A few days later.
In the back mountain.
An old man bathed in moonlight sat quietly. His hair was white like silk, and a desolate, withered aura radiated from his body, spreading outward and affecting the surrounding plants and trees. Flowers and grass that were once full of vitality rapidly withered under its influence.
"Eight Desolate Palms…"
"Too profound."
Chu Xun whispered softly.
This was his first time cultivating the Eight Desolate Palms. With the inheritance guiding him, his consciousness fell into a strange and wondrous realm. After a brief dizziness, he felt as if he had entered an entirely different world.
The land beneath his feet stretched endlessly flat, with no visible end.
Yet—
A wild, desolate aura surged toward him.
Not only did it surround him, it permeated the entire world.
Withering.
Desolation.
Deathly silence.
These were the dominant themes of this realm.
Sitting cross-legged there, Chu Xun felt an indescribable sense of insignificance and powerlessness rise from the depths of his heart. Fear spread through his soul, as though this world held only one final destination—
Desolation and death.
Even if he wanted to return to reality, he couldn't.
There was only one choice.
Comprehend desolation.
Master the Eight Desolate Palms.
Other than that—
There was no path forward.
Fortunately, years spent sitting quietly in the Sutra Pavilion had tempered Chu Xun's mind. He stabilized his breathing, slowly closed his eyes, and began sensing the power of desolation.
Unlike the sharpness of swords or the dominance of blades—
Desolation was everywhere.
It lurked silently, sometimes hidden, sometimes surging forth in the twilight of decay.
He felt that trace of withering desolation seep into him.
Quietly comprehending.
His body gradually began to emit a deathly stillness.
It spread outward—
Like darkness swallowing the night.
At first, it covered only a few feet around him.
The lush vegetation nearby withered and turned yellow.
But as time passed—
The domain continued to expand.
Ten feet.
Twenty feet.
Hundreds of feet.
Fortunately, few people cultivated in the back mountain. Even when birds or beasts accidentally wandered into the area, their instincts sensed danger and they fled immediately.
Unknowingly, two vastly different scenes formed.
Where Chu Xun sat—
Deathly silence reigned. Gloom and ominousness filled the air, and all life within the domain had withered.
Outside the domain—
It was early spring. Vitality flourished. Flowers bloomed, grass grew, and trees thrived.
The contrast was eerie beyond words.
If the domain had expanded further, it would have caused a great disturbance. Strangely, it stopped at roughly a hundred feet, never encroaching beyond that boundary no matter how much time passed.
The old Daoist sitting cross-legged there—
The aura of twilight and decay around him grew heavier and heavier.
This single sitting—
Lasted several days.
Until—
Chu Xun slowly opened his eyes.
Within his pupils surged endless desolation and withering. Deathly silence filled them entirely, spreading through his body in an instant.
In that moment—
All the surrounding flowers, grass, and trees completely died.
Even the fish and shrimp in the nearby stream turned pale as their vitality was extinguished.
"Eight Desolate Palms…"
"Too profound."
Chu Xun murmured.
Now he finally understood why this technique could allow one to fight across realms.
It was not purely power—
It was a state of mind.
Desolation spread outward, plunging opponents into despair, dragging them into endless darkness, regret, and self-blame. With their will shattered, how could they possibly fight at full strength?
But—
It was terrifyingly difficult to cultivate.
If not for the inheritance—
He might not have comprehended it even after many years.
"Saint-level…"
Chu Xun whispered.
Lowering his head slightly, he noticed the abnormality within himself.
Desolation.
Deathly silence.
Sorrow.
The emotional impact was too intense.
If someone stood beside him, they would unconsciously recall their most painful memories and be moved to tears. This state of mind affected not only others—but himself as well.
"Hoo…"
He exhaled a breath of turbid air.
With a gentle sweep of his sleeve—
Rich vitality surged forth from his body.
The withered plants instantly regained life. Flowers bloomed anew. Grass straightened. The lifeless fish and shrimp splashed back into motion and dove into the water once more.
"Swish!"
With a light step, Chu Xun returned directly to the Sutra Pavilion.
Picking up a scripture, he murmured softly:
"Comprehending the Eight Desolate Palms affects the state of mind too strongly. I'll stabilize my aura first."
Reading in the Sutra Pavilion was undoubtedly the best way to nurture the heart.
…
In the following days—
A disciple exited the Sutra Pavilion with a sigh and muttered in confusion:
"I've felt inexplicably depressed these past two days—sad for no reason. Could it be that cultivation pressure has been too heavy lately?"
Unable to continue practicing, he decided to relax for a few days.
When he returned—
The oppressive, desolate feeling was gone.
With a satisfied smile, he nodded to himself.
"So cultivation really does require balance between work and rest."
On the eighth floor of the Sutra Pavilion, Chu Xun also smiled faintly. After several days of reading, the desolate aura around him had completely dissipated. His presence was now no different from that of an ordinary old man.
A figure flashed.
He appeared once again outside the Sutra Pavilion.
This time, he stood deep in the back mountain—near the boundary of Donglin Holy Land. With hands clasped behind his back, he gazed at the rolling mountain ranges ahead and murmured with a slight smile:
"I've cultivated for several days… but I haven't tested its power yet."
Time to try it.
He spread his five fingers.
And struck forward.
Boom!
The clouds shook violently.
A colossal palm print appeared out of nowhere, vast and boundless. Its five fingers were like towering pillars holding up the heavens, their纹理 clearly visible. The palm itself resembled a vast canyon.
It descended from above—
A purely suppressive force.
A terrifying aura of desolation accompanied it, instantly causing several massive mountain peaks to fall into decay. Trees rotted, and as the palm pressed down—
Multiple mountain peaks were flattened completely.
A gigantic palm-shaped crater remained.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Such a massive disturbance immediately alarmed Donglin Holy Land.
In an instant—
Several figures arrived.
No longer merely Venerable Realm.
Led by Sect Master Xiao Rongyu, the five Human Emperor–level powerhouses of Donglin Holy Land descended, staring at the remaining palm imprint with shock.
"Who is this expert?"
"They didn't say a word and dared strike near Donglin Holy Land?"
"What terrifying power of desolation!"
"This residual palm imprint is at least at the Seventh Realm of the Human Emperor!"
"What is the purpose of this strike from behind our Holy Land?"
The Human Emperors all looked solemn.
Within Donglin Holy Land, only two had reached the Seventh Realm of the Human Emperor. And this palm—
Was it a casual strike, or a full-powered attack?
No one could tell.
"Whoosh!"
Xiao Rongyu stepped forward, examining the flattened land. Feeling the lingering aura, his brows furrowed slightly. A figure flashed through his mind—but he quickly dismissed it.
"He only recently broke through the Human Emperor Realm," Xiao Rongyu muttered. "He's still at the Second Realm. There's no way he could wield this power."
"And this desolate aura… doesn't belong to him."
The two old men who had been playing chess in the clouds also arrived. They too briefly thought of Elder Chu, but quickly ruled it out.
Elder Chu practiced the sword.
Palm techniques were not his specialty—let alone such terrifying desolation.
"This palm is extremely powerful."
"Perhaps the wielder hasn't actually reached the Seventh Realm of the Human Emperor."
"It's just that the technique itself is too frightening, leading to this misjudgment."
An elder from the Jiang family, who held an important position in Donglin Holy Land, spoke calmly.
"That makes sense."
"Regardless of the mysterious expert's intentions—"
"During this period, the sect must remain vigilant."
The Human Emperors exchanged glances and nodded.
Yet when their gazes inadvertently fell toward the direction of the Sutra Pavilion—
They couldn't help but sigh.
As expected of Elder Chu, who had sat in the Sutra Pavilion for sixty years.
Such a massive disturbance—
Yet he didn't even spare a glance.
No curiosity.
Not even a thread of divine sense extended outward.
Utterly calm.
Utterly detached.