Volume One: The Celestial Palace of Mist Chapter Thirty: Late Arrival

Chapter 30: Tardy

“What incredible palm technique! I even have the illusion that I could shatter sun, moon, and stars with a single strike—this is anything but ordinary.” Zhou Hao stared in astonishment at his own hands.

Night cloaked the immortal mountain in tranquil silence, though the thunderous noise just now had disturbed the peace. The streak of light arcing through the night sky, left behind by the Great Sun-Palm, caught every eye.

Around the immortal mountain where Yun Fang resided, the elders of neighboring peaks all let out startled exclamations. Meditating cross-legged, they opened eyes that had witnessed the vicissitudes of countless years.

“It’s from Yun Fang’s place again. Is it that new disciple, Zhou Hao? What is the true background of this human who came from the mortal realm?”

“What kind of immortal martial art is this? How can a new disciple wield such power?”

“This boy’s talent is extraordinary. Coupled with Yun Fang’s unique training, perhaps he could truly surpass Su Qing and become the foremost disciple of Yunmiao!”

“I never knew Yunmiao possessed such a profound immortal martial art. There’s something truly remarkable here.”

That night, all the elders began to pay close attention to Zhou Hao, this dark horse whose cultivation and overwhelming strength were shrouded in mystery.

With a whoosh, a figure appeared before Zhou Hao. At this moment, Zhou Hao’s body felt utterly drained, his vision blurred, and he nearly collapsed. That palm strike had consumed much of his immortal energy. With only a hundred years’ cultivation, he was far from able to unleash the Great Sun-Palm at will.

“My disciple, you are far too impatient. I cannot deny you are a once-in-a-millennium genius in the way of immortals, and as your master, I am gratified. Yet this Great Sun-Palm has an unusual origin—even the Palace Lord himself cannot master it!” Yun Fang hurried forward to support Zhou Hao, guiding him back to the bamboo cottage.

Under the bright candlelight, the room was as luminous as day yet gentle on the eyes. Zhou Hao sat cross-legged on the bamboo bed to regulate his breath, while Yun Fang watched in silence.

“Master, is the Great Sun-Palm truly so mysterious? Even the Palace Lord is unaware of its origin?” Zhou Hao asked.

“Yes. The stone tablet was something the Palace Lord stumbled upon by chance, but despite all his efforts, he couldn’t unlock the immortal script within. I never expected you would succeed!” Yun Fang regarded Zhou Hao as if observing some rare creature.

“By the way, just now I managed to grasp a little of the Great Sun-Palm, right? Master, you haven’t forgotten our agreement, have you?” Suddenly Zhou Hao’s eyes sparkled as if he’d remembered something.

“Our agreement? What are you talking about?” Yun Fang asked in confusion.

“Ah, old age does make one forgetful—immortals included. Look at me, I’m about to forget again. I think the Palace Lord wants to gather the elders for a meeting. As your disciple, I’ll be off now. Take care!” Yun Fang slapped his forehead and made for the door.

“Drop the act. You must teach me the ‘Celestial Traces of Lingxu.’ Otherwise, when the grand tournament comes in ten years, I won’t even be able to escape, let alone fight. My life and your reputation are both at stake!” Zhou Hao squinted at Yun Fang’s retreating figure, his tone languid.

“Fine, since you insist, I can’t let you down.” Yun Fang turned back with resignation.

He drew from his sleeve a golden-yellow scroll, and Zhou Hao could not contain his excitement. He had been deeply impressed by Yun Fang’s miraculous footwork when he first witnessed it.

“‘Celestial Traces of Lingxu’ is a movement-type immortal martial art. Its cultivation requires improving one’s physique, using the feet as the foundation and the whole body in support. The heart moves the mind, and the will guides the step. This art not only makes the practitioner light and agile, but its true strength lies in its unpredictable, boundless speed—phantom-like and unfathomable, most effective in close combat, and famed for its swiftness!” Yun Fang handed the golden scroll to Zhou Hao.

Cradling the scroll in both hands, Zhou Hao was overjoyed. He caressed it repeatedly, grinning and muttering to himself, “Heh, now I’ve finally got a way to save my own skin!”

Watching Zhou Hao’s delighted face, Yun Fang said, “Ahem, disciple… disciple…”

It took three calls for Zhou Hao to come to his senses. “Huh? Master, did you say something?”

“You remember all I just told you, right?” Yun Fang sounded displeased.

“Of course, I remember it all. Don’t worry, Master. When the tournament comes in ten years, I won’t bring disgrace to your name!” Zhou Hao patted his chest in assurance.

“Good. That’s more like my disciple. Now, rest well. Cultivating the way of immortals isn’t about constant toil—it requires a balance of work and rest,” Yun Fang replied, pleased, and after a few words of advice, he left.

“What an exhausting day!” Lying back on the bamboo bed, Zhou Hao had barely shut his eyes when the day’s chaotic memories flooded his mind.

First, Yu Nan’s sudden confession after a change in temperament, then being bitten by a poisonous snake during training, finally unleashing the Great Sun-Palm, and in the end, Yun Fang still entrusted him with the Celestial Traces of Lingxu…

Before long, Zhou Hao drifted off to sleep.

The next day, a blazing sun hung high, illuminating mountains and rivers—the start of a new day.

“Mmm… ah…” The dazzling light shone through the bamboo cottage. The youth on the bed, clad in white, finally awoke, yawning incessantly.

“No way, with sunlight this bright, that means—”

“I’m late for sword practice!”

Zhou Hao’s shout echoed across the immortal mountain. In the next instant, sword light flashed, the sound of wind splitting the air followed, and only fading afterimages remained in the sky.

“Whew, still in time—three hours isn’t short at all.” Seeing the hundreds of white-robed youths on the practice ground, Zhou Hao let out a sigh of relief.

But just as he was about to land in the square, a figure flashed before his eyes, and in a blink, he was hurled heavily to the edge of the platform.

Like tossing out rubbish, Zhou Hao found himself thrown aside. It didn’t hurt much, but what he felt most deeply was the utter contempt and hostility of his assailant.

“A new disciple, daring to swagger before me—late, yet bold enough to stride straight onto the platform, as if I don’t exist?” The speaker was the one who had just thrown Zhou Hao to the ground, his tone dripping with arrogance.

Zhou Hao tried to rise, but a foot pressed down on his back. He couldn’t even resist—the man’s strength was fathomless, dealing with a mere disciple like Zhou Hao was child’s play.

As easy as crushing an ant.

Coughing blood, Zhou Hao’s eyes burned with fury.

Even for being late, no disciple should be treated like this. Clearly, this man bore deep-seated enmity toward him.

On the practice platform, many disciples turned to look. Zhou Hao was now a hot topic, and more importantly, this genius new disciple was being trampled underfoot, causing a stir among the crowd.

“Heavens, how could this be—Zhou Hao’s being stepped on! How pitiful!” a female disciple exclaimed, covering her mouth.

“That’s… Elder Cheng Bing? Why is he treating Zhou Hao this way? Being late doesn’t warrant such harsh punishment,” a male disciple protested.

“Hmph, serves him right for showing off! It’s only been a few days and everyone in Yunmiao knows him. Now he’s finally met his match. Go on, keep strutting, stealing my goddess—bah!” another male disciple jeered.

“Damn his ancestors—Cheng Bing is clearly showing favoritism! Zhou Hao defeated Cheng Yan in a single move a few days ago; as his father, Cheng Bing must be fuming. And now, with him supervising sword practice and Zhou Hao late, the old fox is using this as an excuse to bully my buddy!” Cao Shuang shouted angrily, rushing toward Cheng Bing, followed by several other disciples.

But there was someone ahead of Cao Shuang—a strikingly beautiful girl, brows tightly knit, her phoenix eyes brimming with indignation. Seeing Zhou Hao coughing blood on the ground, her heart trembled.

No one can harm Zhou Hao before my eyes. If anyone dares, they’ll pay the price!

Yu Nan stepped forward, and in a blink, stood before Cheng Bing. She lifted her head high, proud as an enraged peacock. “Elder Cheng Bing, remove your foot at once!”

Their eyes met. Though only a disciple, Yu Nan showed no fear, while Cheng Bing’s face was clouded with confusion.

“Yu Nan, what’s the meaning of this? Are you really standing up for this degenerate, Zhou Hao?” Cheng Bing demanded.

Her brows tightened further, eyes nearly spitting fire. Yu Nan glared at Cheng Bing and enunciated, “Zhou Hao… this… degenerate!!”

“Of course. He’s a new disciple, yet spends his days stirring up trouble and picking fights, and now he’s late as well. If that’s not a degenerate, what is?” Cheng Bing retorted.

A hiss!

The Snowblade left its sheath, sword singing. Yu Nan pointed her sword straight at Cheng Bing’s throat. He reeled in shock, anger and bewilderment warring on his face.

“Yu Nan!” Cheng Bing barked. “Are you aware of what you’re doing?”

“I am perfectly aware. You trample Zhou Hao with your foot and call him a degenerate. Even if you’re an elder, I demand an explanation!” Yu Nan’s gaze was unwavering, her lovely face now cold as ice, her words ringing with steely resolve.

“An explanation? A dignified elder of Yunmiao Palace needs to explain himself to a disciple for disciplining a degenerate?” Cheng Bing did not move, even with a sword at his throat.

After all, she was a mere disciple and he an elder—he couldn’t believe she would dare attack him.

Clang!

Yu Nan spoke no more. Her snow-bright blade thrust directly at Cheng Bing’s throat, the sword’s aura almost tangible, slicing through the air. Yet such a sharp, swift strike was effortlessly deflected by Cheng Bing with just two fingers.

“Yu Nan, I’m a friend of your master and have always thought well of you, but I never expected you’d dare act against me—”

“Hmph, I don’t care who you are! Zhou Hao is my destined companion—no one is allowed to touch him unless they kill me first!”

Man and woman, elder and youth—their words rang out for all the disciples to hear. In the next instant, it was as if an earthquake had struck; every eye turned to Zhou Hao and Yu Nan.

“Zhou Hao and Yu Nan are destined companions?”

“Yu Nan is challenging Elder Cheng Bing just to save Zhou Hao?”

“Incredible! Two people who seemed like enemies are actually fated partners?”

Exclamations, shouts, whispers, and sighs rose and fell—every disciple was abuzz, as if they’d discovered an entire new world.

“Well, Yu Nan, I didn’t expect you to say such things. But I don’t intend to argue with you today—your master will surely discipline you. All I need to do is teach this degenerate a lesson!” Cheng Bing’s face darkened as he stifled his rage.

“I said, unless you kill me, don’t touch Zhou Hao!” Yu Nan’s anger only deepened. Looking at Zhou Hao pinned beneath Cheng Bing’s foot, her eyes brimmed with both fury and pain.

“You? I doubt you’re qualified. I’ll give you one more chance—step aside, and I may plead with your master to spare you. Otherwise…”

Her answer was a flurry of sword shadows. Yu Nan’s lungs seemed ready to burst with fury—watching her beloved trampled and powerless to help was agony beyond words.

Yet Cheng Bing, a true Golden Immortal, needed only a flick of his sleeve to dissolve Yu Nan’s storm of sword qi.

“You’ve disappointed me, Yu Nan. Looks like I’ll have to discipline you on behalf of your master!”

Cheng Bing raised his left palm toward Yu Nan, the very air humming with power. If this blow landed, Yu Nan would surely be gravely wounded.

A flash of silver—Cheng Bing’s hand was suddenly blocked by a sword. In shock, he found he could not advance an inch further. The one who held the blade was none other than the number one disciple of Yunmiao—Su Qing!