Bei Ming Palace.

Fang Cheng Lang sat in a corner of the secret pavilion, a bamboo slip cradled in his hands as he read with rapt attention. The vast archive held only his solitary figure, yet he had long grown used to such loneliness. After years of keeping company with bamboo slips, even his clothing seemed to carry a faint scent of bamboo.

At some point, a figure appeared at the doorway, blocking the slanting sunlight. Fang Cheng Lang reacted a breath late and looked up; the instant he saw Nangong Yu’s lean face, his heart jolted and the slip nearly slipped from his fingers. Nangong Yu said with a faint smile: “Have I kept you waiting?”

Fang Cheng Lang hurried to his feet and bowed respectfully, replying with steady courtesy: “Senior Nangong, I would not dare.” He forced himself to remain calm, though joy welled up beyond words. It had been six years since Nangong Yu last appeared. In those six years, he had questioned himself countless times, wondering if he had been deceived; even Su Ming and Cui Jue advised him to give up, saying Nangong Yu had merely spoken offhand and never meant it. But he stubbornly believed Nangong Yu would keep his promise. For that belief, he refused three separate chances to leave the secret pavilion. At last, persistence paid off.

Nangong Yu spoke mildly, a trace of fatigue in his voice: “The Great Thousand Alliance has changed the selection process in recent years; that is why I was delayed. A selection that should have been held in thirty years has been brought forward. The reasons are inconvenient to explain. You only need to pack simply and come with me.” Fang Cheng Lang’s heart tightened as he nodded at once: “Yes, I will prepare now.”

He hurried back to his quarters, left a jade slip for his junior brothers explaining his departure, and returned without delay. He knew this might be his only chance and dared not waste a moment. When he came again to the pavilion, Nangong Yu was already waiting at the door with several disciples at his side. Their expressions were severe, and their eyes held an overt hostility.

“Let’s go,” said Nangong Yu as he turned to leave. Fang Cheng Lang followed quickly, excitement and unease tangled in his chest. This would be his first time leaving Bei Ming Palace since arriving in the Bei Ming Realm, and the destination was the Middle Thousand World he had longed for day and night. He was especially anxious but dared not show it, pinching his palm hard to steady himself. [Hold it together.]

Throughout the journey, Nangong Yu remained particularly aloof, barely speaking to anyone. The disciples accompanying them occasionally cast Fang Cheng Lang critical looks and even snorted derisively. Sensing their hostility, he kept his face smooth, wearing only a measured, appropriate smile. As long as Senior Nangong valued him, the attitudes of others did not matter.

The passage to the Middle Thousand World was not in the Bei Ming Realm, so after traversing several Small Worlds they arrived at a Teleportation Passage guarded by many Cultivators. A massive stone stele stood at the entrance, carved with lines of ancient characters. Fang Cheng Lang had studied archaic script in the pavilion; the inscription set out the rules for entering the Middle Thousand World.

Nangong Yu paused before the stele, then turned to say: “To go to the Middle Thousand World you need a special medium, and you must register. On return, you likewise must carry the corresponding medium, or you cannot pass. So keep close to me and do not wander—understood?” Fang Cheng Lang and the others nodded in unison.

They proceeded toward the entrance. The guard cultivators saluted Nangong Yu, then inspected their Tokens. After confirming everything, they allowed them through. The Teleportation Passage was in truth a vortex of Spiritual Power. The moment they entered, Fang Cheng Lang felt the world blur; a heavy wave of dizziness struck and made his body sway, but he fixed his gaze on Nangong Yu’s back and did not dare relax for an instant.

It felt like only a few breaths and also like a long span before the vertigo ebbed. When Fang Cheng Lang’s senses cleared, he found himself in a strange place. Before him stretched an austere, imposing complex that covered a vast area, yet not a single figure moved within sight, lending the place a peculiar emptiness. Perhaps he had spent too long in the Bei Ming Realm, for he also sensed that the ambient spiritual energy here was not as rich as in Bei Ming Palace.

Nangong Yu’s voice sounded at his ear: “This is the Great Thousand Alliance’s residence.” He led them to an unoccupied courtyard, gave a few simple instructions, and left without assigning any tasks. For the next several days, Fang Cheng Lang scarcely stepped outside and remained in his room cultivating. Even when the accompanying disciples occasionally came to provoke him, he stayed calm, kept his door closed, and ignored them.

On the seventh day, Nangong Yu appeared in the courtyard again. He called: “Fang Cheng Lang.” Having waited for this moment, Fang Cheng Lang opened the door at once: “Senior Nangong.” Nangong Yu asked: “Have you settled in?” Fang Cheng Lang answered respectfully: “By your leave, Senior, I am well.” Nangong Yu looked him over and nodded with satisfaction: “Good. You can hold your composure.” Fang Cheng Lang felt a quiet relief. So these days of cold treatment had been a test; and he had passed it.

Nangong Yu continued in an even tone: “Your temperament is acceptable, but your cultivation is far too low. Even if I had you handle matters at my side, the other disciples would object. Since you have chosen to follow me, I will give you a chance. Your current cultivation is only late Nascent Soul, still some distance from Divine Transformation. I will prepare cultivation resources to help you break through. Do you have the confidence to reach Divine Transformation within three years?” Fang Cheng Lang’s pupils shrank, but he gritted his teeth and said: “I do.”

“Very well. I will arrange a cultivation site with abundant spiritual energy and provide the necessary pills. Focus solely on your cultivation; do not worry about anything else.” Fang Cheng Lang bowed: “Thank you for your favor, Senior. I will give my utmost and not betray your expectations.” Nangong Yu concluded: “I will have the materials sent to you shortly. Three years from now, I will be watching.”

After he departed, Fang Cheng Lang stood where he was, fists clenched. At last he could not suppress his excitement and punched the air. The next three years would be the most important of his life. He had to seize this opportunity and reach Divine Transformation to truly stand at Nangong Yu’s side and become someone he relied upon. Only then would he have a chance to meet more Cultivators from the Middle Thousand World.

Before long, the people Nangong Yu had arranged arrived and led Fang Cheng Lang to a room where the spiritual energy ran thicker. Inside, there were only a meditation cushion and dozens of jade bottles. Nothing else. Fang Cheng Lang poured all his heart into cultivation. His goal was clear: Divine Transformation in three years.