Chapter 159: Yellow Wind Valley & The Enlightenment Stele

Li Meng flicked his sleeve with a casual air.

Two sets of neatly folded robes appeared in his hands. One was a buttery yellow set designed for an inner male disciple of the Joyous Union Sect; the other was a flowing purple dress for a female disciple.

“Fellow Daoist Lu, I have certain… connections with the Joyous Union Sect. We can borrow their identities to blend in.”

A glint of curiosity flashed through Lu Zimo’s eyes.

Why does he carry women’s clothing?

Caught by her strange look, Li Meng felt a rare flush of heat rise to his face. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“These… these were left behind by a dear friend from the Joyous Union Sect.”

A dear friend?

Lu Zimo’s expression softened into knowing amusement. It seemed this ‘Li Feiyu’ was a man with a colorful past—a sentimental soul who kept mementos of former lovers.

Li Meng quickly diverted the topic, sweeping his gaze over the endless dunes. “Fellow Daoist Lu, let us find a secluded spot to change.”

“Agreed.”

Lu Zimo naturally had no objections.

They descended from the sky, landing on a flat stretch of hard-packed sand. Li Meng didn’t bother with simple concealment spells. He raised his hands, his fingers dancing in a complex seal.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Five golden talismans shot from his sleeves, burying themselves into the ground at five cardinal points. Spiritual power surged, linking the nodes instantly.

“Five Phantasm Cloud Dream Formation, rise!”

A dense, opaque mist erupted from the earth, swallowing them both in the blink of an eye. The desert vanished, replaced by a world of swirling white vapor.

“What an exquisite formation,” Lu Zimo murmured.

She stood within the illusion, feeling as though she were walking on clouds, yet the ground beneath her feet remained solid. It was a high-grade formation, wasted on a simple changing room—a testament to Li Feiyu’s unfathomable resources.

“Fellow Daoist Lu, feel free to change. I promise I won’t peek!” Li Meng’s voice echoed from somewhere in the mist.

A blush crept up Lu Zimo’s neck.

Why would he even say that?

It felt like a guilty conscience trying to hide itself—like a thief posting a sign saying ‘No Stolen Goods Here.’ However, Li Feiyu had behaved like a gentleman so far. He didn’t seem like a lecherous bore.

Trusting in his character, Lu Zimo glanced around the protective fog. She reached up, untying the sash of her white robes.

As the fabric slid from her shoulders, pooling at her feet, a body of jade-like perfection was revealed. Her silhouette in the mist was a masterpiece of curves—a full, proud bust tapering to a slender waist and rounded hips.

After the time it takes an incense stick to burn, the mist dissolved.

Li Meng stood tall in the yellow robes of the Joyous Union Sect. Opposite him, Lu Zimo had transformed.

The purple rainbow dress clung to her frame, accentuating every curve. The color shifted her aura entirely; her usual icy aloofness was now undercut by a dangerous, intoxicating allure. She looked like a forbidden fruit.

“Fellow Daoist Li… is something wrong?”

She shifted her weight, uncomfortable under his intense stare. His gaze wasn’t just appreciative; it was heavy, hot, and predatory.

For a moment, the dynamic shifted. She felt like a lamb standing before a hungry wolf—a wolf that was deciding exactly how to devour her.

Li Meng chuckled warmly, nodding his approval.

“Excellent. You wear that dress well, Fellow Daoist Lu. Truly, you look like a celestial maiden exiled to the mortal realm. Breathtaking.”

Lu Zimo lowered her eyes, a trace of shyness breaking through her cool facade. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear—a gesture so inadvertently enchanting it made the air hum with tension.

Li Meng smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Junior Sister, shall we?”

The address—Junior Sister—snapped her out of her flustered state. She straightened her posture, slipping into the role.

“Yes, Senior Brother.”

Li Meng rose on the wind, soaring upward. Lu Zimo followed close behind, her purple skirts fluttering like the petals of a blooming violet. They streaked toward the northwest, vanishing into the horizon.

Western Region Desert, Yellow Wind Valley.

The valley had transformed into a cauldron of activity.

Since the rumors of the ‘Bodhi Tree’—and the subsequent revelation of the Ancient Cultivator’s Cave Mansion—cultivators from all five lakes and four seas had flooded the desert.

Even though the Bodhi Tree rumor was false, an ancient legacy was real enough to make eyes red with greed. As the moonless night approached, the valley became a hive of noise and light.

Sword glares streaked across the sky constantly. Foundation Establishment disciples from the great Sects of the Tianlan Continent claimed the prime spots, while Rogue Cultivators huddled on the fringes.

Deep in the valley lay a massive ruin. Broken columns and shattered walls hinted at a grand sect that had once stood here eons ago.

Now, thousands of cultivators occupied the wreckage. They sat in groups of two or three on broken walls, crowded the ridges, and meditated in the dilapidated plazas.

Everyone was waiting. Everyone was conserving their strength.

“We can enter freely now, but what’s the point? The major Sects have arrived in force,” a Rogue Cultivator grumbled from a high ridge, looking down at the sea of people. “Just look at them. We won’t even get a sip of the soup.”

“There are only seven spots for the Fated Chance,” his companion replied, shaking his head. “Let the big dogs fight over the meat. We might as well watch the excitement for free.”

“Haha, true enough! A good show is worth the trip.”

“Shh! Keep your voice down,” a third man hissed, looking nervous. “With a legacy this big, the old… the old Seniors of those Sects are definitely watching from the shadows.”

The laughter died instantly. The group fell silent, watching the valley with apprehension.

Just then, two figures descended from the sky, landing gracefully on a nearby ridge.

One male, one female.

The man wore yellow robes, his face youthful yet framed by hair as white as a crane’s feathers—a sage-like visage. The woman wore purple, her beauty cold and captivating.

“Junior Sister,” the man said, his voice carrying easily over the wind. “This Yellow Wind Valley is certainly lively.”

Li Meng and Lu Zimo surveyed the scene.

It was a sea of Foundation Establishment cultivators. Qi Condensation juniors were rare here—they knew they were just cannon fodder in a place like this.

Lu Zimo’s gaze locked onto the center of the main plaza.

There, a massive stone monolith towered over the ruins. It was nearly a hundred zhang tall—wide, thick, and imposing. It resembled a gigantic stone coffin standing upright, exuding an aura of ancient, crushing gravity.

Surrounding the monolith were seven elevated stone platforms, each fifty zhang high, arranged in a protective circle.

“Senior Brother, that is the Enlightenment Stele and the Enlightenment Platforms.”

Li Meng followed her gaze.

[Enlightenment Stele: Contains the Dao Rhyme legacy left by an ancient cultivator upon their Sitting Death and Dao Dissipation.]

Ancient. Profound. Oppressive.

That was the feeling the stone gave him. But after a single glance, Li Meng lost interest. It was just a rock.

He scanned the plaza surrounding the stele, looking for specific colors.

Yellow and Purple.

If the Joyous Union Sect was here, they would be easy to spot.

Found them.

To the northwest of the stele, a group of twelve cultivators sat in meditation.

The men wore uniform yellow robes; the women wore purple rainbow dresses. They were arranged in pairs, sitting knee-to-knee or back-to-back. The Joyous Union Sect specialized in Dual Cultivation and combined attack techniques; their disciples always operated in male-female pairs for maximum efficiency.

“Oh?”

Li Meng’s eyes narrowed as he spotted a familiar, graceful silhouette among the twelve.

“Junior Sister Li is here?”

It was Li Xi—Martial Aunt Wen’s disciple.

And right beside her, sitting cross-legged in meditation, was Junior Brother Ning.