Chapter Four: Fen Tianlang, Disciple of the Illusory Sword Sect

Tickets! Tickets! Tickets! Brothers, throw your tickets if you have any! Why are my tickets so few? Mo is charging ahead in the rankings—everyone, please help out, thank you!

The past few days, the weather atop the Crimson Rock Plateau had been abysmal. Dust storms whipped several yards high, and if not for cultivators shielding themselves with spiritual energy, it would be impossible to survive such harsh conditions. Even though he knew the blood-red sand couldn't touch him, Fen Tianlang still shivered as he watched the grains swirl outside his protective aura. Who could say how much blood from countless souls was mingled with those sands?

For someone who hadn’t even killed a single spirit beast and spent all his days cultivating within the sect, letting the sand strike him would be like plunging him into a pool of blood.

All of it left him feeling inexplicably uneasy.

Why did they have to drag him here? He was only at the mid-stage of Spirit Division. Fen Tianlang cursed his uncle inwardly.

That so-called “number one expert” of the sect, Sixth Uncle, was sitting not far away. Fen Tianlang glared at him through the thick, swirling dust, cursing him to be torn apart by celestial messengers. Ha! The thought brought a twisted pleasure to Fen Tianlang’s heart.

Sweeping his divine sense across his fellow disciples, he saw they were all obediently following Third Uncle’s instructions, drawing out their Celestial Stones and arranging a Spirit Gathering Formation as they meditated.

Fen Tianlang sneered. Idiots, he thought.

There were at least a hundred thousand people gathered here, all meditating with Celestial Stones. The spiritual energy saturating the air was more than abundant—why waste your precious stones?

Didn’t they notice that even Sixth Uncle hadn’t bothered with a Spirit Gathering Formation?

Truly wise, Fen Tianlang congratulated himself. He’d save his stones for emergencies.

With self-satisfaction, he closed his eyes to rest.

Just then, a faint conversation drifted to his ears, with the words “Celestial Guide” woven in.

Fen Tianlang perked up. Third Uncle? His idol! A true top expert of the Grand Ascension stage, far superior to a self-proclaimed one. When Fen Tianlang was still an awkward fledgling in the Out-of-Body stage, Third Uncle had mentored him often, and his upright, candid manner endeared him to all disciples—without any airs of seniority. Fen Tianlang had always admired him deeply.

But after Third Uncle was appointed Celestial Guide and entered the Heaven-Shrouding Formation a century ago, Fen Tianlang hadn’t heard any news of him since.

Now, hearing someone mention Third Uncle, Fen Tianlang couldn’t help but listen closely.

“Which sect does the Celestial Guide belong to?” a low voice asked.

“Well, I grew up in the countryside. On my travels, I heard many praise the Celestial Guide and couldn’t resist visiting his sect.” Li Chengzhu fabricated the lie smoothly.

The man sized up Li Chengzhu, then smiled: “It’s admirable you have such intentions. The Celestial Guide is the foremost Grand Ascension expert in the Celestial Realm. When he roamed the realm, he aided countless people—a hero with a righteous heart. Even I have benefited from his kindness.”

Li Chengzhu replied emphatically, “The Celestial Guide is truly a giant among men. Sadly, I’ve never had the fortune to meet him.” Yet he couldn’t help wondering—was his master really as noble as described? Still, a hint of pride crept into his expression, as if the hero’s virtues were his own.

The man nodded slightly, “Rare to find such sincerity. The Celestial Guide belongs to the Phantom Sword Sect. Their resting place should be nearby. If you walk ahead a bit and ask around, you’ll soon find them.”

Li Chengzhu brightened instantly, bowing in gratitude. “Thank you for your guidance, senior.”

Before he could turn away, the man added, “But, fellow cultivator…”

“Is there something else, senior?” Li Chengzhu asked.

“No, it’s nothing. You may go.” The man waved him off and resumed his meditation.

Fen Tianlang felt a surge of excitement—he hadn’t expected Third Uncle’s reputation to reach even remote villages. He promptly sent a message to Li Chengzhu: “Fellow cultivator, come over here! We are the Phantom Sword Sect.”

Li Chengzhu was overjoyed at the voice, quickly locating its source and bounding over.

Standing before Fen Tianlang, staring at this Spirit Division-stage cultivator, Li Chengzhu asked eagerly, “Excuse me, are you from the Phantom Sword Sect?”

Fen Tianlang smiled, “Indeed.”

“Is the Celestial Guide from your sect?” Li Chengzhu grew even more excited.

“Yes,” Fen Tianlang replied, feeling his spine straighter than ever before.

“What is your relationship to the Celestial Guide?”

“He is my Third Uncle!”

“Brother!” Li Chengzhu seized Fen Tianlang’s hands, his eyes moistening. He had finally found his people after months tormented by Gu Linglong.

Moved to tears!

Once Li Chengzhu managed to calm down, Fen Tianlang asked curiously, “May I ask, fellow cultivator, you…”

Li Chengzhu wiped the corner of his eye, then said, “The Celestial Guide is my master.”

Fen Tianlang was so shocked he nearly choked, “Cough…cough!” Third Uncle had lived a solitary life—when had he ever taken a disciple? And he’d been within the Heaven-Shrouding Formation for nearly a century! Even if he’d accepted a disciple a hundred years ago, how was this person only mid-stage Out-of-Body now?

In fact, Fen Tianlang himself had advanced from mid-stage Out-of-Body to mid-stage Spirit Division in that century. This realization brought a twinge of embarrassment—his sect-mates all surpassed him in cultivation, and even junior disciples seemed poised to overtake him, making his position in the sect precarious.

And now, out of nowhere, this novice claimed to be Third Uncle’s disciple?

Fen Tianlang’s initial goodwill evaporated. He fixed a cold stare on Li Chengzhu, “Are you joking, fellow cultivator?”

Fen Tianlang coveted the dream of being Third Uncle’s disciple himself. He gazed at Li Chengzhu with undisguised contempt.

Li Chengzhu hastily nodded, “Yes, brother, I became his disciple two years ago.” Noticing Fen Tianlang’s unfriendly look, he quickly tried to explain.

“****!” Fen Tianlang cursed. Two years ago? Everyone knew Third Uncle had three more years before leaving the Heaven-Shrouding Formation, yet this guy claimed to have become his disciple two years ago?

Either his brain was cooked, or he had an ulterior motive, Fen Tianlang thought. He said coldly, “You’re joking. My Third Uncle was still in the formation two years ago—how could you have become his disciple? No one below the Golden Immortal stage can enter the formation, so how did you manage it?”

Li Chengzhu hurriedly explained, “I became his disciple beside the Immortal Lake.”

Fen Tianlang felt as though someone had struck him hard on the head, then flaunted the weapon before him.

“Damn it! Are you done yet?” Fen Tianlang was furious.

This person had toyed with him repeatedly, showing utter disregard for the Phantom Sword Sect, for Third Uncle, and most importantly, for him.

Fen Tianlang resolved to teach this arrogant fellow a lesson, gathering his spiritual energy.

What kind of person was this? Even telling the truth didn’t work—Li Chengzhu was utterly frustrated.