Chapter 113: Six Paths of Wisdom, Fishes Roaming Heaven and Earth

After Chu Tianshu broke into Yi Wang’s mansion, his challenge rang out far too loudly—nothing like a normal person’s voice.

Duan Zhong had been far away then, and just now while speaking with Haidonglai, he hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

But without relying on voice tone, just from the fight and Chu Tianshu’s words.

Some things had become clear.

“You were the one who broke into Yi Wang’s mansion?”

“Reports say you struggled greatly to kill Yuwen Xin Tong and the others—how could you have made such rapid progress so soon?”

Duan Zhong murmured softly, his voice low, more like self-talk than a question.

“Indeed, when I led troops into battle, when Haidonglai rose to fame, I too had a period of explosive growth.”

“But once I grew older, my pace slowed, and I unconsciously never considered that my opponent this time might be one of those very people.”

Chu Tianshu smiled.

“Finished your musings? Claiming you’re old, hoping I’ll show respect and let you strike first?”

Chu Tianshu opened his right hand in invitation.

“Fine, then you strike first.”

A tiny ring of light flickered in his eyes, expanding and contracting—he sensed multiple distinct soldier-soul energies emanating from Duan Zhong.

Oddly, these soldier-souls carried no trace of malevolent or murky energy.

Not evil soldier-souls—then all of them were cultivated by Duan Zhong himself.

Normally, if a soldier-soul hadn’t dissipated, the master’s mental and physical energy would be entirely devoted to it.

Trying to nurture another soldier-soul at the same time was exhausting and futile.

Even if one practiced different blood-refining soldier-soul arts, the resulting soldier-souls would likely be similar.

Why go through so much trouble when you could simply focus on refining your original soldier-soul—or seek insight into new techniques?

Duan Zhong’s case, however, likely meant he could be certain each newly cultivated soldier-soul had its own unique effects.

Against such a man, rashness was dangerous.

Chu Tianshu letting him strike first also carried a third of the intent to stillness overcoming motion.

The moon hung solitary in the sky, spirit banners fluttered.

The cold night wind swept again and again over the front of Maitreya Hall, rolling in waves across the square’s rows of white-clothed coffins.

Duan Zhong stood with hands clasped before him, amidst the sparse, empty coffins, his eyes deep and silent.

Haidonglai pressed a hand to his chest and warned: “He can disrupt your breathing—don’t speak to him.”

In the confrontation inside the hall, Haidonglai’s composure should never have shown any obvious change in breathing.

The moment his breath grew heavy, revealing a flaw, it was purely a physical reaction.

It was like the sensation he once felt atop a high mountain while spying on Tubo troops—but far worse.

The air drawn in was useless, not the crisp, lung-clearing kind.

Chu Tianshu had also sensed the anomaly.

His control over his lungs was exquisite—he clearly felt the oxygen content in every breath plummeting sharply.

This place had originally been fresh with air, oxygen levels high.

The night wind blew freely, air circulating well.

But now, it was as if the wind passed through a filter, bringing only exhaust—no oxygen.

Soldier-soul: Six Paths of Wisdom, Heaven and Human Stillness!

Duan Zhong suddenly smiled, lunging forward, attacking Chu Tianshu—left hand glowing charcoal-red, right hand shimmering icy-white.

Six Paths of Wisdom…

The human world is charcoal! The hungry ghosts are cold!

His earlier mood of melancholy and reflection wasn’t entirely fake—but at least ninety-nine percent of it was.

His true age didn’t matter; his strength and ambition were still those of a vigorous man.

He was truly a man in his prime.

How could such a formidable general, facing his mortal enemy, so easily fall into emotional weakness?

Merely the cunning deception of a soldier-soul practitioner.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!!!!

Duan Zhong’s hands unleashed continuous afterimages; Chu Tianshu’s arms, like blue steel, held firm, meeting force with force.

Forearms clashed, palms collided, elbows struck, fists met…

In their lightning-fast exchange, both shifted tactics endlessly.

The repeated fluctuations of heat and cold hadn’t yet harmed Chu Tianshu’s hands, but already twisted and warped the surrounding air.

Making the sound of their clash amplify endlessly within the distorted airflow.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

In an instant, the noise from their battle had become indistinguishable from rolling thunder.

Each wave of sound surged louder than the last.

Just as Duan Zhong’s fighting spirit and killing intent surged higher within him.

Snap!!

Four arms’ afterimages twisted and struck against each other.

Chu Tianshu’s posture suddenly shifted—like plucking a flower—not attacking, but pinching a corner of the sleeve amid the blurring afterimages.

Shaolin Fist Frame, Sticky Cloth Throw Technique!

For an ordinary man, Chu Tianshu’s single flick of the sleeve corner would have smashed him to the ground.

Even now, after that flick, a force that seemed soft yet unyielding enveloped Duan Zhong’s entire right arm.

But Duan Zhong’s sleeve suddenly exploded.

Six Paths of Wisdom, Asura’s Weapon!

Unlike Duan Rusu, who needed to grip objects, channel force, and coordinate with soldier-souls through cumbersome steps,

Duan Zhong merely thought it—and his sleeve shattered like a mass of broken iron shards, blasting outward.

Chu Tianshu tilted his head slightly, dodging one shard aimed at his left eye, letting the rest strike his chest and face.

When fighting, he always moved swiftly and meticulously, preferring to dismantle and block every move his opponent made.

But in his current "Inner Sage, Outer King" physical state, he could easily adopt the fighting style of a seasoned external martial artist.

These “iron shards” launched at this speed couldn’t possibly pierce Chu Tianshu’s defenses.

So he saw Duan Zhong’s shoulders dip, his palm darting swiftly toward his kidneys.

Shing!!

Chu Tianshu’s waist sword snapped straight—his right hand touched the hilt, and the blade across his waist flipped upward.

Duan Zhong instantly retracted his hand, but still lost a sliver of skin from his right middle finger.

The sword’s flash darted like a dozen curved white lines, all striking Duan Zhong.

Duan Zhong’s face changed slightly; his hands moved with blinding speed, palm shadows fluttering like fleeting butterfly wings.

He used six rings to hastily block the sword tips, retreating sharply.

Since beginning combat, Chu Tianshu had first appeared as a master of speed and finesse in fist techniques.

Then suddenly revealed his hardened external style, now he wielded swordplay.

His styles were complex, each refined—making one wonder if his true age was older than his appearance suggested.

Yet after this fierce sword assault, Chu Tianshu could not help gasping for breath.

He didn’t pursue Duan Zhong—he stepped back.

In an instant, both retreated ten zhang apart.

Chu Tianshu instantly felt oxygen return, inhaling deeply.

He could hold his breath for a long time alone—but in low-oxygen conditions, fighting a powerful enemy, he couldn’t last long.

Duan Zhong’s right sleeve was shredded, revealing his arm’s green-tinged, wrinkled skin—like a lizard’s back, or ancient tree bark.

Six Paths of Wisdom, Animal Path Scales!

After activating the Animal Path, he could maintain normal bodily function even in extremely low-oxygen conditions.

Duan Zhong’s Animal Path had been active all along.

Chu Tianshu stared at his opponent, sword held horizontally before him; the blade hummed softly.

Five frost-white dots appeared on his waist garments, then melted by his body heat.

Duan Zhong’s cold aura had seeped through his clothes, penetrating his flesh.

Had he been a fraction slower, his kidneys would already have been torn out.

Duan Zhong stared back, then suddenly threw his head back and howled, singing out clearly.

“CHU! TIAN! SHU!!”

At this moment, Duan Zhong’s voice was piercing and shrill, carrying far—its true form lost.

It didn’t sound like a human throat, and it was unclear whether he was even shouting those three characters.

Chu Tianshu felt he was calling his name.

Haidonglai, Guan Changling, and Cheng Xianzi, who had just arrived at Maitreya Hall, all felt he was calling their names.

Even Zheng Hui, whose name had only two characters, felt the same.

Indeed, Zheng Hui, wounded severely, felt it most intensely.

He was stunned and disoriented, his head spinning, as if he saw three or four Chu Tianshu and five or six Duan Zhong ahead.

His heart felt as if it had left his chest, his soul as if it had drifted away from his body.

Wisdom’s Six Paths: Hell’s Soul-Grabbing Chant!

Hai Donglai was an outlier among the pinnacle experts of his homeland, for since childhood, due to a congenital illness, he had grown accustomed to focusing on physical cultivation.

When normal, his physique was extremely strong, yet in terms of martial soul, he was merely at the Deer Cart realm.

Duan Zhong, by contrast, was a true pinnacle expert in line with the mainstream of this world.

If one were to use the Three Carts of the Blood River Cart as a metaphor.

Duan Zhong had advanced the Blood Refining Martial Art to the “Blue Ox Pulling the Cart” realm, touching upon profound Blood Refining wisdom.

Beginning with the Asura martial soul, combined with Buddhist essence.

He split off five distinct martial souls: Deva, Animal, Human, Hungry Ghost, and Hell.

The six effects complemented one another, forming a being with no weaknesses.

The Hell’s Soul-Grabbing Chant was not originally created to target individual enemies.

It was designed for situations where large numbers of soldiers and archers surrounded him.

When “Deva” and “Hell” worked together, Duan Zhong rarely needed to lift a finger against ordinary soldiers.

Merely by walking through with the power of these two martial souls, all who stood in his path would collapse into unconsciousness.

Now, as he unleashed this chant, he did not expect it to defeat Chu Tianshu—he used it to stir himself.

Soul-grabbing, soul-shaking, disrupting his body’s normal state.

From this point on, every instant Duan Zhong struck Chu Tianshu, his body would surge to its peak intensity.

Yet his emotions could be extracted and detached from it, preserving a cold, sharp combat demeanor.

“Chu! Tian! Shu!!”

Three words, sung like a chant.

White banners whipped wildly, his heart’s resolve trembling.

The fluttering ends of the banners seemed to slow suddenly.

At that moment, Duan Zhong’s body glided forward—swift and silent.

Cold and hot air currents compressed behind him, while the air ahead thinned to near nothingness.

He thrust one palm forward, his entire form flowing with natural grace and divine subtlety.

Like a fish swimming through the clouds.

That thrusting palm was like the sword in the fish’s mouth.

In silent, ethereal stillness, it struck toward Chu Tianshu’s heart.

(End of Chapter)