Chapter Five: Find a Place to Hide

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Upon entering the tower, Shen Wan was immediately stunned.

This was only the first floor, yet the ceiling soared a dozen meters high, its dome carved from jade, exuding an air of extravagant wealth.

Shen Wan felt like a country bumpkin wandering into a grand estate, filled with astonishment and curiosity at everything around him.

Never mind the height—just the floor area of this level alone would have to be measured in acres.

It was enormous—so large that, if calculated at thirty thousand per square meter...

No, no, that would be astronomical!

He forced himself to stop thinking about such nonsense. Right now, all he wanted was to find a hidden corner where nobody would notice him.

He looked around. The four walls were utterly bare, and even more astonishing, not a single supporting pillar stood upon the vast floor.

“Damn it, where am I supposed to hide?”

Shen Wan was at a loss—on this floor, no matter where he tried to conceal himself, there was simply no way to evade the eyes of those coming and going.

With a sigh, he resolved to check the second floor.

If the name “Ten Prisons Tower” was to be taken literally, there should be at least ten levels. He couldn’t believe every one would be the same; surely, there’d be a place to settle down.

He walked inward. Upon entering, Shen Wan had already noticed another door at the far end. This floor had only two doors—one behind him through which he’d entered, and the other, most likely, leading to the second floor.

The first floor was vast, and it took Shen Wan a good while to reach the inner door. This one was tall too, but still smaller than the main entrance.

What’s more, he wasn’t alone; nearly a thousand disciples were crowded before the door.

“Ah, I thought I was qualified to challenge the Ten Prisons Tower, but it turns out that even reaching the first stage of Spiritual Focus isn’t enough to get through the door,” a pale, slender youth in the crowd sighed as Shen Wan drew near.

Immediately, someone nearby mocked him:

“You’ve only been in the sect for less than a year, and already you think you can take the tower’s trial?”

“The Ten Prisons Tower is the sect’s treasured artifact, left behind by the founder. It’s said that just the first prison exerts spiritual pressure greater than the second level of Spiritual Focus.”

“Who says the first level can’t get in? Didn’t Senior Sister Yun Shu force her way into the second prison with just the first level of Spiritual Focus?”

“This tower isn’t just about cultivation. If your spiritual sea is still smaller than a puddle, even the third level won’t get you through this door.”

The comment drew many angry glares.

To be blocked at the very first prison’s door—saying their spiritual seas were smaller than puddles was an exaggeration, but none could deny their own weakness.

Sighs echoed through the crowd. Some, discouraged, turned away and left.

Others, unwilling to give up, lingered by the great door, hoping to try again.

With a loud thud, another disciple was flung away by the door’s invisible force. He stood, brushed the dust off his clothes, and resignedly gave up.

Although Shen Wan lingered at the edge of the crowd, he saw everything clearly.

Of course, as a newcomer, he barely understood what was happening, let alone how that person had been thrown back—he simply stared, bewildered.

He’d seen enough sci-fi movies to guess there was probably some invisible barrier over the door, which explained why this group was being blocked outside.

“Excuse me, excuse me.”

Shen Wan pushed his way through the crowd, deciding to try for himself—after all, he was here to find a place to hide.

Some disciples grumbled at first, but when they saw Shen Wan’s robe, their expressions changed instantly and they quickly bowed in greeting.

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“Greetings, Senior Brother!”

Hearing this, the other disciples all bowed to Shen Wan as well.

Watching their reactions, Shen Wan felt that Lin Bufan’s robes really were impressive.

So this was the essence of “fine feathers make fine birds,” or “clothes make the man,” he thought.

Basking in their reverence, Shen Wan puffed out his chest with pride. But then, remembering his true identity, he quickly lowered his head and waved his hand modestly.

“All right, all right, let me through, just passing by.”

He didn’t want to attract attention—if there were any sycophants lurking, eager to cozy up to him and pepper him with questions, that would be disastrous.

He made his way to the entrance of the second prison.

It was a massive stone door, bluish-brown in color, its surface crisscrossed with countless cracks, as though worn by centuries, giving it an ancient feel.

Beyond the door, a spiral stone staircase disappeared around the first turn out of sight.

He couldn’t tell how long it was, but judging by the height of the floor, it must be considerable.

He reached out tentatively, and his hand passed easily through the opening—there was no barrier, no deadly grid.

Relieved, Shen Wan stepped onto the stairs.

He felt nothing unusual as he entered, but behind him, the disciples gazed on with awe.

“No wonder he’s a direct disciple!”

Shen Wan heard their murmurs and praise behind him and felt a surge of pride. He didn’t quite know why—but, with a flourish, left them with a mysterious silhouette as he quickly vanished around the bend.

The stone staircase was indeed long—after a dozen or so turns, a light finally appeared above.

Catching his breath, Shen Wan was glad for his youth and stamina. Without pausing, he pressed onward.

The First Prison of the Second Floor of the Ten Prisons Tower.

He stepped inside. The towering dome, the vast empty hall—it was exactly the same as the first floor.

Shen Wan stood frozen in place, dumbfounded.

“Who designed this place? So irresponsible! Even the foreman in my village wouldn’t dare be so lazy. How much did they embezzle? Shameless!”

He ranted in frustration, but after a moment’s scan, something finally caught his eye.

By the entrance to the second floor stood a huge stone tablet, upon which were carved three bold characters:

“Golden Sands Prison.”

Shen Wan stroked his chin and studied the calligraphy—wild and powerful, as if dragons and phoenixes danced across the stone.

Though his literary knowledge was limited, he was certain—this had to be cursive script.

It took him a good while to figure out what the characters meant.

The stone tablet was large and positioned by the door; if he hid behind it, he likely wouldn’t be found.

Smacking his lips in satisfaction at the discovery, he wasted no time—slipping around the stone slab, he crawled behind it.

The base of the monument was also broad, but not too high; Shen Wan climbed up easily.

The width was perfect—he could lie down and nap, and even roll over without fear of falling off.

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Nodding in satisfaction, he was about to settle down for a nap when he suddenly felt several startled gazes on him.

He looked over instinctively and saw, not far away, three disciples in blue robes sprawled on the ground, sweating profusely and looking utterly battered as they stared at him in disbelief.

“What the—there are others here?”

Shen Wan had assumed that, given how long he’d dawdled, anyone ahead would be long gone, and even if someone entered after, they’d never notice him behind the tablet.

But who would have thought there’d still be people on this floor?

The three blue-robed disciples, meanwhile, were reeling with shock.

That was the tomb monument of the Golden Sands Prison, its surface covered with blade-like sand currents.

These sand blades whirled about like tornadoes, enveloping the entire monument and mercilessly slicing its surface.

And yet—someone dared to climb up there?

When they’d entered, they’d barely dodged the surprise attack from the sand blades. To think someone would willingly climb the monument!

One of the three stared in stupor—then suddenly cried out as a blood-red gash appeared across his chest.

Blood spurted out as he flew backward like an arrow from a bow. In a flash, a barrier of light enveloped him, and he vanished into thin air.

Now it was Shen Wan’s turn to gape in astonishment.

“What the hell—disappeared just like that?”

Shen Wan had no idea that the Ten Prisons Tower had a protective mechanism: any disciple whose spiritual power was depleted or who suffered a fatal injury would, at the last moment, be shielded by the tower’s protective spell and safely transported outside.

The other two disciples, seeing their companion ejected, immediately held their breath and focused, not daring to be distracted.

The Ten Prisons Tower’s interior was a realm saturated with spiritual pressure. Everything within was formed of spiritual energy.

But Shen Wan, lacking any spiritual cultivation, could neither see the illusory dangers nor be harmed by spiritual force.

So, in this situation, he was utterly clueless.

The disciple who’d been ejected now lay on the ground outside the tower. As soon as he appeared, a dozen disciples swarmed around him.

“Hey brother, need a Quick-Heal Pill? Cures all external wounds—instant results!”

“Nonsense, your lousy pills are only good for minor cuts. See that wound? Without my Regeneration Ointment, it’ll never heal properly.”

“You two step back—he’s been injured by spiritual pressure. His spiritual sea is already in chaos. He needs internal treatment. Brother, brother, wake up! How about a bottle of my Spiritual Repose Powder? Guaranteed to restore your spiritual sea to its original state.”

“Check out mine, too.”

“And mine—works inside and out, guaranteed cure.”

…

The disciples of the Elixir Pavilion all crowded forward, hawking their wares.

But the one who had been thrown out of the Ten Prisons Tower lay motionless, ignoring them all. He stared blankly at the sky, for the first time in his life doubting himself.

“Is this the gap between me and a genius? Direct disciples… are truly terrifying.”