Chapter Eleven: The Spirit Talisman Pavilion, Yunshu

Within the Council Hall of Qianxuan Sect, an opulent seat carved with golden dragons shimmered with flowing spiritual energy at the head of the room. Yet, no one occupied it.

Flanking either side below, four silver dragon chairs stood on each side, where the eight great elders of the sect had all taken their places. Every gaze was fixed, unwavering, upon a spectral image suspended in the air before them—a vision of the Ten Infernal Towers, perfectly rendered, its surface scattered with countless red dots, each one signifying a disciple.

"I did not expect that a disciple would reach the Seventh Inferno so swiftly this time. Truly, our generation is brimming with talent," Third Elder Hanshanzi remarked, stroking his beard with a light chuckle. Though his voice was soft, it carried a vigor that stirred the spirit.

Second Elder Zhang Qi laughed heartily. "That must be my useless disciple. He’s only just reached the Eighth Stage of Spirit Condensation and already dares to force his way into the Seventh Inferno. Ah, let him learn his lesson the hard way!" Though his words sounded like scolding, the boastful pride in his tone was unmistakable.

"Hmph!" Fourth Elder Lian Qiuhan abruptly snorted, "Your Inscription Pavilion specializes in the arts of restriction. You merely found a few methods to break them. If we judged by cultivation alone, I doubt that boy could even reach the Sixth Inferno."

"Heh, restrictions are indeed our Pavilion’s field. If your Elixir Pavilion has the skill, why don’t you refine some pills to help with the trial? I won’t say another word!" Zhang Qi leaned back indolently in his chair, not even bothering to glance at Lian Qiuhan.

"Enough, you two. Always bickering the moment you meet. Can't you see the occasion?" Eighth Elder Yu Yan’s tone was stern, yet her voice gentle as spring rain.

At her words, Zhang Qi and Lian Qiuhan both huffed and turned their heads away, ignoring each other.

"Sister Yu, don’t bother smoothing things over for these two old mules. All they do is wag their tongues—if they’re so capable, let them settle it outside. I’ll set up a ward for them," said Sixth Elder Qu Fanghua, her voice sharp as a blade, shooting a fierce glare at the pair.

Yu Yan’s lips curled into a smile, her beauty undiminished by the faint lines at the corners of her eyes—a radiance that could not be concealed, even though her appearance suggested she was past forty. In truth, the Eighth Elder was already three hundred and seven years old, yet among the elders she remained the youngest.

Their banter continued until finally, First Elder Wei Zhen spoke. "Enough. Keep quiet. I am presiding over this grand contest—don’t stir up trouble just because the Sect Master is absent."

After this admonition, he turned to Qu Fanghua with a smile. "Elder Qu, after this contest, ten outstanding disciples will be chosen to train in Listening Cloud Ravine. How are the preparations on your end?"

The Celestial Cloud Platform, under Elder Qu’s management, oversaw all the sect’s secret realms. She replied with a gentle smile, "The restrictions on Listening Cloud Ravine have been lifted. The disciples can enter at any time."

Wei Zhen nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Since all is prepared, let us look forward to which disciples will distinguish themselves in this contest." At this, all eyes returned to the floating image of the Ten Infernal Towers.

But Wei Zhen seemed to recall something and asked, "Is Yun Shu still in seclusion? She’s long reached the peak of the Ninth Stage of Spirit Condensation. Is she attempting to break through to Foundation Establishment? Has she abandoned this grand contest?"

At his words, the elders exchanged glances, but none replied. Fifth Elder Ye Ping sighed softly. Before Yun Shu became the Sect Master’s personal disciple, she belonged to the Talisman Pavilion, and even now she had not severed her ties to it. Thus, aside from the Sect Master, Ye Ping, as head of the Talisman Pavilion, cared for her most deeply.

Wei Zhen fell silent for a moment, then sighed heavily. "Let her be. She has her own path—we must not force her."

Since the founding of the sect, no one had ever reached the summit of the Ten Infernal Towers. Among all, Yun Shu, hailed as the greatest prodigy of Qianxuan Sect, was considered the most likely to do so—their collective hope. Yet if she advanced to Foundation Establishment during this period, she would have no more part in the towers.

Sighs echoed among the elders as they shook their heads, yet none spoke further. Looking up at the illusory image, they pinned their hopes on the contest, wishing for some unexpected miracle.

Meanwhile, outside the Ten Infernal Towers, the guardian sat dozing in his chair when a sharp aura swept over him. He opened his eyes to see a graceful figure standing before the tower, gazing up at its heights.

"Talisman Pavilion, Yun Shu," she declared before the guardian could sit up, then strode inside without another word.

Watching her vanish into the tower, the guardian’s features softened. He looked up toward its summit, a flicker of hope glinting in his eyes.

The grand contest had been underway for several hours now. Increasing numbers of disciples, battered and wounded, were streaming out. Nearby, others hawked elixirs and talismans with cheerful faces—a stark contrast to the moans of the injured.

With each ascending level, the number of remaining disciples dwindled. Already, seven or eight had reached the Seventh Inferno.

Shen Wan, analyzing the names inscribed on each level’s stele, did his best to protect Zhu Qianqing and Lin Bufan as they advanced. They struggled through the Ocean Inferno and the Magma Inferno, each more grueling than the last. In the Ocean Inferno, Lin Bufan was nearly swept from the tower by a colossal wave, but with luck and grit, he overcame the challenge. Each floor left them soaked, forcing them to change clothes, a routine Shen Wan had long grown used to. Aside from the climb turning his legs to jelly, the trio finally reached the Seventh Inferno.

The Inferno of the Mad Mirror.

They paused before the stele, lost in thought. The previous infernos could be guessed from their names—wind, fire, lightning, and so on. But this "Mad Mirror Inferno" defied all intuition.

He glanced around. Some figures moved in the distance, blurred and indistinct. Closer by, three disciples performed odd gestures, seeming to dodge unseen threats.

Puzzled, Shen Wan edged closer to Lin Bufan and asked in a low voice, "Well? What do you make of this floor?"

A casual question, but he hoped Lin Bufan’s answer might offer useful insight.

Lin Bufan observed the scene intently. This inferno was utterly unlike the previous ones: endless mirrors stretched in all directions, reflections within reflections. Disciples wandered through these infinite mirrored corridors; sometimes a mirror showed only their own back, sometimes nothing at all. The mirrors overlapped and intersected, one moment spawning gods or devils, the next unleashing beams of light, venomous mists, or spinning the space itself. Reality and illusion blurred; dream and waking could not be told apart.

Lin Bufan frowned. He tried to probe with his spiritual sense, but the moment it touched a mirror, his mind reeled, his consciousness snapping back as if shoved violently. He staggered two steps, cold sweat beading on his brow.

Shen Wan was startled, then quickly asked, "What happened?"

Lin Bufan steadied himself, replying grimly, "There’s no way to begin."

Shen Wan cursed inwardly. Wasn’t this hopeless? The towers were already like a gauntlet—each level harder than the last. Yet he couldn’t see what lay ahead, and he was supposed to lead the other two through? He’d made bold promises—would he have to be nailed to the pillar of shame for failing to deliver?

He was at a loss. Just then, Zhu Qianqing spoke softly, "Back when Senior Brother Wen had not yet reached Foundation Establishment, he sold a compendium of insights within the sect. It contained information on the Ten Infernal Towers."

Shen Wan’s eyes lit up. "What kind of information?"

"He reached the Eighth Inferno, so he wrote his experiences with the first seven infernos and sold them to other pre-Foundation disciples. He made quite a few spirit stones that way," Zhu Qianqing said with a shrug. Lin Bufan chimed in, "Yes, but later the sect banned its sale, fearing the trial would lose its fairness."

"It was just insights, was that necessary?" Shen Wan grumbled, thinking the sect was making a fuss over nothing.

Zhu Qianqing replied indifferently, "You think it was just insights? Senior Brother Wen included the best methods he found for breaking through each trial."

"Methods for breaking through?" Shen Wan’s eyes brightened again. "Did either of you read it? Does it mention this floor?"

"Never read it," they answered in unison.

Shen Wan cursed them silently. Why bring it up if neither had read it? Here he was, worked up for nothing.

The three stood awkwardly in the stone doorway, gazing at the scene within.

After a moment, Lin Bufan glanced at Zhu Qianqing, then at Shen Wan. "Why are we just standing here? Shouldn’t we go in?"

"Go in, my foot..." Shen Wan thought, but waved his hand. "Wait a moment."

He turned his attention to the three visible disciples, hoping to deduce a strategy from their actions and the name of this inferno. Since the other two were of no help, he would have to rely on himself.

But as he watched the first disciple, he heard a sudden shriek, and the figure vanished.

...

At least the second disciple was still resisting. Shen Wan ignored the first and studied the second closely. Minute after minute passed—fifteen, then thirty. Lin Bufan and Zhu Qianqing, seeing how intently Shen Wan observed, dared not disturb him.

At last, Shen Wan straightened, a sly grin spreading across his face. He turned to the others and announced, "Follow me—let’s take a spin together!"