Chapter 302 - 286: Upper Profound Celestial Palace
A boundless sea of clouds and mist surged forth, billowing like a tide and as soft as cotton, carrying with it an indescribable sense of ancient desolation.
The mist was not mere mundane water vapor. Within it flowed and shifted wisps of faint, silvery Dao Rhyme. As it touched the skin, it faintly resonated with the Magical Power in his body.
Qi Yun’s gaze was clear. The Dao Rhyme of Daluo Heaven naturally circulated around him, keeping the encroaching mist a full three feet from his body.
He remained Immovable, no matter how fiercely it surged against him.
A few breaths later, the churning mist before him was slowly parted, as if by an invisible hand.
It gradually thinned and receded.
His view suddenly opened up.
Qi Yun raised his gaze, his expression freezing for an instant.
Even for someone like him—who had forged a Venerable Dao Foundation, witnessed the emergence of Imperial Soldiers in the Valley of No Life, and even clashed from afar with a figure like the Crown Prince of Nanyin—a trace of unconcealable shock still flickered in his eyes at this moment.
Ahead—
An endless sea of white clouds stretched to the horizon, its waves rolling gently, vast and serene.
In the center of this endless sea of clouds,
a palace floated quietly.
No, what lay before him could no longer be described by the simple word "palace."
It was a sprawling complex of buildings, as continuous as a mountain range and as majestic as a divine peak!
The entire structure was built from a pure white material that was neither metal nor jade, possessing a gentle luster like moonlight. A hazy, sacred, pale-gold halo flowed over its entire surface.
Its flying eaves and tiered brackets were stacked layer upon layer, like a phoenix spreading its wings, poised to break through the sea of clouds and soar into the loftier void beyond.
The pillars supporting the corridors were so thick it would take a hundred people to encircle one. They were carved with countless, impossibly intricate runes and patterns that seemed to contain the profound truths of Heaven and Earth. These carvings slowly roamed and pulsed with light, as if breathing.
The main gate of the palace towered thousands of feet high. Its two doors were shut tight, their color as dull and dark as ancient bronze, yet their surface was densely inlaid with countless shimmering, silver motes that shone like stars.
Above the door’s lintel hung an enormous plaque. It too was made of a material that was neither metal nor jade, its texture ancient and unadorned. Upon it were four large words in Ancient Seal script.
Upper Profound Celestial Palace
Around the outer perimeter of the Celestial Palace, countless small phantoms—shaped like serpentine dragons, celestial cranes, lotuses, and pagodas—danced as if alive. They slowly circled along a mysterious trajectory, leaving trails of pale golden Flowing Light in their wake.
They painted the Celestial Vault above the clouds with an ever-shifting, incomparably magnificent iridescence.
"This is it, this is it! The Upper Profound Celestial Palace!!"
Situ Huaji materialized, released by Qi Yun from a separate pocket of space. The moment he set foot on the clouds and his gaze fell upon the magnificent palace floating above the mists, he froze as if struck by lightning.
An instant later, indescribable ecstasy and excitement overwhelmed his reason. He let out a low growl, his hands rubbing together uncontrollably, his gaze so fervent it seemed about to ignite.
"The Upper Profound Celestial Palace... one of the thirty-six halls of the Celestial Court, the supreme Sacred Land dedicated to the study and creation of the Talisman Dao! Ha... Hahahaha!"
He gazed up at the divine treasury he had yearned for, his voice trembling with sheer excitement.
"After spending decades searching through ancient texts and fragmented records, charting the stars and the seas, and escaping death countless times... Today, my wish has finally been granted. I can finally see it with my own eyes!"
Qi Yun paid no mind to Situ Huaji’s outburst.
His gaze remained fixed on the Upper Profound Celestial Palace.
’The Celestial Court was jointly established by the Ancient True Monarchs. Its purpose was to pool the wisdom of all, plumb the depths of the Great Dao, and seek the path to transcendence.’
’This Upper Profound Celestial Palace, though only one of thirty-six such halls and long since vanished into the annals of time with the rest of the Celestial Court...’
’...its lingering power and majesty were still far beyond what any contemporary Talisman Sects, or even the so-called Talisman Dao Sacred Lands, could ever hope to match.’
’The "height" and "depth" of its connection to the very source of the Great Dao was as different from them as clouds are from mud.’
’But precisely because it existed on such a high level, the hidden dangers within must also far exceed those of any ordinary ruin.’
’The methods of a True Monarch were not to be underestimated—not even a lingering wisp of a Restriction or a single dormant rule.’
After a moment’s contemplation, Qi Yun suddenly raised his right hand. His wide sleeve caught the Clear Wind blowing across the sea of clouds as he gave it a gentle flick.
No brilliant light burst from his sleeve.
Instead, an endless cascade of pure white Talisman Paper—as fine as snowflakes and as thin as a cicada’s wings—poured out, fluttering like a startled cloud of jade butterflies.
The moment the Talisman Papers left his sleeve, intricate, lively, ink-black patterns rapidly materialized on their surfaces.
In the blink of an eye, the sky full of snow-white Talismans flashed, and their forms changed abruptly!
They transformed into a flock of paper cranes, each no bigger than a palm, yet so lifelike they were perfect down to the last detail.
The cranes were entirely snow-white, save for their beaks and feet, which were daubed with a touch of living ink. Their eyes were brought to life by two points of extremely pure Divine Sense, glittering like stars. As they glanced about, they seemed to possess a genuine spirit.
"Go."
With a mere thought from Qi Yun.
The ten thousand-plus snow-white paper cranes scattered as if receiving a silent command, transforming into a shimmering white torrent that swept toward the majestic, silent Upper Profound Celestial Palace.
Each paper crane was an extension of Qi Yun’s senses, one of his "eyes."
As the thousands of paper cranes infiltrated every corner of the Celestial Palace, inside and out, as silent and subtle as motes of dust.
The vast, ancient Celestial Palace, which had lain silent for untold ages, began to unfold like an exquisitely detailed, three-dimensional scroll, its image reflecting, frame by frame, with perfect clarity in Qi Yun’s Sea of Consciousness.
Qi Yun closed his eyes and focused. The Dao Rhyme around him was faintly linked to the sky full of paper cranes, his Deep Blue Daoist Robe stirring gently in the breeze.
By now, Situ Huaji had managed to calm down from his ecstatic frenzy. He didn’t dare make a sound, afraid of disturbing the "senior’s" reconnaissance.
Time flowed by quietly in this seemingly frozen space between the sea of clouds and the Celestial Palace.
The paper cranes danced, as silent as falling snow.
"Be careful."
The voice of the God of Wealth Cai Shen echoed in his mind via Spiritual Sense, his tone uncharacteristically solemn.
"The lingering aura of a True Monarch here... is extremely potent.
When your paper cranes touched the palace itself, I faintly sensed several ripples, lying dormant and deep...
This Upper Profound Celestial Palace is not as tranquil as it appears."
As an Emperor’s True Spirit who had witnessed methods of a much higher caliber, its Spiritual Sense was far keener than that of any ordinary Cultivator.
Its words made Qi Yun’s already solemn expression grow even more wary.
"Understood."
Qi Yun replied with a thought, simultaneously slowing the pace of his investigation. He guided the thousands of white paper cranes permeating the Celestial Palace with an even gentler, more delicate touch.
He moved them like a soft breeze brushing over a dusty Ancient Scroll, careful not to stir up the slightest unnecessary disturbance.
The interior of the Upper Profound Celestial Palace was magnificent beyond imagination.
The Main Hall, Side Halls, Scripture Pavilion, Pill Rooms, Workshops, Demonstration Platforms...
Countless halls and pavilions, each with a different purpose, were arranged in a profound formation that seemed to embody the very principles of Heaven and Earth.
The doors to most of the halls and chambers were sealed shut, shimmering with the light of ancient Restrictions, some bright, some dim.
This light formed complex barriers with abstruse and indecipherable auras, all faintly connected to the grand rhythm of the entire Celestial Palace.
To disturb one would be to disturb them all; they could not be broken by brute force.
But soon, the paper cranes found an opening.
It was a Side Hall in the southeastern quadrant of the Celestial Palace.
It was much smaller than the Main Hall, and its doors were not made of the Main Hall’s dull bronze, but of a pale cyan material that looked like a cross between wood and jade.
The door, which should have been perfectly sealed, had been smashed open, apparently by an incense burner.
It appeared to have been done in a fit of rage by some long-gone being.
Peering through the opening, the scene inside the Side Hall was faintly visible.
The space inside wasn’t particularly large and was simply furnished. The floor was paved with lustrous, cloud-patterned White Jade, but the entire room was now in disarray.
A three-legged, round-bellied Purple Copper Incense Burner, tall as two men, lay toppled on the floor. Its body was severely warped, its lid was gone, and the ash within—long since solidified into a grayish-white, stone-like substance—was spilled everywhere.
Near the toppled incense burner lay seventeen or eighteen brocade boxes, each about a foot square.
The boxes were made of various materials: some of rosewood inlaid with jade, others of cold iron with openwork patterns, and still others woven from ice-silkworm silk. A faint light still flowed across their surfaces, and despite being long-covered in dust, their exceptional quality was still apparent.
Most of the boxes had been opened and were now completely empty.
Only three boxes lay intact amidst the mess.
One was dark gold, its surface embossed with layered cloud-and-thunder patterns. Its lid was shut tight, perfectly sealed.
Another was indigo blue, seemingly carved from a single piece of deep-sea cold jade. It was so translucent that the faint outline of a silk scroll could be seen inside.
The last box was the plainest. It was made of unadorned ebony, yet it naturally emanated a dense, profound Dao Rhyme. Affixed to the center of its lid was a Cinnabar sealing strip, its color faded but its calligraphy archaic and simple.
’A damaged Side Hall... some remaining boxes...’
Qi Yun’s thoughts raced, but he did not act rashly.
He controlled a hundred or so paper cranes, guiding them silently through the broken doorway and into the Side Hall. He had them repeatedly inspect every inch of the floor, every corner, even the inner walls of the toppled incense burner and the engravings on the scattered boxes.
Meanwhile, more cranes circled the outside of the Side Hall, carefully searching for any abnormalities.
After a long while.
All the information sent back by the paper cranes revealed no abnormalities whatsoever!
A sharp glint flashed in Qi Yun’s eyes. He hesitated no longer.
"Go."
His body transformed into an extremely condensed, chaotically-colored streak of light. Tearing through the sea of clouds, he shot directly toward the damaged Side Hall in the southeastern corner of the Celestial Palace.
Wherever the streak of light passed, the clouds parted naturally without creating the slightest spiritual turbulence, a sign of his sublime control over his power.
Behind him, Situ Huaji, who had been waiting anxiously, was instantly invigorated. He hurriedly roused the remaining blood-qi in his body, transforming into a sinister, dark-red Escape Light to give chase.
However, his injuries had yet to heal. His Escape Light was clearly faint and unstable, and his speed was much slower. He could only struggle to follow the fading trail of Qi Yun’s light.
In the blink of an eye, the chaotic streak of light that was Qi Yun had already streaked past countless palace eaves, shooting with pinpoint accuracy through the hole in the Side Hall’s door.
The light receded, and his figure landed silently on the messy, cloud-patterned White Jade floor without disturbing a single speck of dust.
He did not immediately look at the three brocade boxes.
Instead, he raised his gaze and scanned the interior of the Side Hall with his own eyes.
The hall was rather dim, lit only by the slivers of heavenly light filtering through the broken door and the faint glow from the boxes themselves.
A peculiar, slightly cool scent hung in the air—a mixture of aged incense and jade dust.
The toppled Purple Copper Incense Burner was just a short distance away, its sheer size giving it an oppressive presence.
The mottled verdigris and scorch marks on its body silently testified to the violent impact that had occurred long ago.
The scattered empty boxes and the three intact ones lay quietly in the interplay of light and shadow, waiting after countless ages to be opened once more.
Situ Huaji stumbled into the hall a moment later, his footsteps echoing faintly on the cold jade floor.
His gaze swept greedily over the three intact boxes, and his breath quickened, but he forced himself to stay put.
He simply looked at Qi Yun, awaiting the "senior’s" instructions.
...