The Daoist remained seated in meditation. “If you fail to subdue a single cloud before dawn, you’ll be sent to the Scripture Depository to copy “The Discourse on the Dao” thirty thousand times.”
Thirty thousand times?
Everyone turned pale.
“What’s so difficult about that, hoho.”
The disciple who had mocked Kong Yun was seventeen or eighteen, and already quite gifted. With a slight bend of his knees, he leapt from the Daoist’s cloud into the misty air below.
Everyone was shocked, but the boy did not fall. Instead, he landed smoothly on a cloud and stood as if on solid ground, face breaking into a grin.
You can stand on the clouds!
Xue Cuo glanced at Kong Yun. Kong Yun was lost in thought. They exchanged looks. It seemed like something was off.
By now, disciples from first, second, and third tiers had all arrived, swelling their number to several hundred.
Unable to resist, several more disciples followed suit and jumped off the cloud platform… only for their feet to slip through the mist and fall straight through.
“AHHH!!”
Disciples’ screams echoed as they plummeted hundreds of feet. With a thud, them plummeted into clouds below.
It turned out there were a few clouds further down, seemingly to catch those who failed.
The unfortunate disciple looked up, pale-faced, to see a long, endless staircase of cloud descending from above. To return, he’d have to climb from sunrise till noon. With such delays, when would anyone catch a cloud?
Xue Cuo tossed a stone down. It fell. Kong Yun did the same. His stone fell too.
Both boys frowned and looked at each other.
Kong Yun’s plumage had vanished, revealing a delicate, androgynous face. One could no longer tell whether he was boy or girl.
“Why aren’t you jumping, fellow Daoist?” he asked.
Xue Cuo cupped his fists, voice crisp and bright. “I wouldn’t dare. Kong Yun-xiong looks older, so as the da-ge, you should go first.”
Kong Yun: “Eh, Shidi should go first.”
Xue Cuo adamantly refused while Kong Yun was exceedingly courteous.
The two children smiled graciously at one another, brimming with polite consideration. Yet inwardly, both were snorting coldly. This brat is such despicable! they each thought.
Kong Yun, being a demon cultivator, and Xue Cuo, versed in talismanic arts, both understood: these clouds operated by a rotating yin-yang formation.
The first person had landed safely because the cloud was in its yang phase. When the second person stepped into the same spot, it had already flipped to yin, hence the fall.
And since stones were mundane objects, they could not activate the formation. To land safely, one needed someone to test the cloud’s state first, and then immediately follow behind.
Unfortunately, only the two of them remained.
Xue Cuo’s plan had fallen through. He rubbed his nose and asked. “Fellow daoist, have you deciphered the formation yet?”
Kong Yun looked properly abashed. “I haven’t figured it out.”
They both wore fake smiles. “It’s so complex. I can’t understand it. Have you understood it? I haven’t, not at all.”
The two squatted at the edge of the cloud.
After a moment, Xue Cuo elbowed Kong Yun. “Kong Yun-xiong, it’s getting dark. No sense staying locked like this forever. I have an idea. What do you think?”
Kong Yun immediately grew wary. “You’re not trying to trick me?”
Xue Cuo thumped his chest to pledge his assurance. Then he leaned over and whispered something in Kong Yun’s ear. To his surprise, Kong Yun flew into a rage. “No way!”
Xue Cuo: “Is it because you’re too fat to fly?”
Kong Yun, who had recently been eating a bit too well and whose wings had filled out noticeably, was stabbed right in the sore spot. He leapt up in fury.
Xue Cuo wasn’t having it. And thus, of course, they began to fight.
Two small boys, full of righteous indignation, tangled in a mess of fists and legs. Xue Cuo rolled on top, bang bang—landed two good punches. Then Kong Yun flipped him over—bang bang two punches right back.
“Ow ow!” cried Xue Cuo, sporting two blooming panda eyes. Seeing Kong Yun only getting more into it, Xue Cuo, being smaller and unable to overpower the fat demon, quickly drew a wind-control talisman and blew himself off the cloud. A sudden gale swept him away.
From afar, Kong Yun could still be seen hopping mad atop the cloud. Then, he transformed into some kind of creature, wings flapping as he flew into the mist. Xue Cuo rubbed his eyes, but the wind had carried him too far to see clearly.
He dared not try landing on the cloud, so instead he relied on the wind-control talisman: each time he began to descend, he’d summon another gust to lift him, fluttering about like a leaf.
Luckily, he was in the habit of drawing dozens of talismans in idle moments, and his stash could withstand a bit of waste.
Meanwhile, other disciples on the cloud were each displaying their own tricks.
Those who had only just entered the Foundation Building Stage couldn’t yet control flight treasures. But if they knew a few eclectic arts, there were ways around it.
Lu Chanchan, the little girl with spirit-snake braids beside Gu Ruhui, was a master of miscellaneous techniques. Despite her age, she knew a great deal. After tapping through a jade slip and doing some quick calculations, she clapped her hands. “Alright, Gu-shixiong, jump onto that cloud in ten breaths.”
Gu Ruhui nodded, cupping his hands. “Thank you, Lu-shimei.”
Lu Chanchan leapt gracefully from the cloud and trod upon the air as if walking across solid ground. Her family had prepared for this long ago, but she’d held back for Gu Ruhui’s sake. Now she waved with a smile. “Shixiong, I’m going first!”
Gu Ruhui gave a gentle smile and nodded.
Xue Cuo continued to float along. Being light, he was carried with the breeze, rising and falling, never once landing.
And those disciples lucky enough to land had begun their hunt for a cloud.
Step one: find a patch where cloud-qi was thick, the mist white and fluffy. Tear off a piece, shape it to size, and mount it to test how it felt.
Sounds simple, in theory. But most failed at the very first step.
Once torn, the white clouds would scatter and dart about with shocking agility. They were impossible to catch.
Even if caught, they often refused to settle. Each puff of cloud seemed to have its own mind and temperament, unwilling to coalesce into a usable shape.
Some disciples, realising the clouds had some rudimentary spiritual awareness, began to use all methods of intimidation, coercion and even setting fire, to force submission.
One disciple succeeded at last, riding a bundled cloud across the sky. The moment the others saw this, they hurried to imitate, brandishing all manner of spiritual tools and implements, coercing the clouds with threats and force. Not obeying? Then be vaporised!
Meanwhile, the clouds began to change.
Xue Cuo, riding his wind-control talisman, floated leisurely like a wisp of mist, drifting in and out of the cloud sea.
Some disciples attempted to imitate him, but their talisman paper could only summon a feeble breeze. It was certainly not enough to lift a person, so they gave up with a huff, inwardly grumbling: That talisman skill’s only useful in places like this anyway! Hmph!
Xue Cuo clasped his hands behind his head and spun like a top, diving headfirst into a cloud and emerging from the other side.
As the wind began to die down, he pulled out another wind-control talisman—then thought for a moment and added a star-shrouding moon talisman for good measure. Wind howled, tide echoed.
Stars shrouded the moon…… and a goddess turned her head.
A phantom figure flashed by, leaving behind a vast and rippling Dao resonance. Where wind met water, the sun broke through, forming a luminous rainbow bridge upon the clouds.
Xue Cuo discovered that many clouds had began to flock to him, drawn by the water vapour clinging to his robes.
The clouds circled affectionately, encasing him in a cloudy vest that grew thicker and puffier. His light summer robes became a heavy winter coat.
Just then, suddenly—the clouds quivered violently. Milky vapour rolled and twisted, shaking with fury.
Dense clouds warped and surged, forming towering giants with six arms and four heads, their appearance strange and surreal.
These giants were wrapped in fierce winds, their muscular bodies gnarled like ancient tree trunks. Even the smallest was as tall as a pagoda. No sooner had they taken shape than they leapt atop the clouds, scanning their surroundings. Upon spotting a cultivator, they would whistle in unison and charge over in groups.
Most of the new disciples were only at the Foundation Building Stage. What hope did their mediocre skills have against these pagoda-sized warriors?
One cultivator was in the midst of burning a cloud with fire when a giant grabbed him in one enormous hand, popped him into its mouth, then promptly expelled him from its backside. Another giant picked him up and ruthlessly tossed him away.
The cloud that had been seared by fire now trembled like fragile gauze. The giant holding it looked pained, gently scooping it up and stuffing it into his chest. Then he reached into a dense cloud bank and extracted a colossal spiked mace.
Whoooosh—whoooooosh!
A furious storm erupted.
The mace-wielding giants blocked all routes. Disciples were flung left and right; even those with decent skill were overwhelmed, trampled underfoot by a horde of raging giants.
First-tier disciples, Lang Cui and Zhuo Qingyuan, were quietly observing celestial kun fish when the tremors startled them. “What’s going on?”
Lang Cui coughed twice, his complexion pale and sickly. “Seems we’ve provoked the deities in the clouds.”
Zhuo Qingyuan sneered, “A minor cloud deity? We granted it refuge, and instead of being grateful, it dares attack disciples of Wendao Palace? How dare it.”
Lang Cui shook his head. “No matter how minor the cloud deity, it’s still a god. Besides, here in the clouds, I doubt either of us could win against it.”
Zhuo Qingyuan let out a snort and replied confidently. “How do you know if you haven’t tried?”
Lang Cui took a step back. Zhuo Qingyuan: “Xiao-Cui, what’s the meaning of this?”
Lang Cui’s face twitched. If not for his excellent manners, he might have rolled his eyes outright. Instead, he dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief and said, “I’m stepping back so that the blood you spit when you get pummelled doesn’t mess up my shoes.”
Zhuo Qingyuan became even more displeased. “Minor cloud deities, let me show him a trick or two!”
The cloud giants rampaged through the sky, flinging disciples from the clouds like dumplings. Those who resisted only enraged them further. The giants drew vicious weapons straight from the clouds themselves, battering cultivators senseless.
Xue Cuo, meanwhile, squatted motionlessly in the crook of a cloud.
Suddenly, a shadow slammed to the ground before him and coughed up blood.
That person was deathly pale. He startled when he saw Xue Cuo “It’s you?!”
Xue Cuo recognised him immediately. “Xiaofeng.”
They hadn’t seen each other since that parting in Xiantian Village, but Xue Cuo hadn’t forgotten a single thing Xiaofeng had done. To think he’d wormed his way into Wendao Palace.
Xiaofeng looked equally disgruntled. Since studying that so-called Heavenly Book that he’d obtained previously, and gaining nothing, he had turned it over to the sect in hopes of earning merit. Only then had he gained this opportunity to climb the ranks.
He hadn’t expected that it was brimming with lofty immortal sects and rigid hierarchies. He hadn’t even managed to worm his way into anyone’s good graces.
He could only depend on himself. But the entrance exam alone was deadly enough. These clouds are all mass murderers in disguise!
With a pitiful smile, Xiaofeng cried, “Little Daoist! Save me!”
Xue Cuo took a step back…… then decided that wasn’t far enough and hopped another step away.
Xiaofeng: “……”
Heavy footsteps thudded nearer. A great hand reached in, groped about. It found Xiaofeng, hoisting him up.
Xiaofeng shrieked in desperation: “There’s someone else here! Someone’s still inside!”
Xue Cuo’s face paled. Cold sweat dripped down his back. He burrowed himself deeper into the cloud.
The giant hand holding Xiaofeng flung him off into the sky. A moment later, silence.
Then a massive head peered into the hiding spot, scanning the cloud recess. It didn’t see a disciple.
Curled in the corner was this small figure curled in the corner. It spotted the person hiding in the corner and couldn’t suppress it’s astonishment and released and exhalation. The killing aura slowly dispersed.
There was a scrawny little cloud person huddled in the corner. He appeared malnourished.
Xue Cuo was wrapped head to toe in clouds and didn’t move an inch. After a long moment, he carefully looked up and stared right into a pair of enormous eyes.
The giant’s face was stone-like, his eyes seemed like they were sculpted from clay, just sketched lines. The lines blinked.
Then the giant gently pinched Xue Cuo and lifted him out of his nook.
Xue Cuo looked up.
Seven or eight heavenly giants surrounded him, each wielding swords, spears, clubs, and staves, all leaned in and peered down at him.
Xue Cuo’s legs gave out and he plopped onto the ground.
The giant behind him tilted its head and murmured to his companions, “Hoo—hoo hoo—”
(A new one. Looks scared out of his wits.)
The giant nudged him upright with a single finger, then gave him a mock-threatening swat on the backside.
“Hoo hoo—”
(Coward. Come on, let’s go.)
The wind roared so fiercely it nearly tore off Xue Cuo’s cloud-coat. He hastily clutched it tighter, pointed into the distance, and cupped his fists.
“—Hoo hoo—”
He turned to flee, but a giant finger blocked his path. Xue Cuo froze and turned slowly, voice trembling like a mosquito: “Hoo?”
The giant burst into laughter, scooped him up, and set him on his shoulder.
Xue Cuo: Sword Uncle, save me!!!
