Chapter 836: The Three Immortals Sect

I'll go!

A cultivator, disgusted by the black, thin monk’s arrogant demeanor, shouted loudly and leapt straight up into the clouds.

Compared to the previous disciple of Jinguang Cave, this tall and sturdy cultivator’s realm was clearly far deeper; though not among the top tier of the Northern Continent, he was still a pillar of the Sixth-Six Transformation stage.

Moreover, he had clearly learned his lesson—this time, he didn’t even reveal his sect or his cultivation level.

As soon as he reached the clouds, he swiftly pulled out various magical artifacts, adopting both offensive and defensive stances, then stared intently at his opponent, waiting for an opening to strike.

But when he realized the monk was still walking steadily toward him, just as before, his heart suddenly lurched.

Though the opponent was riddled with openings, he felt utterly uncertain about how to attack.

“Purple Microcosm Palace, crush him!”

The tall cultivator’s face twisted with fury; he swept his sleeve and summoned a colossal spectral hall, its surface brimming with violet mists, crashing down with overwhelming force, aiming to trap the dark, slender figure entirely within.

This is the most common method used by immortals to deal with practitioners, and no one can find fault with it.

Yet the next moment, the monk from Xuantian Mountain slightly stretched his arms, bent forward, and with a deafening roar, he literally lifted the entire Purple Microcosm Palace on his thin shoulders.

BOOM!

The monk stepped forward, and the yellow clouds beneath him churned violently.

Carrying the mountain-like palace on his shoulders, he shifted from slow, deliberate steps to swift, bounding strides, and the Purple Microcosm Palace itself began to crumble under the violent tremors.

The tall cultivator’s pupils widened in horror; trembling, he frantically waved his hands and summoned three defensive artifacts to shield himself.

On the monk’s withered, expressionless face, a faint, barely perceptible sneer curled at the corner of his mouth.

He suddenly halted, and all motion ceased.

As his arms swelled with power, he hurled the shattered remnants of the palace with immense force—it tore through the light barrier, shattered the bronze bell, and slammed onto the tiny figure below, sending it flying over ten thousand zhang away.

Many disciples of the Three Immortal Sect scrambled to dodge the falling debris, appearing utterly disheveled, like birds startled by a bowstring.

“Again,” the black, thin monk casually clapped his hands, showing no trace of pride, merely glancing coolly ahead.

「……」

All seventy-two cave Immortals fixed their gazes on this spot.

The senior disciples of each lineage stared grimly at the monk, yet after a long silence, not a single one rose to challenge him.

Li Shan had just begun to move when a sharp glare forced him back.

He furrowed his brows and turned to his master.

Xuanweizi shook his head; even though he admired Shen Yi immensely and believed him worthy of becoming the Immortal Emperor, when it came to the Great Calamity, he could not abandon his own disciples—he must still strive for even a sliver of hope.

Li Shan’s opponent should be the prodigies of the Bodhi Sect.

Revealing himself too early would only expose his true strength.

“This...” Faced with the monk’s provocation, the other disciples of the Three Immortal Sect instinctively glanced behind them—only to find that their once-dominant senior brothers and sisters, who had led them to triumph across the Eastern Continent, now refused to step forward.

This was a doctrinal debate between two sects, with no termination allowed—it meant they would be forced to take the stage in order of rank.

When feasting and reveling, all the Immortals had been thrilled and excited.

But just look at the miserable state of those two disciples just now; although they didn’t perish or lose their cultivation, by the time they recover, they’ll surely have nothing to do with divine offerings anymore.

The greed in their hearts gradually faded, replaced by fear.

Upon the four majestic peaks.

The Joyful Buddha smiled faintly, calmly gazing down.

As he had anticipated, attacks driven by greed were utterly insignificant.

Were the Three Immortal Sect’s direct disciples truly aware they couldn’t match the Xuantian Mountain disciple? Not necessarily—they simply dared not gamble. This contest determined their futures after the calamity, and the stakes were too high to risk even the slightest mistake.

Everyone wanted someone else to go first and test the waters.

In contrast, the Bodhi Sect disciples, having suffered heavy losses and been driven to the brink, though still coveting incense, also harbored a burning desire for revenge and redemption.

“Esteemed brother, please instruct me.”

The reluctant disciple of the Immortal Sect, as he stepped onto the yellow clouds, already sounded timid.

His cultivation was even weaker than the previous tall cultivator’s.

With inferior strength and lost morale, his fate was already sealed.

After desperately fleeing through a magical formation for a moment, the disciple was seized by the neck by the Xuantian Mountain monk, who, despite the overwhelming disparity, still delivered a single palm strike to the disciple’s chest, shattering most of his Dao Fruit.

“Brother, spare me—!”

With a cry of anguish, the Immortal Sect disciple flew backward, tumbling out of the yellow clouds.

This brutal scene instantly stirred both sides of the spectators.

The Immortal Sect disciples turned pale, while the monks’ eyes blazed with excitement.

The disciples who followed were even more pitiful, each returning with grievous injuries, until it was finally Hao Ming True Person’s turn.

His sect’s insignificance, yet his ability to claim nearly half of Kaiyuan Prefecture across Tian Ta Mountain, spoke volumes.

Hao Ming True Person was among the most deeply rooted cultivators in the Three Immortal Sect, second only to the direct disciples.

Yet now he looked utterly terrified, glancing back every three steps; by the time he reached the clouds, his face was ashen.

“I... I yield.”

After prolonged hesitation, as if bearing immense psychological pressure, Hao Ming True Person raised his head and uttered those words, causing all seventy-two cave Immortals to turn pale.

To surrender before even fighting—this wasn’t merely shameful; it was trampling the Three Immortal Sect’s dignity beneath the monk’s feet.

But something even more shocking followed.

As Hao Ming True Person spoke halfway, preparing to bow respectfully to the four Grand Masters, he had barely raised his arms when a gust of wind struck his face.

His expression changed instantly as he stared fixedly at the withered face suddenly looming before him—next moment, the Xuantian Mountain monk’s fist, wreathed in golden rivers, pierced straight through his Dao body.

Hao Ming True Person flew backward like a torn sack, crashing into the crowd.

The entire arena erupted in uproar.

Though the Immortal Sect disciple’s surrender was despicable, these monks had now gone so far as to deny even that mercy.

“Sorry, I was too nervous—I didn’t hear clearly.”

The black, thin monk retracted his fist and spoke lightly.

Hao Ming True Person trembled violently, wracked by searing pain and the piercing, judgmental stares of his peers, who all recoiled as if he were some unclean abomination.

He curled his body tightly, wishing he could dig a hole and bury himself alive.

At that moment, a pale hand gently covered his face, shielding him from those needle-like gazes; a soft spiritual glow emanated from the palm, dissolving the golden rivers within him.

「……」

Hao Ming True Person stared blankly through his fingers and realized he had fallen right beside Tai Xu Zhenjun.

The latter sat calmly in meditation, the only fellow disciple in the entire arena who hadn’t avoided him.

He remembered—he had once offended this Zhenjun, even plotting to summon demons to destroy the Immortal shrine atop Tian Ta Mountain.

Recalling this, Hao Ming True Person suddenly felt a surge of sorrow, his voice thick with self-reproach: “Brother... I was a coward... I couldn’t face him. I couldn’t bear to lose the incense we’ve gathered in the Northern Continent...”

His reply was not scolding, but a clear, calm voice.

“Don’t blame yourself.”

Shen Yi gazed straight ahead, speaking softly: “It has nothing to do with you.”

Such a simple sentence stirred every disciple—this Xuantian Mountain monk was clearly beyond their strength, yet their senior brothers and sisters had sacrificed them, letting them risk shattered Dao Fruits and ruined futures, just to learn his secrets.

It was this simple truth, yet no one dared speak it aloud.

Because it was also the Immortals’ unspoken will.

Now, for the first time, the chief disciple had spoken it so casually—this would severely damage how the other elders viewed him.

「……」

Many direct disciples’ expressions darkened, showing clear displeasure.

This was a strategic move for the sect’s ultimate goal of seizing the Immortal Emperor throne—for the greater good—yet to Tai Xu, it had become something base and shameful.

After all, weren’t you, Tai Xu Zhenjun, just sitting there coldly watching? What right do you have to judge?

Unlike the others, Li Shan’s face flushed with shame as he turned again to his master.

This time, Xuanweizi hesitated slightly.

Though his disciple was the sect’s second strongest card after Tai Xu, if this continued, the entire Three Immortal Sect’s morale would collapse.

He could already foresee more situations like Hao Ming’s erupting everywhere.

Letting Li Shan fight first to regain some dignity was better than sending Tai Xu out to be scrutinized by the monks.

“Sigh.”

Xuanweizi nodded reluctantly.

With his master’s approval, Li Shan clenched his fists, his eyes glinting with icy frost as he fixed his gaze on the monk.

Yet at that very moment.

Shen Yi casually withdrew his hand from Hao Ming’s head, brushed off his robes, stood up, and took a single step—his figure merged seamlessly into Tai Xu.

“Brother!”

Hao Ming True Person had barely recovered from the gratitude of being saved, when he witnessed this.

The golden rivers within him had nearly dissipated; he rolled to his feet and reached out to grab Tai Xu’s sleeve—but the air before him twisted slightly, and the dark-robed figure was already hovering above the yellow clouds!

“It’s over!”

Hao Ming True Person’s heart sank—he didn’t need to turn around to feel the murderous glares of the seventy-two Immortals aimed at him.

The direct disciples’ concerns may have been selfish, but they were also true.

Yet the one who should have harbored such concerns most was Tai Xu himself.

For his recent actions had made him the Bodhi Sect’s prime target—every Bodhisattva in the sky had fixed their eyes on him, longing to crush him into dust.

"Damn it!"

Lingxu Zi nearly collapsed from rage.

Shen Yi was a gift from heaven to Lingxu Cave; he had already forged the initial path of the Bright Way. As long as he didn’t cause trouble, with the Emperor’s aid, his seat among the Twelve Golden Immortals was already half-secured.

Yet this boy was intent on destroying this radiant path.

The other direct disciples hadn’t moved, and Li Shan hadn’t stepped forward—how could it be your turn, Shen Yi?

"I..."

Li Shan never imagined that just one extra glance had turned things this way. He turned back dazedly toward his master, only to see Xuanwei Zi also wearing an unusually furious expression.

The other senior direct disciples likewise fell into stunned silence.

Did he really... just step forward?

Amid the vast yellow clouds, even the disciples of the two sects still locked in battle paused their movements, their eyes drawn upward to the figure at the sky’s apex.

Many Bodhisattvas showed outright delight.

Among them, Miaoyin the Monk was the most ecstatic—he had never dared dream that this duel had barely begun, yet his mortal enemy had already been lured out. How could such an impulsive, reckless youth have become the First Disciple of the Three Immortal Sect?

"..."

The Eastern Pole Emperor’s expression darkened slightly. He had indeed intended to pressure Shen Yi through this situation, hoping to force him into submission to the Eastern Pole Emperor’s Court—but he had never meant to prevent him from becoming an Immortal Emperor.

If he couldn’t become an Immortal Emperor, he’d be useless to me. Who would do such a foolish thing?

Thinking this, the Eastern Pole Emperor opened his mouth. Even if it meant losing face, he wanted to forcibly send this Grand Void True Person back.

But before he could speak, the young man’s voice had already echoed through the clouds.

"Lingxu Line, Three Immortal Sect—Shen Yi."

The Golden Hairpin, Black Robe Daoist Lord’s sleeves fluttered, his gaze calm and still as he looked down upon the monks below, his voice cool and clear: "I humbly request your instruction."

"My Lady..."

Stone Mother, standing behind the Earth Mother, heard this and her expression subtly changed.

Though the Earth Mother’s Court ignored the Great Calamity and had no large retinue of disciples to support, nor did it crave the slightest incense offerings, it still belonged to the Three Immortal Sect and did not wish to let those monks claim the first victory.

"Still can’t understand."

The Earth Mother sighed lightly, but her focus was clearly different from everyone else’s.

She simply couldn’t fathom why a young man who could stand so openly before the Eastern Pole Emperor would, when facing that Crimson Cloud youth, betray a hint of unease.

If her earlier guess was correct, this Grand Void True Person implied the Emperor was wrong—that the Great Calamity itself was wrong.

Then why did he throw himself so fiercely into it, appearing as if he would die for the Immortal Sect, more eager than anyone else for the Great Calamity to advance?

If it were for the Immortal Emperor’s throne, why draw such attention?

To observe cautiously, like the other disciples, would have given him nearly half a chance of success. Now, it was likely less than three-tenths.

This man’s complexity and contradiction converged into one, stirring genuine confusion even in the heart of the Earth Mother, an Emperor-level being.

Regardless of what others were thinking,

the thin, dark monk from Xuantian Mountain stood with hands at his sides beneath the Daoist Lord, licking his dry lips.

Shen Yi... a cultivator who had reached the Third Rank rarely still used secular names; most adopted the Dao names granted by their sects, and after breaking through the Second Rank, they received names bestowed by Heaven itself.

But whether called Grand Void True Person or Shen Yi, these were merely titles—they could not numb his own awareness.

"I know you, First Disciple of the Three Immortal Sect."

The thin, dark monk showed humility for the first time. He clasped his palms together and bowed to Shen Yi, even tacitly acknowledging that Shen Yi rightfully stood above him, without so much as a hint of raising his lotus platform to challenge him.

He could not defeat this Daoist Lord.

But he could certainly test this First Disciple’s true strength for his fellow disciples.

The moment he lowered his palms, a colossal golden body, towering beyond sight, appeared silently behind him, each hand gripping a demon-subduing club.

Before either side moved, he had already summoned the manifestation that none of the previous disciples had been able to force out.

As expected, this obscure Bodhi Sect disciple was none other than the First Disciple of a Mountain who had reached the pinnacle of the Ninety-Nine Transformations.

He calmly donned a brand-new monk’s robe, then hung a string of prayer beads around his neck, and finally slipped eight silver rings onto each wrist before looking up: "I humbly request instruction, Grand Void Senior Brother."

In response to this series of actions, Shen Yi in the sky merely watched calmly—even now, his hands remained empty, not even drawing the famed Wuwei Sword.

(End of Chapter)