbow Hall. Today, with all sixteen immortal halls’ elders gathering on this platform, it is a grand occasion. Why rush into anger?"

Before the fire-haired elder could respond, another divine light arrived—a youth riding a white swan. Unlike the others, he was tall and handsome, his face pale, clad in golden-green robes that made him appear like a god. On either side stood two beautiful women.

At the mention of the Rainbow Hall, the others were visibly shaken. Their looks toward the youth ranged from disdain to indifference and even wariness.

"Hmph! Rainbow Hall—so what? My Fiery Hall has never feared the other fifteen. Don’t think your hall master being from the Five-Colored Peacock clan makes you special. The Rainbow Hall’s dirty deeds aren’t unknown, even if others don’t speak of them. Truly a disgrace to the sacred peacock race," Chiyuan retorted, targeting the Noble Cai. A flash of icy light crossed the youth’s eyes, though he masked it well.

"Chiyuan, you’ve misunderstood. I’ve cultivated for only fifteen hundred years, while all present have practiced for over three thousand. How could I dare compete with you? If I have offended, please accept my apologies," Noble Cai bowed, sincerely apologetic.

"No need for such ceremony; I’ve no time for you," Chiyuan snorted, then scanned the assembly—nineteen in all—and declared, "This youth is destined for my Fiery Hall. If any wish to challenge me, let’s settle it in battle!"

"Brother Chiyuan, you’re proposing a challenge? As first defender, you risk much." Yunfang stood leisurely, whisk in hand.

"Indeed, with only one spot, a challenge isn’t fair. I suggest eight halls versus eight halls, then narrow it down until one remains. What do you say?" suggested the old woman on the blue luan.

"Excellent idea, elder. However, let me clarify: all of you are late-stage Golden Immortal masters, while I have only just entered the mid-stage. I’d like to bring two early-stage companions as support. I trust no one objects?" Noble Cai stepped forward, bowing with a smile.

The elders were startled: Noble Cai had reached mid-stage Golden Immortal in only fifteen hundred years. Most of them were over three thousand years old; his earlier statement was a veiled jab at their lack of progress.

"Is the Rainbow Hall truly so lacking in talent? Must you bring two female immortals as support?" Chiyuan, fiery as ever, glanced at Noble Cai with contempt and disgust.

The Rainbow Hall had risen in the past ten thousand years, its hall master a mighty immortal from the Five-Colored Peacock clan, revered for his power and lineage. Yet he was notoriously 'affectionate,' recruiting only female disciples (unless they ascended from the mortal realm)—for obvious reasons. The presence of male immortals like Noble Cai was clear: their father was the hall master.

Moreover, the hall master encouraged his sons to cultivate dual, triple, or even quadruple practices with female disciples—citing the benefits of balancing yin and yang, claiming it was healthy and highly effective. Perhaps the hall master's unorthodox theory was correct: how else to explain Noble Cai’s rapid advancement? To reach early-stage Golden Immortal in fifteen hundred years was remarkable; Yunfang and Chiyuan had only achieved that at the same age, and their talents were notable.

In the end, all agreed to Noble Cai’s request. Thus began a fierce contest atop the Immortal Ascension Platform!

Divine radiance erupted, immortal light dazzled; the immortals rode their mounts, battling fiercely. Terrifying sword energy split the clouds as if the earth itself had cracked open—elders summoned finger-swords capable of rending the sky, displaying formidable power.

In one aerial battlefield, a three-on-one duel unfolded: Noble Cai and his two female companions against an elder—none other than the fiery Chiyuan, who had originally sought to challenge Yunfang, but Noble Cai insisted on facing him. Chiyuan saw this as an insult.

Among the elders, Yunfang and Chiyuan were the strongest—peak Golden Immortal. With such profound cultivation, what had Chiyuan to fear?

"You brat! Don’t think being a peacock’s offspring makes me afraid of you. No matter how you pretend, your wickedness shows through. Take this—Eight Fiends Fire Divine Art!"

Chiyuan’s hair whipped like flames as he unleashed his ultimate technique. Eight banners of different colors flew from his back, each bearing the image of a fierce beast, as if ancient terrors had returned to the Immortal Realm.

The banners billowed in the wind; Chiyuan directed them at Noble Cai and his companions. The beasts on the banners leaped out, wrapped in fire, savage beyond compare.

"Roar! Roar! Roar!"

The eight fiends, like mounts of a primordial fire god, charged at Noble Cai and his companions. The banners blocked their retreat, flames rising fiercely—eight fire command banners, summoning fire energy from the Immortal Realm, rare treasures of the five elements.

Meanwhile, Noble Cai and the two female immortals wielded five-colored feather fans—woven from the tails of Five-Colored Peacocks. Three fans appeared at once.

As the eight beasts closed in, the trio remained unperturbed. Simultaneously, they fanned the beasts, and the sky erupted in a tempest; three tornadoes swept across the platform like dragons, tossing the beasts thousands of miles away. Chiyuan quickly withdrew his banners.

"Damn it, brat! You hid an immortal’s lethal intent in those fans—truly cunning. But my Eight Fiends Fire Divine Art isn’t so easily defeated. Take this!" Chiyuan panted, wounded by the immortal’s intent, but his fury only grew.

The battle reignited; Chiyuan unleashed the full power of his art, enveloping the sky in red, fire clouds surging, five-colored divine light bursting forth, the might of Golden Immortals fully displayed.

Below, Zhou Hao remained beside the stele, the oversized dragon robe awkward on him, but his attention was wholly absorbed by the dazzling display of immortal combat.

"My heavens! Immortals—immortals battling, all displaying their powers—for me? This is... this is bliss!" Though his true age was forty-seven, the stele’s baptism seemed to have restored some youthful innocence.

Yet as Zhou Hao watched, a large white hand appeared without warning behind him, whisking him away.

"Hmm?"

"Hmm?"

"Hmm?"...

Several surprised exclamations rang out; everyone ceased fighting, for their divine senses had been locked on Zhou Hao, and now he had vanished.

"Where’s Yunfang?" Someone pinpointed the issue.

"Damn! That old fox did it. We knew he was sly, but failed to guard against him. Shall we pursue?" someone suggested.

"We won’t catch him. In my duel with him earlier, his speed technique left me far behind—that’s how he managed to seize the youth," said the old woman on the blue luan, named Muheng, an elder of the Wood Wonder Hall.

Boom!

A mountain-shaped cloud burst into flames like a volcanic eruption, the work of Chiyuan, who vented his anger in a blast of Eight Fiends Fire Divine Art.

Everyone knew Yunfang hailed from the Cloud Mist Hall, brother to its master, with unfathomable cultivation—some guessed he’d half-stepped into the rank of Immortal Sovereign. His most formidable ability was speed; his swift immortal technique was unmatched among his peers, earning him the title 'Speed Overlord.'

In the end, the immortals on the platform could only return to their respective halls in disappointment.

Endless white clouds, boundless heavens—twenty thousand miles from the Immortal Ascension Platform, a celestial crane flew leisurely through the sky, carrying two figures on its back.

One was an elderly man, white-haired and bearded, exuding immortal grace; the other, a youth of fifteen or sixteen, delicate-featured and clear-eyed.