Chapter 316: Climbing the Tower

Ning Changjiu had already left.

Liu Xiwuan stood rooted to the spot, her fringe disheveled, a faint blush on her brow like the flush of a peach blossom. Coupled with her crimson cheeks, she looked as though she had fallen into disrepute.

Liu Xiwuan stealthily reached out, wanting to rub her backside, but the moment she touched it, she recoiled as if from an electric shock, her cheeks flushing even deeper. Her body tensed, and her teeth ground against her lips, almost drawing blood. She stepped back two paces and leaned against the wall, her slender legs trembling and unable to stand steady, unsure what she was thinking of.

Ning Changjiu, that villain... she, of all people, had been...

Her spiritual energy quickly dispelled the pain, but phantom pains, like arrows, ceaselessly grazed her heart. The fletching of the arrows vibrated, scattering shadows of shame.

After a long while, she turned around and slowly slid down the wall, gradually settling on the floor. She then curled up her legs, wrapped in her cloak, hugging her knees, and huddled in the corner like a cat seeking refuge from the cold. Her expression was aggrieved.

She clutched her head, her mind in a jumble. She clearly hadn't been like this before; why was it that as soon as she saw Ning Changjiu, she couldn't maintain her composure?

She raised her head, looking at the wind and snow outside the door.

Ning Changjiu must have gone upstairs by now.

How should she choose between staying and leaving?

She should leave, but Second Senior Sister... sigh. She suddenly missed the days when she was inside Ning Changjiu's body. Though those days were perilous, she at least didn't have to think about too many other troublesome things. Now that she had gained freedom, there was always a lingering sense of unease and apprehension in her heart. For example, she still didn't know why Sword Pavilion had accepted her as a disciple.

"So this is the natural dependence of a weapon on a person."

After thinking for a long time, Liu Xiwuan thought she had figured it out. She murmured, "So, all I have to do is break this feeling of dependence?"

She slowly pondered, waiting for the Heavenly List to issue its decree, and waiting for the news of her defeat in the first battle to spread throughout the Central Land.

Ning Changjiu walked up the suspended golden staircase, reaching the top of the Heavenly List.

The top of the Heavenly List was like a palace carved from crystal, reflecting shimmering light and covered in white snow, resembling a celestial fairy palace floating in the sky.

This dazzling beauty was incongruous with the style of the ancient building, like a bronze crown adorned with a gemstone of countless facets.

Ning Changjiu walked across the snowy ground. He was not captivated by the Heavenly List's sanctity and beauty; instead, he couldn't help but recall the Sword Spirit's final expression. As he mused on the unpredictability of fate, he involuntarily rubbed his palm.

Ahead, the Heavenly List opened its grand door for him.

Inside the magnificent hall, the doorway was a profound darkness, devoid of any light. This gloom was different from what the Underworld had presented him; this darkness was more like a liquid, as if it would cling to one's soul if touched, impossible to wash away.

Ning Changjiu frowned. He paused at the entrance for a moment, then stepped into the darkness.

His feet touched solid ground.

After he entered the darkness, the sound of the grand door closing echoed behind him. Then, light appeared before his eyes. The light came from the surrounding walls; they resembled candlelight, yet the flames did not flicker, appearing more like glowing gems.

The interior of the palace contrasted sharply with its exterior.

Ning Changjiu looked around. It was an old-fashioned room with slightly worn wooden floorboards, furnished with sturdy, square pieces. The dark-colored furniture, illuminated by the candlelight placed on them, looked like glowing fishponds. The room was large, with individual rooms partitioned by wooden panels, extending an unknown distance. Curtains hung between the rooms; they were old, their edges yellowed with age. Behind each curtain, there was always the illusion that someone stood there.

Ning Changjiu glanced around. The scent of wood, reminiscent of the plum rain season, still lingered in his nostrils.

This was not what he had originally imagined the List Spirit to be like.

Ning Changjiu walked in the direction indicated by the slanting candlelight. He gently pushed aside a curtain.

Behind the curtain, an old man with eerie green eyes stared intently at him.

Ning Changjiu was mentally prepared. He looked back at the old man without surprise.

"Are you the List Spirit?" Ning Changjiu asked.

The old man nodded and said, "Yes."

Ning Changjiu felt a slight sense of oddness.

The old man said, "Follow me."

Ning Changjiu followed.

The old man's back was somewhat hunched. He had clubfoot, and his gait was strange. He looked like a clumsy old tortoise as he hobbled towards the next room.

Ning Changjiu could sense his aura.

That aura was inadvertently revealed, unrelated to his aged and unappealing appearance. He could feel that if he were to make an enemy of this old man, he might not even have a ten percent chance of winning.

This startled him. Perhaps it was because of this that the Heavenly List was able to maintain its rules.

Before a door, the old man stopped and said, "Go in."

Ning Changjiu stepped forward, and the old man stepped back, their figures quickly distancing themselves. Ning Changjiu turned his head, but the old man had vanished from the spot. He pushed aside the curtain before him.

Behind the curtain was another old man. This old man appeared quite robust, full of vigor, and his hair was not entirely white. The muscles visible beneath his clothes were taut and contained strength.

Ning Changjiu realized that this old man was also more powerful than him.

"Who are you?" Ning Changjiu asked.

The moment the old man spoke, Ning Changjiu realized he had a stutter. He haltingly stated his identity and told Ning Changjiu that he was also a List Spirit.

Ning Changjiu looked at him with puzzlement but asked no further questions.

The old man was not talkative and led him onward.

Exactly as before, behind the next door, the old man vanished silently. Ning Changjiu lifted the curtain; behind it was still an old man, unsightly, with his eyes gouged out, leaving only two ghastly hollows.

He also claimed to be a List Spirit.

Afterward, Ning Changjiu saw an old man with a half-severed ear, an old man with a cleft lip, an old man with missing limbs... He was led through door after door.

Every old man was disfigured, and their deformities grew progressively worse. Finally, when Ning Changjiu lifted the curtain, he had to look down to see the old man's head.

It was a person with only half a body. He lay prone on the ground, propelling himself with his hands, as if his lower half was embedded beneath the floorboards.

"The previous ones were all lying to you; I am the true List Spirit," the old man said, moving forward with both hands.

Ning Changjiu suppressed a chill in his heart and arrived with him before the next curtain.

Ning Changjiu didn't know the meaning behind the List Spirit arranging so many disabled elders to greet him, but he had a premonition that this was the last curtain.

Ning Changjiu drew aside the curtain.

Behind the curtain stood an old man. This old man was not blind, mute, or hunched; he didn't even emanate any aura, giving one a sense of unfathomable depth.

"Are you also a List Spirit?" Ning Changjiu asked.

The old man, like a rigid schoolmaster with one hand clenched in front of him and the other clasped behind his back, spoke fluently: "Yes, I am the true List Spirit. The previous ones were all lying."

"Why would they lie to me?" Ning Changjiu wasn't sure who was telling the truth, but the Heavenly List was becoming increasingly bizarre.

The old man sneered, "Because they dare not face their own complete disfigurement."

Ning Changjiu didn't know what this statement was alluding to.

"Come with me," the old man said, looking at him, slowly beginning to formally introduce the Heavenly List: "The Heavenly List was formed from spiritual energy that flew in from beyond the heavens. It took five thousand years to take root, three thousand years to gain sentience. Afterward, it encompassed the mortal world, embracing all things. It can commune with the stars and understand the Dao, knowing all things past and present."

Ning Changjiu asked, "Why does the Heavenly List possess such abilities?"

The old man said, "In your eyes, what is the Heavenly List?"

Ning Changjiu found it difficult to answer this question.

The Heavenly List possessed formidable power. It could transmit information across the Central Land in a very short time, making it known to all under heaven. This alone was difficult to explain.

The old man, however, was not stingy and directly gave the answer: "The Heavenly List is a great tree."

"A great tree?" Ning Changjiu asked, puzzled.

The old man nodded without elaborating further. He led Ning Changjiu deeper inside.

They both stopped.

Before Ning Changjiu, a sheet of paper and a pen lay simply spread out.

"Write down what you wish to announce to the world," the old man said.

Ning Changjiu asked, "Is that all there is to it?"

The old man nodded and said, "Indeed, truly grand things are often simple."

Ning Changjiu didn't want to engage in wordplay with him. He picked up the pen and began to write.

This was a decree issued by the Ancient Spirit Sect, commanding all sects throughout the world who held dominion over the netherworld. He brazenly wrote about the imminent revival of the Underworld Lord, extensively embellishing it with threats, and promising countless secret cultivation methods of the Ancient Spirit Sect as a reward. He set a deadline of three months, stating that if the authority was not returned within three months, the Underworld Lord would forcibly seize all powers, and those resisting would bear the consequences.

He signed it as Zhang Jiu, Vice-Sect Master of the Ancient Spirit Sect.

He drafted the decree and handed it to the old man.

The old man didn't spare it a glance. He simply took the decree and folded it neatly.

Soon, this decree would be transmitted along with the news of his successive victories over Xiao Qiu and the fourteenth disciple of Sword Pavilion.

Ning Changjiu didn't expect all the distant sects to obey the decree; he simply wanted to save most of his time. Even if a few scattered sects still harbored illusions, he would have enough time to personally visit them.

"Very well, distinguished guest. The Heavenly List's decree has been drafted. Please return," the old man said.

Ning Changjiu gave the old man a deep look.

He slowly turned around and retraced his steps. This time, there was no one behind the curtains. Yet the old man was 'attentive', staying by his side all the while.

"What you have witnessed in the Heavenly List must not be spoken of outside. This is one of the Heavenly List's rules. Regardless of who comes, they must abide by the rules; otherwise, they will undoubtedly invite immense catastrophe," the old man warned.

Ning Changjiu nodded in agreement and asked, "Do you receive every guest in this manner?"

The old man shook his head and said, "Not at all. The way we receive each guest differs."

Ning Changjiu asked, "Then what determines the manner of reception?"

The old man said, "No comment."

Ning Changjiu reached the doorway.

After escorting the guest to this point, the old man was about to turn and leave.

"Are you the Heavenly List Spirit?" Ning Changjiu confirmed once more.

The old man seemed somewhat impatient: "Yes."

As he spoke, he inadvertently released a terrifying aura. This aura was like a sharp line, dividing them, as if, should Ning Changjiu open his mouth again, this line would sever him in two.

The old man faced him, retreating like a phantom. His face was solemn and rigid, showing no hint of human vitality or spiritual essence.

He slid backward, slowly receding into the darkness.

The moment he entered the darkness, Ning Changjiu wondered if it was an illusion, as he watched the old man's body instantly dismembered by the darkness—limbs, features, organs, bones. He seemed like a collapsing mountain of flesh, plummeting into an abyss of darkness, as if torn into a thousand pieces.

"I am utterly disfigured."

The sentence echoed in Ning Changjiu's mind like a curse.

The lights extinguished one by one.

The light gradually faded, and silence returned to the surroundings.

Ning Changjiu's hand rested on the door. He hesitated for a moment, still unable to suppress the stirrings in his heart, then turned his head back and seriously uttered a sentence to the darkness:

"I've seen your sister."

Hundreds of people stood on the snowy street. Even scholars, who rarely enjoyed crowds, propped open their windows, gazing towards the golden high-rise, whose secrets were veiled. They watched the downward staircase, eagerly awaiting a figure to appear.

Second Senior Sister, dressed in black and white sword robes, stood in the wind and snow atop the towering building, second only to the Heavenly List itself, with her hands clasped behind her back, her sword strapped to her back, gazing into the distance, her demeanor extraordinary.

She had long since reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship years ago, confident that her sword intent, save for her master and First Senior Sister, was unmatched by anyone else in the Central Land.

The top four disciples of Sword Pavilion—any one of them, upon leaving the pavilion, could be called invincible under heaven.

She possessed such confidence and arrogance.

Though Junior Sister Fourteen had gained the Sword Saint's favor and true legacy, she had, overall, taken her as a disciple on behalf of their master. Since she herself was invincible, her disciple should also be invincible.

However, there was no result from upstairs for a long time.

She didn't want to wait any longer. As a rarely seen master from Sword Pavilion, even when visiting the mortal world, she should have been like a solitary swan treading snow, a fleeting glimpse of splendor. But now, she had lingered here for too long, and too many mortal gazes had fallen upon her.

And she always felt that amidst these seemingly reverent gazes, there was also disrespect—some were hoping for a miracle, wanting to see Sword Pavilion humiliated.

"Hmph, you still haven't won after all this time! And here I've been so good to you normally!" Second Senior Sister, greatly annoyed, muttered to herself: "No matter if you win or lose, I will never forgive you."

Having spoken in a fit of pique, Second Senior Sister's figure flickered and vanished from the top of the high-rise.

No one saw how she disappeared.

The next moment, in an unoccupied elegant room in a teahouse, the woman's figure appeared. She sat among camellias, her gaze icy, already contemplating how to chastise her Junior Sister later.

She poured tea for herself and drank, growing increasingly irritated.

Meanwhile, on the street, Xiao Qiu remained standing in the snow, the wind and snow piling on his shoulders. His already considerable injuries worsened.

Among the other people, many began to doubt the myth of Sword Pavilion.

Xiao Qiu stood from day until night.

Passersby gradually dispersed.

Yet the result still hadn't emerged.

"What on earth is Junior Sister doing in there? Does she intend to spend the night inside? Hmph, she used to constantly whine about not wanting to be a woman, and now she sees a wild man and can't move her legs? Just wait until you get back, I'll spank your behind."

Second Senior Sister also lost patience. She could no longer resist the urge to directly use her sword to force her way up the list. She was confident that this mere Heavenly List couldn't withstand a single sword stroke from her.

But while the Heavenly List's rules were minor, Sword Pavilion's rules were paramount. She certainly didn't want to be punished by First Senior Sister for a momentary impulse.

Second Senior Sister sighed.

She went downstairs and instantly returned to the casino. Before anyone could react, she took off her hair crown and placed it on the gambling table as a wager.

This scene astonished many.

"Second Master..."

Many could no longer bear to watch. If Mister Fourteen were to lose, who would dare to claim Sword Pavilion's sword and crown? This would be tantamount to slapping Sword Pavilion's face. And although Sword Pavilion had been reclusive for a long time, anyone slightly older knew the past event where the Sword Saint had fought his way across the Central Land, striking fear until no one dared to misuse his name again.

Second Senior Sister said, "If she wins, I will simply retrieve my sword-crown and require no other worldly possessions."

Someone carefully inquired, "What if your esteemed Junior Sister loses?"

Second Senior Sister turned her head, her expression sharpening. The questioner met her gaze and felt as if their liver and guts would burst. Second Senior Sister's tone was cold: "Junior Sister has no possibility of losing. Sword Pavilion's sword is indomitable; the longer the battle drags on, the greater the chance of victory."

These words instilled confidence in many who had bet on Mister Fourteen but were now feeling anxious... That's right, Sword Pavilion's myth had remained unbroken for centuries; how could it be shattered by an obscure young man? Perhaps Mister Fourteen had accidentally struck too hard, gravely injuring the opponent, and was now diligently treating him, fearing to violate the Heavenly List's rules and prevent his death.

They believed they had devised a reasonable explanation and felt ashamed for their previous doubts about Sword Pavilion.

Xiao Qiu stood in the corner, dipping his cold hands into a basin of hot water. He looked up at the extraordinary woman, of whom he had only heard tales, and still couldn't help but ask, "What if Mister Fourteen truly loses? Sword Pavilion's sword and crown are too hot to handle. Let alone me, perhaps no one in the Central Land would dare to accept them."

These words also voiced the sentiments of many.

Second Senior Sister said coldly, "Whoever dares to take them may do so. If no one has the courage, I will retrieve them myself."

Her words implied anger, and