Chapter 36: The Descent of the Staircase

Across the sky, purple lightning swept across Panlong Mountain, shattering the dense fog that hovered over the summit and revealing its true form.

A hundred zhang in height, spanning a thousand feet across.

A single mountain that dominates the hues of the Western Ridge, surrounded by the auspicious purple mist from the East. This purple aura, draped over the peak of Panlong Mountain, rendered the place truly extraordinary.

A thunderous crack of purple lightning descended from the heavens, striking the purple aura atop the summit. The lightning and the mist fused together, transforming into a majestic purple dragon. The dragon let out a long cry that shook the heavens and stirred the nine firmaments, sending tremors across ten thousand miles.

On the ground, everyone swayed, unable to stand steady. Mountain streams were severed, ancient trees shook, and leaves drifted down like snow. The dragon coiled around Panlong Mountain, roaring incessantly. With every cry, the mountain seemed to respond. The purple dragon danced through the mountain range, spiraling upward from the base to the peak.

"Panlong Mountain—it truly lives up to its name."

The purple dragon coiled around the entire mountain, from foot to summit, with awe-inspiring majesty. Countless eyes were fixed upon the mountain; just as its name implied, a purple dragon was indeed coiling around it. The name was well-earned. The dragon’s grandeur was so immense that a single roar shook the peaks of the Western Ridge. As it coiled around the mountain, it appeared as if a deity from the nine heavens had descended, bringing glory to the entire Western Ridge.

The living beings surrounding Panlong Mountain bathed in the purple light, instantly revitalized. Withered leaves regained their vigor, silenced streams began to babble, and the ancient trees swayed, releasing a dense aura of spiritual energy. A small deer, catching a wisp of the purple light, instantly grew magnificent antlers and became imbued with spirit. A pheasant, flapping its wings after breathing in a trace of the aura, began to sing; it carved a beautiful arc through the void, its long tail trailing behind it as it transformed into a phoenix.

The purple lightning in the sky harmonized with the purple aura, shattering all constraints to unite with the dragon in a miraculous three-in-one manifestation.

*Hum, hum!*

Panlong Mountain resonated with joy to welcome the lightning and the aura, while the dragon soared into the void, swimming freely and exultantly. It circled the entire Western Ridge, sowing the purple aura—which could nourish all things, sprout withered wood, and bring the earth back to life—across the mortal realm.

*Roar!*

With a wild cry, it dispersed the demons and ghosts lurking in the surrounding wilderness, then, glowing with purple light, coiled once more around Panlong Mountain. The sheer scale of this spectacle left everyone stunned, unable to even draw a full breath until the dragon settled, allowing them to breathe freely once more.

*Clang, clang!*

A sound like heavy iron chains reverberated through the nine heavens, and a peerless divine weapon emerged from the heart of Panlong Mountain.

As the divine weapon burst forth, reflecting the purple lightning and mist of the sky, it radiated immense light, hovering above the summit.

*Roar!*

As the weapon appeared, the dragon let out a final, wild cry, and an ancient voice echoed: "The Nine-Dragon Fan atop Panlong, who shall be the hero at the peak of the stairs!"

As the voice faded, the purple dragon roared again, its massive body transforming into a series of stairs that spiraled from the base of the mountain straight to the summit. The Nine-Dragon Fan, the peerless weapon unveiled by Panlong Mountain, stood at the very top.

"The stairs have descended."

The moment everyone had been waiting for had arrived, and the crowd was gripped by extreme excitement. The descent of the Panlong Stairs signaled that a great opportunity was bestowed upon them all. Each step of the Panlong Stairs offered its own unique fortune, but everyone knew the greatest prize of all lay at the peak: the Nine-Dragon Fan.

No one knew exactly how heaven-defying it was, but ten thousand years ago, the divine weapon that shook the entire continent had also come from Panlong Mountain. Now that the mountain had awakened after ten millennia, the implications were clear to all.

On the Tianyan Continent, inside an ancient mountain, several elders gathered. As they calculated with their fingers, their brows furrowed.

*The Nine-Dragon Fan atop Panlong, who shall be the hero at the peak of the stairs.*

The world was about to descend into chaos, and the hundred clans would rise again. As the largest cultivation sect on the Tianyan Continent, they would have to shoulder the burden of controlling this turmoil. Within the sect, the primordial ancestors—the oldest of the old—appeared for the first time, leaving behind these words: "The heavens are about to fall into chaos, and the Ancient Battlefield is about to open. We should have passed on long ago, yet we have endured, waiting for this very moment."

With that, their manifestations vanished, leaving the elders to bow in sincere reverence.

At the same time, in the Siyin Pavilion, a man of imposing stature stepped out. Gazing toward the Western Ridge, he murmured, "Qingfeng, my son, whether or not you can avenge your mother depends on whether you can bring back the Nine-Dragon Fan." He prayed to the heavens, begging for his son to seize the divine weapon and wash away their shame.

The Tianyan Continent, a mysterious and independent world, was a land of fragrance and gentle breezes, where fallen petals danced in the air—a true earthly paradise. An old woman with hair as white as snow appeared, gazing longingly into the void.

With every step, a lotus bloomed beneath her feet. As she ascended, she vanished from that realm, leaving behind a sorrowful sigh: "Only the immortals can resist the summons of the heavens. Even we, the Heavenly Venerates, find it hard to defy. What of the Ancient Battlefield? Do I still possess the spirited brilliance I once held in my youth?"

The old woman disappeared, leaving her disciples to bow in farewell to their ancestor.

In the Ghost Realm, a mysterious and unknown territory, a man in a black robe appeared and laughed heartily: "The Tianyan Continent is on the verge of chaos; it is time for my Demon Race to step onto the grand stage." He waved a hand and summoned his disciple. "Ghost Heaven, how goes the task I entrusted to you?"

Ghost Heaven prostrated himself and replied, "Reporting to my Lord, I have begun establishing our sect in the Southern Territory, striving to deliver a fatal blow to those so-called cultivation sects at the opportune moment."

"Good. I cannot remain here much longer. You must complete the task I gave you—find the object that can undo the seal. When that time comes, I shall shatter the seal, return to Tianyan, and paint the land in blood to avenge the humiliations of the past." The black-robed figure, burning with rage, vanished from that world after his final word. He did not belong to this realm.

Panlong Mountain, reopened after ten thousand years, plunged the world into chaos. Ancient and mysterious races quietly awakened, shattering thick ice, splitting open ancient divine trees, and breaking through seal-stones as they emerged into the small worlds they inhabited.

At Panlong Mountain in the Western Ridge, figures surged madly toward the spiraling stairs. None would yield to another, each desperate to be the first to set foot upon the stairs formed by the dragon, to climb step by step to the summit, claim the Nine-Dragon weapon, and look down upon the world.

Everyone was caught in the frenzy, determined to reach the top and seize the divine treasure. Everyone, that is, except for one young man whose eyes were filled with disappointment.

The Nine-Dragon Fan was a weapon that defied the natural order, a cruel instrument of slaughter. Even if he had a chance to reach the peak—which he did not—what good would it do? It might even bring upon him a great catastrophe. Mo Fan had not come to Panlong Mountain for such things; he had come solely to find a way to cultivate the Desolate Domain. But now, it seemed, the heavens were unfair.

Mo Fan did not want to linger. He turned to bid farewell to the others, ready to leave. This place was not meant for him.

"Where is everyone?"

As he turned, Mo Fan was stunned. Behind him, apart from the quiet youth in green, there was no one left. Duan Liuxiang was gone, and even the old man driving the cart had raised his whip, charging toward the stairs, cutting his way through the crowd.

"Aren't you going to try?" the youth in green asked Mo Fan.

Mo Fan gave an awkward smile and shook his head.

"Life is full of opportunities; why do you care so much? Perhaps the thing you seek is hidden on one of these steps. If you don't try, how will you know the outcome?"

The youth in green walked over, patted Mo Fan’s shoulder, and left him with a look of firm belief before moving into the crowd.

"Mo Fan, the stairs have descended. Do you dare to challenge me?"

Chen Dong appeared, accompanied by the three great clans of Dongyang County. Their target was clearly Mo Fan.