Cultivating for a hundred lifetimes to ascension Chapter 1495 - 809: Alliance and First Entry

Two months had passed.

"Boss, why pick the Samadhi True Fire Technique? It's pretty average, just handy for Alchemy now and then. You'd do better grabbing the Golden Light Flying Sword Technique like I did, at least..."

Tucked away in one section of the dining hall, Chen Polu, the cheeky youngster, lounged against the table, yapping away at Zhao Sheng with a face full of irritation over his boss's seeming apathy.

Zhao Sheng sipped his herbal soup at a relaxed pace, tuning out the endless babble from his sidekick entirely.

Nearby, more than ten young folks shoveled down their meat and soup, steering clear of the exchange without a second thought.

"Come on, Boss, at least respond..." Chen Polu pleaded, his throat parched from talking, yet as his leader stayed silent, a spark of irritation flared in him.

While they chatted, a striking and tall youth approached with confident steps, trailed by three or four followers, all about fifteen or sixteen, towering over the rest. Yet one among them sported a battered face, swollen and scared, obviously on the receiving end of a rough beating.

The striking youth reached the table, scanned the area, and noted the long bench packed tight with no empty spots.

He flashed Zhao Sheng a faint grin before settling in with bold flair.

The battered-faced follower paled in fright, scrambling ahead to drop onto hands and knees, turning himself into a living seat.

Perched atop a human stool, the striking youth cut an impressive figure, then burst into a loud chuckle, declaring, "Zhao Sheng, not many in our group impress me, but you're one. I've got a proposal: let's team up, combine our strength to tackle foes ahead, how about it?"

In this life, Zhao Sheng disliked how plain the host's former name sounded, so he switched back to his true one.

After endless reincarnations across millennia, he at last embraced calling himself Zhao Sheng once more—the Sheng meaning Ascension.

He figured that across the world, nobody would link this identity to a minor Lower Realm cultivator from ten thousand years back, not even a Daluo Golden Immortal.

Chen Polu glanced up, a mix of caution and allure crossing his features, then barked out, "Wu Chengsi, everyone's wise to your schemes! You call it an alliance, but really you're eyeing Geng Ninth Room for takeover. Hear this from me: pipe dream!"

Wu Chengsi, the handsome youth, stood out as one of the few with three spirit roots in the Lower Six Courtyards, swiftly rising to lead Geng Third Branch thanks to his sharp talents and maturity.

Beyond that, he'd lately been pulling in partners, his aim plain to consolidate control over Geng Hall.

"Shut it!" Wu Chengsi's eyes flashed coldly at those words, snapping sharply, and with a swift gesture, he unleashed a beam of pale glow hurtling at Chen Polu.

Zhao Sheng snapped his fingers, sending a crimson Fireball the size of a fist flying out to smash straight into the pale beam.

Boom!

The pale beam got devoured effortlessly by the flames, exploding into a massive blaze suspended in the air.

Wu Chengsi's gaze tightened a touch, as he lowered his arm gradually, his tone grave: "Right now in Geng Hall, aside from you, Geng First Room, and Geng Fifth Room, the rest have already linked up with me. It's the way things are heading, Zhao Sheng—you know the smart move to make.

Oh, and here's another tidbit: in two months, the Magic Battle kicks off. Without teaming up, how do we stand against the other lower courtyards?"

"Sure!" Zhao Sheng gave a nod, accepting right away without pause.

For him, this kid's play felt pointless to resist, so why not ride the wave when the guy pushed to lead.

Wu Chengsi froze at the quick yes, caught off guard by the lack of pushback—if he'd realized, no need for the strong-arming.

"Boss, reconsider! That smooth talker's up to no good, obviously scheming to swallow us whole—" Chen Polu fretted, fresh off feeling that strength, unwilling to let it slip away so soon.

"Excellent! In three days, head over to my Geng Third Branch. The other room leaders will join us, and we can seal the alliance properly."

With that, Wu Chengsi rose and exited with pomp, his followers chuckling as they hustled after him.

The former human stool picked himself up from the floor and slunk away in defeat, careful not to betray any bitterness.

"Boss—" Chen Polu grumbled, eager to argue his case once more.

"Time to move!"

At that moment, Zhao Sheng abruptly got to his feet and marched out of the dining hall.

...

Days flew by, and three months slipped past before anyone noticed.

As the final day wrapped up, wails echoed through Geng Ninth Room.

Over those three months, anyone failing to reach Qi Refinement got dragged off by force, their fates a mystery.

Now, just five members lingered in Geng Ninth Room.

A handful of days on, shifts rippled across the Lower Six Courtyards again, trimming each room to four bunks, freeing up more room to breathe.

Meanwhile, everyone's perks jumped up noticeably, from tastier meals to two full hours each day in the Spirit Gathering Room for practice.

On top of that, the real shift came with the Magic Battle's launch, dubbed the "Great Battle" by folks.

To fire up the drive to triumph, the Magic Battle offered lavish prizes like Spirit Stones, Elixir Pills, Magic Artifacts, and even access to pick techniques from a higher floor of the Scripture Storage Tower.

The Magic Battle allowed injuries or fatalities without bounds, and no cap on entrants. Fighters could yield or withdraw at will. The final ten survivors claimed rewards based on their run.

Hanging in longer meant exiting later, which meant richer hauls.

To claim the top prize, alliances sprouted across the Lower Six Courtyards, from small packs to big coalitions.

Places like Geng Hall had merged swiftly, crowning Wu Chengsi as the Alliance Hierarch.

The Zhao Family higher-ups overseeing the Lower Six Courtyards ignored these groupings, even quietly nudging them along.

Some days afterward, atop White Stone Square, a plump elder stood unusually stern, eyeing the crowd of almost four hundred youths below, and issued a chilling announcement:

"Five years! That's all you get. In five years, anyone shy of Qi Refining Fourth Level gets cut!"

Solemn faces stared back, none bold enough to challenge it.

In merely three months, under the brutal law of the jungle, all had grasped the cruel truth and grown up fast.

"In seven days, the initial Magic Battle starts. All must join, with arenas picked by lottery. Then, survival's up to luck! If you're too weak, bow out quick to keep breathing." The plump elder wrapped up, flashing a toothy grin with rows of jagged fangs.

...

Under the cover of deep night, the others slumbered soundly.

Zhao Sheng eased himself upright in silence, sending his Divine Sense sweeping the chamber to confirm deep sleep all around.

He slipped into his clothes, slid from the bed, and glided out without a sound.

Soon enough, Zhao Sheng reached a deserted nook, shut his eyes gently, and let his Spirit reach out to the enigmatic emptiness.

Within the emptiness, shadows rolled like waves, drawing him into an immense, limitless Void—profound, arcane, and utterly still.

Moments stretched thin, and amid the endless black cosmos's core, subtle star gleams emerged, twinkling faintly and hazily, on the verge of winking out forever.

Zhao Sheng focused his Spirit intently, pushing to bond with the most radiant star.

Time lost measure, until his Spirit jolted, successfully tying to the star's glow, as a intricate swirling design etched itself into his soul, indelible for eternity.

The instant after, Zhao Sheng's form blurred, vanishing completely into nothingness.