Chapter 61: Ming Qitian

The black chi vanished completely.

In the forest, the broken chi body had lost all vitality; dark red blood continued to seep out, so abundant that it filled the surrounding depressions, forming a thick, smooth expanse.

He gently raised his hand, and the corpse, as if stepped from myth, shattered into fragments; deep blue rapidly stained every tiny unit, transforming the body into dragon blood at a hundredfold greater efficiency than the dragon’s tongue.

A torrent surged into his body, and Pei Ye felt his realm ascending at a terrifying pace—no, it could no longer be measured by human standards.

Humans distinguish realms by the nature and quantity of power they control; for Him, all power in heaven and earth was merely food within reach—he only needed time to feed.

As the blood on the ground was fully consumed, the vein-tree within his abdomen had already risen to eight generations; it grew robust and sharp, and Pei Ye clearly felt more terrifying authorities being unleashed.

This eighth generation could not be compared to a human cultivator’s eighth generation, for it was born with the ability to wield Xuan, let alone housing a sliver of divine will and authority.

Nor did this vein-tree cultivate true qi; within it, what was generated and flowed was “dragon blood.”

More than a foundation for human cultivation, it resembled an organ.

From seed-breaking to eighth generation, it took only an hour—what if given another hour? A day?

Pei Ye could not imagine, for the power within him was now unprecedentedly terrifying.

And this growth had not ended.

Two figures in purple robes knelt devoutly on the ground, their bodies trembling with fervor; they crawled forward and drove daggers into their own throats.

Meanwhile, Qiongqi crouched nearby, its wings tightly folded, forelimbs drawn beneath its chin, head bowed in trembling fear.

Pei Ye suddenly understood the black chi’s words—“After consuming me, He need no longer seek food,” for here were three ready sources of nourishment!

The black chi itself had nearly reached Zhu Gaoyang’s level; now fully transformed into power for Him, if added to these three before him…

Pei Ye could not help gasping in dread.

He saw himself raise his hand, and one purple-robed man instantly liquefied into deep blue, surging into his palm—this enemy who had pursued him over two hundred miles vanished so easily.

Then his abdomen stirred; Pei Ye “looked” inward, and the now luxuriant vein-tree trembled slightly, its upper branches beginning to grow, then rising another notch.

How could it still grow?!

Ninth generation!

How could there be a ninth generation?!

Pei Ye stood frozen, stunned—this sight utterly shattered all his understanding, but now the black chi was gone.

The expanded vein-tree sucked in surrounding Xuan qi like a wind tunnel.

Though Pei Ye had never seen Zhu Gaoyang at his peak, he had no doubt this body now surpassed him completely.

And it continued to climb rapidly.

More chilling still, the surrounding trees gradually turned deep blue, like scars burned by blue flame, spreading patch by patch.

Five zhang… eight zhang… ten zhang—it spread like a fungal carpet; all living things caught within dissolved into deep blue liquid.

No… it must not continue…

Though he did not know the black chi’s plan, if He were allowed such power, who could possibly restrain Him?

Without sufficient power, no plan could be executed.

Even if Immortal Platform arrived—was Ming Qitian a god?

Pei Ye was filled with urgent anxiety, yet he was the one utterly powerless.

He saw himself reach toward another purple-robed man.

‘No—what should I do?’

Pei Ye thought desperately.

At that moment, a drifting white thread sliced through the air.

Like a crane, like a cloud, it plummeted straight from the cold night sky at the horizon, as if a celestial immortal had breached a realm of demons.

Pei Ye saw white true qi for the first time.

Not the blinding, chalky white of flour, but luminous, restrained, like the texture of white clouds and porcelain.

Yet this porcelain was not a delicate ornament for admiration—it was sharp, shattered porcelain.

A stunning, peerless sword light flashed across—its true qi like the sharp feathers of a white phoenix, shards of ice from the Jade Pool—sweeping through, instantly purging all deep blue filth from the space.

The Zhuangzi says: On the distant Mount Miaoguye dwells a divine being, whose skin is like ice and snow, whose grace is like a maiden, who drinks the wind and dew, rides the clouds, and commands flying dragons.

The Emperor Chapter says: He does not eat the five grains, his mind is like a deep spring, his form like a virgin. He neither clings nor loves; immortals and sages serve him.

Perhaps this was the ultimate beauty Zhuangzi finally beheld after climbing the divine mountain, braving frost and snow.

Now, this sword-light entered Pei Ye’s eyes—like the divine being of Miaoguye standing atop the peak, glancing back.

And the one wielding the sword might well be Miaoguye herself.

White robe, black hair, single sword.

Those who have seen much of the martial world have noticed a curious detail—those who wear white robes are rarely ugly.

But the face revealed as the sword-wielder lifted her gaze was too beautiful.

When the blade halted, it had pierced Pei Ye’s lower abdomen, pinning him to the tree behind him.

Yet Pei Ye paid it no mind.

For this sword-strike had appeared within his mind-realm as well.

A white rainbow pierced the heavens—the vast, shadowy mass that had covered the entire sky was split from end to end by this sword-light, appearing at one horizon and vanishing at the other, leaving a colossal scar across the sky.

Behind this scar lay the original clear blue sky; Pei Ye’s clouded soul was cleaved open, and the sudden relief felt like exhaling a long-held breath of foul air, as cool wind rushed in.

And the edges of the scar continued to advance, like a searing blade pressed against cold oil—every shadow it touched melted swiftly; Pei Ye even fancied he heard the shadow’s roars and agonized shrieks.

Pierced through both body and mind-realm, Pei Ye stood frozen, dazed, within the small hut.

Since entering this affair, he had been stunned again and again by wonders he had never seen—the water dragon in the county office during the storm, the majestic, magnificent visage of the divine chi, Zhu Gaoyang’s divine art that turned a hundred li in an instant…

But most of these were due to the boy’s limited experience and low realm; as his strength grew and his vision broadened, many things would cease to amaze him.

He would find artifacts no longer rare, once-miraculous sword techniques ordinary, and the legendary divine arts something he could summon with a flick of his palm.

Only this sword.

There is no second Ming Qitian, nor a second Sword of Shattered Mind.

It is utterly peerless, standing alone atop the peak—even Zhu Gaoyang would be dazzled, even Xi Wu Chou would be stunned.

This scene would forever blaze bright in the boy’s memory, forming the foundation and obsession of his life, and even after many years, it would remain as clear as new.