Chapter Twenty-Three: The Jade Void Celestial Stele

Song Yue traversed mountains and ridges, finally arriving at the crest of a small hill. Before him lay a modest hollow, its area not large, overgrown with wild grass, a place that appeared utterly unremarkable at first glance. Yet, he sensed something peculiar about it. He paused, brow furrowed, observing for quite some time before hesitantly venturing down into the hollow.

Ordinarily, one would stick to the mountain ridges when entering the wilds, lest they lose their way. But this hollow was not complex; descending would not delay him for long.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that the place was strange. According to the principles of geomancy, this hollow was as ordinary as could be—a site unworthy of even a second glance. Yet, relying on what the master had taught him, the place seemed subtly unusual.

There is a saying: extremes beget their opposites. Sometimes, those spots that strike one as immediately impressive may not actually possess great geomantic virtue. After all, if you can recognize such terrain, so can others. In many cases, the finest geomantic sites may even have overlapping tombs.

To Song Yue’s eyes, the hollow below was one of those unimposing places that, the longer one looked, the more remarkable it seemed. It was not an obvious convergence point of dragon veins, yet the contours of the land channeled a mysterious energy, ultimately gathering in this hollow.

Guided by his knowledge, Song Yue entered the hollow and began a slow search. The place was eerily quiet—not even insects stirred. Amidst the wild grass, taller than a man, Song Yue finally discovered a crooked, half-meter-tall stone stele, leaning askew, battered and broken.

There really was something here! Song Yue felt a surge of joy.

To apply what one has learned brings genuine pleasure.

He set down his two heavy backpacks, crouched before the ruined stele, and examined it closely. The stele protruded some forty centimeters above the ground, twenty centimeters wide, and about fifteen thick, its surface mottled with the marks of time, exuding an ancient, weathered aura.

Who knew how many years the stele had lain here, hidden among the wild grass, unnoticed? On the front were inscriptions—not modern, nor even any ancient script known to humankind. They resembled hieroglyphs, and Song Yue recalled the master mentioning that such writing belonged to a distant era of the Milky Way, the exact time untraceable.

Even the master had struggled greatly to learn these characters. When he first passed them on to Song Yue, Song Yue was reluctant; the script was too complex, impossible to study by the usual rules. Only under the master’s insistence did he grit his teeth and learn it.

He remembered the mistress’s complaints back then: “Why teach such useless things? What good are these ancient characters—are they meant to write secret codes? But even if you write them, is there anyone else in the world who can read them?”

The master had responded calmly: “Every script contains the wisdom of the ancients. Each represents a civilization unique to itself.”

Song Yue recalled the master’s unfinished sentence then; he guessed the master had four more words in mind, but had refrained for fear the mistress would unleash her famous lion’s roar.

Thinking back on those days, Song Yue couldn’t help but smile. For him, those were unforgettable years—his whole childhood spent thus.

Painful, yet joyful.

It was painful to study the script, but joyful to train in martial arts.

Yet now, in hindsight, was there really any pain? It was all, unmistakably, a time of happiness.

Song Yue carefully deciphered each character, finally piecing together a sentence. He read it aloud, astonished even as he spoke.

Upon the ancient, ruined stele was inscribed, in large script: “The Jade Void Sky-Piercing Stele.”

The smaller characters below were even more astonishing.

They claimed this stele was a gateway to another world!

While the inscription did not specify how one might traverse such an ancient stone stele to reach another realm, the words themselves were truly incredible.

Within the Kunlun Secret Realm, in what seemed an ordinary hollow, upon a stele weathered by unknown ages, was recorded such startling text.

Was this some ancestor’s jest?

Yet the phrase “Jade Void Sky-Piercing Stele” seemed to hint at its origin—Jade Void Palace!

First among the Three Pure Ones, revered by all Daoists as the Grand Master, the true divine figure.

But the problem was, wasn’t that all mythology? Could it be that, in the unfathomable depths of antiquity, such a deity truly existed and its domain was here, in the Kunlun Secret Realm?

Song Yue gazed at the stele, hesitating, a somewhat childish idea forming in his mind.

“If I drip my blood onto it, will it activate the stele and open the way to a mysterious world?”

Even he found this notion foolish, yet couldn’t resist.

After much deliberation, Song Yue took out a small knife, steeled himself, and cut open his finger.

It took some effort; his flesh had grown so tough that ordinary blades could scarcely break his skin.

The instant blood began to flow, Song Yue hurried to let it drip onto the stele—otherwise, his metabolism would heal the wound too quickly.

One drop, two drops, three drops...

“That should be enough,” he muttered, full of expectation as he stared at the ancient stele now marked with his blood.

A minute passed. Two... Ten minutes.

Nothing happened.

“Damn.”

Song Yue felt utterly foolish.

He vowed never to speak of this to anyone.

Too embarrassing!

He was so flustered, he hurriedly circulated the Taiyi Body-Refining Sutra to calm his restless blood, preparing to photograph the inscriptions for the master to examine later.

Just then, a faint tremor stirred within his body.

And the ancient stele before him quivered lightly!

It resonated with the subtle vibration within him.

In an instant, Song Yue’s vision changed.

He found himself in a vast chamber!

“What...”

He was stunned.

Was it his blood, or some other cause? Why had he suddenly appeared here?

The space was enormous, the size of a basketball court.

Above, white mist hovered, glowing softly and illuminating the chamber so it was not dark at all.

Around him stood ancient stone walls, built from massive, neatly-cut blocks, each so enormous that even Song Yue, a martial artist, felt powerless before their scale.

Could it be that giants of several meters once existed in ancient times?

Or perhaps those who built this chamber were mighty cultivators?

He looked closely—there were unfamiliar runes on the walls, though the ages had rendered them faint. Only by approaching could he discern their traces.

Facing the walls, he saw three doors, each marked above with a numeral written in the same script as on the stele.

From left to right: “One,” “Two,” “Three.”

On the side walls, three doors each bore the numbers “Four, Five, Six” and “Seven, Eight, Nine.”

Within the stele’s mysterious space, there were nine ancient, enigmatic stone doors.

Song Yue felt his heart race.

Could the inscription be true?

Was this truly a gateway to another world?

He approached the door marked “One,” reaching out to push it. Before he could touch it, a gentle force pushed his hand back.

Then, the faded runes on the door glimmered faintly.

A moment later, an unknown power surged forth, enveloping Song Yue.

He found himself unable to move!

This was alarming.

He wanted to break free and leave, but it was futile—no matter how he struggled, his body would not budge.

Then, the energy within him resonated once more with the force surrounding him.

Song Yue ceased resisting.

He simply found it wondrous.

He now knew there was a surging thunder energy within him. Was this what allowed him to enter the stele and resonate with its power?

Moments later, the ancient door marked “One” slowly opened.

Before his eyes, a cloud of misty energy appeared.

Now able to move again, Song Yue hesitated unusually.

He did not know where this portal led, nor if, once he stepped through, he could ever return.

If it were like the Kunlun Secret Realm, opening only once every sixty years, then upon entering and returning, the world would have changed—would Brother Qian be left to grow old alone?

Caution overtook him; he did not rush in.

He decided to take the stele with him. It was not large, and he could easily carry it.

Once outside, he would consult the master before making any decisions.

He did not turn away, but retreated backwards from the ancient door. After only a few steps, the door silently closed.

Song Yue breathed a sigh of relief.

He felt justified in not venturing in recklessly.

If this truly was a gateway to another world, he could not act hastily before fully understanding the stele’s origins.

But soon, Song Yue realized a serious problem: how was he to leave?