The Portal of Wonderland

The barbarian leader and his remaining troop were beyond stupefied. Their impression of Shi Mu was turned on its head.

“E-e-elder, whoa, e-easy there. We didn’t mean to be so rude to you. I, uh, what can we, uh—” The leader babbled despite his best effort in trying to appear calm.

“Calm down, this lowly one only wants to ask for directions. But if you’re itching for someone to spar with, this lowly one is game as well,” Shi Mu replied flatly.

“No, no! Of course not,” The leader immediately waved his hands in denial.

“Then answer a few of my questions.”

After witnessing Shi Mu flex his prowess, these barbarians no longer had the guts to refuse. From them, Shi Mu managed to confirm his previous suspicions.

These barbarian warriors were indeed heading toward their sacred White Horse Mountain. Their reason? The High Priest Bi Li Ge had summoned everyone to attend the High Priest’s Passing the Mantle Ceremony.

The identity of the successor remained a mystery, although it was confirmed to be neither of the well-known, long-time candidates. In fact, rumors from the eight largest barbarian tribes were that this successor had been traveling through the continent for many years before returning to their tribe, and possessed incredible power.

A few moments later, Shi Mu stood on the Green-winged Flying Carriage speeding to the east, his face pensive.

“Shi Tou, you’ve been looking really distracted ever since you heard of that Passing the Mantle Ceremony. Do you wanna join the fun for a bit?” Cai asked.

“I just find the whole thing fishy, that’s all. I don’t really have the time for their affairs, so whatever,” Shi Mu replied. With a swing of his hand, the flying carriage shone brightly in green before turning into a single arc of green light tearing through the sky.

…

About nine hundred miles west of Heavenly Yu City, the terrain gradually shifted from the plains to a more pronounced rise and fall until chains of undulating mountains became the definitive geographical markup. Lofty peaks bore through the canopy of nimbus as white puffs of clouds and mists circumambulated silhouettes of magnificent temple-like buildings and towers occasionally standing out of the rich, green mountainous woods. With the company of quiet streams and cries of birds, the entire area was like a paradise on earth.

It was called the Tai Hua Mountains—home-base of the Transcending Heaven Immortal Cult, the continent’s most prominent sect and cult.

Every single mountain in the area was at least millions of miles tall. On one of the peaks lay the main temple of the cult, a majestic gilded building that was perennially visited by the most ardent devotees. As this single peak alone was flanked by nine other lofty peaks, it was as if it haf the protection of the other mountains, earning it the moniker “The Pillar Guarded by Nine Lotuses”.

Opposite the main peak was another sky-boring mountain, its cliffs sharp and straight as if it was formed by a divine being. This mountain was always covered with thick, opaque mist all year round, making it very difficult to see what exactly lies behind the shroud.

Indeed, most of the cult’s disciples had no inkling of this mountain’s information other than its name, Mount Come-Forth. Ironically, this place was forbidden to the Immortal cult, barring access from most common disciples.

At night, an adolescent in a green Daoist robe descended from afar before strutting into the lone building on the peak built from stones.

The interior of the buildings was quite wide, but most of its space was taken by a circular spell-formation altar.

At this time, sitting in circles around the altar were eight youthful disciples in blue robes adorned with the bagua symbol, all of them apparently strong or as powerful as an Early or Mid- Xian Tian power level.

Seeing the man in the green robe, the youths stood up hurriedly, their face filled with respect and deference as they saluted the man. “We are humbled by your visit, brother.”

“Mm. Any anomalies?” the man answered their greetings rather casually.

“We’re humbled by your concern, brother. All goes well,” the leader, a slightly chubby priest, hurriedly answered. “To make some time just to come here to check on us truly surprises and honors us.”

“Yes. Brother Yu is a busy man, yet constantly makes time to grace us with his presence and concern. It is a huge honor,” A shapely woman next to him added.

This Brother Yu the two were referring to was Yu Sheng, the chief disciple of Master Zi Yu, the Elder Priest of the Temple of Evil-sealing—which also made him the junior of the cult’s highest leader, Wu Chen. Due to his precious, Fourth-rank bloodline as well as his own giftedness, Yu Sheng had attained Late Xian Tian stage by a very young age, hence earning the attention of the cult’s seniors.

“Every brother and sister here is a prodigy in their own right, or you wouldn’t be tasked with a job of utmost importance such as this. As long as everything continues to be stable, I’ll be sure to emphasize all of your contributions when the time comes,” Yu Sheng replied with a faint smile, apparently pleased.

His words had barely finished when the altar was suddenly humming as it brightened.

The formation was composed of three layers, each of them connected to one another in an intricate, mysterious pattern. The one that was lighting up was the innermost layer of the formation, its snake-like glyphs gliding through the air like a live snake radiating a red glow.

‘What’s going on?” Yu Sheng’s eyebrow furrowed as he asked.

“Er…” the disciples in the hall all looked at each other in equal confusion.

The second layer of the formation lit up as well.

“No, someone’s trying to transport something to us,” Yu Sheng said, appearing quite composed. “However, it’s suspicious that they are transporting something to us without notifying our side, so I’m afraid it may not be friendly. Sister Wu, hurry and inform our seniors about this while the rest of you work with me to stop this formation.”

The shapely woman gave an affirmation before rushing out of the stone building.

The rest of the disciples, with Yu Sheng’s lead, each took a position around the formation with their hands grabbing onto a flag. Facing the formation, each of them assumed a flurry of hand signs.

The stone building rocked again as the outermost layer of the formation brightened, the runes carved on its perimeter scintillating with bright yellow light.

“Not good—quickly!” A sense of dread started to overcome Yu Sheng.

Aghast, the crowd sped their movements, yet it seemed to no avail. The formation continued to work, its humming never once ceasing.

In the blink of an eye, the three layers of the formation suddenly expanded. The previously-immobile formation was suddenly moving as an orb of blinding white light burst out from within. It shimmered brightly, causing its witnesses to close their eyes involuntarily.

When the light had finally ceded and the youths’ visions had been recovered, they realized a towering figure was standing in the middle of the formation.

It was a tall middle-aged man with a golden yellow beard and pupils, donning a long golden robe. The person looked almost like an unsheathed broadsword of gold, his mien sharp and intimidating.

“Announce yourself, stranger who dares to trespass the forbidden territory of the Transcending Heaven Immortal Cult!” The mildly-plump youth cried.

“Who is this inferior puppy who dares to yap?” the man in the golden robe sneered, extending his right hand into a claw towards the same chubby man from before. In his hand, a golden vortex appeared which became larger and larger.

An invisible force instantly formed around the golden vortex. Knowing that he was in danger, the chubby youth turned his back in an attempt to flee, but for some reason, his body was drawn closer and closer to the golden vortex. He was mangled to shreds before he could even let out a scream.

Those who remained were instantly terrified.

The man in the golden robe scanned the surroundings. “Insignificant ants. They truly are weak!” he remarked flatly.

“Assume Interlocking Sword Formation and trap him in it! Our masters will be here shortly!” Yu Sheng commanded through gritted teeth.

Shaken out of their shock, the other youths immediately took out their own magical tools as they surrounded the man in the golden robe. Yet, the man who had suggested using the Interlocking Sword Formation himself retracted his sword. With a light tap of his foot, he bolted toward the exit.

The man in the golden robe did not even turn his head towards him as he pointed at Yu Sheng with two fingers. A flash of golden light sparked through the air aiming straight at Yu Sheng’s head.

Feeling a foreboding sense of chill snaking towards his back, Yu Sheng—too slow to dodge out of the way—turned and waved his hand.

With a flash of green light, a single bronze shield about two feet wide appeared before him. As green light streamed down its surface, a gigantic single-horned purple lion mirage about several yards long sprang out with its jaws roaring open, emanating the aura of an Earth-rank powerhouse.

Surrounding its body were purple lightning bolts as the lion rushed at the lethal streak of golden light with a burst of purple light from its horn.

Boom!

The two lights clashed together, emitting a frightening racket that rocked the entire stone building.

However, the purple lightning had completely collapsed at the collision while the golden light continued its course toward Yu Sheng’s shield.

As the light seeped into it, the shield immediately spit a chain of sparks before breaking down. Then with a “boom”, Yu Sheng felt a force shove him off his legs and send him crashing onto the frame of the stone door.

His spiritual tool—the shield that he had summoned—was already battered and broken.

Yu Sheng may have managed to retain his life, but his shield-holding left arm was already broken as it hung at his side.

The man in the golden robe did not manage to kill Yu Sheng in one hit, so he once again extended two fingers.

This time, with a flash of gold, the light had appeared right before Yu Sheng’s forehead. Before he could do anything, it seeped into the center.

Boom.

A muffled sound echoed as Yu Sheng’s head exploded like a ripped watermelon.

Watching this horrifying scene unfold before their eyes, any semblance of bravery the rest of the disciples had instantly cracked as they rushed toward the stone door in a frightened stampede.

The man in the golden robe just walked down from the altar. He swished his sleeves and seven to eight crescent-shaped golden lights shot out from his motion, each of them so fast it was as if they had all teleported behind everyone in sight.

Then, they seeped into their bodies.

When the golden light faded, all of the disciples in the room stopped in their tracks, as if they had been frozen.

Boom! Boom! Boom! With a barrage of explosions, their bodies burst into shredded meat while their blood rained down like a storm, although not a single drop seemed to have landed on the man in the golden robe.

The man furrowed his nose a little before strutting out of the stone building. He raised his head, looking at the pitch-black sky above him.

He thought for a while, and raised his arm, punching a gust of terrible force into the air.

A golden fist about the size of a building shot out of his hand.

Ping!

The golden fist mirage seemed to have met some sort of invisible resistance halfway in the air as a single echo of metallic collision blared.

Then, the erstwhile empty sky shimmered suddenly before revealing a white, hazy dome cupping over the earth below. Crawling all over the dome were rows and rows of runes, swimming around the perimeter like tiny snakes, emanating surges of dominating aura.