Crossing the gate of the Hall of Discipline, Zhongli took his time surveying the surroundings.
For now, with few disciples around and no troublemakers to punish, the Hall of Discipline didn't have much to do.
Later, though, things might get busy.
Still, even with more disciples on Longshou Peak, most matters wouldn't require the First Seat's personal attention.
Zhongli, however, couldn't shake the feeling that this whole "discipline and punishment" setup seemed… suspiciously like it was designed to keep an eye on a certain old friend of his.
The building itself was all towering walls and solemn grandeur, painted in shades of deep black, radiating an air of strict authority—perfectly fitting for its role.
Except…
Why was the mighty, austere Hall of Discipline of Longshou Peak placed under the control of his so-called master, the Wine-Sword Immortal Mo Yixi?
Even if Zhongli had only met him once via projection, everything about the man screamed anything but authority.
Flippant. Casual. Unrestrained.
Any of these words fit—but "dignified"? Not in the slightest.
Still, Zhongli didn't dwell on it.
He sat cross-legged in the First Seat's chair, activated his token, and instantly connected to the peak's surveillance formation.
It was like viewing Longshou Peak from a god's-eye perspective.
Xiao had returned to his cave dwelling—a hollow inside a towering tree, in true Wangshu Inn style.
Now seated on a meditation cushion, Xiao was drawing in spiritual energy, while the spear beside him quivered from the surging pressure of his true essence.
Zhongli could tell—the artifact Primordial Jade Winged-Spear was already struggling to endure the force of Xiao's energy, especially with that brutally domineering Flying Cloud Tyrant Spear technique etched into it.
At this rate, it wouldn't last long.
He made a mental note: he'd have to push Cloud Retainer and the others to work on forging, or else head to the Sword Forest to find Xiao a more suitable weapon.
Then again, there was somewhere even better…
His gaze shifted to the great white jade gates halfway up the mountain.
The Nine Nether Secret Realm.
Inside were beasts at the peak of the Qi Refining–Spirit Transformation stage, along with spirit herbs, spirit stones, cultivation arts, weapons…
Everything a cultivator could dream of.
The temptation was real.
Were it not for the last shreds of reason, Zhongli might have charged in already.
But for now, his own strength—while late Spirit Transformation—was still lacking in techniques.
He had only entry-level Mount Shu Sword-Manipulation Art and had barely acquired the Clear Source Divine Manifestation Mantra, let alone begun real practice.
Going in now meant risking defeat even against beasts of his own level.
Better to play it safe.
After tinkering with Longshou Peak's protective array for a while, Zhongli finally settled into cultivation.
The peak fell into a serene quiet.
On Tongtian Peak, Keqing sat cross-legged in her cave, the Azure Frost Blade across her lap.
She kept replaying the Mount Shu Sword-Manipulation Art incantations Jiang Yan had explained that afternoon—each time she was close to understanding, she'd lose it again.
That tantalizing feeling was infuriating.
After struggling for a while, she gave up temporarily, picking up her jade talisman instead.
Placing it against her forehead, she instantly plunged into the world of the Heaven's Gang Sword.
Sword intent welled out of nowhere, sending the Frostblade into a trembling, excited song.
In the next cave over, Ganyu was doing the same—pressing her talisman to her brow.
A rugged, faceless figure, bow in hand, loomed in her mind's eye, exuding the grandeur of Great Sun Archery.
To her surprise, the Great Sun Archery carried a blazing yang energy that didn't clash with her own power—quite the opposite.
Thanks to the cultivator's domineering style, her Teyvat elemental reactions remained intact, further boosting her strength.
She too sank wholly into training.
The life of a cultivator was quiet and solitary.
Only those who could endure such silence could become truly strong.
Compared to Zhongli and the others' restrained progress, the commotion on Great Bamboo Peak was something else.
Shenhe's Divine Ghost Seven-Slaying Order blazed in her mind, and a radius of dozens of kilometers around her seethed with unrestrained, overbearing intent.
Thunder cracked across the sky above.
Clearly, this was no empty boast—the technique truly was a great forbidden art.
But the more dangerous it was, the more she threw herself into it.
With her fate as cursed as it already was, what was there to fear?
Meanwhile, in the next cave, Ningguang's jade talisman floated above her head, shedding cascades of immortal light.
To her delight, the Tongtian Scroll's inheritance included three specific talisman-drawing methods:
Five Thunders Talisman – pure offense.
Ten-Thousand-Li Divine Travel Talisman – speed incarnate.
Diamond Talisman – defense to the utmost.
Each was formidable for a Qi Refining cultivator, but together—and empowered by the Tongtian Scroll—they made Ningguang a one-woman army.
As long as her true essence held out, she could field elite warriors stronger than many gods—constantly, endlessly.
And these were just three talismans.
The Tongtian Scroll contained far stronger ones—like the Supreme Heavenly Thunder Talisman and others capable of granting mortals terrifying power.
Even a summoning talisman for Yellow Turban Warriors, each no weaker than a Teyvat archon.
With that, Ningguang alone could raze a nation.
Though it lacked the visual drama of some mountain-splitting, sky-shattering arts, she knew the day would come when, with true essence overflowing, she'd casually send talismans swirling through the air—calling down thunder from the heavens, summoning celestial troops by the legion.
Such was the elegance she sought.
A ruler did not sully her own hands unnecessarily.
And this was only one of the Eight Wondrous Arts.
Who could imagine the power of the rest?
For now, though, she had to master the drawing methods. The Tongtian Scroll wasn't something you could just wave your hand and activate.
All across the peaks—Cloud Retainer and Madame Ping on Windreturn Peak, Moon Carver on Morning Sun Peak, Hundred Lives on Sunset Peak—everyone was absorbed in cultivation.
Lightning, flame, and other pure elemental phenomena—untainted by Teyvat's elemental energy—flared around their dwellings, stronger by far than anything before.
Many displayed no elemental reactions at all—only pure divine aura.
Now, they truly looked like cultivators.
Even the most stubborn among them could no longer pretend their old "cultivation" had been anything but wielding elemental power.
Now, they could stand in silence and still radiate immortal presence.
If they saw Zhongli at this moment, they might well think a heavenly god had descended.
Right now, Zhongli was attempting his first use of the Clear Source Divine Manifestation Mantra.
Mist-like currents of qi shimmered over him, flashes of pure white light bursting sporadically—unstable, but promising.
It was a challenging art, but with his Heaven-Spirit Root aptitude, he made steady progress.
And now, perhaps aided by the talisman's lingering blessing, a faint golden vertical mark was forming on his brow—like a closed eye.
His once-gentle expression now carried a sacred aloofness, with a hint of sharpness.
His black-and-gold robes were taking on a silvery sheen, and behind him, the vague outline of a cloud-woven cloak shimmered into view.
He was beginning to resemble Erlang Shen himself—though without the three-pointed, double-edged blade or the Howling Celestial Dog, the resemblance was incomplete.
Still, his technique had reached the entry stage.
When he cracked open the "celestial eye" a mere sliver, he could see streams of spiritual energy, the nodes of countless arrays, and the runes powering them—piercing through all illusions.
The immense power surging through his body, the divine mastery of weapon and art…
He had never imagined martial skill could reach such heights.
And when Erlang Shen manifested, the casual way he employed profound techniques left Zhongli stunned.
Among the Thirty-Six Heavenly Arts, one in particular caught his breath—
Returning the Dead to Life.
True resurrection.
In this state, he was confident that once he reached at least Spirit-Refining—perhaps even Returning to the Void—he could, in Erlang's guise, bring back even immortals and gods.
At that instant, Zhongli found his new goal:
First, master the Clear Source Divine Manifestation Mantra to small completion.
Then—break through to Returning to the Void.
Ending the manifestation, a wave of weakness swept through him—not from energy loss, but from the sudden absence of all those godlike abilities.
Nothing remained in his memory; every technique was gone.
He had expected it, but still felt the sting of disappointment.
If Erlang Shen's martial arts could be retained, this wouldn't be a mere high-grade Profound-tier art—it would be heaven-tier at minimum.
He was still musing over this when a deep, soul-shaking chime rang out.
Everyone stopped cultivating and turned toward Tongtian Peak.
The Jade Chime was sounding.
One of the two best moments in the day for cultivation—sunset—had arrived.
To read 150+ future chapters, head over to Patreon:
patreon.com/WhiteDevil7554