Volume Four: Winds Sweep the Clouds, Four Continents Sink Chapter Ten: The Sea of Consciousness

The two little figures in Lan Sheng's heart began to brawl. He was truly reluctant to give up the Xuanhuang Technique, which would soon propel him into the ranks of the gods. Yet, the allure of Devouring the Star River was simply too overwhelming. Across the vast void, perhaps even throughout all existence, only Zhuo Hua Yuanjun and himself possessed this supreme art.

But to choose to cultivate Devouring the Star River now would mean abandoning his hard-won cultivation at the ninth rank of the Immortal Stage. As he wavered, torn with indecision, the luminous egg of nothingness spoke again: “The greatest taboo in cultivation is the fear of gain and loss. Every path can lead to brightness, but each one also means forsaking the scenery of another.”

Lan Sheng steadied his mind. Transformed into a kingfisher, he let out a clear, resonant cry and flew resolutely into the void egg. The instant he entered, the glowing manifestations of Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, and Black Tortoise beside him began to blur, dissolving into wisps of energy that slowly flowed into the shining egg. The egg grew ever brighter, rounding out and rising gently, eventually hovering at the very center of his sea of consciousness.

It was as if a newborn golden sun had appeared.

Inside the void egg, Lan Sheng found nothing but emptiness and twilight; he could see nothing clearly before him. He shifted back into human form and reached out, hoping to grasp something—only to discover, to his astonishment, that his once-crippled left arm was now completely intact within this void.

The feeling of wholeness was not merely an illusion of the eyes, but a tangible, unmistakable sensation—he could truly feel the existence of his arm.

“How miraculous!” Lan Sheng exclaimed.

“Here, you can do anything you wish. You can conjure any artifact or opponent you desire, for this is your spiritual platform, your sea of consciousness. Here, you are a god,” the void egg intoned.

Lan Sheng glanced at his hands, tightening his fists. It had been so long since he’d felt this way. He had endured the pain of losing his left arm for ages. Though Yuan Shang had ways to restore it, the opportunity awaited the eruption of the Newborn Golden Sun—a rare fortune.

“Is this your own method of cultivation?” Lan Sheng called out into the emptiness.

“No, I did not create this method. Its originator has long since departed, journeying to distant realms of the void,” the egg’s voice drifted, as though from an unreachable place.

“Where are you?” Lan Sheng looked around and asked.

“I am in your sea of consciousness, and also in the Cloud Palace atop the summit,” the voice replied.

Lan Sheng pondered this, then said, “I’m not sure which is truly you anymore.”

“What does it matter? Whichever is me, is me. And whichever is not me, is still me. Wasn’t Lan Ling the same way?” the voice answered.

“Can I really conjure things here?” Lan Sheng asked curiously.

“Naturally! This is your spiritual platform, your sea of consciousness,” the ethereal voice repeated.

“In that case, what if I conjure the Cloud Palace?” Lan Sheng grew excited.

The voice advised him, “Best not. Your cultivation cannot withstand such a tremendous drain. Begin with small things.”

“Small things, then! How about a house?” Lan Sheng closed his eyes, picturing a courtyard in his mind. Soon, he sensed the world around him changing.

He opened his eyes to find before him a tattered thatched hut, the roof riddled with more than five holes, one door leaning at an angle, the other lying on the ground. The whole dwelling was utterly destitute of beauty.

“This isn’t right! I wanted to create a grand, magnificent courtyard, just like the one I lived in back in Changshan’s capital! Why... why is it so shabby?” Lan Sheng fumed.

The voice explained, “Now that you’ve entered this void, you have forsaken all Xuanhuang arts and turned to study Devouring the Star River. Your cultivation is now at the mortal stage.”

Elsewhere, at the other end of the Cloud Palace, inside the Palace of Spiritual Perception, Zhuo Hua sat cross-legged on his couch, eyes closed, his face solemn. His consciousness had delved into Lan Sheng’s sea of consciousness.

“Mortal stage!” Lan Sheng roared in disbelief, “How can this be? With such formidable enemies before us, I still have to eliminate the Spirit Helm Army!”

“You are still unwilling to let go,” Zhuo Hua’s voice replied. “I have already relinquished all my cultivation of the Xuanhuang clan.”

“What? Yuan Shang, you’ve scattered all your cultivation?” Lan Sheng could hardly believe it.

“It’s nothing to marvel at. Once you master Devouring the Star River and gain infinite energies, regaining your former level of power will be as easy as turning your hand,” Zhuo Hua replied.

Lan Sheng lowered his head in thought, then nodded. “That’s true. Yuan Shang could give up even his superlative cultivation, so why shouldn’t I relinquish these superficial skills?”

And so, Lan Sheng calmed his mind once more, sitting cross-legged in the dilapidated hut, hands forming seals upon his knees, activating the Qi-Stabilizing Pearl within him. Threads of vital energy began to fill his dantian. He then guided this newborn energy from the soles of his feet up towards the crown of his head.

After a full cycle, Lan Sheng found his breath quickening, his energy flagging. Having abandoned the Xuanhuang path, he was now using reverse methods to force energy through meridians once opened in the orthodox direction—it was excruciating.

Just as he was about to give up, he suddenly sensed another presence close by. He opened his eyes—in the dimness, he could see nothing. Closing them again, he expanded his spiritual awareness and suddenly perceived a powerful spiritual source beside him.

Alert, he gathered all his energy into his right palm, ready to crush the intruder with Devouring the Star River at the slightest provocation.

At that moment, the spiritual presence seemed to sense his change, and the airy, ethereal voice sounded once again: “Do not be afraid—it’s me.”

“Yuan Shang?” Lan Sheng asked.

“Yes, that’s right! I’ve come to practice with you,” the voice replied.

“But... this is my sea of consciousness! How did your spiritual source enter? And isn’t that glowing egg outside your divine consciousness?” Lan Sheng asked, confused and anxious.

Zhuo Hua hesitated, unsure how to answer at first. After a moment, he said, “You could say that right now my divine consciousness is within your sea of consciousness, or that yours is within my spiritual platform. Because I’ve linked both our spiritual platforms and seas of consciousness. In this state, it’s impossible to tell which is you and which is me.”

“But, Yuan Shang, doesn’t this mean we’ve become one being? What about our two bodies?” Lan Sheng asked urgently.

“This method lets us master the secrets of Devouring the Star River in the shortest time possible. Then, when we next face the Vanguard of Dark Wrath, we’ll stand a better chance. As for our bodies, I have ordered that until we both emerge from seclusion, no one is to disturb us. Within the Cloud Palace, we are safe.”

“Then, may I ask, why me?” Lan Sheng said boldly.

“What do you mean?” Zhuo Hua was puzzled.

“I mean, why was I chosen to learn this peerless art? There are so many top experts in the Cloud Palace. Why me?” Lan Sheng asked.

“So that’s what you mean!” Zhuo Hua finally understood. “Only you are outside the Cloud Palace’s hierarchy, and your aptitude is quite good. Your cultivation is near the god stage—though your comprehension is a bit lacking, everything else is admirable.”

Lan Sheng felt a pang of embarrassment. “If you think my comprehension is lacking, why bother to teach me?” he muttered inwardly.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Zhuo Hua said. “This technique I created is unlike any orthodox art in the world. It may never be accepted by others. And to be honest, given what I understand of it so far, its power is immense—far beyond imagination. Such a mighty technique, in the hands of someone pure-hearted, is a blessing to all people. The void would know peace for countless millennia.

“But if it fell into the hands of someone with evil intentions, it would be more terrifying than the Dark Wrath Clan. And you, Lan Sheng, are pure of heart. I believe—besides myself—no one is more suited to cultivate it than you.”

Zhuo Hua paused, then continued, “Besides, if in the end I cannot bring myself to act, you can help me sever my last worldly attachment. That would bring me true peace of mind.”

Lan Sheng nodded in agreement. “You flatter me, Yuanjun. With the war looming, if any of the four palace lords were to devote themselves to cultivation now, the defenses of the Cloud Palace would be severely weakened. As for me, I’m a cripple—my Xuanhuang methods are mediocre at best. So, it’s best that I take on this task, right?”

Zhuo Hua did not respond to this, but instead asked, “The Xuanhuang Mirror predicts that in three months, a Newborn Golden Sun will erupt at the Southern Gate of Heaven. At that time, I will activate the Thousand Mechanisms Jar to restore your arm. But for these three months, you must remain in seclusion, cultivating without interruption, no matter what happens outside. Can you do this?”

Lan Sheng didn’t hesitate. “I will obey your command, Yuanjun!”

Zhuo Hua instructed, “Lan Sheng, you are now the secret weapon of our Cloud Palace. Do not reveal yourself until the critical moment—when you strike, make it count. Every night, as long as I’m able, I will come to your spiritual platform to practice with you.”

As these words faded, Zhuo Hua’s spiritual presence vanished. Suddenly, Lan Sheng became a tiny kingfisher once more, flying backward out of the void egg. The golden sun in his sea of consciousness disappeared, and then Lan Sheng awoke.

Upon waking, he found his clothes drenched with sweat. He looked towards the window—the moon hung high in the sky. It was the deep of night.