Chapter Eighteen: Twelve Years of Foundation Building

Shen Wan approached Yun Shu in a leisurely manner, like a spark riding thunder. The two of them locked eyes, each sizing the other up. Meeting here, at the final prison of the tower, was certainly unexpected.

He studied the girl before him—she was striking, with arched brows, large expressive eyes, and sharply defined features. Her long black hair was neatly tied back, lending her an air of crisp efficiency. Yet there was a fierce glint in her gaze, the sort that warned others not to cross her lightly. She wore a blue robe adorned with golden patterns, marking her as someone of the same rank as Lin Bufan—clearly a senior disciple.

It stood to reason, Shen Wan thought, that every sect produced a handful of prodigies; it was no wonder she had made it this far. Of course, Shen Wan was not the sort to be distracted simply by a pretty face. Moreover, the look she gave him seemed to carry a hint of… was it disdain? Did he really inspire such annoyance in her? They wore the same robes—his not technically his own, but as the registered disciple of the sect’s founder, he certainly deserved respect. What exactly was she implying with that look?

Ordinarily, Shen Wan would have avoided unnecessary conflict. But now, given his current status—practically the upper echelons of the sect—even Lin, his “virtuous little brother,” had to address him as Martial Uncle. Surely he could not let his dignity slip. With this thought, he deliberately widened his eyes and met her sharp gaze head-on.

“Nonsense, back in school, I never once lost a staring contest,” he thought, opening his eyes even wider.

Yun Shu frowned slightly, annoyance flickering in her heart. Shen Wan, unconcerned, continued to stare her down. As he drew even with her, he did not pause, but strode right past her.

Yun Shu, startled, was about to question him, but he merely snorted coldly over his shoulder and departed in a trail of sparks, his footsteps echoing down the hall until silence reclaimed the vast chamber.

Yun Shu was left bewildered.

Where was this place? The final prison of the Ten-Prison Tower—a place untouched by mortal feet for a hundred years! Who was that man? How had he emerged from within? Golden-patterned blue robes, the mark of the Spell Pavilion—was he a disciple of the Grand Elder? Yet she had never seen him before. And when he walked out, all those massive stone walls had collapsed in thunderous ruin—what could have caused that? Had he reached the very summit of the tower? Impossible. How could such a person exist in the sect without her knowing?

Her mind grew chaotic; her body, still in recovery, shuddered violently, her spiritual power threatening to surge out of control. Hastily, she forced her energies to settle, dispersing them one by one.

Rising to her feet, she gazed at the great stone walls in the distance as they slowly began to reassemble themselves. The brief flame of hope in her heart was instantly extinguished. She stood dazed, unmoving, ripples spreading at her feet.

Suddenly, a fierce wind coiled up from the ground, wrapping her tightly. At the same moment, thunderclouds gathered outside the tower, peals of thunder resounding through the heavens.

Meanwhile, just before this, Lin Bufan and Zhu Qianqing had barely emerged from the tower when they found themselves surrounded by the eight Grand Elders, who had been waiting outside. Startled, the two recognized the elders and hurriedly bowed in respect.

The elders were taken aback as well. The pair who emerged were not at all who they had expected. The eight Grand Elders had already combed through every talented disciple in the sect, yet none had anticipated these two.

Grand Elder Wei Zhen was both shocked and delighted, though there was a trace of melancholy in his eyes. After all, Lin Bufan and Zhu Qianqing were both his disciples, and Lin Bufan was his personal student—how could he not be pleased? Yet… why these two?

He could not fathom it. “How many remain inside the tower?” he asked quietly, transmitting his query to Sixth Elder Qu Fanghua.

Qu Fanghua produced a jade tablet, infused it with her spirit sense, and after a moment replied telepathically, “There are still over ten people inside. Except for one on the tenth prison, the rest are below the eighth.”

“Another one reached the tenth floor?” Wei Zhen was even more astonished. In all the years of the grand competition, no one had ever truly set foot in the tenth prison. And now, that made three. Were they sightseeing as a group?

Having confirmed the situation in the Ten-Prison Tower, Wei Zhen returned his gaze to his formerly overlooked disciple, still unable to believe it. He hurried forward to scrutinize the familiar yet unfamiliar young man.

Lin Bufan, seeing his master approach, bowed deeply. “Master!”

Wei Zhen lifted him up. “You really climbed to the top of the tower?”

“Yes, Master.”

“You’re only at the fourth stage of Spirit Focus. How did you make it up there?” Wei Zhen’s eyes were fixed on him like a child begging for sweets. The other elders were the same, all watching with anticipation and doubt.

Lin Bufan felt a bit anxious. He glanced at Zhu Qianqing, then turned back and answered hesitantly, “It was… Martial Uncle who took us up.”

“Martial Uncle?” Wei Zhen was puzzled and glanced at the other elders. All those who could be considered Lin Bufan’s martial uncles were present—surely the boy wasn’t talking nonsense?

The elders looked at each other in confusion, unsure what he meant.

Wei Zhen’s expression grew stern. “Tell me the truth—what really happened?”

Lin Bufan met his master’s gaze without flinching. He had already prepared his answer when he and Zhu Qianqing left the tower. After all, Shen Wan’s actions were too extraordinary, and their fortune was entirely thanks to him. So, the truth could be told, but not by them.

With renewed resolve, Lin Bufan said, “It was Martial Uncle. You should be able to meet him soon.”

Wei Zhen understood—the boy was being evasive. He scowled, about to scold his wayward disciple, but just then the sky was split by thunder.

Clouds rolled, darkness fell. Everyone looked up, their faces grave.

“Is that… a lightning tribulation?” Second Elder Zhang Qi cried out.

No one was surprised by his exclamation; it was clear someone was about to transcend a tribulation. The Ten-Prison Tower stood tall amid the thunder, as if silently resisting the heavens. Yet as the clouds gathered ever denser, not a single bolt fell.

Suddenly, a flash of silver—someone appeared outside the tower. All eyes snapped to the figure, but before they could make out who it was, a massive bolt of lightning crashed down.

The first bolt struck unerringly, shaking the earth, dazzling light scattering shards of stone across the plaza like a shower of stars. Then came a second, a third, a fourth… The lightning struck in relentless succession, leaving no respite. The ground at the center caved in, a massive pit forming before their very eyes.

In the blink of an eye, nine bolts had struck.

Ribbons of lightning still flickered among the clouds, the thunder grumbling on, as if venting its anger and unwillingness. Gradually, the storm dispersed, the sky cleared, and a red sun emerged on the horizon. A gentle breeze brushed their faces, as if the terrifying storm had never existed at all.

The plaza beneath the tower was silent as the grave. Everyone held their breath, staring at the crater left by the lightning’s wrath. As the dust settled, a slender figure stood upright at its center.

Yun Shu—Foundation Establishment.

The sect’s most gifted prodigy in generations had formed her foundation this very day.

Yun Shu’s face was expressionless, her gaze locked on the summit of the Ten-Prison Tower, her inner frustration impossible to conceal.

Fifth Elder Ye Ping was overjoyed. Though Yun Shu was the sect leader’s personal disciple, she was also of the Talisman Pavilion. With such a dazzling student advancing in cultivation, how could he not be pleased?

The other elders, likewise, looked on with satisfaction, nodding approvingly. The sudden breakthrough had left Lin Bufan and Zhu Qianqing forgotten at the side—a relief to Lin Bufan, who had feared further questioning from his master.

Meanwhile, the eight elders flashed to Yun Shu’s side.

“Excellent, excellent. Foundation established in twelve years—you are truly the foremost prodigy of our younger generation.”

“Indeed. The former sect leader took eighteen years to reach Foundation Establishment, and the current leader needed twenty-one.”

“Then by that standard, Yun Shu is the fastest in the history of the Valley Continent?”

“It seems so! Even the old master of Valley Ghost Sect took fourteen years back then.”

“Hmph, so much for ‘unprecedented and never to be surpassed’—all their boasting is nonsense.”

“Hahaha, truly the younger generation will always surpass the old—we’ve long been washed up on the shore.”

The elders could not hide their delight. With a prodigy like Yun Shu, it was possible that one day their sect would ascend to the ranks of the Valley Continent’s foremost sects.

Laughter echoed through the air, while the surrounding disciples bowed their heads in shame. Foundation Establishment, as if it were so easy—most of them had spent decades cultivating and had yet to reach even the fifth or sixth stage of Spirit Focus.

The elders’ praise raised Yun Shu higher and higher, yet she herself heard not a word of it. With a subtle movement, a long sword appeared in her hand—her life-bound weapon, “Frostbind,” a top-grade Earth-tier divine blade.

As she drew the sword, encased in delicate threads of frost, the crowd stared in amazement. Ignoring their reactions, she stepped lightly and flew to the gate of the Ten-Prison Tower.

Sword in hand, she pointed it at the ground, her eyes cold as she gazed at the massive iron door.