Clang—
The sound of the great bell echoed across Tiandu, rousing both the city and the people inside Rugui Tower.
Mu Zhaoran shot awake, flipping onto her side and sitting up, breathing quickly.
Morning light streamed through the window. She frantically looked around and bit her finger. The sharp pain confirmed it—last night’s entanglement had been only a dream.
In the dream, he had been close to her ear, breathing heavily, speaking words she barely remembered. All she could recall clearly was how he had lifted her up with his fingers, and from between his teeth came a teasing, exasperated laugh:
“You hate ugly things, disgusted by my scars, yet you seem to like what’s on my fingers.”
Mu Zhaoran covered her face and sighed, “Why would I have such a dream…”
Thinking of the rough scars on his long fingers brushing against her soft skin sent shivers down her spine. She pulled the covers tightly around herself—and felt dampness beneath her skirts.
Those words, “you like it,” struck her vividly, as if they had leapt from the dream into reality, making her cheeks burn.
It wasn’t really just a dream—more like a memory from a past life. People say you dream of what you think about during the day. She had thought of him far too often last night. Since she had decided this life not to be involved with him, she shouldn’t think of him, shouldn’t dream of him.
A voice called from outside the door. “Your Highness, are you awake?”
Mu Zhaoran nodded, slapped her cheeks to wake herself fully, and said loudly, “Prepare hot water. I’m going to bathe.”
“Yes,” Shuang Xu replied without hesitation and quickly ordered the attendants to bring in a bucket of hot water.
…
On the clouds above, the great bell rang once every fifteen minutes. After the third strike, the clouds around the mountain peak parted, and the Jade Gate of Tiandao Palace opened. Only at this moment did the usually hidden mountaintop palace become fully visible in the mortal world.
Golden bells hung over the Jade Gate, behind them the floating islands lay scattered, with mountains beyond mountains. Each island tapered like inverted peaks, giving the area the name Inverted Mountain.
Among the verdant mountains, layers of palace buildings were connected by long bridges. The highest floating island remained snow-covered all year, blending into the sky, with only a single ice ladder linking it to the lower islands.
At the very top was the Jun Tian Hall.
Jun Tian Hall was visible but unreachable—at least for Mu Zhaoran in her current state.
The hall had several floating islands, with waterfalls cascading down to the mountains below and flowing into Tiandu, spreading across the land.
The Jade Capital above the clouds resembled this.
Tiandu City was bustling. Every time the Tiandao Palace opened, it was a grand event for the lower city and even for the whole Shenzhou Continent.
Tiandao Palace punished demons and suppressed disasters. It had stepped forward countless times to save the people in times of calamity. Its status among mortals surpassed that of other sects. The Three Supreme Masters of Tiandao Palace, along with respected senior teachers, had followers in the human realm, receiving offerings, and were called Earth Immortals.
As for the Celestial Immortals in the Nine Heavens, the mortal world could not know. There were many cultivators, and throughout history, no one had successfully ascended.
It was said that the Tiandao Palace Law Master was over a thousand years old, nearing the limit of an Earth Immortal’s lifespan. He was considered the most likely to transcend, transform, and ascend to Celestial Immortal.
Mu Zhaoran had taken her morning bath and was late leaving. A fragrant scent of incense drifted from the city. When she opened the door, the smell of rich sandalwood made her sneeze.
By now, everyone had gathered outside, gazing up at the heavenly palace. Seeing it for the first time, Mu Zhaoran felt the same awe as the others. She had always thought the Nanrong Palace was grand, but compared to the palace above, the mortal buildings seemed small.
When the final bell’s echo faded, a flock of cranes took flight from Tiandao Palace, circling and descending into the courtyards of Rugui Tower to welcome the disciples.
Cultivators could only float with objects after reaching Foundation Establishment, and stand freely in the air after Golden Core. New disciples were mostly below Foundation Establishment, though some with higher skills could fly themselves. Since Tiandao Palace sent celestial cranes, it was customary to ride the cranes into the palace.
A large crane, taller than ordinary red-crowned cranes, flew toward the East Wing where the Holy Maiden resided. It landed lightly on the roof, then jumped down to the ground, spreading its broad wings.
The wind from its wings blew through the crowd, forcing people to shield their eyes. Bamboo leaves rustled, and the courtyard became like a gentle bamboo rain.
Mu Zhaoran laughed, raising her sleeve to push away the leaves. “Alright, fold your big wings. I won’t ride you for nothing.”
The crane chirped happily and folded its wings, its power restrained.
Shuang Xu brought forward a prepared box and opened it. Inside was a tray of spirit fish carved from pure, high-grade spirit stones. Mu Zhaoran picked one and tossed it to the crane, which raised its long neck, caught it, and swallowed it whole.
The crane, having received its “toll,” bent its long, slender legs and obediently squatted, waiting for Mu Zhaoran to climb onto its back.
The attendants in the courtyard were all amused by the opportunistic creature. One of them asked curiously, “Good thing we brought these treats. But what would happen if we didn’t feed it?”
No sooner had the words left their mouth than a scream rang out from the west courtyard. A white figure shot straight up like a springing onion. The unlucky person on the crane’s back hadn’t even settled when he slid off, flailing wildly like a struggling frog.
Other cranes immediately swooped in to catch him. Before his screams stopped, another crane let out a triumphant call and swooped again.
“Ah—help!” he cried in despair, fumbling in his sleeve for a paper kite. Before he could activate it, another crane came, knocked the kite away with a wing, and forcibly lifted him onto its back. After flying a short distance, it flapped hard and tossed him off again.
Under everyone’s watchful eyes, the man was tossed from crane to crane, finally ending up, wailing, inside the suspended mountains of Tiandao Palace.
The attendant who had spoken earlier clutched his chest, face pale. “T-Too brutal… being tossed like that, a person would surely fall apart!” Then he hurriedly reminded the crane in the courtyard, “Your Highness is dressed so beautifully today. We’ve paid your toll—don’t toss her around like that.”
Nan Lü, worried, slipped a few more floating talismans into Mu Zhaoran’s personal storage pouch. “What nonsense is that? Our Highness is always dressed beautifully.”
Indeed, Mu Zhaoran loved to dress elegantly. Among the several large carts of gifts she brought for Tiandao Palace, one was packed entirely with her clothes and jewelry.
To allow her to carry more, the senior elder had installed small spatial arrays on the boxes, expanding each one’s space at least threefold.
Today, her first day entering Tiandao Palace, she dressed more brilliantly than usual: a turquoise brocade top, a pomegranate-colored long skirt, a tassel belt with a jade ring at her waist, draped silk over her arms, pearls and jewels in her hair, and a spot of gold foil on her forehead. She looked like a hibiscus blooming in late autumn, light and graceful with every step.
The crane tilted its head at her, obediently nodding, small eyes glancing occasionally at the box of spirit fish in Shuang Xu’s hands.
Having lived this life before, Mu Zhaoran knew these creatures’ temperaments well. These cranes were raised by the Spiritual Revered, and disciples privately called them the “Cranes of Honor.”
Each crane had its personality. Anger one of them, and it could chase a person for miles, pecking anyone—except for the Three Supremes, from senior teachers to ordinary disciples. She wondered if they would dare challenge someone like You Guxue, whose very presence could terrify others.
Mu Zhaoran, in her previous life, had enjoyed these feisty “birds.” She took another spirit fish from the box, tied a fine cord to its tail, and hung it around the crane’s neck. “If you carry me safely into Tiandao Palace, you’ll get this fish. But if you toss me around, you won’t eat it.”
The crane’s small eyes brightened, and it bowed lower, almost flattering her.
Satisfied, Mu Zhaoran mounted the crane. This time, at takeoff, the crane used a running start rather than leaping straight up—proof that money could indeed move birds.
The crane flapped its wings and, stepping lightly on bamboo leaves, soared into the air. Shuang Xu and the other attendants followed the rest of the luggage along the mountain path into Tiandao Palace.
After Mu Zhaoran took flight, the remaining three of Nanrong’s group mounted their cranes in turn. As for that fox spirit, it was probably frantically thinking of how to pay its toll.
Passing over one courtyard, Mu Zhaoran saw a spectacle on the ground.
The Three Immortal Islands of the Eastern Sea were full of demon cultivators, mostly water clans. A boy of around ten clung to a pillar, terrified of birds, refusing to mount a crane.
“Even if I can’t fly yet, we have so many flying fish boats in Penglai. Why must we ride these cranes? Didn’t you see what happened to the first person? I’d rather walk in by the mountain path!”
The boy’s companions tried to persuade him. “Young Master, Tiandao Palace sent cranes to greet us. Everyone rides a crane. If you used another flying tool, it would look out of place.”
“Also, these cranes are raised by the Spiritual Revered. You respect him most, don’t you? How can you enter his discipleship if you’re afraid of his spirit beasts?”
“Yes, Young Master. We understand your fear, but some fears you must overcome yourself.” A round, chubby elder with long catfish-like whiskers emerged, handing the boy a tray full of spirit stones. “Hold this. The crane won’t toss you. Drop one, and it eats less.”
The crane, seeing the spirit stones, glowed with excitement, stamping its feet, nudging the boy to climb on.
The boy panicked. “Don’t touch me! I’ll do it myself!”
Mu Zhaoran: “…Tsk. The Three Immortal Islands really are rich! How can they charge such a toll? A fun spectacle turned into a money trap. Definitely the wrong route.”
Before the crane below her stirred, she said immediately, “Take all the spirit fish in the box.”
The crane stabilized, flying smoothly. Those following her naturally had to pay more, as no one wanted to be tossed around like a ball in front of everyone.
The crane carried Mu Zhaoran through the golden bell, past the inner Jade Gate, and into Tiandao Palace.
Looking up at the suspended palace from below was already breathtaking. Now inside, the sight was even more astonishing. Behind the Jade Gate stretched endless clouds, and atop them stood a tall stele on a turtle’s back, visible to all entering the palace.
Golden characters carved on it spoke of the Dao, Tiandao Palace’s past achievements, and righteous deeds. Every disciple entering the palace swore before this stele to uphold the Dao, fight demons, and protect the people.
Fortunately, this was not Mu Zhaoran’s first visit. She had seen the jade towers countless times, and read the golden inscriptions more than once. They did not hold her attention now.
Instead, her eyes caught a tall figure standing on a sword next to the turtle stele.
Dressed in a snow-white robe, flowing sleeves with faint gold patterns, long black hair fluttering in the wind, golden ribbons catching sunlight, the figure’s expression was cold as he waited.
It was You Guxue.
Mu Zhaoran gripped the crane’s feathers in shock. For heaven’s sake, why him? Her luck was already terrible. The divination of the Yi Ze was terrifyingly accurate.
She clearly remembered that in her previous life, Yun Xiaoyang had been waiting at the Jade Gate to escort new disciples.
That had been the first time she saw Yun Xiaoyang, and from that moment, her heart had fallen. She had suffered in vain, betrayed, and died tragically.
Determined not to lose control again, she had spent the morning mentally preparing herself. Now it seemed all that preparation had been wasted.
She needed a new plan, fast.
Mu Zhaoran nervously rubbed the crane’s feathers and whispered to herself: “Don’t be afraid, Mu Zhaoran. You haven’t made a mistake yet. Your name isn’t on the stele of guilt. He shouldn’t act rashly!”