Chapter 11 – The Legend of Apotheosis

  Diyuan went with Ranxi to enjoy the week-long New Years festival. They both wore an eye mask, allowing people of all social standings to mingle together without needing to worry about all the formalities. Different stalls were opened for business, where each of the six cities had their own theme. Food, plays, music, and all sorts of activities were opened to the public. A week was hardly enough to enjoy all the sights, but people tried anyway.

  Low-grade talismans were used to launch lights into the night sky, where they would explode into shapes. The more clever ones used it to tell picture stories. Each city used one mid-grade talisman on the final night of the festivities, which would explode into a creature of light that would fly around the city, causing all the oohs and awes. Since all the mid-grade talismans were used at once on the final night, people had to choose which city to go to. Not knowing what the final talisman would be, they would choose the city based on which one they had the most fun in. The City Lords had a gambit of their own every year, where the winner was the city that had the most people witnessing their talisman finale.

  When the week was done, Diyuan and Ranxi returned back to the Yuhan estates. Servants were cleaning some blood that was on the outer walls. Apparently some assassin-like people had tried to enter the empty estates during the festival, hoping to get a claim on the Nether Mark. Anyone that thought the Yuhan estates was defenseless just because it looked empty couldn’t have been skilled. Plenty of Yuhan Elite kept watch and took out the nobodies.

  The Nether Mark wasn’t going to be a real problem until Diyuan stepped out of the Zhengyi territory.

  Soon after everyone settled into the New Year, Diyuan started receiving tributes—all from the communities that had some level of involvement with the Yuhan-Shi second branch’s scheme. Their tributes not only included the original items purchased from the Misty Lake Shop, but also a wider array of spiritual plants, meant for the low-level alchemy recipes. A bit annoying, since he didn’t want to learn alchemy, but his reasons for not doing so kept vanishing.

  Ranxi was looking over some of the Misty Lake plants he had before him.

  “Do you plan to return these to the shop?” She asked, plucking at one leaf and eating it. That little thief.

  “Nope, it stopped belonging to the shop once it was sold to outsiders.” Diyuan made the goods disappear into his ring before she could snatch any more. “And these were specifically given to me as congratulations for the completion of my seclusion. It would be rude to give away a gift.”

  Diyuan started to review the alchemy notes that Grand Elder Huizhong had left him. Since he had no alchemy cauldron, he needed to borrow one, but his mother gave one as a gift when she found out. Using the alchemy notes from the Grand Elder, Diyuan quickly picked up on foundational tricks. The cauldron would create its own fire when he added his energy to it, but the control of that fire was the tricky part.

  Lots of burnt pills were created, smelling up the residential area. It didn’t take long for Ranxi to ring his nose until he saw stars, so he had to go out and find something to block the smell. Formations were the best method, but required a quick study of its own, so he settled for some talismans around his working room.

  Alchemy was definitely one category where he was not a genius.

  Fortunately, he was rich. He burned through many ingredients for the useless tier one pills and had finally successfully refined pills. It didn’t smell anywhere near as good as the pills made by real alchemists or the Lianhua clan’s pills, but it was a start.

  He was feeling good about his progress. At least until he learned that pills were graded with lines. If a pill had three lines, it was considered perfect. If it had two lines, it was a mid-grade pill, decent enough if the refiner was an amateur. And according to Grand Elder Huizhong’s journal, having one line meant…

  You’re incompetent and should just throw the pill away. Then, open the trash, and throw yourself in as well.

  That insulting instruction had been added to the journal at a different time, deduced by the ink brush difference; which meant the Grand Elder had expected the new owner of the journal to refine a low-grade tier one pill. Ever the pessimist.

  During his stay at the Yuhan estates, his father never came by once. Which was a good thing, in Diyuan’s eyes.

  Ranxi would drag him over to the training grounds whenever she got bored. Maybe the bottleneck she was experiencing that prevented her from breaking through to the Dharma realm was a result of all her bullying. They would spar and he would always go all out, testing his mettle against a non-pagoda version of his sister. He still lost, but at least the pagoda version of her didn’t put him into a headlock and talk about how amazing he was while strangling him.

  Diyuan found himself simply enjoying his time with Mother. He learned that she had resumed her classes where people of all ages in the neighborhood would come to listen. Servants, guards, and even some Yuhan Elite would attend via a rooftop. Whenever she spoke about the artes and the way of cultivation, he felt like he understood more and that his own cultivation speed would be faster as a result. That made no sense, of course, but the feeling he got now reminded him of the Promise Land in the Reflections Pagoda.

  A part of him wondered if he could reach enlightenment just by listening to her words. But maybe that was the lulling effect she had on him whenever she did anything, which always felt strangely good. He did often listen to Mother throughout his younger years, enough so that Ranxi would tease him for it.

  But that sort of just happened. After his brother died, Mother had paused her classes and spent most of her time with him, giving him her private lessons that she otherwise gave to others publicly. Diyuan had figured that was her way of comforting him, which might have also comforted herself. But it wasn’t like he could do anything else, being banned from using Yuhan resources and all that.

  While that daily life was happening, Diyuan continued his preparations for breakthrough. To go from Foundation to Spiritweave was—ironically enough—probably the easiest breakthrough of them all. It took a year of preparation to set the Foundation core to enter a “lodestone” state. Once activated, the core would pulse, attracting a new kind of energy, one that required the Foundation core to be strong enough to withstand it. It was akin to a magnetic pulse.

  Some fancy people might call the new energy being absorbed as celestial essence, as this would be the first time the cultivator actually went against the heavens and gained a portion of divinity. Longevity and other supernatural properties would be made available, such as sound transmission and moving objects without touching them. But, to Diyuan, it all could simply be lumped together as spiritual energy.

  The Foundation core would bring in the streams of energy at a pace it could not sustain for long. Much like how the beating heart knew what to do on its own, the Foundation core would know what to do and would focus the new energy to a single point and compress its power there. There would be a bit of pain, but eventually the energy would condense, creating the smaller yet more powerful Spiritweave core. Two cores of different sizes; like a moon to the planet.

  There was a chance the breakthrough would fail. If the Foundation core wasn’t prepped enough to pull in the needed amount of streams of energy, it wouldn’t be able to form the Spiritweave core. Since the unused extra spiritual power needed to go somewhere, one of three things typically happened: the Foundation core could absorb it, it could be damaged by it, or it could overflow and cause internal injuries.

  As a result, the general rule was that spending a year to prepare would be enough to set up the lodestone as needed. And Diyuan had begun his preparations shortly after he reached level 6 Foundation, so he was due to advance in about half a year.

  Alternatively, he could use a tier two breakthrough pill, but that resulted in instability that could take longer than a year to fully resolve. Impatient people might go that route, but if they didn’t consolidate their power and continued to advance to the higher levels, they would be weaker than their peers as a consequence.

  Months would pass where Diyuan would practice alchemy and continue his breakthrough preparation. In the time when he finally reached 19 years of age, he had successfully made one mid-grade tier one pill—the two lines being his happy birthday gift—though that success couldn’t be replicated for whatever reason.

  Ranxi wanted to throw a birthday celebration and invite many people; it would have also been a show of strength in the face of the Nether Mark. However, Mother rejected the idea, pointing to the fact that Diyuan needed to enter seclusion for the last month of his Spiritweave breakthrough arrangements. So, for that final month, Diyuan entered his room and closed the doors. He sat and meditated, readying himself for the short-term pain that would come with it.

  When the time came, Diyuan activated the Foundation core, causing it to pulse as a lodestone. A torrent of spirit energy flooded into him, overwhelming his senses. A dizzy spell hit him, almost causing him to blackout. He focused and kept his consciousness steady.

  Though…was it supposed to be like this?

  The spiritual energy was supposed to be a stream, but this felt like a flood. He watched the energy flow above his Foundation core, where something odd happened. Rather than focusing on a single point, where the power should condense, it instead created a vortex around that spot, making it act like an eye of a whirlpool.

  Never had Diyuan heard of that happening. The Foundation core always acted the same way when it came to a breakthrough. For it to do something different would be like if Diyuan had swapped out his human heart with one of another entity entirely—

  That’s when the thought struck Diyuan. His core wasn’t the same as everyone else’s, was it? He had shattered his core, which then reformed into something new. The Limitless Elixir, given to him by Ancestor Tianhou, had given him a new core. And this core wasn’t giving him a breakthrough as intended.

  Now Diyuan was worried that whatever was happening to him was by a different design.

  The whirlpool of energy amassed further; the feeling of suffocating and drowning starting to kick in. But his Foundation core kept going, kept bringing in more energy, as if the current amount still wasn’t enough.

  Diyuan tried to move, tried to stop it, but his body was locked in place. The dizziness returned, and soon he found he couldn’t remain conscious. He blacked out.

  ***

  When Diyuan came to, the dizzy spell was waning. His body felt heavy, as if he just woke from a deep slumber. He recalled what had happened and did a quick spot check. He was still sitting in a lotus position in his room. Nothing was out of place physically. But within?

  What he found surprised him.

  First, spiritual energy was still continuously flooding into him at the same rate as it had been when he tried to breakthrough. Second, there was no Spiritweave core. The vortex of power continued to spin, but was now feeding a portion of it to his Foundation core. The amount should have overwhelmed his core and shattered it completely, but it drank it all instead.

  Diyuan gasped to learn that he had advanced, just not the way he thought. He was now level 7 Foundation. But that was an oddity in itself. To advance to level 7 Foundation without using spirit stones would take decades, not to mention the months it would take if the cultivator went the spirit stones route. And such an advancement method would destabilize the Foundation core, causing abilities to not act appropriately at times. Yet, from what Diyuan could sense, he was as stable as ever.

  He left his room and found a servant, who confirmed for him that he had been in seclusion for a total of three months—meaning he had been unconscious for around two.

  When he broke through to level 6 Foundation, it had taken him two months with a million spirit stones. But level 7 was an entirely different beast. Spirit stones became less efficient the higher one went with the prestige levels, so going from level 6 to level 7 could take five to ten million spirit stones. But he had done it in two months with this flood of spiritual power?

  [My Diyuan, did you fail to breakthrough?] A voice entered his mind. It was soft and caring, ready to comfort him if needed; Mother.

  Diyuan looked around but didn’t see her. The Yuhan estate grounds was full of activity, with the heat of the season pressing down on everything. At the training grounds the men were all shirtless, sweat make their skin shine. The greenhouse had special smoke that slightly hid the contents within, but a person’s frame would still be visible. No one was in there.

  “Peeking on me, Mother?” Diyuan said, adding some false cheer to his voice. He would need to go visit Grand Elder Huizhong to figure out what was happening to him. From what he knew, the Grand Elder had helped him absorb the Limitless Elixir when he was unconscious. He may have his own insights.

  [Your seclusion lasted longer than planned. Are you injured?] Even though she wasn’t there physically, he felt a tingling sensation in his scalp, as if she was there scratching it softly.

  Diyuan shook his head and reassured her. “But I didn’t fail to breakthrough, I’m level 7 Foundation now, you see?” His flexed his arms, as if this was planned. Though, she wouldn’t be able to sense his actual level. To everyone, he would still appear as a level 5 Foundation cultivator when they tried to detect him. Prestige levels were invisible like that.

  [Ah, were you not trying to reach Spiritweave this year? But level 7? My Diyuan would rather reach the legendary level 9 Foundation before picking up the responsibilities of the Spiritweave realm.] She included a tone of teasing into her voice.

  “There wouldn’t be enough spirit stones in all of history to make that happen,” Diyuan said to the air, still not knowing where Mother was at. “Anyway, I’m going to stretch my legs. I’ll probably be back by end of week—maybe!”

  He then left and began to search for the Grand Elder, and it wasn’t too difficult to find the grouch. Some quick message talismans got him the information he needed. He was told a tournament between the Watchers and the Vanguards was taking place, where Grand Elder Huizhong was mostly there on standby in the worst of cases.

  In an office room, away from the loud noises of the tournament outside, Diyuan was standing before the Grand Elder Huizhong.

  “I hope you aren’t here to tell me you haven’t even succeeded in making one decent pill,” the grouch said, not bothering to look up from the paperwork before him.

  “Ah, but I have!” Diyuan held up a finger. “A two-lined tier one pill.” He nodded and internally patted himself on the back. He couldn’t recreate that success, but the grouch didn’t need to know that.

  “So…no, you haven’t succeeded in making one decent pill.” Grand Elder Huizhong flipped the paper, as if any continuation of the conversation wasn’t worthy of him.

  “I did do something even more amazing, genius-worthy, I think,” Diyuan leaned on the table, causing it to move and rattle the objects on top. The Grand Elder looked up, his patience near zero. “I, in my attempt to breakthrough to the Spiritweave realm, failed so spectacularly that I managed to hit level 7 Foundation instead. Fancy how that works.”

  The annoyance that Grouchy Huizhong had vanished instantly, replaced by curiosity.

  “Explain.”

  Diyuan went into detail on his preparations for his breakthrough. He spoke to the Foundation core not acting the way it should, how the energy spun, and how he went unconscious for two months, waking up to a higher cultivation level.

  “And it’s not slowing down,” Diyuan finished. “Even right now, I’m still absorbing a great deal of spiritual energy, despite not meditating.”

  “Hmm…” Grouchy Huizhong took out a spirit stone and held it up to Diyuan, apparently half expecting it to be absorb automatically. When nothing happened, he closed his eyes for his own meditation. “At the very least, we know it won’t disturb others as it targets celestial essence rather than everyday energy,” he said as he opened his eyes. He got up and found Diyuan’s pulse on his wrist, checking something. “Clever. Very clever.”

  “What is?”

  “Not you, obviously.” Grouchy Huizhong started pacing in the room. “I had wondered to the properties of the upper world elixir when it was first introduced. If given to a cultivator in the Dharma realm, how would it benefit him? The inflow of power from the elixir could adapt and give the Dharma cultivator a new strength, equal to multiple cultivators of the same level. That is an assumption, of course. Yet, it also has the ability to renew a broken Foundation core, evident by you. It had also shown remarkability of absorption when I aided your unconscious body to take the remaining effects of the elixir.” He began to muttered, but Diyuan couldn’t pick up on what was being said.

  “So, what did it do to me?”

  Grand Elder Huizhong paused and looked at him, as if remembering he was still there. “I believe the Limitless Elixir does something different depending on the current cultivation realm you were in at the moment of its consumption.”

  “Which is…?”

  Grouchy Huizhong sighed. “How much must I suffer? This ‘vortex’ you described is a controlled way of pulling in all the celestial essence that would destroy any normal Foundation core. What it’s doing to you instead is feeding you an unsurmountable amount of energy—the likes of which shouldn’t be possible—in a controlled environment. You skipped decades of meditation in a matter of months, yes?”

  Diyuan shrugged. It sure sounded impressive, except for the part where it wasn’t. “Yeah, but it’s only the Foundation realm. I get more space for artes, and what else? My body is slightly stronger now, closer to equaling a Spiritweave’s strength, but I would rather just advance great realms. I’m more concerned about how to change this vortex into a Spiritweave core.”

  Grouchy Huizhong let out a long, deep sigh; it seemed to be a habit of his whenever Diyuan was around. He pulled out a token from his storage ring. “Take this and go to the Records Hall. Logically speaking, if you continue to absorb energy at the miraculous rate that you are, you will eventually reach level 8 Foundation. But what happens if it still doesn’t stop then?”

  Diyuan took the token. It was permission to enter the deeper archives of the Zhengyi clan. “Well, after 8 is level 9 Foundation,” he said simply. It was known to be the unattainable level. Even the greatest of geniuses would not be able to reach it. If it would have taken Yunya around 145 years to reach level 8 Foundation—which was beyond the possible lifespan—it would take Diyuan around 90 years. That assumed he kept his former speedy progress the entire time, and even then, he would only succeed with a few years left to his life. It simply wasn’t possible to reach level 9 Foundation. No longevity pill worked on cultivators below the Spiritweave realm, and no genius could overcome such a wall.

  Though, that did beg a certain question that Diyuan never stopped to consider. If level 9 Foundation was unobtainable due to a limited lifespan, then how did anyone know about it?

  Grouchy Huizhong returned to his seat, looking back at the papers before him. “See what you can find about the apex of the Foundation realm. That’s what the token is for. Research it. You may have some luck on the topic if you looked in the upper world section. I will look into something on my end…I’ll reach out to you when I’m ready.”

  And with that, Diyuan was given his leave.

  ***

  The Void Sanctum was the inner restricted section of the Records Hall. It was a dimly lit, circular hall with black walls that seemed to absorb light. Not really friendly to a reader’s eyes. Rows of various scrolls, tablets, and scriptures lined the place. Each area had protective runes that glowed faintly. At the center was a well-like object, filled to the brim with a black liquid. The scrying pool.

  But with a touch of the token, the pool would reveal a table of contents of sorts, where a thought could control which record he wanted to look into by making it appear as yellow letters on the black pool. This method allowed the original contents to remain safe and untouched, protected for all eternity. This was truly one of the highest inventions made by a rune device craftsman.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The black liquid rippled and changed as he began his search, first seeking out the upper world information per Grand Elder Huizhong’s instructions. At first, Diyuan had expected to learn some mythical unheard secrets, things that would change his worldview forever; but alas. It was mostly mundane items, things that wouldn’t even be worth classifying as a restricted-knowledge item if the original record were allowed to be taken out of their protective area and copied.

  There was some information about crafting fabric, using upper world resources. Nothing worth looking into. A topic on the ethics of killing a demonic beast that could speak. Information on using musical instruments as weapons. A small tidbit about the creations of spirit artifacts and how they might relate to divine artifacts, but it was only a snippet with conjected theory, missing the context that might make more sense of the topic.

  Skyboat maintenance information certainly looked interesting. A way to fly without requiring runic wings of a level 5 Spiritweave cultivator or a spirit artifact bound by blood. But, of course, the materials discussed were all things that didn’t exist in their lower world.

  A calendar system that restarted when the “First Emperor” changed, which was determined by cycle rather than the previous emperor’s death. Sounded like this “First Emperor” was a title rather than a founder of an empire.

  There were more meaty things that had actual content to it, but none of it really relevant. A book that discussed certain towns and cities, and how they might manage lower world items.

  Oh, would you look at that. Diyuan found something interesting—though, still not relevant to his own research. But apparently there was a group called the Hua Sect, suggested to be one of the noble powers. This record mentioned how they had a branch in the lower world that specialized in pills, whose singular purpose was to harvest a rare flower called Omnisbloom.

  That lower world branch wouldn’t be the Lianhua clan, would it? Diyuan did recall talks about how the Lianhua clan had some relation to the upper world. But then again, the world was far bigger back in the day.

  Their way of speaking was rather intriguing. They referred to each other as “Junior” and “Senior,” sometimes including a familial term, such as Brother or Sister. At first, Diyuan had thought everyone was blood related, until the terms also included “Martial Uncle” into it. A hierarchal naming system that didn’t survive the pass of isolated time, it seemed.

  Several research sessions passed. They usually ended when an old elder entered to use the scrying pool. Diyuan could definitely use a break from all the text so he decided to go and stretch his legs. His sense of time had dimmed with the poor lighting as he realized more days had passed than expected. He suddenly felt like one of those old-time scholars that could spend months in the library.

  He would return to study on a regular basis, but found the scrying pool tended to be in use now and then, so he started going through any upper world documents that wasn’t required to be in the Void Sanctum part of the Records Hall. His motivation was tested when he found out that the Records Hall contained nearly two million records, and about 40,000 of that was protected in the Void Sanctum.

  Even with a thousand-year lifespan limit, that wouldn’t be enough time to read everything. Fortunately, Diyuan only needed to skim the pages of upper world items. But even if he skimmed, it would still take years to go through them, and that was assuming he didn’t have a time limitations with the scrying pool. And he couldn’t outright dismiss a book simply based on its premise, as the topic at hand could briefly mention what he needed.

  Which was why he was skimming through a fiction novel. It described enlightenment as something that could be passed via dual cultivation. He was reading it due to prevailing thoughts on enlightenment being able to advance cultivation levels at a rapid pace. That topic interested him at first, as evolved artes was something he had experience in. The dual cultivation novel went off the deep end rather quickly, however. Since artes were usually shared within the family first and foremost, it…well, to Diyuan’s surprise, the story—which started with intellectual rules and guidelines on the process—became rather raunchy and…

  Turned out it was one of those books. The upper world people had varied tastes, it seemed.

  A routine started with how much time Diyuan would have with the scrying pool. He had a list of documents in mind to go through after he had asked the attendants on the items most likely to discuss Foundation cultivation and the prestige levels. Most of them were busts, though.

  There was another piece of information that showed how ruthless some upper world cultures were. A nomadic tribe would be targeted by groups of cultivators as a pastime, rewarding those who killed the most. Those tribes would unite and slaughter any cultivator that came their way, regardless if they claimed to have kind intent. It seemed like others had tried that approach before, and betrayed them. There was a reference to another book about how one of the tribe’s children ended up leading them to victory, who “had a foundation above all,” but the book in question wasn’t in the Records Hall.

  For the first time, Diyuan lamented on the lost knowledge that they could have kept if saving these records had been a higher priority during the destruction of the world. His outlook towards his fellow researchers, those that used the scrying pool and limited his time, changed quite a bit. Diyuan was originally annoyed at the minor inconvenience, but people like them were needed. So, one day when he was switching out with an elder who came to use the scrying pool, Diyuan addressed him in an unusual manner.

  “Senior Brother,” Diyuan said as he saluted. “May your research today bear fruit.”

  The elder paused, a look of surprise on his face, then grinned brightly. “Ah, Junior Brother, I see you’ve taken a liking to the honorifics beyond our Shroud. Was your own study fruitful?”

  “Nope,” Diyuan said. “Currently going through a list of the most likely candidates, but it’s taking time.”

  “Hmm…” The elder stroked his beard, pondering something. He then nodded. “How about you join one of our conferences? You may find some support there.”

  Diyuan accepted the offer after learning what these so-called conferences were. It was a simple gathering of like-minded elders that found life in the Records Hall to be fulfilling. Sometimes one person presented a seminar for their findings, other times it was more a debate session. It never included more than a dozen elders at one time, and it was held in an off room in the Records Hall, reserved once a month for just that event.

  He was told that one didn’t need to win a debate to get value out of it. Simply sharing a well thought out criticism earned joy and respect from others. They would offer their insights and even give their scrying pool time in honor of the exchange. Diyuan could definitely make use of such a reward.

  There were still a few weeks before the next conference, but Diyuan started addressing all the other elders he came across as Senior Brother, which sort of became a phenomenon of its own, where the elders leaned into that honorific convention, pretending to play along with his youthful mind. In reality, they were just enjoying it. They started calling each other by those honorifics as well, which resulted in small bits about whether someone should be addressed as Senior due to their age or their standing.

  Diyuan already felt the benefits of their good mood when one of the elders passed his scrying pool time to him willingly, along with plenty of suggestions on records that may reference cultivation levels indirectly, or simply the more interesting upper world records. He wasn’t about to let a good opportunity down.

  After several sessions, he came across something akin to a letter communication, sent from someone who was defending their choice location to hide a divine artifact. As it turned out, the artifact in question was the Reflections Pagoda.

  The start of the correspondence painted a picture of an aerial chase, where one of the “Ancient Families” was on his tail. His own allies tried to buy time, with his flight ability being the fastest of them all. But it all ended abruptly when someone else showed up, killing friend and foe alike.

  The Heavenly Demon.

  With the word “heavenly” involved, Diyuan first thought it was a powerful or unique demonic beast, or something like that primordial creature that he had seen with Lady Pagoda’s vision. Those four eyes and teeth layers of the Primordial Sovereign Devourer was etched into his mind.

  But no, it was a title given to a person, much like First Emperor or Sect Leader.

  According to the nameless author, this Heavenly Demon person, and two others with him, had killed around thirty cultivators with ease. It was stressed that one of the Ancient Families were among the victims, indicating a form of disbelief. Perhaps it showed that the family in question shouldn’t be brazenly killed like that; or maybe it revealed the difference in power, assuming the Ancient Families were known for their cultivation.

  The author was certain his death was next. The Heavenly Demon only needed to stretch his hand and take the divine artifact from him. Who could stop such a being? Instead, the Heavenly Demon simply asked what the divine artifact did. The author, who figured he had no reason to hide anything in such a circumstance, revealed it all.

  Diyuan noted that the actual correspondence didn’t say what the Reflections Pagoda did, as the author assumed the reader already knew.

  The author expected his end to come swiftly. But then, strangely, the Heavenly Demon had suggested hiding the pagoda in the lower world. Diyuan paused, struck by the contrast of this person. He first wiped out the thirty cultivators without discrimination, but now offered advice?

  Maybe the author had the same thought, since he said he quickly agreed so that the Heavenly Demon could leave before changing his mind. He quoted his exact words:

  “You are wise, Venerate One. The upper world, though vast, is small. The lower world is seen as insignificant, making its hiding capabilities wide. Even one who reached apotheosis might go unnoticed.”

  The Heavenly Demon, as he was leaving, would stop at those words. The author feared he spoke out of turn and cursed his own tongue. Instead, the Heavenly Demon tossed over an artifact that would keep him safe until he hid the pagoda. Surprised by the gift, the author asked why the Heavenly Demon was uninterested in the divine artifact.

  “Any can receive strength with her full might. My interest belongs to those whose strength is their own, before they take hold of treasures.”

  The author, still determined to defend his case for the hiding place of the pagoda, reminded the reader of the rumor surrounding the Heavenly Demon. Some believed he had made a reckless vow in his youth, a binding oath that forced his way. Everyone suspected the Heavenly Demon was searching for something. And, fortunately, the divine artifact Reflections Pagoda was not it. As a result, the author suspected the Heavenly Demon would not seek it out. And no other would think to look beyond the upper world.

  The Heavenly Demon’s quote reminded Diyuan of Uncle Xunran, who said something similar when Diyuan entered the pagoda. He had said that Diyuan should be strong without the Emperor’s Rule arte and Wind’s Edge spirit artifact. Perhaps he was purposely quoting the Heavenly Demon in a way.

  The author finished by saying that whatever the Heavenly Demon was searching for, he had failed to find it even after thousands of years; the imperial family had a better chance of first finding their own missing divine item at this rate.

  As interesting as the letter was, the more pressing matter was that this correspondence was the first real clue that Diyuan had.

  Apotheosis.

  Assuming the normal meaning of the word, it meant the highest peak of something. The culmination. In context here, it was referring to the lower world. Even one who reached apotheosis might go unnoticed. Why use apotheosis? The peak of the lower worlds was level 5 Dharma. Beyond that, the cultivator would be forced to ascend, so that couldn’t be an “unnoticed” apotheosis.

  But maybe Diyuan was just grasping at straws since he wanted to find a connection. The impossible realm of level 9 Foundation could be seen as an apotheosis of sorts. He would need to find other contexts to see if the theory stood up to it; and if so, what else the records might say.

  Fortunately, he had seen that word being used elsewhere before. He changed the scrying pool to find the record that had talked about the Hua Sect. It named some of the people that were part of it, but one of them stood out in Diyuan’s mind. A group of young people, geniuses of their generation, were called the “Dragons and Phoenixes.” One of these so-called Phoenixes was a young woman in the Hua Sect. The point of interest was the side tidbit, which mentioned how she was close friends with another Phoenix from the Tang family—a young woman who had reached apotheosis due to her poison physique.

  In the two times apotheosis was mentioned it was a standout feature. And in both cases, it referred either to a young woman or to the lower worlds, which had cultivation limitations. This Tang woman was able to reach apotheosis due to a physique condition, which implied that this apotheosis state was something that could not be easily acquired.

  This poison physique brought about some imagination as to what it did, but more research was needed, along with research for other possible physiques. The days would swiftly fly by as he had more categories to sift through. He had a list of records to review prepared, some suggested by the elders that were fond of him, but he would need to save it for later. Before long, it was time for the conference with the Senior Brother elders.

  Only half a dozen elders were in the reserved conference room. He was the youngest by far, where the next youngest was an aging man that showed hints of black hair still.

  “Junior,” one of the elders said. “Welcome to your first conference. To honor you, we would like you to pick the topic of debate as no one has prepared a seminar.”

  Diyuan expected this as one of the elders had told him beforehand. It had taken him a bit of thinking to come up with a topic that sounded intellectual but where he still had some knowledge.

  “How about the Heavens’ Laws, specifically the renegade terms, Venerable One?” Diyuan suggested as he respectfully saluted.

  That honorific got a laugh out of the elders, who all agreed with his topic.

  Diyuan started the debate. “If a renegade term, such as heavenly, divine, eternal, and so on, are considered renegade words that mustn’t be used on artes, then why are those words used in other things? Such as Heavenly Demon, or divine artifact? It is my opinion that…”

  Some back and forth was had during the debate. Some of the elders, who rested on neither side of the topic, simply poked holes in the thought processes that might have been used. If he was honest with himself, Diyuan found himself having fun. The elders seemed to notice that and all offered their scrying pool time until the next conference, which would be a seminar on spirit stones being consumed by cultivators for advancement, yet never truly running out in the world—or even diminishing.

  And so, Diyuan was able to burn through some months with his continuous research. He gained insight regarding the physique information and found a few examples of them.

  The most common one was known as the Ice Body physique, usually found on women. Their bodies would get unnaturally cold, sometimes freezing the area around them. They also could not advance to Spiritweave at all until the problems of the physique were healed. Such a condition would also harm the person themselves, so much so that if they did not find a solution, they would typically die around their twentieth year of age.

  The same problem existed for the other physique types, like the Fire Body one and a uniquely strange one called the Dragon Vein Body physique. Different books referred to them as either a blessing or a curse, depending on the context. While it was a problem that caused harm to others and themselves, often leading to death, there were benefits, too.

  Those with physiques cultivated unnaturally fast, and the pace of it increased the higher they went, like they couldn’t stop spiritual energy from pouring in. They became peerless, unmatched by those of the same level. All artes they learned would include the context of their condition. So if a Fire Body physique learned a palm technique, that arte would now include a layer of fire power, despite not being part of the original arte. The unfair advantage that the physiques presented was considered a fair tradeoff to their short lifespan.

  It was rumored that the heavens chose rich and noble families as righteous people, to be blessed with the physiques since the body conditions tended to appear there, giving rise to prominence. The truth of that could be logically dismantled, however, since the poor and ordinary did not have the resources to keep their fellow physique cultivators alive.

  Different physiques required different materials to stay alive. The Ice Body needed fire things. The Poison Body needed other poisons. The Dragon Vein Body needed extensive spiritual resources.

  There was one thing everyone agreed on: if these physique conditions successfully reached the peak of Foundation, as long as they remained alive and solved the ailment, they could advance to Spiritweave and soon become unmatched in the world, capable of creating history.

  But if they failed? It was recorded that someone who had a Fire Body was ostracized by their clan, forcing them to leave. Knowing his death was imminent, he returned in secret for revenge. At the hour of his death, his core exploded, erupting in a violent destruction that echoed all around him, blasting the lands into a fiery inferno.

  The clan’s entire city was destroyed by the death of a single Foundation cultivator.

  Diyuan now felt confident in his theory. Why would the nobles be blessed? Because someone reached level 5 Foundation? No. Peak in this context had to mean level 9 Foundation. But something must happen as a result of reaching level 9, because simply having one more arte slot wouldn’t be worthy enough to have such reverence, in Diyuan’s opinion.

  That begged a different question now: did Diyuan have a special physique? Was that why he failed to breakthrough? Or was it only the Limitless Elixir that Ancestor Tianhou gave him? How did it relate to these physiques, if at all? What “ailment” did he have that needed to be solved? How would he change the spiraling energy vortex to become a Spiritweave core?

  Diyuan’s thoughts would be interrupted as he felt the growing pressure on his Foundation core. It was now ready to advance to level 8 Foundation.

  He reserved a room for himself in the Records Hall for a couple of hours. Foundation breakthroughs, even the prestige levels, weren’t spectacular events. Nor was there any real risk to it, except for the fact that his energy flow became unstable; getting attacked at such a vulnerable time was not recommended.

  After the breakthrough finished, he became a level 8 Foundation cultivator. He was probably the youngest person in Zhengyi, or maybe even in the entire lower world, to hit level 8 Foundation. There were strength and body power increases, maybe close enough to be equal to level 1 Spiritweave, if not just shy of it. And there was also another arte slot he could use. Since he didn’t fill his level 7 slot yet, he had two open Foundation arte slots.

  But that would have to wait, as he received a message to visit Grand Elder Huizhong.

  ***

  When Diyuan entered Grand Elder Huizhong’s office, he noticed the pile of records splayed around the desk, piling and spilling over. The Grand Elder himself sat with his hands clasped, eyes closed. Diyuan sensed a serious atmosphere.

  “What have you learned these past few months?” Grand Elder Huizhong asked, eyes still closed.

  Diyuan went into detail about his theory of apotheosis and how the body physiques were typically the only way to reach level 9 Foundation—assuming his interpretation of the texts were accurate. Those with the special body conditions either died around their twentieth year, or they became peerless geniuses.

  Grand Elder Huizhong opened his eyes. They had a tired look to them. “Indeed. Then it matches what I learned.” He stood up and went around his desk to pick up an open book that was laying on a pile of other books. It had pictures of a cultivator’s core. “I had written my findings about the Limitless Elixir after treating you several years ago. I’ve looked into what may happen to a core in a situation like yours, using past situations and adjusting it with the upper world elixir and the abundant controlled spiral of celestial essence—which has replaced the normal spiritual energy for growth.” He paused and lowered the book in his hands. “First, you’ll either reach level 8 Foundation soon, or you already have.”

  “I just hit it,” Diyuan said. “It’s now working towards level 9 Foundation.”

  Grand Elder Huizhong nodded. “Then, according to my timeline, you will reach this apotheosis state, if you will, by the end of next year.”

  “That’ll be a fun New Year celebration, then,” Diyuan commented. “That’ll be around the time when everyone will be celebrating harder than usual, knowing that it’ll be the last New Year before the pocket world ban is lifted.”

  But Grand Elder Huizhong didn’t respond. There was a heaviness to his look. Not to mention he hadn’t insulted Diyuan once yet. And then Diyuan realized why.

  “How do we condense the energy vortex into a Spiritweave core once I hit level 9 Foundation?” he asked, feeling concern creep up inside.

  “That is certainly the right question to ask.” The Grand Elder looked down at his book. “If we want to play the fool, we can be optimistic and assume the Limitless Elixir solves for this problem on its own. Whether it will or not is something only time will tell.”

  There was a look that suggested Grand Elder Huizhong didn’t believe in optimism. It seemed like he suspected the problem would persist.

  The Grand Healer went and sat down. “By the way, how did you get invited to the Records Hall conference?” A genuine curiosity appeared on the older man’s face. “Do you even know who they are?” The change in conversation was abrupt, but Diyuan went with it.

  He shrugged. “I simply called them Senior Brother, so they invited me. Who else can they be but my Seniors?”

  “Ha! A genius-boy like you knows how to flatter anyone, do you?” A smirk appeared on the grouch’s face. “When will you start calling me Venerate One?”

  Diyuan saluted and bowed low. “Venerate Grouch, please guide your Junior Genius-Boy.”

  Whack! A brush hit Diyuan in the head.

  “After the holiday event is over, go and ask them who they are. Maybe you can take advantage of the boon that fell on your lap.”

  “Boon?” Diyuan rubbed the bump on his head. “As long as they don’t throw anything at me.”

  Grouchy Huizhong huffed. “Enough nonsense. You’ve already taken enough of my time. Take advantage of everyone whenever you can, but not me. Now get lost.”

  “Yes, Venerate Grouch.”

  Diyuan dodged the next item that was thrown at him and sprinted out of the room. As he left, he mulled over the words from the Grand Elder.

  Diyuan suspected the core wouldn’t fix the problem on its own. Much like those with a special physique, he now had a time limit. And, unlike those body conditions, he had no clue how to go about fixing his problem.

  ***

  Zheng Xunran’s blue spirit artifact wings brought flight, to carry him to the edge of the world.

  The calming blue sky and white clouds had a violent shift once he reached the edge. A storm cloud that threatened all life that dared to enter it. It rained blue, but not of water.

  Lightning.

  The edge of their world, also known as the Tribulation Shroud. A rumble filled the air as the continuous impacts acted as a reminder of everyone’s sin. The blue lightning flashed with each strike, causing an unnatural fear to creep up within Xunran.

  He wasn’t truly afraid, he knew, but this was part of the spell that came with the Tribulation Shroud. The blue lightnings were like trees in a forest; it was impossible to see through to determine how far it stretched. A lightning wall that blocked everything.

  Xunran had no intention of getting closer than he was now. If even a single one of those lightning strikes hit him, he very well could perish. Unlike normal tribulation thunder, which tested a singular cultivator during a major breakthrough, this Shroud was the executioner.

  The sound was muffled compare to regular lightning storm, but could still be loud enough for nearby settlements to create a soundproof barrier.

  Xunran flew, following the border of the Tribulation Shroud. His interest was in what Diyuan had said. The Reflections Pagoda, or the Lady Pagoda specifically, was an existence that was here prior to the end of the world. She had claimed the Tribulation Shroud was their prison bars. It was obviously true, since they couldn’t walk out or ascend whenever they wished.

  However, Lady Pagoda had also claimed Diyuan could break free. Xunran suspected he knew how it was possible and was now looking for the best point to do just that.

  His attention was interrupted when he saw a woman sitting on the ground. Her knees were pulled up with her arms wrapped around them. He was currently on the Lianhua clan’s side of the world, so she would likely belong to them. He stretched his senses; she was not a cultivator.

  Curious, Xunran descended.

  She saw him from the corner of her eye and stood to bow. The Shroud’s rumblings would prevent any worthwhile conversation, so he waved his hand and applied a sound barrier.

  “This mortal greets you,” she said reverently.

  Xunran nodded, hovering in the place. “What are you doing here?”

  She waited a moment before responding. “Truthfully? I am here to be struck by the lightning. But if I am allowed hope, I await my husband to return.” She looked up at him and gave a sad smile. “He went on a journey several years ago, during the Craigshatter battle.”

  Ah, so that’s who you are, Xunran thought. Her husband was the one who had died during the battle at the western plains, when Gu Guoxiong used his domain. It had caused some chaos to the Tribulation Shroud, striking out at random. That had killed one of the Lianhua researchers according to the reports.

  “It did not kill him,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “When a mortal is struck, they are not killed.” She ruffled through a small pack at her side and took out a booklet, holding it up to him.

  He remained in his hovered position and made the booklet fly to him, then flipped through some pages casually.

  “It’s some of his research,” she continued. “There’s a lot more that we have, though some has been lost. My husband was very confident that mortals do not die when struck. He said that mortals would be… I think, teleported? Moved? They would be taken away, not killed.”

  Xunran didn’t know what to think. How valuable could a non-cultivator’s research be? Many wise minds had tried to break out when the Shroud first appeared. What could be learned that wasn’t discovered then? So he stretched his hand out to return the booklet.

  Without taking it, she dropped to the ground, bowing with her forehead to the ground. “Please! If you go to the other side, please find my husband. His name is Deng Fuchen. He had his satchel with pills and spirit stones to befriend anyone, so he would be safe no matter where he ended up.”

  Xunran sighed. He looked over to where she had been staring. Could a mortal survive what would otherwise destroy an immortal? It sounded ridiculous. But what he was about to propose to Diyuan would be just as ridiculous, so he may as well see what might happen.

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” Xunran finally said. He made the booklet disappear into his ring. “But…if someone does go, I’ll tell them to keep their ears open. Or, smell, in this case. Since the Lianhua pills are fragrant enough for anyone to discover.”

  She kept repeating her thanks even as Xunran flew away. For all he knew, she would remain thankful until the day she died, holding out hope that her husband would return.