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, only helpful somewhat for Alchemy. You’d do better learning the Golden Light Flying Sword Technique like I did, at least..."

Tucked away in a quiet spot of the cafeteria, the cheeky lad Chen Polu sprawled across the table, babbling away at Zhao Sheng with an air of exasperation over his boss's apparent lack of drive.

Zhao Sheng sipped his medicinal porridge at a relaxed pace, paying no mind whatsoever to the nonstop yapping from his companion.

Nearby, more than a dozen young folks concentrated solely on their meat and porridge, steering clear of any involvement.

"Hey, Boss, come on, say something at least..." Chen Polu pleaded, his throat parched from talking, yet his boss's silence only fueled his growing irritation by a few degrees.

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 crowd. Yet one among them sported a battered, swollen face, eyes wide with fear, obviously on the receiving end of a severe beating.

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

He flashed Zhao Sheng a faint grin before seating himself with bold flair.

The fellow with the swollen face paled in dread, scrambling forward just in time to drop to his hands and knees beneath him, serving as a living seat.

Perched atop a human stool, the striking youth cut an intimidating figure, bursting into a loud chuckle as he declared, "Zhao Sheng, not many in our group impress me, but you're one who does. Here's my proposal: let's team up, unite our strengths to face off against rivals ahead, how about it?"

In this life, Zhao Sheng found the previous body's name too plain and unrefined, so he switched back to his true one.

Across endless reincarnations and millennia of time, he could at last proclaim himself Zhao Sheng openly once more—the Sheng meaning Ascension.

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

Chen Polu lifted his head, a mix of caution and intrigue flashing across his face, before he barked out, "Wu Chengsi, everyone's wise to your schemes! You call it an alliance, but really, you aim to swallow up Geng Ninth Room. Let me give you four blunt words: keep dreaming!"

The striking youth, Wu Chengsi by name, 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 outstanding gifts and maturity.

Beyond that, he'd lately been pulling in partners, with obvious plans to bring all of Geng Hall under his control.

"Shut your mouth!" Wu Chengsi's eyes sharpened at those words, snapping coldly as he swung his arm, sending a beam of white light hurtling toward Chen Polu.

Zhao Sheng snapped his fingers casually, launching a crimson Fireball the size of a fist that smashed right into the white light.

Boom!

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

Wu Chengsi's gaze tightened a bit as he lowered his arm gradually, his voice low and grave, "Right now in Geng Hall, aside from you, Geng First Room, and Geng Fifth Room, every other branch has 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 more news: in two months, the Magic Battle kicks off. Without an alliance, how do we stand a chance against the other lower courtyards?"

"Sure!" Zhao Sheng gave a nod, accepting the offer without a second thought.

For him, this kid's play seemed pointless to resist, so why not let the other guy steer things since he was so eager.

Wu Chengsi froze for a moment at the quick reply, caught off guard by the lack of pushback—if he'd realized, he wouldn't have bothered with the intimidation.

"Boss, reconsider! This smooth-talker means no good, he's obviously plotting to take us over—" Chen Polu fretted, fresh from their recent gains, unwilling to let it slip away so fast.

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

With that, Wu Chengsi rose and strode off with pomp, his followers chuckling as they hurried after him.

The one who'd acted as the chair picked himself up from the floor and slunk away in defeat, careful not to betray any bitterness.

"Boss—" Chen Polu protested, still set on talking him out of it.

"We're leaving!"

At that instant, Zhao Sheng shot to his feet and marched straight out of the cafeteria.

...

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

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

Over those three months, everyone who failed to reach Qi Refinement got dragged off by force, their fates a total mystery.

Now, just five remained in Geng Ninth Room.

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

On top of that, everyone's perks jumped up a notch, from tastier meals to a daily two-hour slot in the Spirit Gathering Room for practice.

But the real shake-up was the launch of the Magic Battle, which folks dubbed the "Great Battle."

To fire up the fighting spirit, the prizes for the Magic Battle were downright lavish—Spirit Stones, Elixir Pills, Magic Artifacts, and even access to a higher floor of the Scripture Storage Tower for picking cultivation techniques.

The Magic Battle set no limits on wounds or fatalities, nor on how many joined in. Fighters could yield or pull out anytime. The final ten survivors snagged various rewards.

The further you lasted, the later your exit, the richer the haul.

In pursuit of that top spot, alliances sprang up across the Lower Six Courtyards, from small packs to big coalitions.

Places like Geng Hall had merged under one banner early, with Wu Chengsi at the helm as Alliance Hierarch.

The Zhao Family higher-ups overseeing the Lower Six Courtyards didn't just ignore these groupings—they quietly nudged them along.

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

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

Solemn faces met his words, nobody daring to challenge them.

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

"Seven days from today, the initial Magic Battle starts. All must join, and arenas get picked by lottery. When it happens, your survival's up to destiny! If you're not strong enough, bow out quick to stay alive." The plump elder wrapped up, flashing a toothy grin with his rows of pointed fangs.

...

Under the cover of deep night, the rest of the room slumbered soundly.

Zhao Sheng eased himself upright in silence, sending out his Divine Sense to blanket the space and confirm everyone slept deeply.

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

Soon enough, Zhao Sheng reached a deserted nook, shutting his eyes gradually as his Spirit reached out to touch the enigmatic emptiness.

Within the void, shadows rolled like waves, drawing him into an immense, endless expanse—profound, enigmatic, and utterly still.

Moments stretched on, and amid the heart of that endless black cosmos, dim starlight glimmered, wavering faintly, so hazy it could fade away in an instant.

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

He lost track of the time, but eventually his Spirit trembled, successfully tying into the starlight, as a intricate swirling design etched itself forever into his soul.

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