Volume One: The Cloud Mist Immortal Palace Chapter Forty-Eight: Cai Lingzi

Chapter Forty-Eight: Cai Lingzi

Now, at the very center of the Ascension Platform, only the final group remained. All eyes were fixed on the impending duel between the last two contestants of this group.

Both figures were male. One was someone Zhou Hao recognized—Nangong Ying, the head disciple and blood heir of Nangong Xun. The other was less familiar, clad in a splendid robe of five-colored feathers that suited his tall, slender frame perfectly. His face was even more beautiful than that of a woman, lending him an air of delicate nobility; indeed, he was a true aristocrat. His name was Cai Lingzi, hailing from the Hall of Five Colors, and it was rumored that his true form was that of a five-colored peacock.

The Hall of Five Colors was renowned for its extraordinary origins. It was founded ten thousand years ago by an immortal peacock, and tales about this peacock's background were legion. Some claimed he was cast out by his own kind, others that he was once the steed of an Immortal King, sent to establish this celestial hall.

Though the Hall of Five Colors had not stood for long, in these ten thousand years its master had never left his post, and his terrifying power commanded awe. No one dared underestimate this race of celestial spirits. The strongest master among the Sixteen Halls was indisputably him, though unless extraordinary events occurred, the master of the Hall of Five Colors would never set foot beyond its threshold. It was said that the hall counted only a handful of male disciples; the rest were all female immortals, and most of the male immortals were children of the hall master, with the rare exception being mortals brought up through selection.

Cai Lingzi was one of these direct descendants. The youngest of them all, his talent was extraordinary—at only four hundred years of age, he had already reached the rank of Quasi-Golden Immortal!

Facing each other, Nangong Ying’s gaze was sharp and sinister, his entire body radiating a powerful aura. In contrast, Cai Lingzi’s demeanor was utterly different—he wore a perpetual smile, his presence relaxed and at ease, exuding an easy confidence.

With a deep boom, Nangong Ying made the first move, surging forward in a flash and throwing a fierce punch at Cai Lingzi. Yet Cai Lingzi was even faster—so swift, in fact, that no one saw him move. Just as Nangong Ying’s fist was about to connect with his left cheek, Cai Lingzi slipped away like a phantom, withdrawing ten meters in an instant.

His speed and uncanny agility drew gasps from the spectators. To Nangong Ying, this appeared as blatant contempt—Cai Lingzi had ample time to dodge, yet had waited until the last possible moment, as if to say Nangong Ying was simply too slow and too weak.

Humiliated, Nangong Ying grew angry and unleashed his ultimate technique. He stretched his body, then suddenly flexed his arm, which instantly radiated golden light amid the roar of an ancient beast, like thunder rolling across the sky.

“Golden Kirin Arm!” he shouted. His figure swelled, golden ripples spreading out from him in waves, ripping apart the clouds and causing the air itself to crackle and explode. Again, he charged forward, fist pounding out, and the shadow of a golden qilin surged and roared from his punch, as if returning from a distant ancient age with such ferocity that all hearts quaked.

This time, even Cai Lingzi could not take him lightly. He clearly felt the terrifying power behind that punch—a force capable of obliterating a thousand mountains.

“Five-Colored Divine Radiance!”

Cai Lingzi spread his fingers, and five lights—crimson, yellow, green, blue, and violet—shimmered into existence. With a sweep of his palm, the five beams shot forth like divine rainbows, trailing dazzling tails of light.

The clash was thunderous. The Five-Colored Divine Radiance collided with the Golden Kirin Arm, painting the sky in brilliant hues like the most exquisite fireworks. The disciples around the Ascension Platform cried out in awe, sensing the devastating force of the blow. The clouds that once veiled the platform were swept away, leaving empty air; some spectators were even toppled by the blast of wind.

At the center, the two combatants waged a fierce and dazzling battle. Cai Lingzi’s entire body radiated five-colored light, every move spectacular and resplendent, shining like the stars of the cosmos. Nangong Ying responded with relentless, heavy strikes, every motion infused with martial might, his body aglow with golden brilliance, like a walking sun.

Suddenly, a black halberd appeared in Nangong Ying’s hands—a treasure obtained from the Celestial Vault. His eyes flashed cold as he swung the weapon at Cai Lingzi, the sheer force making the very air howl in protest.

Cai Lingzi produced his own weapon—a shimmering, multicolored feather fan. With a single sweep, a violent wind surged forth, instantly deflecting the halberd and splitting Nangong Ying’s palm. The blast flung Nangong Ying hundreds of meters away.

A sharp sound sliced the air as the black halberd, wielded by a pain-stricken Nangong Ying, shot like a bolt of black lightning toward Cai Lingzi’s chest.

Cai Lingzi snorted coldly and brandished his fan once more. As he swept it from right to left, a piercing bird cry issued forth, and a massive five-colored peacock—a construct of radiant light—materialized, its momentum unstoppable.

The peacock, ten meters long, dived at Nangong Ying, colliding with the halberd. Then, in a stunning turn, the peacock’s talons seized the halberd as if it were alive, halting it effortlessly. The peacock’s luminous form enveloped Nangong Ying, who struggled to break free with his Golden Kirin Arm, but was blasted back dozens of meters in a storm of radiant color. He crashed heavily to the ground, vomiting blood, his golden aura extinguished, motionless—unconscious.

For a long moment, the crowd was stunned. Only as they saw Nangong Ying lying like a corpse did they truly grasp the terrifying power of the victor standing atop the platform—Cai Lingzi.

“The second round is over. The final six contestants are: Su Qing and Zhou Hao from Cloud Mists Hall; Cai Lingzi from the Hall of Five Colors; Xin Nan from the Crimson Blaze Hall; Jian Feng from the Hidden Distance Hall; and Zang Sheng from the Beast Soul Hall.” After ordering several disciples to carry Nangong Ying away, the sixteen hall masters announced the results.

The six names called, Zhou Hao and the others hurried to the center of the platform. Now, aside from the crowd of onlookers at the edge, only the six finalists remained.

“Now begins the third and final round. From you six, three champions will be chosen. The rules are simple: a draw determines three pairs, who will face off one-on-one. The winners advance; the losers are eliminated.”

“In this box are six balls of three different colors. You will draw, and those with matching colors will be opponents. Begin!”

A black iron box appeared before them. Each stepped forward to draw, and soon the results were clear: Su Qing versus Jian Feng, Zang Sheng versus Zhou Hao, and Cai Lingzi versus Xin Nan.

“Very well. The final round—begin!”

Six figures turned to face their opponents, then burst into motion. The decisive battles had begun at last.

Swords rang. In Su Qing’s hands, the celestial sword flickered with radiant silver light, so brilliant it was hard to look at directly. Her opponent was a cold, black-clad youth, a gray quiver of eight feathered arrows on his back and an ancient gray bow in his hands.

They clashed. Su Qing’s sword became a stream of light, her movements breathtaking; Jian Feng, eyes icy, drew and loosed an arrow with blinding speed, sending a ray of light streaking toward her.

With a ringing clash, Su Qing’s sword sliced the arrow in half. The blade forged of luminous silver divine steel was indeed peerless. In the next instant, her sword slashed toward Jian Feng, but he showed no fear, blocking her downward strike with his gray bow.

On the other side, Zhou Hao and Zang Sheng’s battle was underway. Zang Sheng was tall and powerfully built, wielding a bronze war spear stained with dark red—evidence of many lives taken. A murderous aura rose from the weapon, the result of years steeped in bloodshed.

“Kill!” Zang Sheng roared, charging like a human beast. Zhou Hao’s eyes were cold as he drew his golden sword to meet the attack.

Sparks flew and the air rang with repeated, metallic clangs. Zang Sheng swung his spear with brute force, Zhou Hao parried with his sword. The sheer ferocity of the blows echoed like blacksmith’s hammers, their force enough to shake the hearts of all who listened.

Zang Sheng’s stamina seemed inexhaustible; he could battle like this for days. Zhou Hao felt as if he were fighting a wild beast—each clash of spear against sword left his palms tingling.

“That’s enough. Now it’s my turn!” Zhou Hao shouted, swinging his sword with all his might at Zang Sheng’s incoming spear. The air shuddered, an invisible shockwave rippling out for hundreds of meters. If the platform hadn’t been so vast, the spectators’ eardrums would have ruptured.

The blow sent both fighters flying back dozens of meters!

A figure shot forward, moving so swiftly that the air whined in its wake. The watching disciples were baffled—they couldn’t even see the man, only the flash of lightning that marked Zhou Hao’s movement, a testament to his mastery of the Celestial Phantom Step.

Before Zang Sheng could react, Zhou Hao’s fist struck his cheek squarely, sending him tumbling through the air, his spear clattering to the platform below.

“Damn you! You dare hit my face!” Zang Sheng scrambled up, clutching his jaw, his features twisted in rage.

With another resounding thud, Zhou Hao unleashed another punch. Zang Sheng, wild with fury, met him with a fist of his own. The blows landed with dull, meaty thuds, each strike echoing across the platform. The exchange was brief—soon enough, the familiar sight of Zang Sheng’s body was seen hurtling through the air.

“Only that far? What a disappointment…” Zhou Hao watched Zang Sheng fly just twenty meters before landing, shaking his head in dissatisfaction.