Volume One: The Celestial Palace of Mist Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Fragmented Manuscript

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Fragmented Manuscript

At high noon, in a bamboo grove upon an immortal mountain, a youth dressed in white sat cross-legged in meditation, his expression earnest and focused. To his right stood a jet-black stele, upon which four golden characters were inscribed—Great Radiant Sun Palm.

Under the blazing sun, even the dense forest was penetrated by countless rays of light, casting a patchwork of bamboo shadows everywhere. The grove was tranquil, the only sounds being the rustling of fallen leaves swept by the wind, as if playing a quiet symphony.

After a while, Zhou Hao opened his eyes. He had been cultivating for an hour, absorbing spiritual energy into his body through meditation. Yun Fang had told him that though cultivating within the blue lake was fast and convenient, being in the lake was, after all, a shortcut. Now that Zhou Hao had become proficient, he ought to seek out his own places to train. This would not only hone his adaptability but also allow him to experience the myriad environments of the world.

Thus, immortals were seldom confined to a single place for cultivation; they roamed the world, seeking out strange and wondrous lands to temper themselves. The Immortal Realm was vast—one had to develop a formidable capacity for adaptation. Whether by sea, land, or sky, among fire, water, or earth, the way could be found everywhere. To grow stronger meant to conquer nature, to defy the heavens themselves.

Zhou Hao held the stele in both hands, repeatedly tracing the inscription with his fingers, his brow furrowed. By now, he had memorized all six hundred immortal script characters carved upon it.

“The first fragmented chapter: At the break of dawn, offer fresh blood as sacrifice to unlock it!”

So began the manual. Zhou Hao felt the author had been somewhat unkind—he had already unlocked the stele, and only now did it explain how to do so. What use was that?

Yet, thinking it over, perhaps this was to prevent practitioners from accidentally activating it; hence the seemingly redundant instructions.

“A fragmented chapter—how many chapters are there in total? What if I can't find the rest? Would I risk falling into madness?”

“This is my first time practicing immortal martial arts; nothing must go wrong. Besides, this Great Radiant Sun Palm is truly difficult. Though just a few hundred words, it seems to embrace all mysteries of the cosmos, making cultivation a daunting task!”

Muttering to himself, Zhou Hao nonetheless began to follow the manual’s instructions.

This palm technique was the epitome of masculine force and unmatched dominance. The practitioner must diligently temper the body, lest the overwhelming power tear them apart from within.

To harm others and oneself alike—such was its nature.

“Let the body be the furnace; gather the essence of heaven and earth as fuel; ignite immortal power using the meridians as tinder; ultimately, as rivers flow into the sea, converge it all in the palms, and unleash the might to open and close the heavens…”

Reciting the method in his heart, Zhou Hao attempted to manifest this immortal martial art. First, he ignited the immortal power within him, guiding it through his meridians toward his palms. Yet, the result nearly cost him his life.

The burning immortal force was wild and unruly—like a mad beast rampaging through his body, setting him ablaze from within. His meridians became fuses, his whole body a ticking bomb. Fortunately, his twenty years of intimacy with fire, countless temperings by fire spirits deep within the earth, and the ordeal of soul-forging by fire had prepared him well; he recovered swiftly.

The memory left him shaken—the sensation of burning alive, nearly reduced to ashes, was terrifying. Were it not for his extensively tempered body, he would have perished. This immortal force, this Dao fire, was fearsome indeed—an inner conflagration far more dreadful than the external burning of the lava lake, capable of annihilating him utterly.

With a heavy exhale, black smoke poured from his lips. Zhou Hao felt as if he had survived a great calamity. He could scarcely believe that the creator of the Great Radiant Sun Palm was not mad—burning one’s immortal power into Dao fire to course through the meridians was naught but a death sentence.

“No, I need to find another way…”

He paced the grove, lost in thought. The stele in his hand now lay inert and ordinary, devoid of any response.

“Shh—shh—”

Suddenly, a green snake coiled around a bamboo stalk overhead, making barely a sound. Its coloration matched the bamboo perfectly, rendering it nearly invisible, especially at that height.

Yet Zhou Hao, absorbed in contemplation, sensed no danger as he paced closer and closer.

The snake fixed its cold, sinister gaze upon Zhou Hao, a purple vertical slit in each eye giving it a demonic aspect. Silently, it poised to strike.

Zhou Hao, still holding the stele, did not notice anything amiss. The snake darted forth, its head shooting down like a green arrow for his neck, fangs bared.

Thud!

Bitten, Zhou Hao instinctively reached for the serpent. The stele, now held in one hand, became as heavy as a mountain and crashed to the ground. Summoning his last ounce of strength, Zhou Hao drew his hand like a blade, slaying the snake, but collapsed as well, clutching his wound in agony.

In the blink of an eye, his entire body turned a deep purple, facial muscles twitching grotesquely. Foam frothed from his mouth, his gaze grew vacant—he seemed on the verge of death.

“Aaah!”

Like a wounded beast, Zhou Hao roared, his voice shattering dozens of bamboo stalks around him, the air quaking with his fury.

This cry alerted Yun Fang, who rushed from his bamboo hut into the grove. The sight of Zhou Hao’s condition startled him.

“My disciple!”

Scooping Zhou Hao up, Yun Fang hastened to purge the poison. The venom was potent—even someone of Zhou Hao’s tempered physique could not withstand it. Yun Fang’s brow furrowed deeply.

“It’s the Purple Demon Powder—how vicious! Someone targeted Zhou Hao, feeding this powder to a green snake, enhancing its speed and aggression. Mixed with snake venom, it becomes doubly fatal. Only someone like Nangong Xun or Cheng Bing would orchestrate such a lethal ‘accident’.”

“For twenty years, my true self has been searching the outside world for the Night Palace stronghold. It seems Nangong Xun has discovered this and poisoned the snake in the final month of the last year. The Purple Demon Powder is exceedingly fierce—a single drop can kill an immortal. The old fox must have diluted it before feeding it to the snake. If Nangong Xun can do this undetected, his cultivation must already surpass mine. Could it be…”

“He has advanced beyond the Golden Immortal realm to become a Celestial Immortal?”

With a single stride, Yun Fang carried Zhou Hao from the grove to the bamboo hut, his thoughts racing. The fact that Nangong Xun could come here so brazenly to poison Zhou Hao filled him with fury—he wished he could raze the old fox’s immortal mountain and shatter his alchemy tower.

“This debt—I will see repaid!”

Inside the hut, Yun Fang seated Zhou Hao cross-legged upon the bamboo bed and began purifying his body with profound arts. Instantly, clear light burst forth, flooding the entire hut.

Soon, Zhou Hao’s deep purple skin faded to normal, the convulsions in his face ceased, and the poison was expelled.

“Master…” Zhou Hao’s voice was weak.

“My disciple, you were deceived. The fault is partly mine—I did not expect that old fox’s strength to have grown so great. We must strengthen our defenses from now on. Still, it seems keeping you in the earth’s depths for these twenty years was the right decision,” Yun Fang said.

“That snake—was it…?”

“Indeed. Someone poisoned the snake to create the appearance of an accident and kill you. The poison, Purple Demon Powder, is deadly enough to slay an immortal with a single drop. The snake would normally not survive, but under that old fox’s careful arrangement, it remained active for a month. He guessed you would come to the bamboo grove; thus today’s events.”

“Such sinister intent, to kill by such an ‘accident’—truly venomous.” Zhou Hao replied.

“Enough. Take this Poria Pill and rest for three hours—you’ll be as good as new.”

Yun Fang handed him a small, pale purple pill. Its cool, fragrant aroma was refreshing; merely smelling it cleared one’s mind.

Zhou Hao swallowed the pill, his mouth filling with a sweet herbal scent. Instantly, his body felt weightless, as if he were floating in clouds—his former heaviness disappeared, and he felt as though he might soar.

…

Night fell, and the moon climbed high.

The sky hung low and dark, the stars clustered about the moon. Twelve jade disks glowed high above, noble and pure, though these were but reflections, not the true moon. The real moon hung forever above the Celestial Sun and Moon Vault, never setting. Zhou Hao had once asked Yun Fang where these suns and moons came from, but even Yun Fang did not know.

The bamboo door creaked open, and Zhou Hao, dressed in white, stepped outside. Now fully recovered, he had lain awake all night, the six hundred immortal script characters of the Great Radiant Sun Palm turning endlessly in his mind.

“Let me draw in the essence of heaven and earth once more, and try again!”

So resolved, he made his way to the bridge over the blue lake, sat down, and began to circulate the Azure Cloud Method. Instantly, the mountain’s spiritual energy flowed into him like a stream, his body a bottomless abyss, accepting all. After three hours, Zhou Hao ceased his meditation and stood up.

A powerful aura radiated from him. His eyes were resolute, and within, immortal force stirred, transforming into Dao fire. His meridians became fuses—within a heartbeat, he set himself ablaze!

“Ah!”

The burning was excruciating. Flames engulfed him, the fire seeming to ignite from his very heart. There was no extinguishing it—once again, Zhou Hao faced death.

His organs became furnaces, each one glowing with multicolored flames—dazzling, yet potent enough to incinerate mountains and rivers.

“Let me channel it!”

Zhou Hao roared, striving to gather all the Dao fire into his palm meridians. This was the most difficult step—his meridians were too numerous, the Dao fire, once stoked, rampant and wild, crisscrossing through his body like a tangled web of burning fuses. Gathering them all in one place seemed impossible.

“But I have endured the nine-petaled Fire Lotus’s soul-forging—this Dao fire is born of me; what can it do to me?”

He thrust both palms forward. Light blazed from his hands, as though twin suns burned within his grasp. In that moment, Zhou Hao’s aura soared. The chaotic, fiery lines of his meridians were gradually tamed; the Dao fire twisted and turned through countless paths, journeying endlessly, yet ultimately arriving at its destination.

“Great—Radiant—Sun—Palm!”

With a shout, golden light erupted from his palms. Two handprints shot forth, each with a spinning, radiant sun at their core.

Boom!

The two palm prints were not large—about the size of Zhou Hao’s own hands—but in that instant, they burst with the brilliance of exploding suns. The path they carved was bright as day, leaving a long, straight trail in the night sky. The blue lake surged with towering waves; flowers, grasses, trees, and rocks along the way were all reduced to ash or molten slag. Finally, these fearsome handprints vanished in the distant sky.

Zhou Hao stared in disbelief at the devastation before him—dancing flames, utter ruin, the blue lake shallowed, and beneath the dark sky, a white, rainbow-like path lingered, fading only after a long while.

Such is the terror of a single palm!