Chapter 44: Thunder Strikes from a Clear Sky

The Ji clan, from which Ji You hailed, was a family that had endured for tens of thousands of years. In every generation, a handful of outstanding disciples would emerge; in the previous era, it had been the youthful prodigy of centuries past, now the esteemed Master of Yaohua, Daoist Lord Zhuji. In this era, it was Ji You. Regardless of the mutated ice spiritual root that marked his aptitude, his lineage alone set him apart from the ordinary. His father was the current patriarch of the Ji clan, a Nascent Soul Daoist whose influence rivaled that of Yaohua’s master. His mother came from the prominent Su clan, a renowned family in the cultivation world, and was a sister to Shang Lechi’s mother. Thus, Su Yunmo and Ji You shared the same Su bloodline, though Su Yunmo’s father, Daoist Lord Zhu Zhan, belonged to a collateral branch and had not been esteemed within the clan until he reached the Nascent Soul stage.

Since Ji You’s spiritual root was tested at the age of three, he had been sent to train under Daoist Lord Zhuji, the master of Yaohua. Though staying within the clan might not have been inferior to Yaohua, the clan had lacked a truly formidable disciple for centuries. Once Daoist Lord Zhuji stepped down, the Ji clan would no longer enjoy its current advantages. So, upon the discovery of Ji You’s spiritual root, he was cultivated as the next master, receiving the highest offerings and a unique training path distinct from the rest.

Daoist Lord Zhuji was renowned for his stinginess, and the clan, having suffered from this, resolved to nurture Ji You into a gentleman of grace and generosity. Yet, for reasons unknown, though his personality formed and he grew to be quite magnanimous, he was exceptionally taciturn. The clan tried every method to coax words from him, but to no avail, and gradually began to resign themselves. In recent years, his fourth uncle had a grandson with a mutated thunder spiritual root, possessing remarkable talent and comprehension. Though only in his teens, his cultivation nearly matched Ji You’s. Moreover, he seemed flawless—handsome, dignified, neither miserly nor greedy, radiant and charming, his warmth enveloping those around him yet never overstepping boundaries, principled and composed. When firmness was needed, he exuded the authority of a seasoned leader. He was, in essence, a born master.

Ji You deeply resented the fate imposed upon him, often rebelling inwardly—why must I follow the path others have laid out? I have my own ideas, my own aspirations. I will resist! Or, brooding and proud, he thought, they all owe me; without me, they’re nothing. I’ll reluctantly save them for now, but after reaching the Divine Transformation stage, I’ll break free from this mundane world and choose my own life. As such, he acted on his whims—speaking when he wished, otherwise guarding his words like precious gems, somersaulting joyfully when pleased, and wearing a dark expression when not.

Yet, this brief period of adolescent rebellion came to an abrupt end with the arrival of his nephew. The life he had once disdained, arranged for him by others, suddenly became a cherished mark upon his heart. The clan had never explicitly declared him the future master; his offerings remained unchanged, but he sensed a shift in their gaze—no longer the boundless admiration of before, now as plain as water. Forced to seek his own path, Ji You, whose emotional intelligence was never high, began to strategize.

Previously, faced with provocations from Shang Lechi, he would merely cast a disdainful glance, tilt his face forty-five degrees, and snort, displaying utter contempt. This calm, measured response had thwarted countless schemes, making his adversaries seem foolish, like clowns leaping about. But now, he was compelled to act, to demonstrate his uniqueness to the clan. According to his cousin, the clan was growing increasingly generous toward the thunder-rooted youth, granting him the treasured Lightning Hammer spirit artifact despite his not yet reaching the Golden Core stage.

Ji You interrupted his wistful melancholy, for the first time facing Shang Lechi directly instead of turning his profile to him. Yet he could not control his gaze, which avoided the handsome face he so despised, settling instead on the beautiful junior sister behind him. He replied, “I think it’s feasible. What are we competing in?”

Shang Lechi, encountering such treatment for the first time, did not immediately seize control of the conversation as usual. Instead, an unexpected surge of pity for Ji You rose within him. He had evidently heard of Ji You’s situation in the clan, and surmised that this was the reason for his change.

Though Ji You’s eyes were not upon him, he clearly sensed Shang Lechi’s sympathy. His face darkened, but before he could explode, Shang Lechi quickly withdrew his errant emotions and continued, “Our sect, like Yaohua, follows the Daoist path. We can’t compete with the sisters of Bikun Sect in physical arts, nor with Golden Sword Sect in swordsmanship, and it wouldn’t be fair for them to challenge us in alchemy or talisman crafting. Instead, why don’t our two sects compete, with Bikun and Golden Sword acting as witnesses?”

Ji You’s expression remained stern as he nodded in agreement. He felt he should say something, but words eluded him, his face growing darker. Only after a quiet prompt from someone behind him did he finally manage to utter, “Then we trouble the brothers and sisters of the other two sects to bear witness.”

Shang Lechi did not tease him further, but said directly, “Artifact forging cannot be settled in a short time. Let’s have four rounds: alchemy, talisman crafting, array plate creation, and spellcasting.”

Ji You considered this, conferred with his peers, and, seeing no objections, nodded assent. After further discussion on the competition’s details and schedule, both sides went off to prepare their participants.

The first event was alchemy. On Yaohua’s side, the contestant was none other than Immortal Lu Tan, while Zhengyi Sect fielded a male disciple. Each prepared their ingredients and began.

Immortal Lu Tan sat cross-legged and produced a pale red pill cauldron, summoning a bird-shaped spirit beast resembling the legendary Bi Fang, though likely of diluted lineage. The bird spat a ball of flame, lifting the cauldron into the air. Lu Tan proceeded to add spirit herbs one by one, each radiating the aura of high-grade medicinal plants. Her movements were graceful, rhythmic, as if guided by nature itself. As she formed various hand seals, the cauldron began to emit a tantalizing fragrance.

“Ah, she’s refining a fourth-tier Tu Luo Pill!” exclaimed Yuhan Mountain, who, though disdainful of competing, could not resist watching. “Even I can’t guarantee success every time.” His initial comment stirred excitement, drowning out his next words, which only Ning Xin heard, prompting her to glare resentfully at Lu Tan.

The Zhengyi disciple, though ordinary in appearance, exuded the unique aura of a dedicated pill cultivator. He lacked flashy spirit beasts and ornate cauldrons, relying instead on his innate blue flame and crisp, efficient hand seals. Yet, judging from spectators’ reactions, he was refining only a common third-tier pill. Unless Lu Tan failed or his pill bore special markings, defeat seemed inevitable.

The crowd’s mood had no effect on him; even as cheers erupted for Lu Tan’s successful pill, he calmly completed his own, as if competing only with himself. His composure was admirable.

The second event, talisman crafting, went to Zhengyi Sect. The third, array plate creation, was won decisively by Ling Mei’s junior sister, whose mastery of formations left no suspense. Only the final spellcasting remained. Should Yaohua win, they would triumph overall; if Zhengyi prevailed, the match would be tied, necessitating a decisive round.

Contrary to Yaohua’s hopes, Zhengyi won. The competition reached an impasse: another round was needed to determine victory, else the match would prove meaningless. Both sides debated the nature of the final contest. Amidst the argument, someone—no one knew who—made the first move, and suddenly the entire Medicine Valley erupted in chaos. It wasn’t until a Thunderfruit exploded in the barren center of the valley, splitting the earth and sending a golden light through the fissure, that order was restored. The ground cracked wider, the ring-shaped land overturned inch by inch, and as smoke cleared, a hush fell over the crowd.

After a long silence, someone read aloud the inscription on the newly appeared hall, “Inheritance… Hall…”

The sudden emergence of the Inheritance Hall sent the hundred-plus members of the four sects into disarray. However, a line of pale golden characters appeared, halting their rush:

“To enter the hall, answer the question. The best will be chosen. Five will qualify for the inheritance.”

This requirement was peculiar—elsewhere, inheritance trials admitted only one successor; it was unheard of to grant five at once. Yet all understood: qualification did not guarantee receiving the inheritance, and what lay within was unknown.

Though the elders of each sect had never mentioned an Inheritance Hall within the Hexi Secret Realm, no disciple refused such an opportunity. As the saying goes, fortune favors the bold, and this secret realm, designed to train disciples since ancient times, posed no mortal danger. The appearance of the Inheritance Hall was not beyond possibility.

Thus, under the guidance of their seniors, the disciples approached the hall in orderly fashion to answer the question. To their surprise, the question posed to each was the same: “Who are you?”