Chapter 160: The Immortal Spirit Holy Land
Immortal Spirit Holy Land!
The moment those four words left Ji Lingxiu's lips, the wind chimes beneath the eaves began to ring on their own, as though echoing a melody of the Great Dao itself.
Meng Kuo felt as if struck by lightning. The words "Holy Land" fell upon his heart like a heavy hammer. His aged eyes widened in disbelief—though he had long suspected, he had never imagined it would truly be so.
Across the Xuanming Continent, only places where a Saint Venerable resided dared to call themselves Holy Lands.
…
At the same time, atop Tianyun Sect.
When Xiao Chen heard his master's familiar voice within his mind, the corners of his lips curved into a genuine smile.
It was a calm, proud smile—one that seemed to pierce through all the fog in the world.
From behind came Zhou Xuanxiao's puzzled voice. "Brother Xiao?"
Xiao Chen did not turn back. His gaze remained fixed on the sea of clouds in the distance as he softly uttered four words:
"Immortal Spirit Holy Land."
The instant those words were spoken, wind and thunder surged atop the peak!
Holy Land…
Zhou Xuanxiao's entire body trembled. The two words "Holy Land" struck his mind like heavenly thunder, shaking his Dao heart almost to collapse.
By the time he regained his senses, Xiao Chen's figure had already vanished into the clouds.
A Holy Land… no wonder…
Scenes from the past surfaced in Zhou Xuanxiao's mind—the day within the Heavenly Stele Pavilion, when he had once taken pride in his fifty-first place on the Human Ranking.
Yet in that fleeting moment, those Holy Sons and Saintesses from the top sects of the Xuanming Continent hadn't spared him even a glance.
In their eyes… there was only each other.
Only now did he truly understand—
Even among prodigies, there are realms of difference.
And that difference… was far more terrifying than that between an ordinary cultivator and a so-called genius.
To ordinary people, the fiftieth rank on the Human Ranking was already a heaven-reaching pinnacle. But only the top ten—no, the top five—were truly qualified to compete for those lofty positions.
And even then, qualification was all it was.
In a daze, Zhou Xuanxiao seemed to see the figures of those Holy Sons and Saintesses merging with Xiao Chen's distant silhouette…
That—was the true stage cultivators like us should aspire to.
The mountain wind scattered his whisper.
Zhou Xuanxiao slowly raised his head, gazing at the boundless clouds above.
Those drifting clouds seemed to transform into the towering Holy Lands of the Xuanming Continent. And he… was but a frog at the bottom of a well, confined within this corner of Qingzhou.
"Xiao Chen…"
He clenched his fists tightly, nails digging deep into his palms, his heart filled with nothing but profound envy.
…
…
…
Immortal Spirit Valley.
Chen Chang'an stared at the four gilded words glowing across his system panel—"Immortal Spirit Holy Land." He rubbed his chin, his lips twitching slightly.
"This name... well, it's not bad, I suppose."
[System Notification: Sect naming complete. Sect Master's Chamber has been issued and can be summoned at any time.]
"Alright, let's test it out first."
With a thought, he set the chamber's location beside his meditation room, right in the adjoining hall.
Too lazy to bother with interior design, he copied his usual simple layout—a tea table, a few meditation cushions, and a casual ink painting of mountains and rivers hanging on the wall.
The moment he stepped inside—
Buzz!
A ripple of invisible energy spread outward beneath his feet. Instantly, Chen Chang'an felt his senses grow incredibly sharp yet strangely detached. The air within the chamber seemed to freeze, and even the flow of time slowed to a crawl.
He raised his hand, attempting to circulate his spiritual power, only to find something peculiar. He could feel his qi moving, yet there seemed to be a thin barrier separating his consciousness from his body.
"So this is... the state of being immune to all harm?"
To confirm it, he joined two fingers like a blade and slashed at his own palm—
Swish!
The sharp wind cut through the air, but the instant it touched his skin, it vanished without a trace, leaving not even a scratch.
"Damn!"
Chen Chang'an's eyes lit up. He tried again—using spiritual power to strike his meridians, smashing a teacup over his head, even conjuring a wisp of pill flame to burn his fingertip.
Without exception, every attack dissipated like an illusion the moment it touched him.
"This... is a total win!"
He couldn't help circling around the thirty-square-meter chamber like a kid with a new toy. Finally, he sat cross-legged on a cushion, chuckling as he brushed the edge of the tea table. "If I ever run into danger, I can just hide in here and..."
Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind. His smile faded, and he narrowed his eyes. "System, can this chamber block attacks from those above the Saint Realm?"
[Notice: The Sect Master's Chamber possesses absolute defense. Under current world laws, no form of attack can harm the host.]
"Perfect!"
Chen Chang'an slapped his thigh and leaned back comfortably onto the floor.
The next second, a flicker of light caught his eye through the window.
"Hm?"
He turned his head and saw a delicate paper crane trying to fly inside. Its body gleamed faintly with white and azure spiritual light—the signature transmission spell of Ji Lingxiu. Normally, one thought from her would send the paper crane gently into his palm.
But now, the crane flapped in circles at the doorway, bumping against an invisible barrier, unable to enter. Its wings fluttered anxiously, almost human-like in its distress.
"Ah, right—the chamber blocks all heavenly senses..." Chen Chang'an chuckled softly and willed the barrier to fade.
The invisible shield vanished, and the crane, as if granted pardon, darted inside and landed lightly in his open palm.
Pop.
With a soft sound, the paper crane unfolded into a thin slip of translucent paper. Chen Chang'an glanced over it—it was Ji Lingxiu's detailed report about Meng Kuo's visit, her elegant handwriting tinged with hesitation, even mentioning Princess Yongtai's every word and gesture.
"This girl…"
He wrote a quick reply, his spiritual power leaving faint golden traces on the surface: [You may decide on this matter yourself.]
Just as he lifted his brush, he paused.
Reading the line "Master, what do you think?" at the end of the letter, he shook his head with a quiet smile. The girl clearly had already decided, yet still felt the need to seek approval.
The fall of the Great Zhou royal family had left her overly sensitive to matters concerning her former homeland.
He brushed his finger over the letter, dissolving the golden marks like smoke, then wrote a single bold character:
[Approved]
The final stroke trailed sharply, as though cutting through lingering hesitation.
The crane refolded itself, rubbed affectionately against his palm, and then turned back into a streak of light, flying out through the window.
…
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