Volume One: The Celestial Palace of Cloud Mist Chapter Twenty-Two: The Palace's Hound

Chapter 22: The Watchdog of the Immortal Palace

But to Zhou Hao, those same words held another meaning entirely. At this moment, he was eager to test the fruits of his two decades of cultivation. The nine-petal Flame Lotus had tempered his heart and soul, the thousand years’ worth of cultivation from the Sun Shark’s essence pearl had greatly enhanced his strength. Zhou Hao could even sense the rhythm of every breath from each person present.

On the central square's platform, the two faced each other, standing alone within a hundred-meter radius; not a single disciple dared approach. Almost all eyes were fixed on this spectacle. Normally, a spar between unremarkable disciples like Cheng Yan and Zhou Hao would never have drawn such a crowd. Yet, the grudge from twenty years past—when Su Qing had twice stood up for Zhou Hao and outshone Nangong Ying—had caused both male and female disciples to harbor deep-seated resentment.

The male disciples seethed with jealousy that their goddess paid repeated attention to a mere fledgling, while the female disciples bristled with indignation—why must Su Qing always be at the center of everything? Why did every deed she performed stir such commotion?

With such emotions simmering, the disciples of Cloud Veil were more than happy to see Zhou Hao put in his place. In their hearts, they all anticipated Cheng Yan beating him to a pulp. The imagined spectacle alone prompted bursts of laughter, for to them, Zhou Hao was nothing but a fresh-faced upstart who had only recently joined Cloud Veil—a nobody whom any disciple could flatten with ease.

Just as the crowd watched with this mindset, the two onstage clashed for the first time!

A sharp hiss split the air.

As it was a contest of swordsmanship, both Zhou and Cheng naturally drew their swords. The moment the immortal blades were unsheathed, a flash of cold light erupted. Sword aura shot out in myriad spectral images, lightning-fast. Everyone’s pupils contracted with shock.

For the one to unleash such a blizzard of sword shadows was Zhou Hao himself. Cheng Yan had only just managed to draw his sword when dozens—no, hundreds—of snow-white, ethereal blades came slashing his way. The speed and ferocity were indescribable. Only those within the arena could truly comprehend the heart-stopping peril.

A crisp clang resounded—the treasured sword clattered to the ground. Cheng Yan’s wide eyes brimmed with terror and confusion. His once spotless disciple’s robe was instantly slashed open in dozens of places, each gash seeping blood.

A scream tore from his lips. Cheng Yan’s handsome face contorted in agony, his eyes wide as death, fixed on Zhou Hao, who stood just twenty meters away—a figure of utter calm, his immortal sword already returned to its sheath.

With a dull thud, Cheng Yan collapsed onto the blue-stone platform. Only then did the other disciples snap back to their senses. The square erupted with cries and animated discussion as if an earthquake had struck.

“What just happened? Cheng Yan… lost?”

“How is that possible? Are my eyes playing tricks? How did Cheng Yan fall? What did that rookie even do?”

“What incredible speed, such ferocious power! Only a single move and Cheng Yan was defeated.”

“How did this new disciple train? In just twenty years, he’s grown this powerful?”

The crowd was in an uproar, their astonishment unending. Many hadn’t even seen Zhou Hao’s sword move before Cheng Yan was already sprawled on the cold platform. It was like a dream.

Regardless, the outcome was clear: Zhou Hao’s overwhelming victory, Cheng Yan’s utter defeat. The chubby Cao Shuang was first to rush to Zhou Hao’s side, his small eyes crinkling with delight.

“Brother, you’re amazing! I thought you’d at least exchange a few dozen blows with Cheng Yan, but you’re far stronger than I imagined. Not even I, your senior brother, could match you. Looks like Elder Yunfang really did take in a remarkable disciple!” Cao Shuang gazed at Zhou Hao as if he’d discovered a new world.

“I just wanted to end it quickly,” Zhou Hao replied with a frank smile.

He glanced at Cheng Yan, who lay on the ground with bulging, lifeless eyes. Cao Shuang felt not a shred of sympathy. This man was only the son of an immortal palace elder, yet he spent his days idling, neglecting his cultivation. Relying on a powerful senior brother, Nangong Ying, and senior sister, Yu Nan, he bullied those weaker than himself and pressured those a bit stronger with the names of his mentors and father—an arrogant scion, no different from the pampered sons of mortal officials.

“Junior brother, I assumed you’d have no part in the coming Immortal Grotto Contest, but seeing your skill now, I realize I was too pessimistic,” Cao Shuang suddenly said, as if recalling something.

“The Immortal Grotto Contest? Right, what’s that all about? Please enlighten me, senior brother.” Zhou Hao remembered that Yunfang had once mentioned this to him, twenty years ago.

At that time, Zhou Hao had only asked Yunfang a couple of questions out of curiosity. The elder hadn’t gone into detail, and Zhou Hao had been so weak then that he wasn’t even qualified to participate, so he’d never pressed the matter further. Thus, for twenty years, he hadn’t given it a thought—until now, when Cao Shuang brought it up again. Only now did he realize that he was strong enough to compete for a place in the Immortal Grotto.

Cao Shuang was no fool. Zhou Hao’s question made clear that Yunfang hadn’t told him everything. After all, no one had expected a new lower immortal from the mortal realm to rise to such power in just twenty years.

Cheng Yan, after all, was the son of Elder Cheng Bing, and had never lacked for rare treasures. With centuries of accumulation, even a wastrel like him was a middling expert. And yet, Zhou Hao had defeated him in a single move—that spoke volumes.

“The Immortal Grotto was divined by the sixteen Immortal Palace Lords working together. It’s hidden in the void, invisible, but in ten years, a spatial rift will appear. Perhaps it’s a legacy left by a great immortal for the worthy, for only lower immortals may enter. The stronger one’s cultivation, the harsher the backlash. All the palace lords have tried to force open the rift, but found a formation of immortal runes set by a powerful immortal. Only at the appointed time does the array open slightly—when, ten years from now, the palaces compete to select their strongest disciples.”

By now, the crowd had dispersed. Cheng Yan was carried away by two disciples to Elder Cheng Bing’s immortal mountain, while Zhou Hao and Cao Shuang discussed the Immortal Grotto.

“But I heard only three people can ultimately enter the Immortal Grotto. How does that work?” Zhou Hao asked.

“Sigh, a place like that naturally attracts the attention of powerful figures. Though the sixteen palaces discovered it first, this starry domain is teeming with experts. Especially the Four Great Powers—they’re arrogant and domineering. When they learned of the grotto, they forced their way into the proceedings. Originally, up to fifty lower immortals might have entered, with the sixteen palaces taking nearly all the spots by picking their three best. But the Four Great Powers were greedy, trying to seize everything for themselves. If not for fear of the palace’s backing immortal kings, they’d have claimed all three spots. Even so, we’re left with just three places.” As he spoke, Cao Shuang gritted his teeth, his fists clenched tight.

“Four Great Powers?” Clearly, Zhou Hao had never heard this term before.

“Wind, Rain, Thunder, Fire—Wind Desert, Rain Lake, Thunder Mountain, and Fire Plain. They aren’t ruled by immortal kings and don’t answer to the Celestial Capital. They’re sects founded by rogue immortals, each led by a powerful late-stage upper immortal. In contrast, the sixteen palaces have a mix of early- and mid-stage upper immortals, with only two at the late stage. Moreover, the four powers’ disciples are outstanding—our palaces’ disciples have been suppressed for centuries. As one waxes while the other wanes, the gap only widens!”

“But aren’t the palaces managed by decree of the immortal kings? Would the kings just sit idly by?” Zhou Hao frowned.

Cao Shuang did not reply. He simply shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips.

Seeing this, Zhou Hao fell silent as well. The answer was clear enough in his heart. He had once been an emperor, but also an ordinary subject. He well understood the hardships of the common folk in times of peace.

War brings untold calamity to the people; peace is precious, but even then, the lives of the lowly are never smooth. Officials might claim to protect the people and their property, but when the time comes, such promises are little more than a joke.

So too in this immortal realm, where longevity is the norm—the pattern repeats. The palaces exist solely to uphold the immortal kings’ absolute rule. The kings care nothing for their fates; to them, the palaces are merely loyal watchdogs. Even if they perish, it is only as a dog sacrificing itself for its master.

“The immortal kings are merciless, treating the palaces as nothing more than watchdogs,” Zhou Hao concluded.

“Sigh, there’s nothing to be done. Accept it—the strong rule in the immortal realm, and any justice rests upon absolute power,” Cao Shuang replied.

“So how will the palace disciples be selected in ten years’ time?” Zhou Hao returned to the main topic.

“First, each palace will select their top ten elite disciples. Then, those one hundred sixty will compete fiercely, battling across the brackets, until only the three strongest remain!” Cao Shuang explained earnestly.

“I see. The disciples of the sixteen palaces must truly loathe the four powers. Such intense competition is all thanks to them. Ten years remain—I must redouble my cultivation!” Zhou Hao’s heart was far from calm.

Strength is the key to victory. To gain a place in the Immortal Grotto, he would have to surpass all rivals!

“Hmph, you?” Suddenly, a woman’s voice rang out behind them, dripping with disdain. “Don’t think that beating that useless show-off Cheng Yan means you’re qualified for the palace tournament. I’ll make sure you don’t even crack the top ten in Cloud Veil Palace!”