Chapter 109: Clarifications at the Tusita Palace

As a few of them were about to move forward, Luo Yu suddenly glanced down a side path.

His eyesight was keen, and from a distance, he recognized the name on the palace plaque among the clouds: “Doushuai Palace?” Wasn’t this the legendary residence of the Supreme Elder Lord?

Hearing Luo Yu speak, Ying Zhao immediately began to display his knowledge: “Doushuai Palace is the abode of the Daoist deity, the Primordial Supreme Emperor, also known as the Supreme Daoist Lord of Great Clarity. Alongside the Jade Pure Primordial Heavenly Lord and the Upper Pure Spirit Treasure Heavenly Lord, these three are collectively honored as the ‘Three Pure Ones,’ holding an exalted and transcendent status. The Doushuai Palace, a celestial paradise of Great Clarity, is also one of the key strongholds of the Heavenly Court.”

Luo Yu considered that such ranks and titles were mere trifles to him, but in the novels, the Monkey King had honed his fiery golden eyes here and kicked up a blazing Mountain of Flames. Such a renowned place was certainly worth seeing!

Encouraged by Luo Yu, the group took a turn and headed toward Doushuai Palace.

Compared to the palaces they'd seen before, Doushuai Palace was grander and more imposing, with even stricter defenses. Four puppet generals stood guard at the gate, and the barrier shimmered with dazzling multicolored light, perfectly matching the legendary imagery of myriad radiant clouds and auspicious energies.

These puppets were larger than the earlier ones, and with four appearing at once, none dared to charge forward directly. Even if one fell in an instant, three remained formidable. Within the golden barrier, numerous anti-flight formations were set to prevent unauthorized descents to the mortal realm and to ward off external invaders; escaping would be nearly impossible.

At this point, Ying Zhao refused to advance any further. According to him, once these beings latched onto a target, they never let go. Should they attempt to flee, other puppets would be alerted, summoning a horde that even merged spirit cultivators would find hard to escape from. And if they managed to reach the Heavenly Gate, the puppets guarding the Jade Terrace were winged and could chase them all the way down to the mortal world.

As Ying Zhao spoke, his resolve to retreat grew stronger. He was unwilling to lose his safe haven. These beings had memories a hundred times sharper than humans; even after thousands of years, they would never forget their foes. Though he had never entered the Jade Pure Palace, the trend suggested even more armored generals there. The immortal herbs in the Qionghua Palace might no longer exist. It wasn’t worth the risk. Moreover, the cultivation levels of these youngsters were too low; following them offered no benefit. He’d been dazzled by sweet words and lost his mind!

In the end, he suddenly declared he was returning to the Qianyun Palace to tend the immortal herbs, fearing they might fall ill after neglect. Without a word, he left the three siblings behind, abandoning even the spoils they had gathered over the past half-month.

Luo Yu felt helpless as he watched Ying Zhao leave so abruptly, unable to persuade him otherwise.

Luo Li was furious, pouting, “So irresponsible! To change your mind midway—no wonder you were demoted to the mortal realm!”

Qin Yue replied calmly, “Everyone has their own ambitions. He acts within his capacity and chooses retreat when faced with difficulty.”

Luo Yu asked, “So what do we do now? The three of us go up?”

Qin Yue said, “If we cannot overpower, then we must proceed gradually.”

Luo Yu frowned, “How gradually? Come back after forming our nascent souls, or do you have another plan?”

Qin Yue said, “Use one’s own spear to attack one’s own shield.”

Luo Yu glanced at the long halberd in his hand, feeling the pressure: “Four of them are hard enough to handle, how do three of us manage?”

Qin Yue pondered for a moment, then said, “I don’t know if it will succeed... We have already destroyed eight puppets, and with the two at Qianyun Palace, that makes ten. If we can repair and modify them...”

“That’s a good idea!” Luo Yu’s eyes lit up. “Let’s give it a try!”

Repairing puppets was a technical task that couldn’t be rushed. The three siblings calculated carefully and gathered all the broken puppets, taking them home to study them at their leisure.

Luo Li couldn't contribute much, but fortunately, Luo Yu and Qin Yue were experts in software and hardware, respectively, so they had a professional match and some hope.

Six months passed in the blink of an eye. In a palace within the Ni Tian Palace, the young couple focused intently on a single puppet, officially beginning repairs.

All damage to the puppets was in their dantian. Using a complete puppet that had exhausted its immortal stones as a reference, Luo Yu found the study went smoothly, with the main difficulty being how to make the runes connect smoothly and naturally. This required engraving on the puppet and depended on whether the repair materials could integrate well with the original.

During these six months, Qin Yue carefully refined new materials for the puppets. Luo Yu didn’t slack off either, brainstorming how to enhance the potency of the Anode True Fire to make it capable of forging puppets—or at least softening them enough so the control programs could be inscribed.

After two months of tinkering, he sifted through all the new materials Qin Yue had prepared since their cultivation began, then had his subordinates acquire the most advanced insulation and reflective materials for study. Combining the advantages of fire control arrays and fire gathering arrays, he finally created a powerful hybrid device, half-array, half-apparatus, named the “Metal Terminator,” specifically designed for repairing puppets.

With the help of this strange creation, Qin Yue finally synthesized a material that, though somewhat weaker in strength, could barely blend with puppet materials.

During this period, Luo Yu also reworked the runes, not only gaining control over them himself but optimizing the control programs, expecting a twenty percent speed increase.

The “Metal Terminator” resembled the ancient array center of Ni Tian Palace—a roughly silver spherical barrier adorned with hexagonal metal plates, each smooth as a mirror and shining brilliantly. These plates functioned like shells that could open and close. Inside the hollow sphere were placed the true fire and the puppet. Essentially, it was a furnace designed for artifact refinement.

After three days holed up in the palace, the first puppet was successfully recast. They subjected it to several tests with satisfactory results: although the dantian area was more fragile than the original, the speed advantage could fully compensate.

With renewed vigor, they spent another month restoring all ten puppets. Since these puppets blocked spiritual perception and could not be controlled by spirit division techniques, Luo Yu forged a “Heavenly Soldier Token,” which corresponded with the judgment statements of the puppets’ internal arrays: whoever held the token commanded them.

With the gleaming token in hand, Luo Yu led his wife and sister once more through the teleportation array. This time, his courage was truly formidable!

The three did not immediately head to Doushuai Palace, but instead circled the gates of other palaces, fighting puppets until they amassed twenty in total. Then they challenged the four large puppet generals. Five against one, the outcome was obvious. These four were indeed stronger than the smaller puppets, but their weak points remained in their heads. After some trial and error, they finally cleared the path inward.

Luo Yu charged into Doushuai Palace, finding only servants’ physical bodies inside. The trio made their way to the rear hall, only to be blocked by another barrier.

Seeing this, Luo Yu was excited: “We’ve reached the inner sanctum!”

Qin Yue surveyed the area and nodded: “There’s no sign of servants here; there should be a powerful being’s physical form inside. If we still find nothing, the chances of treasures left in the Heavenly Court are slim.”

Luo Yu, anxious, immediately sat cross-legged to begin deciphering the array.

By now, Luo Yu’s understanding of arrays far surpassed his past self. Though his combat awareness was lacking, his spiritual perception and magical power were formidable. His internal Golden Core was as large as Qin Yue’s, granting quick memory and reflexes. While he couldn’t yet support the formation of a colossal super-array, he could easily dismantle large arrays without error. His grasp of array theory was broad; his unique methods for decryption and composition were rich, and after years of studying ancient grand arrays, he had mastered most and broken several. He was considered highly experienced: in the ancient cultivation world, there were not many arrays for leisurely tinkering—if you hesitated, the master would come out to settle accounts.

Now, Luo Yu was a grand array master who, though not unparalleled, was among the best of his era and for ten thousand years prior.

Within two days, the barrier before them faltered and fell.

Stepping into the rear hall, they saw a screen embroidered with the sun, moon, stars, the five elements, water and fire—an utterly esoteric sight. Beyond, the hall was octagonal, its floor inlaid with yin-yang and eight trigrams patterns. At its center was a luxurious meditation cushion, and on the central wall sat a radiant purple-gold gourd.

Luo Yu unabashedly plucked it down, inspecting it curiously. The gourd was inscribed with tiny celestial seal script, naming it the “Taiqing Two Poles Containing Innate Qi Transforming Immortal Vine Purple-Gold Gourd.” Luo Yu was speechless: he knew the names of these ancient immortals were always long strings of forty or fifty characters, but he hadn’t expected even their artifacts to be so verbose.

Attached was a manual explaining its origin: it was the fruit of an ancient immortal vine, possessing the divine power to “transform spiritual true fire.” This fire was born of wood, gentle and mild in nature, and a supreme fire for refining elixirs.

Luo Yu smacked his lips: elixirs were no longer his main focus, but refining some auxiliary medicines was well within reach. This artifact seemed somewhat superfluous. Still, a treasure collected by the Supreme Elder Lord, a professional alchemist, could never be too many.

With a wave of his hand, he accepted it graciously.

Passing through the hall, to the left was a pill room. On the shelves were gourds of various sizes, each containing some elixirs—some to enhance cultivation, some auxiliary, and two even refined from immortal herbs. Luo Yu didn’t have time to inspect closely, swiftly sweeping them all into his necklace. From his quick glance, these gourds seemed to preserve pills better than jade bottles refined later.

To the right was a study filled with jade books and scrolls about elixirs and spiritual herbs. Luo Yu selected a book on how to maximize the efficacy of immortal herbs and lost interest in the rest.

Clearing these items, the three entered the backyard. At the gate stood two physical bodies, dressed as close attendants, holding little wealth. Qin Yue calmly set them ablaze, a method they had grown accustomed to along their journey.

Inside was a quiet chamber. At the low jade table sat a body, seemingly no older than thirty, with gentle, refined features and a white beard so smooth it could advertise a hair conditioner. His hair was tied in a bun beneath a golden crown, dressed in wide-sleeved, embroidered robes. Beside him lay a fan shaped like a banana leaf. Though it was unknown how long this revered immortal had been in meditation, he appeared merely to be resting.

Luo Yu circled the figure cautiously before asking, “Is this the Old Master, Li Er?”

Luo Li eagerly touched the beard, exclaiming, “Ah ha, it’s so smooth! He looks so young! On TV, they always play him as an old man.”

Qin Yue replied calmly, “Both yes and no. Li Er is but one incarnation of the Supreme Daoist Lord of Great Clarity. Cultivators claim longevity and youthful appearance; their faces do not age.”

Luo Li was stunned: “Then can I still grow up and marry a handsome guy?”

Luo Yu panicked: “Can I still grow taller?”

Qin Yue laughed, “You just grow more slowly and stop once your body reaches its prime. The cat may need hundreds more years; as for you, forget it.”

Luo Li cheered, “Ah ha, that means I can keep spoiling Mommy and Daddy for a long time!”

Luo Yu looked utterly dejected—he hadn’t grown an inch in years. Could this be his limit? What if he simply grew slowly? He still hadn’t matched his father’s height... at least an extra centimeter!

After clinging to this hope, Luo Yu quickly turned his attention to the desk.

On it lay a brush, an inkstone, and a partially written brocade scroll.

All three were curious, crowding together to look. Luo Li suddenly exclaimed, “They really discovered something was wrong!”

Qin Yue frowned, “That means the Heavenly Court was already searched by predecessors.”

Luo Yu’s heart sank. Though incomplete, the scroll’s contents allowed them to infer the situation at the time.

It recorded that top figures in the Heavenly Court had grown restless and calculated their fortunes, foreseeing a great calamity in the cultivation world. Seeking its origin, they found their visions showed the cycle of heaven and earth, the natural Dao. None could comprehend this and dared not spread the word, fearing global upheaval, so they all kept silent.

Eventually, some could no longer endure and began secluded cultivation, remaining in seclusion for centuries, their fates unknown.

Those remaining felt this was untenable. Signs of chaos appeared in the Heavenly Court. Moreover, they noticed a swelling sensation in their bodies, a precursor to “spiritual energy bursting.” Yet the cause was unclear.

Through discussion, they concluded that by defying heaven, they absorbed too much spiritual energy, depriving other beings of survival energy, thus incurring divine punishment. The only solution was to retreat to barren lands with scarce spiritual energy, ceasing competition with other beings, appeasing the Dao, and escaping disaster.

But the Supreme Elder Lord disagreed. Skilled in alchemy and familiar with immortal herbs, he sensed the phenomenon resulted from spiritual energy scarcity and argued they should move to regions with richer spiritual energy.

His suggestion caused division: some called it defiance of heaven; others found merit. The factions clashed vehemently, leading to a stalemate.

Centuries later, a discontented high immortal led his Kui beast and descended to the mortal realm, abandoning the Heavenly Palace. Others soon followed.

The rest deliberated where to hide from disaster. After surveying all mortal spiritual realms, someone proposed Penglai, an immortal land with richer spiritual energy than the artificially constructed Heavenly Court.

This proposal was unanimously accepted. Yet, as they prepared to settle affairs and migrate, their conditions worsened. Two more closed themselves off, unable to endure. A few remaining tried sealing part of their cultivation, but the best array master had already descended to the mortal realm, whereabouts unknown.

These immortals hastily sealed their powers, hoping to endure until finding a master to reinforce the seals. But spiritual energy surged uncontrollably within them, spilling beyond their bodies, making standing difficult and preventing others from approaching.

Seeing escape impossible, they resigned themselves to seclusion. The tragic end was the scene Luo Yu and company had just witnessed.

Setting aside the brocade scroll, Luo Yu said, “So now... the lower-ranked ones packed up and fled?”

Qin Yue said, “If the seals are ineffective, their prospects are grim.”

Luo Yu shook his head, “Not necessarily. The higher-ranked have more spiritual energy, thus greater pressure on their seals. The lower-ranked might still be contained... Qiongqi and Ying Zhao actually benefited from misfortune: one locked away, the other demoted, both sealed in cultivation—safe and sound.”

The author wishes to say: Sweat dripping. I habitually write my novel on my phone and occasionally reread it before bed.

Yesterday, my dad’s phone broke, so he took mine when he left. When he returned it, I found that pressing the Home button displayed my novel. I hurriedly deleted it.

Then just now, my dad asked for the phone again. I handed it over, only to be questioned: “Where’s the novel I was reading yesterday?”

My heavens!!! I was stunned!

I feigned ignorance: “What novel?”

He said, “That one about fighting ghosts!”

I pretended to browse, then showed him a normal cultivation story: “I don’t know, forgot, didn’t touch it... Maybe you accidentally deleted it?” and sent him off.

My heart ached: Father, what exactly did you see? Fighting ghosts? Vampires? The Nine Yin Mountain fire refining? Or the siege of Fengdu? Did you see any H scenes? Tears! Even if not, the content is quite unorthodox. Didn’t you see Chu and the vampire kiss? If you saw that, why ask to keep reading?

I’m completely thrown off.

—End of Chapter 109: Doushuai Palace Revealed!