Ten Thousand Years in Seclusion
Chapter 21:The Cloudsoar Celestial Pavilion’s Palm Technique?

Chapter 21: Chapter 21:The Cloudsoar Celestial Pavilion’s Palm Technique?

"Since that’s the case..."

Qi Tian withdrew his finger and turned his hand into a palm. His gaze sank, and the trace of careless amusement that had lingered in his eyes vanished in an instant.

"Then..."

"Cloud-Stacking Palm!"

This palm technique was casually passed down to him by his master back then. It was a high-grade Profound Rank technique. Its palm force was soft and flowing like clouds, yet capable of carrying tremendous weight. When layered, it surged like waves upon waves. If cultivated to great mastery, it could stack three layers of force into a single strike, with power enough to rival a low-grade Earth Rank martial art.

Above him, the dark palm seal had already descended like a collapsing mountain, its shadow swallowing Qi Tian’s entire figure.

Qi Tian flipped his right palm upward, and the True Essence within his dantian surged violently toward his arm.

The first palm—Cloud Rising!

A stream of pure white True Essence erupted from his palm.

It did not condense or solidify. Instead, it transformed into a mass of soft, drifting cloud-like energy that gently rose upward.

It did not clash head-on.

It dispersed the force.

"Boom!"

The cloud-like energy collided with the dark palm seal.

The muffled impact sounded like a massive hammer striking a pile of cotton.

The cloud instantly sank several inches, yet it did not collapse. Instead, like an incredibly resilient bowstring, it forcibly held the mountain-like palm force suspended in midair.

The dark palm seal paused only briefly.

Then the azure light around it surged violently, its might growing even stronger as it continued pressing downward.

Qi Tian’s wrist turned.

"Cloud Layering!"

The second palm force rose from below, precisely merging into the first layer of cloud energy.

The two streams of True Essence instantly fused.

The originally soft and cotton-like cloud suddenly condensed several times over, transforming into a heavy barrier.

The descending momentum of the dark palm seal abruptly stalled.

"Break!"

With a sharp shout, Qi Tian unleashed the third palm.

The three layers of cloud energy suddenly collapsed inward, compressing into a single point.

Its force erupted like a raging sea crashing against the shore, violently surging upward.

Crack!

A faint tearing sound rang out, like silk being ripped apart.

The dark palm seal began cracking from the center of the palm.

Countless fractures spread outward like a spiderweb, rapidly covering the entire seal.

Then—

Boom!

The spiritual light scattered in all directions.

The dark palm seal shattered completely, vanishing into nothingness.

The entire teahouse fell deathly silent.

Then it exploded.

"He blocked it!"

"No! He broke it!"

"That dark palm seal... it just shattered..."

The crowd jammed together at the staircase stood frozen, eyes bulging and mouths hanging open.

Some had even forgotten to breathe, their faces turning crimson until the person beside them gave them a shove, jolting them back to reality with a desperate gasp.

Qi Tian slowly lowered his hand.

His expression remained unchanged.

With a slight nod, he said,

"Well fought."

His voice was calm and even, without the slightest ripple.

As though all he had done was swat away a fly.

Beneath the table, however, his right hand was trembling ever so slightly.

Quietly, he curled his fingers into his palm, clenched once, then slowly relaxed them.

Damn it.

Qi Tian cursed inwardly.

That old man...

He really was something.

Taking that palm strike while his True Essence had yet to recover left his meridians aching and his blood and qi churning violently. Even now, a dull pain lingered throughout his internal organs.

Please don’t throw another palm.

Outwardly, he remained perfectly composed.

Inwardly, however, he was panicking.

Another palm, and this facade of calm would fall apart.

His expression remained tranquil as his calm gaze settled upon Elder Xiao, as though quietly waiting for his next move.

As for Elder Xiao—

His eyes widened.

His pupils contracted violently, and a look bordering on horror spread across his face.

"Th-This..."

"Could this be..."

His voice trembled.

He slowly raised a finger toward Qi Tian, the fingertip shaking uncontrollably.

"The Flowing Cloud Accumulating Force Palm of the Cloudsoar Celestial Pavilion?!"

Qi Tian’s heart stirred.

Cloudsoar Celestial Pavilion?

Cloudsoar Celestial Pavilion...all the way in the Sacred Domain.

So...it still existed.

Ten thousand years had passed.

The world had changed beyond recognition.

Yet the Cloudsoar Celestial Pavilion still stood. But of the Seven Great Sects of the Sacred Domain...how many still remained?

Suppressing the emotions surging within him, Qi Tian smiled and shook his head.

"This is the Cloud-Stacking Palm my master passed down to me."

"It has nothing to do with the Cloudsoar Celestial Pavilion."

Elder Xiao’s gaze lingered on Qi Tian’s face.

The shock slowly faded from his features, replaced once more by a measure of calm.

Within those cloudy old eyes, his emotions shifted.

From astonishment to confusion.

From confusion to contemplation.

"It seems this old man was mistaken."

Elder Xiao slowly let out a breath and cupped his hands toward Qi Tian.

"Fellow Daoist, I was rude earlier. Please forgive me."

The moment those words left his mouth, the person who reacted the most was Zhao Bufan, standing behind him.

Unable to hold himself back, he shouted furiously:

"You are stopping just like that?! Keep fighting!"

Elder Xiao turned his head and glanced at Zhao Bufan.

That gaze was faint and indifferent, like the look one would give to a child throwing a tantrum.

"That palm just now was already this old man’s full-force strike."

His tone was calm.

There was neither anger nor embarrassment.

"And he received it with ease."

"This proves that his strength is at least no weaker than mine. Besides..."

He paused briefly.

"I only promised to take action, not to fight to the death for you."

Zhao Bufan’s face flushed crimson.

His lips trembled as he pointed at Elder Xiao, his hand shaking uncontrollably.

"You... you..."

He stammered for a long while, yet could not force out a complete sentence.

The fury trapped in his throat burned fiercely, unable to rise or fall, twisting his face with rage.

"Considering the favor your father once did for this old man, I will give you one piece of advice."

As he spoke, Elder Xiao gave Qi Tian a meaningful glance.

That glance carried a weight beyond words.

"Let today’s matter end here."

After saying that, Elder Xiao no longer paid any attention to the furious Zhao Bufan.

He turned around and gave Qi Tian a solemn bow.

"Daoist Qi, Xiao Yao is my name."

"Let us part here. Until we meet again."

Qi Tian rose calmly.

His right hand had already stopped trembling, and he returned the gesture.

"Daoist Xiao, until we meet again."

Elder Xiao nodded.

He turned and walked toward the staircase.

His back remained slightly hunched, but every step he took landed on the wooden floor with a steady weight, like a nail driven firmly into wood.

He never once looked back at Zhao Bufan.

The crowd at the staircase automatically parted, making way for him.

Everyone watched the old man leave.

Then, almost in unison, they turned their gazes back toward the white-robed young man standing in the hall.

A tide of awe and respect spread through their eyes.

Qi Tian stood where he was, calmly accepting the gazes from all directions.

His expression did not change.

He lightly flicked his sleeve, as though brushing away dust that had clung to it during the fight, then stepped toward the staircase.

When he passed by Zhao Bufan, the young master instinctively took two steps backward.

His face was pale, his eyes filled with fear.

His lips trembled, yet he could not force out even a single threatening word.

Qi Tian acted as though he had seen nothing.

He did not slow down.

He did not spare Zhao Bufan another glance.

He simply walked past.

At the staircase, the old storyteller was already waiting there with his daughter.

Their gratitude was impossible to hide.

The girl held her guqin tightly, her head lowered. A small section of her fair neck was exposed.

She did not dare meet Qi Tian’s eyes.

Instead, she bowed deeply alongside her father and spoke in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Th-thank you... Young Master."

The old storyteller said in a trembling voice,

"Thank you, Young Master, for saving our lives. Such great kindness... we could never repay it."

"My daughter and I are willing to do anything for you..."

"Good. You said it."

Qi Tian’s footsteps paused.

He looked at the frightened father and daughter before him.

"Follow me."

The old storyteller froze.

He lifted his head, and a trace of surprise flashed through his cloudy eyes.

Qi Tian said nothing more.

He turned and walked down the stairs.

The old storyteller and his daughter exchanged glances.

The girl instinctively tightened her grip around her guqin, her fingertips turning pale from the force.

But only for a moment.

The old man gritted his teeth and lowered his voice.

"...Follow him."

The two of them lowered their heads and hurried after Qi Tian’s departing figure, one following behind the other.

The crowd at the staircase watched the scene.

The awe that had filled their hearts moments ago instantly turned into something strange.

Whispers spread through the crowd, suppressed voices carrying from person to person.

"Th-this senior... could it be that he also..."

"Ah... he looked like such a refined gentleman. I never thought he would be that kind of person..."

"Poor girl... she had only just escaped one wolf’s den, and now..."

A man beside them suddenly grabbed the talkative patron by the arm and scolded him in a low voice.

While speaking, he quickly glanced toward the center of the hall.

The talkative patron followed his gaze.

In the middle of the main hall, Zhao Bufan stood frozen in place.

His face shifted between pale and flushed, his expression utterly miserable.

Nearby, Young Master Lin still lay among the shattered wood and debris, groaning weakly, unable to get back on his feet even after a long while.

The talkative patron’s face instantly turned white.

He hurriedly covered his mouth.

And dared not say another word.