Chapter Four: The Tower of Ten Prisons

On the vast square, Shen Wan stood at the back of the crowd, feeling as though flies had settled all over him, making him uncomfortable everywhere. More than an hour had passed, and everyone was focused intently on the front. Only he had no idea what everyone was listening to, yet their expressions grew more and more fervent. He secretly pounded his legs, which were sore and numb, truly in distress.

After surviving the terrifying speeches of his high school principal for three years, he had barely crossed the threshold into university, only to find himself thrown into this ordeal again. At least back then, impoverished as the principal was, he could still make out what he was saying. Now, the surroundings were utterly silent, and Shen Wan was left to piece together the scene from the expressions of others—it was sheer torment.

He grumbled in his mind, but his body had to endure. He wasn’t even from this place—if he was discovered, just a glare from any of these disciples would be enough to kill him. Luckily, not twenty minutes later, all the disciples on the grand plaza suddenly raised their hands in unison and shouted in chorus: “Strive for cultivation! Revive the Qianxuan Sect!”

Shen Wan, who had been drowsy, was instantly jolted wide awake—more by fright than anything. Once at the start, and now again—he was lucky not to have been scared out of his wits. Was this truly the opening ceremony of a grand sect competition, or just a recruitment rally for a cult? No pyramid scheme on Earth could match this spectacle.

He rubbed his ears anxiously—thankfully, he wasn’t deaf. Looking ahead, the three black dots in the sky remained unseen, but the crowd began to move. “Is it... over?” he asked in curiosity, but the figure of Zhu Qianqing beside him was already gone. Searching around, he spotted her squeezing toward the edge with a large group.

“Hey? Hey? Where are you going?” Shen Wan pushed through the crowd to follow Zhu Qianqing. She felt someone tug her and turned around quickly.

“What’s going on? Is it over already?”

Seeing it was Shen Wan, Zhu Qianqing remembered she had a newly inducted senior brother with her. “Sorry, Senior Brother, I forgot about you in the rush,” she said with a somewhat embarrassed salute.

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing. Where are we going now?” Shen Wan waved his hand.

“To the Ten Prisons Tower for the trial, of course!” Zhu Qianqing replied, puzzled.

“Didn’t the Grand Elder just announce it? Didn’t you hear?”

“The Ten Prisons Tower trial? Oh, yes, yes, I heard,” Shen Wan hastily changed the subject.

“Let’s go together.” He hadn’t heard a word from that black dot from start to finish, let alone about the Ten Prisons Tower. But seeing the crowd all heading in one direction, why hesitate? Just follow.

Because they arrived late, they’d ended up at the back, and the Ten Prisons Tower was located at the innermost part of the plaza. It took them a long time to cross the stone path and exit the square. Finally, the crowd thinned, and Shen Wan rubbed his aching arms, complaining, “No organization, no discipline—this level of crowding is shameful!”

Zhu Qianqing blushed but echoed, “Senior Brother is right...”

Following the crowd for a while, Shen Wan at last caught sight of the so-called Ten Prisons Tower. It reached into the clouds; if not for the shrouding blue mist, it would be visible from the mountain gate. As they drew closer and the mist parted, the tower’s majestic form was fully revealed. Tall—truly towering.

It was at least a hundred stories high. Frankly, Shen Wan had never seen a tower this tall, even back on Earth. Below, the disciples split into groups, each seemingly with their own assigned place, and the throng was swiftly divided into five queues.

The Hall of Spellcraft, Hall of Forging, Hall of Seals, Hall of Spirit Talismans, and Hall of Divine Elixirs. The five halls separated, with the core disciples in blue robes with gold embroidery standing at the front, followed by the top hundred white-robed disciples, and then the inner disciples in blue.

Shen Wan had no idea where he was supposed to stand, so he simply stuck with Zhu Qianqing—wherever she stood, so would he. At the very end of the Hall of Spellcraft’s line, Shen Wan craned his neck to look ahead. At one meter seventy-five, he was not tall even on Earth, much less here, where cultivators routinely exceeded two meters.

Though the crowd was split into five, every hall still had many disciples. After much effort, Shen Wan glimpsed the back of Lin Bufan’s head at the very front row.

“Senior Brother, why aren’t you... standing at the front?” Zhu Qianqing asked in confusion. Earlier, they had stood at the back because they’d arrived late, but now, as a core disciple, why mingle with the inner disciples?

Shen Wan waved it off, feeling a bit guilty. “Too lazy to walk further. It’s fine here.”

At his words, several disciples nearby turned to look at him with curiosity. On seeing a senior brother behind them, they immediately greeted him respectfully. “Greetings, Senior Brother.”

Shen Wan was startled. Why did they all call him Senior Brother? He’d thought Zhu Qianqing used the term because he was older, but now it seemed otherwise. On closer inspection, he realized it was the clothing—his had embroidery!

He broke into a sweat. He wanted to signal them to turn back around, but more heads turned his way. Shen Wan quickly gestured for silence and whispered, “Quiet, all of you, turn your heads back!”

The disciples immediately obeyed, even those who were just about to turn. After all, he was a core disciple; their status was clear, and no inner disciple dared act out of line before one.

Once calm returned, Shen Wan finally swallowed the lump in his throat. That was close—he’d only come out to watch the excitement, not to become the spectacle himself. He glanced at his clothes again, almost in tears—far too conspicuous...

He had no choice but to bend his knees a little, shrinking himself down. Zhu Qianqing, watching his serious expression and odd behavior, wanted to say something but closed her mouth instead.

At the very front, Lin Bufan clenched his fists. This was his second time attempting the Ten Prisons Tower trial since joining the sect; the last time had been during his moment of greatest glory. Back then, he had become the focus of the sect for being the youngest to clear the third prison—but that was seven years ago.

Since then, many of his peers had surpassed his cultivation, while he remained stuck at the fourth stage of Concentration. When his master summoned him that morning to ask if he would participate, Lin Bufan hesitated. After failing to advance that time, his mind and spirit had both suffered greatly, so he had avoided the competition the second time.

Looking at his master, Lin Bufan merely grunted in reply, and his master, the Grand Elder, sighed helplessly and let him be. On the way back, Lin Bufan thought a lot and ultimately decided to try. Under the intense pressure of the trial, perhaps he might break through. After being a laughingstock for so many years, what more could he lose?

Fixing his gaze on the tower’s gate, Lin Bufan’s eyes burned with resolve. Soon, a rumbling sounded, and the massive iron gates of the Ten Prisons Tower slowly opened. The disciples of the five halls prepared eagerly, itching to begin. When the gatekeeper waved his colorful flag, the disciples shot toward the tower like arrows from a bow.

This was the sect’s triennial grand competition, entirely different from the yearly bouts. Standing out here would make one the center of attention throughout the sect; abundant cultivation resources would flow to the victor. For many, this was a golden path to instant glory, and no one took it lightly.

Soon, the space before the tower was empty, though several hundred disciples remained behind. Some shook their heads and left, while others spread blankets and laid out an array of elixirs and talismans.

Zhu Qianqing had followed the crowd into the tower, but Shen Wan found himself awkward and unmoving. He was utterly bewildered. Sect competition? Ten Prisons Tower? What was the plan, what was the action, what was the procedure? With Zhu Qianqing nearby, he’d wanted to ask but was afraid of arousing suspicion. Now, with the ground before the tower a little empty, he stood there alone in his gold-embroidered blue robe, looking like a fool.

He’d missed the cue when everyone rushed in, and now, the more he tried to avoid attention, the more he attracted it. The remaining disciples all cast curious glances at him. For an inner disciple, staying out of the trial was understandable, but as a core disciple, how could he not participate? Don’t tell us you’re too proud—no one would believe it.

Shen Wan could feel the questioning and puzzled stares. Sweat broke out on his forehead again, but he forced himself to adjust his sleeves, gave an awkward smile, and, with trembling legs, walked slowly toward the tower gate.

“Damn it, I just wanted to watch the excitement, not join some trial!”

He was nearly in tears. “Forget it, if I’m meant to die, so be it. Either way, I’ll just take a look inside.”

Of course, his anxiety far outweighed his attempts at self-reassurance. Still, his slow steps brought him to the tower’s entrance. He paused, hesitating before the massive iron gate, not sure what to do.

The gatekeeper frowned at him. “Whose disciple are you? Not planning to take part in the Ten Prisons Tower trial?”

Shen Wan panicked, mouth opening and closing, unsure how to reply, when the gatekeeper continued, “If a core disciple is not joining the trial, just register with me, and have your master sign. I’ll make a report to the sect.”

“Who said I’m not participating? Did I say that? Hmph!” Shen Wan forced a stern expression and strode inside, his legs even weaker than before.

“Hell, how am I supposed to know who my master is? If I register, I’ll be exposed!” Shen Wan cursed inwardly, but what else could he do? He might as well enter the tower, find a quiet spot to nap, and wait for the so-called trial to end. With so many people, who would pay attention to him?

The gatekeeper watched Shen Wan’s back, frowning again. There were only a dozen or so core disciples in the sect, and he recognized nearly all those who came to the Ten Prisons Tower. This one, however, was unfamiliar.

“Which elder has picked up a new disciple now?” The gatekeeper only wondered for a moment before shaking his head with a sigh. He was just a gatekeeper, after all; affairs of the higher-ups were beyond his concern. So, he leaned back in his deck chair, closed his eyes, and began waiting for the trial to end.