Chapter 567: The World Stunned
The night concealed the sky. What were those people in the mountains facing? What should they do next?
Mao Qiuyu did not hesitate for even a moment. With a light flick of his sleeves, he instantly swept several miles away, heading into the mountain path. The King of Linghai’s face turned ashen as he transformed into a streak of light and followed, his right hand flipping over to grasp a Dharma pestle that radiated blinding light.
Just as the Heavenly Fortune Elder had deduced from his calculations, these two national religion giants, having been ordered by His Holiness the Pope to escort Chen Changsheng, were indeed each carrying a precious treasure!
Yet they could not take a single step onto the mountain path and were forced to stop before the archway of the Heavenly Mechanism Pavilion.
It wasn’t because of the night, but because countless stones suddenly fell from the sky above the mountains.
Those stones were densely packed, like a vast net that completely enveloped the entire Cold Mountain, exuding an immensely powerful aura.
Those stones were not ordinary stones; they were celestial stones of the same origin as the Heavenly Book Stele!
These celestial stones formed an array of terrifying power. Even the strongest in the sacred domain could not break through this celestial stone formation in a short time. Though their cultivation levels were formidable and they carried the national religion’s treasures, they still could not force their way into Cold Mountain.
So what about those people inside Cold Mountain... and that person?
...
...
The celestial stones rose from the Heavenly Pool, from the grassy cliffs by the pool’s edge, and from the fingertips of the Heavenly Fortune Elder.
The Heavenly Fortune Elder sat by the lake. The wrinkles on his face had multiplied several times in an instant, making him appear even older, yet his fingers remained as steady as ever, constantly writing something in the mist above the water. He was calculating, and at the same time, setting up the formation, his body radiating an immensely powerful aura.
Thousands of celestial stones flew to various parts of the mountains, suspended in the air. Beneath the pitch-black night sky, they seemed like stars appearing, sealing off the land within a radius of five hundred miles.
This was Cold Mountain, his domain.
Even if the middle-aged scholar who had come to Cold Mountain today was the strongest opponent he had encountered in his thousand years of cultivation, he was confident he could fight him.
The celestial stones suspended in the night sky wove into a net, and the center of this stone net was at the bend of the mountain path, by the stream, in front of the persimmon grove.
Right above the head of that middle-aged scholar.
The middle-aged scholar looked up at the night sky, gazing at the dozens of celestial stones within his line of sight. His expression remained indifferent, unmoved.
Far away at the peak by the lake, the Heavenly Fortune Elder’s body swayed slightly. His wrinkles did not increase, but they deepened by several degrees.
The middle-aged scholar looked at the peak and said expressionlessly, “Heavenly Fortune, do you think such a crude formation can trap me?”
His voice, like thunder, exploded among the mountains.
The cultivators guarding Chen Changsheng felt their sea of consciousness tremble. Some of the weaker cultivators even dropped their Dao swords and covered their ears in pain.
These scenes faintly appeared in the mist over the lake at the peak.
The Heavenly Fortune Elder looked at the images in the mist and said, “I cannot trap you forever, but I must trap you for a time.”
The middle-aged scholar smiled and said, “Then you don’t care about the lives of these juniors?”
The Heavenly Fortune Elder replied, “If you don’t even care about your own life, who else’s life can I care about?”
These two peerless experts, separated by at least a hundred miles, seemed to be conversing face to face.
Hearing these simple exchanges, the human cultivators and demon clan experts, who had just been filled with hope upon hearing the Heavenly Fortune Elder’s voice, immediately fell into despair again.
The members of the Heavenly Mechanism Pavilion, sitting cross-legged in the pavilion by the lake and forming the formation, showed reluctant expressions on their faces but had nothing to say.
If the Heavenly Fortune Elder were to exert his full power at this moment, he might not be able to save everyone on the mountain path and by the stream, but he could at least prevent them from all dying.
But if he did that, he would not be able to maintain the celestial stone formation sealing off the five-hundred-mile Cold Mountain.
Those people who had entered Cold Mountain were important; they were the future of humanity. However, if he could seal the middle-aged scholar inside Cold Mountain for a little longer, allowing the powerful figures of the human world to arrive and kill him, then... humanity would surely have an incredibly bright future.
In the brief moment it took to discover the middle-aged scholar’s trail, the Heavenly Fortune Elder had already performed over forty calculations and finally made his choice.
If the deaths of those people could bring about the death of humanity’s most fearsome enemy, then their deaths would be worth it.
Even if one of those people was the future Pope.
The Heavenly Fortune Elder believed that if those people knew the identity of the middle-aged scholar, they would make the same choice as he did.
...
...
The Longevity Pavilion was a famous site in Xiling, housing an extensive collection of books. A scholar stood by a bookshelf, holding a scroll and reading. He wore an ordinary long robe, the only unusual thing about him being a red flower tied to his little finger. That flower was very red, beautiful to look at, and special—it didn’t resemble any common shade of red, possessing a unique aesthetic.
The scholar’s expression was calm, as if he were deeply engrossed in his reading. However, the red flower trembling gently on his little finger indicated that his emotions were not as serene as they appeared. Perhaps it was because of the occasional shouts and curses coming from outside the pavilion. The Longevity Pavilion was a place of tranquility—who would dare to shout outside? Who would dare to curse at this scholar?
The one cursing outside the pavilion was an old Daoist nun, holding a half-bald whisk that was already half-bald. It was none other than Wujiong Bi, who had been driven out of the capital by the Holy Empress of the Heavenly Sea.
Listening to the curses from outside, the scholar could no longer maintain his composure. His frown deepened, and eventually, he sighed, preparing to say something. Just then, a faint fluctuation suddenly rippled through the sky to the east of the Longevity Pavilion.
The scholar’s expression shifted. With a flicker, he vanished from before the bookshelf and appeared outside the pavilion in the next moment. The old Daoist nun, seeing the scholar finally emerge, felt secretly pleased but still wore a face full of hatred as she glared at him and said, “If you won’t care about your son, won’t you even care about your wife?!”
The scholar didn’t even glance at her. He continued to stare at the northeastern direction of the clear sky, his face dark.
The old Daoist nun grew furious and reached out to grab him.
The scholar snorted coldly, flicked his sleeve in anger, and lightly stepped on a lotus leaf in the pond before the pavilion. His figure suddenly blurred into the air and vanished without a trace.
The old Daoist nun fell heavily to the ground, her cheek red and swollen.
She covered her face, stunned. Since their marriage, she had never been treated like this.
Just as she was about to let out a torrent of curses, she finally sensed the anomaly in the sky. Her face turned pale, and a chill of dread surged within her.
At this moment, she could only hope that her earlier delay hadn’t cost her husband that one fleeting moment when he flicked his sleeve.
...
...
The Ten Thousand Willow Garden outside Hanqiu City was still a scorched wasteland. Though some time had passed, no new shoots had yet sprouted.
Zhu Luo stood by the former lake, gazing at the ruined scene before him, silent.
In recent days, he had been busy handling the affairs of the Zhu clan and the Heartless Sect, while waiting for Wang Po’s return to Tianliang County. His mind and body were slightly weary.
A man wearing a bamboo hat stood beside him. It was Guan Xingke, one of the Eight Winds and Rains.
Suddenly, a patch of black ash fell onto the brim of the bamboo hat. Guan Xingke sensed something and looked toward the eastern horizon. He saw that the sea of clouds thousands of miles away had darkened by several shades.
“Something’s happened.”
“You go.”
“Alright.”