Chapter 32: Planetary Brick
Fifty Blissful Peaks.
The name alone carried an echo that drew countless wanderers, merchants, cultivators, and even hidden experts into its depths. Each of the fifty peaks stood tall like celestial guardians, their ridges shrouded in mist that glittered under sunlight as though the heavens themselves had spilled jewels down their slopes. Streams cut through valleys like silver serpents, and waterfalls fell from heights so vast they seemed to pour directly from the clouds. Palaces, towers, and bridges rose up alongside the peaks—marvels of cultivation art that turned the region into a place worthy of being called heavenly.
Among the throngs of travelers, a lone figure wandered barefoot across a stone-paved path. A young man in black robes embroidered with golden inlaid runes walked at a leisurely pace, hands tucked behind his back. His robe was adorned with intricate depictions of mountains, rivers, and beasts. It was elegant, luxurious—clearly not something a common cultivator could afford. Yet the man wore it carelessly, as though it were but a rag to cover himself.
That man was Wei Shiyan.
He strolled as if he had all the time in the world, his carefree eyes tracing the peaks before him. He looked up at the mighty towers, at the floating bridges that hung impossibly between cliffs, and at the strange, dazzling phenomena sparked by the unique qi of the peaks. The scenery should have left any ordinary visitor gasping in awe. And though Wei Shiyan's eyes shone faintly with wonder, there was also a strange contradiction there.
After all, this was the same Wei Shiyan who had, not too long ago, shamelessly kidnapped and robbed an entire flying ship full of cultivators. That domineering, brazen figure—the very one whispered of in drunken tavern songs—did not match the man who now looked like a lost traveler quietly savoring nature.
Still, he could not deny it.
The Fifty Blissful Peaks were… refreshing.
But even amidst the beauty, Wei Shiyan's instincts whispered at him. Something about this place carried a duality that gnawed at the edge of his perception. It was as if light and shadow lived side by side here. Life and death. Fortune and disaster. Something beyond his current grasp.
He frowned slightly.
Then, with a shake of his head, his usual carefree grin surfaced. "Who cares? Why force myself to understand something so far-fetched?" he muttered. "I hated mathematics in my last life, and I still hate it now. Equations, formulas… bah! Lunatics, every single teacher and lecturer!"
Chuckling to himself, he continued strolling. His words drifted off into the mountain breeze, and before he realized it, he had reached the front of a large inn. Its wooden doors were painted bright red, lanterns swung from its eaves, and the noise inside roared like thunder.
Without hesitation, Wei Shiyan pushed inside.
The instant he entered, a blast of sound crashed against him.
"Hahaha! Hahahaha! Yeah, now you know the secret!"
The booming laughter rattled his ears. A burly, half-shirted man stood at the center of a rowdy table, tankard in hand. He and his companions, clearly drunk, were discussing the sort of topics one only spoke of after too much wine—adult gossip, the affairs of brothels, women with scandalous reputations. They slapped tables, spilled liquor, and bellowed like beasts.
Wei Shiyan barely gave them a glance.
Ignoring the vulgar chatter, he walked toward the far side of the inn, weaving through tables until he spotted an empty one. He sat down, leaning his back lazily against the chair.
BAAAM!
The inn door slammed open.
The wooden frame shuddered as though a storm had struck it. Had the building not been reinforced by formation engravings, it might have crumbled into dust. Patrons turned their heads as a slim young man rushed in, his chest heaving with urgency.
"You fools!" the man shouted, pointing at one of the rowdy groups. "How can you just sit here drinking while the Fifty Blissful Peaks are shaking?"
A rotund man, cheeks puffed red from alcohol, slammed down his cup. He squinted at the newcomer and barked a laugh. "Oh, Ning, what is it this time? Don't tell me you peeped on Madam Su again? How large are her breasts this time around, eh?"
The table erupted into raucous laughter.
Even the men at neighboring tables, who had caught only fragments of the joke, snorted into their drinks.
Ning's face flushed crimson. "Fatty Wang, you—you speak nonsense! I, Saint Ning, have been a straightforward man since my very birth in my mother's womb!"
"Straightforward, my ass," Fatty Wang guffawed, nearly spilling his drink.
Grinding his teeth, Ning waved his arms furiously. "Forget that! What I bring is serious news! In the central market, a master promised his slave freedom—if the man could buy a planetary brick and find something good within it!"
At that, several ears perked. The inn grew quieter.
But Fatty Wang leaned back, snickering. "Planetary brick, eh? Do you know how low the odds are to open one successfully? That slave might as well pray to the heavens for lightning to strike gold at his feet."
Ning puffed out his chest, about to retort—then suddenly stopped. His lips sealed shut. He looked around, as if second-guessing whether to continue.
The crowd leaned in.
"What happened?" Fatty Wang demanded, impatient.
Silence.
The man at their table who seemed to be the group's leader furrowed his brows. "Fatty Wang, enough. Apologize."
Fatty Wang sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. Ning, my dear friend, no offense. I'll even treat you to two days' worth of drinks."
Instantly, Ning's expression brightened. With his dignity appeased, he dropped the bomb. "They found a broken, low-grade immortal technique inside! A method said to reveal the Gate of Immortality itself—the Path of Transcendence!"
The inn froze.
Every cup halted halfway to lips. Every whisper died.
Immortal.
The word carried weight enough to choke even seasoned cultivators. Immortals were not jokes. They were rarities, figures who stood at the very limit of what mortals could dream of. Even in desolate regions such as the Mirage Ridges, immortals existed—yes—but to encounter one was akin to glimpsing a dragon soaring above the nine heavens.
And now, a mere planetary brick had spat out a technique connected to that unfathomable realm?
Impossible.
Unbelievable.
And yet, the silence in the inn revealed just how seriously every single person took it.
The next heartbeat shattered the stillness.
Chairs screeched. Tankards toppled. Men who, moments ago, had been laughing like fools, now rushed for the door with wild eyes. Not a word was spoken, but their actions screamed loud enough—no one wanted to be left behind in this hunt.
One by one, cultivators bolted from the inn, until only emptiness remained.
Wei Shiyan, who had been sipping tea with mild curiosity, raised an eyebrow. "Planetary brick, hmm?"
He set his cup down, rising to his feet.
Stepping outside, he expected to see a crowd swarming toward the central market. Yet to his surprise, the street lay strangely empty. The clamor had faded, leaving behind only the crisp mountain air and drifting lantern smoke.
Only one figure remained: a young girl dressed in the simple attire of a guide.
Her eyes, sharp with calculation despite her innocent smile, locked onto Wei Shiyan the instant he emerged. She stepped closer, her voice respectful.
"Is mister also curious about the Planetary Brick Mining Station?"
Wei Shiyan tilted his head, studying her. The corners of his lips curled into that familiar mischievous grin.
"A mining station, you say? Heh. Who wouldn't be curious?"
The girl's smile deepened, but her gaze flickered with something—caution, perhaps, or excitement.
And Wei Shiyan, though appearing casual, felt it too. That faint whisper in his chest, that same duality of fortune and disaster he had sensed upon entering the peaks.
Planetary bricks.
Treasure boxes of the cosmos, carved from fragments of celestial bodies, filled with mystery. Ninety-nine out of a hundred times, they yielded nothing but dust, stone, or worthless scraps. Yet in that one miraculous moment, fortune could defy reason—secrets of ancient techniques, lost treasures, even traces of immortal legacies could be born from within.
And now, one had already birthed the impossible.
Wei Shiyan's eyes glimmered.
"Luck, huh?" he muttered. "I've always wondered—just how far can luck carry a man before it shatters?"
The mountain breeze whistled, carrying his words away.
Somewhere in the depths of t
he Fifty Blissful Peaks, the ground trembled faintly.
As if fate itself had heard his question… and was preparing an answer.
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