Chapter 28: Ninety-Nine Thousand Nine Hundred and Ninety-Nine Steps

The gates of Jade Void Palace were not difficult to find; the moment he entered within a hundred miles of its territory, he felt a magnificent, imposing force that made even his innate earth-escape technique sluggish and obscure. Each attempt to travel by this art consumed a considerable amount of his energy. The nearer he drew, the heavier the pressure grew, until it weighed upon him like Mount Tai, making every step a struggle.

“Could this be the test for Jade Void Palace’s disciples?” Nan Luo could not help but halt his steps, lifting his gaze to the towering azure mountain before him. As far as the eye could see, clouds and mist twined about the peaks, concealing the palace itself. Yet, upon stepping into this land, a vivid vision had suddenly appeared in his mind: a majestic mountain, and, nestled amidst the clouds on its slope, a grand and noble palace.

Unlike the Taiji Palace of the Celestial Master, which exuded an air of aloof seclusion and harmony with nature, this hall stood upright and dignified, with an awe-inspiring presence that seemed to command the world. Such was Nan Luo’s impression of Jade Void Palace.

Abruptly, Nan Luo sensed his body lighten, the oppressive force vanishing entirely. After a moment’s reflection, he circulated the scant traces of his spiritual power—and instantly, the pressure crashed down again, suffocating him as though an immense weight bore upon his chest. Hurriedly, he withdrew all his power into his core, calming his body and mind, until not a ripple of energy could be sensed—whereupon the pressure disappeared once more.

Now, even if someone were to observe him, they could not discern the state of his cultivation. This was the method of hiding breath and spirit that Nan Luo had discovered on his own.

He glanced about; the area was eerily silent, even the grasses and trees seemed withered and lifeless. There was no call of insect or bird, and the rare flowers that appeared gave off no scent at all. The clouds above seemed fixed in the same place as in Nan Luo’s memories. Everything felt unreal, illusory.

A sudden chill swept Nan Luo’s heart—could he have fallen into an array? Only Jade Void Palace could have set such a formation at the foot of their mountain. Had the selection already begun? With doubt in his heart, he strode towards the foot of the grand mountain that had flashed through his mind earlier.

He had no choice but to press forward, for he knew nothing of the arts of formation. After fifty meters or so, with the scenery apparently unchanged, suddenly the world opened up before him. He heard the sounds of insects and birds, and a refreshing breeze caressed his face.

Looking back, the path he had just traversed was now beautiful, with flowers and butterflies, birdsong and insect chirps, and the wind carried a hint of sweet fragrance to his nose.

Was it truly an array? Nan Luo frowned in thought, unable to make sense of it.

He turned and continued up the mountain. Rounding a bend in the path, a flight of stone steps appeared before him, stretching straight into the clouds. Beside the steps stood a notice tablet, its script painted in apricot-yellow.

The ancient characters were difficult to decipher—had he not spent a year studying the “Yellow Court,” Nan Luo would not have recognized them. Each word was as bold and forceful as a silver hook, exuding grandeur. The inscription declared that anyone who could ascend the steps would be admitted as a disciple. Looking around, he found himself alone—had no one else heard of the Jade Void Palace’s recruitment, or had those who arrived already gone up?

“So, this is the true ordeal.” Nan Luo gazed at the stairway vanishing into the mist and thought to himself.

He stepped forward—one step, two, three...

With each stride, heaven and earth seemed to shift. Sometimes, every step brought a pressure like crushing mountains, as if the sky was collapsing; at other times, he felt swept into a raging current, unable to extricate himself.

Beauties bewitched and entwined him; demons plucked at his heart, seeking to devour it; fiends slaughtered all living things. Though Nan Luo’s mind remained clear and tranquil, unmoved by illusions, he knew well that to see through was one thing, but to endure was another. His pace grew as heavy as if he were climbing with a mountain on his back, sweat streaming down his brow—now frowning in thought, now weeping in anguish, sometimes laughing in delight, sometimes exuding a murderous aura.

His steps up the stairs grew immeasurably labored; from below, he seemed to merge with the shifting, elusive mists above.

Heaven and earth drifted on; clouds and fog dispersed, flowers bloomed and withered. By the time Nan Luo set foot on the final step, a whole year had passed.

Jade Void Palace was exactly as it had appeared in his vision at the foot of the mountain—grand, dignified, and upright, with an awe-inspiring authority that brooked no offense.

...

“Are you Nan Luo?” A boy in white stood before him, his face utterly expressionless.

“I am.”

“The palace has already admitted twelve disciples; recruitment ended half a year ago.”

Nan Luo was silent. The boy continued, “My master knows all about you... He said you should not have come in vain. This book contains the complete principles of Jade Void’s arts—let it serve as compensation for your year here.”

Nan Luo accepted the book with a bow, thanked the boy, and turned to descend the mountain. His expression was calm, touched with a hint of serene detachment.

He did not hear the conversation in one of the palace’s pavilions, where twelve figures stood—each in an apricot-yellow robe, each of different appearance. Had Nan Luo seen them, he would have recalled the woman in a similar robe who had once wielded a primordial treasure against a giant beast.

They all understood that today the one who had climbed the stairs for an entire year had finally reached the end, and so they gathered to observe the outcome.

“To come here by fate, to ascend the mountain and reach the palace gates—this one is remarkable.”

“He has the fortune, but had he arrived half a year earlier, perhaps he would have become our junior, or even senior brother. In the end, his natural endowments fell just short.”

“The White Crane Boy just gave him the compendium of our arts—it was not all for nothing.”

“Heh, what use is knowledge of arts if one cannot comprehend the Great Way? In the end, it is all emptiness and leads to destruction.”

A year—a full year had passed. When Nan Luo realized this, his heart was strangely calm. A year, ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine steps. In the end, the palace had already admitted twelve disciples, and he was the thirteenth to arrive, missing the moment by a hair’s breadth. Still, he had done all he could, had he not? Nan Luo mused, gazing up at the tranquil, drifting clouds above. Once more, a faint fragrance touched his nose, just as it had a year before.

The steps were still the same; the path unchanged; the floral scent as pure as ever. The scenery remained, and so did he, but his heart was no longer the same.

A year had passed, and yet to Nan Luo it seemed as though ages had gone by, and yet also as if it had been but a blink. If one were to ask what he had gained, he could only shake his head. Some things are beyond words—not the Great Dao nor profound arts, but insights of the heart.

Indescribable, elusive, drifting and indistinct.

Ascending the mountain had been like climbing to heaven, each step arduous. Descending, it was as if he strolled through a garden, at ease in every step.