Chapter Twelve: The Secret Realm of Kunlun
Late at night.
While Song Yue was still cultivating his protective qi, Zhang Zixing and his companions had already ended their joyful night out, stumbling drunkenly out of the nightclub.
A call came through. Zhang Zixing glanced at the screen, sobering up halfway.
It was his father.
Though he liked to act tough both in his heart and among friends, in front of his own father, Zhang Zixing was nothing but obedient.
He never dared to be disrespectful.
“Dad, calling me this late—what’s the matter?” Zhang Zixing answered, his tone respectful.
“How did you get yourself tangled up with the Confucian’s people? I’m warning you, Zhang Zixing: don’t think that just because you’ve joined an extraterrestrial faction, you can do as you please. This is Earth!” His father’s tone was stern from the very beginning.
Even with his earpiece in, Zhang Zixing felt thoroughly embarrassed.
He lowered his voice, “I understand, Dad. I’m with some distinguished guests from off-world right now.”
The implication was clear: give me some face here.
But his father was having none of it, issuing a harsh warning: “Remember what I said—Confucian is not someone you can afford to provoke! He just called your grandfather personally. He said that little conflicts among the younger generation are no big deal, but using underhanded tricks? That’s disgraceful!”
His father’s anger was palpable, his voice booming, “I’ve taught you since you were a child to be upright! Especially since you have talent in martial arts—don’t waste it on petty, sordid schemes!”
“As for your brother’s affairs, keep out of it. I’ll speak to your mother myself!”
“It’s just petty thinking. What’s a little scuffle between kids?”
“If your brother’s foul mouth got him beaten up, he deserved it. In any case, this won’t do Zhang Zichen any harm!”
“Remember my words—this ends here!”
Without waiting for a response, his father hung up.
After that scolding, Zhang Zixing was thoroughly disgruntled, muttering inwardly that his father definitely made the call when his mother wasn’t around!
He had the driver take the off-world guests to their accommodations, then, still in a foul mood, hailed a cab home. On the way, he got a call from his younger brother, Zhang Zichen.
On the other end, Zhang Zichen’s whiny, tearful voice demanded, “Bro, didn’t you say you’d cripple that bastard? Why did I hear he only got a little hurt? Dad just came and chewed me out, said I deserved it!”
Zhang Zixing was speechless.
If it were someone else, he’d think they had it coming too—why couldn’t you keep your mouth shut?
But this was his brother!
He only had this one sibling, who’d always depended on him since childhood. No matter how annoyed he got, his brother’s loyalty never wavered.
So his brother’s problems were his problems. If someone bullied him, as an older brother, he had to find a way to take revenge. No matter who the opponent was.
“Don’t worry. This isn’t over yet. In Hangzhou, it’s not convenient for me to act, but as soon as I get the chance elsewhere, I’ll make sure to cripple him for you!” Zhang Zixing promised.
“Good. I’ve never been humiliated like this in my life. That bastard Meng Xudong—don’t think I don’t know, he just wanted to recruit that punk. Damn it, I was standing up for him!” Zhang Zichen swore through clenched teeth. “Bro, I’ve decided—once I recover, I’m leaving Elite Martial Hall. I’m joining Star Martial Hall! I’ll make them all regret it!”
“Fine. Once you’re out of the hospital, I’ll set it up. At Star Martial Hall, you’ll be number one!” Zhang Zixing said.
“Um, what about Chen He?” Although spoiled and willful, Zhang Zichen wasn’t stupid.
“Chen He?” Zhang Zixing snorted. “When you’re there, he’ll have to get in line.”
Chen He was talented, but he was on the wrong side!
What happened during the day had left Zhang Zixing deeply dissatisfied, and Chen He was partly to blame.
To publicly declare on the stage that he wasn’t as good as Song Yue, after already winning—wasn’t that tantamount to admitting someone used underhanded tricks?
That kind of “knowing the bigger picture” disgusted Zhang Zixing.
Now that his brother was leaving Elite Martial Hall, it was the perfect chance to show everyone who the real senior brother of Star Martial Hall was!
...
Song Yue arrived at the Academy of Cultivation, intending to negotiate with the teacher leading the upcoming trial.
After another morning spent cultivating protective qi, Qian Qianxue had called, asking if he had time to come by.
Perhaps it was his imagination, but since starting the cultivation, Song Yue felt his shoulder injury was healing much faster—almost pain-free now.
He readily agreed, strolling over to the academy.
The novice cultivators in the academy eyed him with complicated expressions.
It was hard not to find him aggravating—he was always picking fights, never letting anyone alone.
Whether it was alumni who’d graduated years ago or freshmen just starting out, few had a kind word for Song Yue.
He disregarded rules, lacked martial virtue, and though he never hurt anyone seriously, he always made someone cry.
Yet, the academy had one damnable rule—no one could refuse an exchange or learning challenge.
In other words, if someone came to challenge you, you couldn’t say no.
Even many teachers found this rule hard to stomach and had repeatedly suggested to the principal that it be changed.
But the headmaster and the entire leadership team never agreed.
Their reasoning: The Academy of Cultivation exists to train practitioners for China’s future. These talents will venture into perilous lands, pioneer the stars. If they’re raised in a greenhouse, unable to withstand the slightest hardship, how will they face true adversity?
The logic made sense, but Song Yue was no ordinary hardship—he was a tornado, a storm!
His so-called “friendly matches” were nothing short of torment.
Many who’d been bullied by him in their youth, even after advancing to higher realms and graduating, still lived under the shadow of Song Yue’s terror.
It was said that high-level cultivators weren’t allowed to strike ordinary people, but many students and teachers deeply suspected that, even without this rule, those graduates wouldn’t fare any better against Song Yue.
The psychological trauma ran too deep.
At the foot of the teaching building, Qian Qianxue awaited him.
Her long legs and stunning face were as expressionless as ever. She nodded to Song Yue, “Let’s go.”
Even though she’d had dinner at his house yesterday, her gratitude was reserved for Aunt Wang, the housekeeper—she was still somewhat annoyed with Song Yue for calling her “Brother Qian.”
Luckily, Wenrou wasn’t a gossip, or that nickname would have spread throughout the academy by now.
“Qian—” Song Yue began, only for Qian Qianxue to whip around and glare, “Call me that again and I’ll—”
“And you’ll what?” Song Yue grinned at her.
“I’ll get mad, that’s what!” She brushed him off and marched upstairs.
They entered the office of the teacher in charge of the trial. After a quick greeting, Qian Qianxue said to Song Yue, “You talk with the teacher. I’m leaving.”
And with that, she left—though she’d been through this before, it still made her uncomfortable.
The teacher in charge was the academy’s vice dean, an old adversary of Song Yue’s. He’d been the one to oppose Song Yue’s admission years ago.
So, the two were old rivals.
Peng Song eyed Song Yue with a complex expression. He didn’t exactly dislike the boy—his opposition to Song Yue’s admission had been nothing personal, but rather a concern for setting a precedent. If he let Song Yue in, how would they refuse all the privileged children clamoring for a spot?
Yet, he didn’t especially like him either.
This kid was insufferable. A troublemaker. Vindictive.
Refused entry, Song Yue hadn’t left—he’d settled right next door, constantly coming over to provoke the academy.
He called it “friendly competition,” but every time, he’d flatten his opponents in a matter of moments.
This was no friendly match—it was a vendetta, payback!
If not for his position, Peng Song would have liked to give the kid a good thrashing, just to keep him in line.
“Sit down,” Peng Song gestured at the sofa.
Song Yue dropped onto it without ceremony, grinning. “Old Peng, I hear you’re leading the team this time?”
Peng Song, who looked barely past forty with a military buzz cut, grimaced at the form of address, but let it slide. “Yes, I’m leading. Qianxue said you want compensation?”
Song Yue replied boldly, “An emperor doesn’t starve his soldiers, right, Dean Peng?”
Peng Song felt a headache coming on. A martial artist with brains was bad enough—this one was not only smart but also utterly shameless. People like this were the hardest to deal with.
All his life experience was useless against Song Yue, who never played by the rules.
“Do you know where this trial is taking place?” Peng Song didn’t want to give in easily; otherwise, Song Yue’s ego would soar to the heavens.
“Don’t tell me—it’s not another planet, is it? Interstellar travel? I’m a homebody, you know,” Song Yue feigned worry.
Peng Song ignored him. “This time, it’s the Kunlun Secret Realm.”
Song Yue sat up straighter, his expression growing serious. “The Kunlun Secret Realm? Isn’t that place off-limits?”
Peng Song explained, “The Kunlun Secret Realm opens once every sixty years. The last time, a great battle broke out—blood flowed like rivers, countless died. Afterwards, representatives of the various extraterrestrial factions, both East and West, sat down to negotiate.”
Song Yue nodded, “I know—the Battle of Kunlun. Our cultivators wiped the floor with those damn foreigners and big shots from off-world!”
Peng Song shot him a look. “The major extraterrestrial factions were extremely displeased by this.”
Song Yue pursed his lips, thinking, “Displeased? Who cares?”
But he didn’t say it out loud. After all, those so-called “big shots” from off-world were genuinely formidable.
Anyone who could cross the vast galaxies to reach Earth was no ordinary being.
Peng Song continued, “Our Eastern Alliance also came under a lot of pressure and ultimately had to make some concessions.”
Song Yue listened carefully. What Peng Song was saying was high-level information the average person would never hear. The Confucian surely knew, but rarely shared such things with him.
“First, when the Secret Realm opens again, all factions are allowed to send representatives, though our Eastern Alliance—especially China—gets a numerical advantage.”
“Second, no fighting to the death over entry rights.”
Song Yue couldn’t help but mutter, “Still not strong enough. Otherwise, who cares who comes—just flatten them all!”
Peng Song glanced at him, expressionless. “That’s your job, then.”
Song Yue was unfazed by the sarcasm. “So you’re telling me this is a rare opportunity?”
Peng Song was surprised—Song Yue seemed unusually perceptive today.
He felt a bit pleased with himself; impressing this kid wasn’t easy.
But then Song Yue continued, “So, your academy’s students need a top expert like me to protect them, right?”
Without giving Peng Song a chance to respond, Song Yue pressed on, “In that case, about my compensation—Old Peng, don’t shortchange me!”
Peng Song felt ready to explode.
Still the same shameless Song Yue!
Deep breath.
What a wonderful world, such fresh air, such beautiful girls.
Calm down.
Don’t lose your temper!
Peng Song struggled to compose himself.
He said, “If the Secret Realm didn’t suppress cultivation levels, we wouldn’t invite you.”
Song Yue just grinned and said, “I want marrow-cleansing elixir!”
Peng Song shook his head. “None.”
Song Yue shrugged. “Don’t be stingy, Old Peng. The academy is loaded—surely you can spare a bit?”
Peng Song glared at him. “You call marrow-cleansing elixir ‘a bit’? Do you have any idea how valuable it is?”
Song Yue grinned, “Don’t be mad, everything’s negotiable. If too much is a problem, just give me a little! Dean Peng, have a heart!”
Peng Song had no words.
...
Twenty minutes later, Song Yue left the academy building, carrying a large glass bottle and completely satisfied.
The sunshine seemed brighter, the air fresher, the blue sky and white clouds more beautiful than ever.
Peng Song stood at his office window, watching Song Yue’s carefree figure disappear into the distance, his own face a mask of frustration.
Song Yue honestly hadn’t expected this. He’d thought it was just a regular trial, nothing special.
He hadn’t imagined it would be the Kunlun Secret Realm!
The academy types like Old Peng had one great flaw—they cared too much about saving face.
They played by the rules, which allowed Song Yue to extort a whole liter of marrow-cleansing elixir from them.
That stuff was usually sold by the gram; a whole bottle would be enough to raise his physical strength by a whole level.
When he’d first heard about the Kunlun Secret Realm, Song Yue had almost agreed on the spot.
It was a true treasure trove of cultivation resources!
He’d never been there, but he’d heard about it countless times.
The resources were just one aspect; there were tales of people entering and emerging greatly strengthened—even breaking through to the realm of Foundation Establishment, becoming true cultivators.
That was Foundation Establishment!
Surpassing even the highest ranks—a realm of immortals.
There weren’t many Foundation Establishment cultivators in all of China.
Above Foundation Establishment was the realm of immortals, and Song Yue had never even heard of anyone reaching it.
The “Battle of Kunlun” sixty years ago had happened precisely because of that.
Carrying his elixir, Song Yue decided not to go home yet. He wanted to find his teacher and ask for guidance on how to maximize his gains in the Secret Realm!
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A long chapter—please vote if you enjoyed it!
I’ll be returning home in the next couple of days to pay respects at my father’s grave, but I’ll do my best to keep writing and keep everyone updated. Rest assured, my friends!