Chapter Ten: The Illusory Formation

Li Chengzhu calculated that he had been in this forest for a little over a month. He figured that by now his stingy master’s anger should have subsided, so he packed up his things and prepared to return home.

His plan was simple: if his master was still angry, he could always offer up the spoils he’d gathered over this month to compensate for the materials he’d lost. Surely his master wouldn’t truly cast him out of the sect—after all, he was the first and most senior disciple.

But reality proved far less straightforward than he had hoped. After following the compass on his wristwatch for three days, Li Chengzhu found himself standing beside a pile of burnt-out campfire ashes.

He stared at the familiar sight—the charred remains of the fire, a scattering of plucked feathers, and the chewed-over bones of some bird. Cold sweat trickled down his back. In all the Celestial Realm, he was probably the only one who roasted birds over a fire.

I’m lost. That was his first thought, and worse, he was going in circles.

He lifted his wrist to check the watch; the compass needle swung erratically between left and right, no longer pointing in any fixed direction.

Damn it! Li Chengzhu cursed inwardly. The compass must have been damaged in one of his battles—he regretted not having stored it safely in his ring. In this forest, there was no sun, no moon, not even stars. The sky was a blank white expanse, the towering trees endless. Now he had no idea which direction led to the Progenitor Lake.

Summoning his Coldlight Sword, he soared into the sky, scanning the horizon. Forest stretched as far as the eye could see, without a single break. Anxiety gnawed at him.

The only option now was to find a way out of the forest. Resolving himself, Li Chengzhu mounted his Coldlight and flew determinedly in a chosen direction. However vast the forest, it must have an edge somewhere—he would simply fly until he found it.

But once again, reality slapped Li Chengzhu in the face.

He had no idea how long he had been flying when, glancing to the side, he once more saw that familiar scene: the burnt-out campfire and chewed bird bones.

A chill crept into his heart. He was definitely moving in circles, and not even a large one—otherwise, what were the chances of stumbling upon the same campfire again and again?

An illusion array! Only an illusion array could so thoroughly confuse the mind, trapping him into circling a single spot.

Cold sweat beaded on his brow. He remembered the reverence with which the Celestial Emissary had spoken of illusion arrays during his lessons. Offensive arrays could kill, defensive arrays could shield, but nothing was as effective as illusions for confounding an enemy. It was said that among the Ten Celestial Lords, Lord Li Huanchen had attained his rank through mastery of such arrays; his skill in illusion surpassed all others in the Celestial Realm—even the Celestial Emperor admitted defeat before him. His famed Illusion Maze Array could ensnare even the emperor himself.

Yet for all the praise, even the Celestial Emissary had but a shallow understanding of illusion arrays, and as for Li Chengzhu—his hapless student—it was even worse.

“Don’t panic, don’t panic,” Li Chengzhu told himself. Since he had blundered into an illusion array, if he could find its core, he could break free. Besides, he had been here for so long and encountered no attacks, which meant either the array had no master, or the master bore him no ill will.

Li Chengzhu was inclined toward the second possibility, but, upon reflection, the first seemed more likely. The Celestial Emissary had told him the area around Progenitor Lake was sealed with a massive array, barring entry to anyone below the Golden Immortal level. Surely no Golden Immortal would bother to toy with a mere Nascent Soul stage novice like him? So this illusion array must have been abandoned.

But then, why would anyone leave such an array here? Was it to guard something?

Treasure! At this thought, Li Chengzhu’s eyes turned into shimmering coins, and he nearly drooled at the prospect.

His dejection vanished instantly. Casting a Wind Step spell on himself, he darted quickly through the forest, hoping to locate the hidden treasure or the array’s core.

Two days later, Li Chengzhu collapsed to the ground in despair. No matter which direction he tried, the illusion array always led him back to that same campfire.

He had long since exhausted his spiritual energy running in circles, and even absorbing the ambient energy around him could not keep up with the rate he was burning through it.

With a sigh, Li Chengzhu struggled to his feet. He set up an alarm array for safety, then retrieved four lower-grade Celestial Stones from his ring, arranging them in the order of Qian, Zhen, Gen, and Kan to form a small spirit-gathering array.

Celestial Stones were a kind of refined spiritual material, rich with celestial energy—vital for both cultivation and recovery. They also served as the standard medium of exchange in the Celestial Realm, which had no currency; Celestial Stones were used for all trades.

They were divided into upper, middle, and lower grades, with Celestial Spirit Stones and Celestial Divine Stones above them, each with their own three grades. The conversion rate between each tier was always one to a hundred.

Li Chengzhu didn’t have many Celestial Stones—barely a dozen, all lower grade, and those were only acquired after much pestering of the Celestial Emissary. His stingy master would never part with the higher grades, claiming that with Li Chengzhu’s monstrous recovery speed, he’d never have reason to use them anyway.

At the time, Li Chengzhu had agreed: even if he drained all the energy from his body, a few hours of meditation would restore him fully. What use were Celestial Stones, then?

But now, all he wanted was to replenish his energy as quickly as possible and continue searching for a way out, so he had no choice but to use these precious few stones.

Sheathing his Coldlight Sword, he listened carefully for any sign of celestial beasts nearby. Hearing nothing, he settled into the spirit-gathering array and began frantically absorbing the swirling energy.

With the alarm array in place, anything entering the area would snap him out of his trance.

He could feel the energy surging into his body, coursing through his meridians, gathering at his dantian, where his Nascent Soul absorbed it strand by strand. Li Chengzhu felt as comfortable as if he were surrounded by beautiful women in the throes of passion. Even the tiny Nascent Soul in his dantian opened its mouth, hungrily drawing in the energy.