Ten Thousand Years in Seclusion

The eastern sky was only just beginning to brighten, the morning mist still clinging to the treetops as the entire Qingyun Mountain gradually emerged from the faint dawn light.

The main peak rose straight from the earth, soaring into the clouds, its summit swallowed by the drifting mists and nowhere in sight. On either side stood two lesser peaks. Their slopes were gentler, their peaks nearly a third lower than the main summit, curving around it like two outstretched wings.

Qi Tian followed the flow of people, slowly making his way up the winding stone steps.

The newly admitted disciples, together with those who had been exempted from the Heaven-Ascending Stairway test, numbered a total of 262. All of them were gathered together now, led by more than a dozen senior disciples at the front. The procession stretched on, with the sound of footsteps and murmured conversations echoing through the mountain valleys.

The higher they climbed, the denser the spiritual energy became.

Qi Tian could clearly feel the strands of Heaven and Earth Spiritual Energy drifting through the air growing more abundant with every increase in altitude. As he breathed it in, a sense of ease spread through his lungs and limbs.

After roughly the time it takes an incense stick to burn, the mountain path suddenly opened up before them.

They had reached a broad stretch of land near the summit.

Several buildings stood there.

The one in the center was by far the most imposing, built from massive blue-gray stones, with sweeping eaves and elaborate bracketed beams lending it an air of stern authority. Above the main entrance hung a simple, weathered plaque bearing three words:

Internal Affairs Hall.

The moment they entered through the main doors, a spacious hall opened up before them.

It was dozens of zhang wide, with neat flagstones covering the floor and thick stone pillars standing along both sides. At the far end was a row of orderly wooden counters, with an inner sect disciple seated behind each one to handle various affairs.

Wooden railings separated the counters from one another.

Pei Yi walked out from the rear hall.

"This is the Internal Affairs Hall. From now on, this is where you’ll collect your monthly stipend, robes, and other necessities."

Pei Yi raised a hand and pointed toward the orderly row of counters ahead.

"Get in line and collect your things. Inner Sect disciples, use the three counters on the right."

Qi Tian walked toward the counter on the far right. A young man in fine robes was standing at the front. Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned around. The moment he saw Qi Tian, he immediately stepped aside with an easy smile.

"Senior Brother Qi, you go first."

Qi Tian recognized him at once. He was the same youth from yesterday’s entrance examination who, like Lin Ye, had been at the sixth layer of Qi Condensation. Qi Tian did not stand on ceremony. He nodded with a smile.

"Then thank you."

"No need." The youth smiled casually. "By the way, my name is Xu Xin."

He stepped aside and gestured for Qi Tian to take his place.

Qi Tian gave him a slight nod and stepped forward.

The Inner Sect disciple behind the counter had already looked up. Before Qi Tian could even give his name, he smiled and cupped his hands.

"Good morning, Senior Brother Qi."

Qi Tian thought for a moment. This seemed to be one of Sima Feng’s followers from the night before. He gave a faint nod in return.

The disciple immediately took three neatly folded sets of Falling Cloud Sect robes from beneath the counter and placed them on the table.

Qi Tian reached out and ran his fingers over the fabric.

It was smooth and fine to the touch, with a faint coolness to it.

Clearly, this was no ordinary cloth.

Low-grade spiritual silk had been woven into the fabric. Not only was it comfortable to wear, it could also withstand ordinary blades and swords, while offering a degree of protection against both cold and heat.

The disciple then took out a palm-sized piece of smooth white jade and handed it to Qi Tian.

"This is your identity jade token. Imprint it with your divine sense. It will be linked to your aura, so no one else can use it. If you lose it, report it within three days and we’ll issue you a replacement."

Qi Tian took the jade token.

The front was engraved with the words Falling Cloud, surrounded by flowing-cloud patterns. On the back, the words Inner Sect were carved vertically.

Qi Tian sent a strand of divine sense into it.

The instant his divine sense touched the jade, the cloud patterns suddenly lit up. A faint azure glow rippled through the carvings before slowly sinking into the jade.

Beneath the words Inner Sect on the back, two smaller characters silently appeared—

Qi Tian.

"As for the specific uses of the token, they’re all explained in the handbook."

As he spoke, the disciple took out a thin booklet. Several ancient-looking characters were written across its cover:

Falling Cloud Sect Handbook.

"It contains the sect’s rules, a map of Mount Qingyun, the locations of the various halls, and a few other things you need to know. Take your time and read through it."

He placed the handbook on top of the robes, then took out a jade slip from beneath the counter.

"This is the Cloud-Draw Technique. It’s a high-grade Yellow-tier cultivation technique, one of the sect’s basic techniques. It can be cultivated all the way to perfected Qi Condensation."

Qi Tian gave it a brief glance, his interest already gone.

A high-grade Yellow-tier technique was naturally considered decent for ordinary Qi Condensation disciples.

For him, however, it was hardly worth a second look.

The last item was a storage pouch.

"Monthly stipend for Inner Sect disciples: thirty low-grade spirit stones and five low-grade Qi-Gathering Pills."

Qi Tian took the pouch and swept it with his divine sense. Everything was accounted for.

Thirty spirit stones.

Not a great deal, but certainly not insignificant either. An Outer Sect disciple received only ten per month. For an ordinary cultivator, earning one or two low-grade spirit stones in an entire month was already considered a respectable income.

That was precisely why independent cultivators throughout the Tianyan Realm went to such lengths to join sects.

A sect meant more than cultivation techniques and protection.

It meant a steady supply of cultivation resources.

At least, for the vast majority of cultivators, it did.

A short while later, under Pei Yi’s direction, all 262 new disciples had changed into the dark-blue robes of the Falling Cloud Sect.

Pei Yi stood with his hands behind his back on the stone steps before the hall. His gaze swept across the assembled disciples before he spoke in a solemn voice.

"Next, follow me to the Ancestral Hall. We will perform the rite of paying respects to the founders."

With that, he turned and led the way toward the summit.

Qi Tian followed with the others, his eyes lifting toward the peak hidden deep within the sea of clouds. His heart grew slightly heavier.

He knew that several late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivators were stationed up there, along with the faint presence of someone who had already reached the Half-Step Golden Core stage.

What worried him most was that one of them might suddenly sweep the crowd with divine sense.

If that happened, concealing his true cultivation would be almost impossible.

They continued upward for a while longer.

At last, the stone steps came to an end.

The view suddenly opened wide.

Above the sea of clouds, the summit of Qingyun Mountain finally revealed itself in its entirety.

It was completely different from the slopes below.

Buildings rose along the mountainside in an orderly yet natural arrangement, some half-hidden among ancient trees, others perched upon sheer cliffs of blue-green stone. Long paths paved with bluestone crisscrossed the summit, linking the various halls and pavilions together.

Farther away stood a bell tower, a great bronze bell hanging beneath its upturned eaves.

Qi Tian quietly glanced toward several of the most secluded halls.

He did not dare look for long. He quickly withdrew his gaze and continued forward with the others.

After passing through a stretch of verdant pine forest, they came upon a solemn and imposing hall.

The entire structure was built from dark ancient stone. Centuries of wind and rain had only made it look heavier and more dignified. Two weathered stone cauldrons stood before the entrance, thin wisps of green smoke curling upward from within. The distant fragrance of sandalwood lingered in the air, slow and unbroken.

Above the doors hung a blackwood plaque bearing three ancient characters in bold, weathered calligraphy:

Ancestral Hall.

Pei Yi stopped before the entrance and stood silently with his hands at his sides, signaling for everyone to keep quiet.

Before long, a middle-aged man slowly emerged from within.

He was broad-shouldered, with heavy brows, a piercing gaze, and a square, dignified face.

Mid-stage Foundation Establishment.

Qi Tian felt a quiet sense of relief.

"I am Elder Lü." His voice was deep and resonant as his sharp gaze swept over the more than two hundred new disciples gathered outside. "The rite of paying respects to the ancestors should normally be presided over by the Sect Master himself. However, he is away attending to important sect matters and has yet to return, so I will conduct the rite in his place."

He stepped aside, revealing the depths of the hall.

The hall stretched far into the mountain, its vaulted ceiling high above. Dense inscriptions covered the beams and pillars, recording major events from the sect’s long history.

There were no windows. Only rows of everlasting lamps burned quietly along the walls, their dim flames illuminating the sandalwood smoke until the entire interior seemed veiled in mist.

At the very back stood a raised platform of blue stone.

Upon it were ten neatly arranged spirit tablets.

Each tablet had been carved from black jade, with golden characters engraved across its surface. In the dim lamplight, they gave off a cold, subdued sheen.

They were the memorial tablets of the successive Sect Masters of the Falling Cloud Sect, from its founding to the present day.

Below the platform, rows upon rows of wooden racks stood against the stone walls on either side. Spirit tablets filled them like a forest, numbering in the hundreds.

They belonged to the elders and distinguished predecessors who had either died in service to the sect or passed away peacefully after reaching the end of their natural lifespans.

Elder Lü walked slowly forward and stopped beside the raised platform. His voice echoed through the vast hall, carrying a weight that seemed to settle over the entire gathering.

"The Falling Cloud Sect was founded one thousand seven hundred and thirty-five years ago. To this day, we have reached the eleventh generation of Sect Masters."

He raised a hand, signaling for everyone to enter.

The new disciples held their breath and composed themselves as they filed, one after another, into the dark and solemn ancestral hall.

"No incense or kowtowing is required," Elder Lü said in a deep voice. "Simply offer a deep bow, and pay your respects to the ancestors with your heart."

He turned toward the ten black-jade memorial tablets on the raised altar and spoke in a clear, resonant voice:

"Former Sect Masters above—this year’s recruitment ceremony has concluded. Two hundred and sixty-two new disciples have entered the sect, all having passed the required trials and proven sound in character. May you bear witness."

With that, he clasped his hands before him and raised them to his forehead, palms facing inward, then bowed deeply.

The new disciples held their breath and followed suit, clasping their hands, raising them to their foreheads, and bowing as one.

Elder Lü straightened and continued.

"Ancient sages and honored elders above—the sect’s flame of inheritance burns on, and today, new wood has been added to the fire. May you bear witness."

He then turned toward the densely packed memorial tablets lining the walls on either side and offered a deep bow to each side in turn.

The new disciples followed his example once more.

Just as they thought the rite of paying respects to their ancestors had come to an end, Elder Lü slowly turned around and faced the open doors of the hall. His expression grew even more solemn.

"One final bow—"

He raised a hand and pointed toward a lush green mountain standing beyond the open doors, across the valley and deep within the drifting clouds.

"This is to inform the one on Qinglu Mountain."

"The master of our Founding Patriarch."

Qi Tian’s heart jolted.

He followed Elder Lü’s gesture and looked out through the open doors. Beyond them stretched an endless sea of clouds. Through the shifting mist, a verdant mountain stood clearly on the opposite side.

Qinglu Mountain.

The master of the Falling Cloud Sect’s Founding Patriarch...

Had actually come from Qinglu Mountain?

One thousand seven hundred and thirty-five years ago.

That was more than eight thousand years after he had entered seclusion.

Qi Tian calculated rapidly in his mind, his fingertips tightening almost imperceptibly.

Given the cultivation levels and lifespans his master and junior brothers and sisters had possessed back then, even if they had lived until the very end of their natural lifespans, there was no way any of them could have survived such an immense span of time.

The one on Qinglu Mountain could not possibly be someone he knew.

Then who was it?

A descendant of his master and his junior brothers and sisters?

Or...

Had some outsider taken possession of Qinglu Mountain more than seventeen hundred years ago?

Elder Lü’s words just now had not made it clear whether that person was still alive.

But if they truly were...

Qi Tian’s gaze darkened.

One thousand seven hundred and thirty-five years.

That meant at least a Deity Transformation old monster!

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