Chapter 723: Guidance

It turns out that still water is not about suppressing oneself, but about clearing away those unwanted stray thoughts, letting the water settle and the reflection become clear.

She lowered her head to glance at her hand, spreading her five fingers apart and then closing them; as her fingertips brushed the air, they raised an extremely fine azure ripple.

Qingque felt the abundant and pure power within her body, and for the first time she didn't think "this is taught by the Marshal" or "this only exists in dreams"; she simply accepted it calmly, as it was hers.

She could perceive every detail of this entire space clearly, not with her eyes, but with her mind touching.

The position of each Bubbles, the speed of each distant branch's movement, the force with which each golden little flower blossomed on the fish scales, even the direction of the warm energy flowing within her, were all crystal clear.

A tear that hadn't fallen still clung to her eyelashes, but those emerald‑green eyes were no longer crying.

They were glowing.

It was an azure sheen, as still and transparent‑bright as a pool of water.

The abundant marks on her body were dissolving at a speed visible to the naked eye.

First, the golden vines coiled around her calf began to wither and crumble into ash, which was then scattered by a fine wind from an unknown source.

Next, the branches clinging to the fish's back, along a circle of azure light patterns spreading from her feet, all snapped simultaneously, spewing ultra‑fine golden sap that evaporated clean the instant it touched the light pattern.

The little flower behind her ear wilted the slowest, its petals falling one by one onto her shoulder, then turning into specks of light.

She raised her hand to catch one, watching it fade from gold to transparent in her palm, then melt from transparency into the air.

The blue fish beneath her feet was also changing.

The golden little flowers and branches growing in the gaps of the fish scales were thoroughly washed by a sweep of azure light waves flowing from the fish's head to its tail; the scales regained their original semi‑transparent, warm jade texture, and the fins, when gently moving in the water, no longer shed any residual abundant spores.

Qingque suddenly felt the constant buzzing in her heart cease.

The silence was so profound that she felt a little uneasy.

Is this the "Way of the Heart" the Marshal spoke of?

Qingque lifted her hand to wipe the tear from her lashes, then straightened her clothes and earnestly bowed to the silhouette behind her.

It wasn't the customary clasped‑hand salute common on Luofu, but the bow the gray‑haired woman taught her in a dream, with a upright posture.

She had performed it perfunctorily and sloppily in dreams before, but now every detail was meticulous.

"Thank you, Marshal, for the guidance." Her voice was still a bit hoarse, but much steadier than before.

There was a brief silence on the other side.

Then that faint, light voice sounded again, this time with an even lighter tone, as if someone about to depart after half‑spoken words still needed to convey a few crucial remarks.

"Remember your current state of mind. The heart is formed; from now on, the path is yours alone."

The figure began to fade.

It was like mist slowly dissipating in the morning light, or like a reflection on water being gently stirred apart.

She waved her hand, and for the final sentence, her tone suddenly changed, no longer the faint, ethereal cadence, but a rhythm that Qingque found strikingly familiar, lightly flung out: "Listen to me—"

Qingque was stunned.

This opening move.

This beat.

This borderline‑deadly prelude feeling.

"In this storm, this little pain, what does it matter~"

The voice faded away.

The trailing sound of the final "me" was stretched thinner than a thread, then snapped when a gust of wind brushed it.

Qingque stood there like a wooden post, still in the bowing posture, her facial expression collapsing from solemn reverence into a garbled mess.

Huh?

No, what is this?

The atmosphere originally crafted—Marshal appearing, enlightenment of truth, Grand Void awakening, her devout bow—this whole sequence, if not perfect, is at least a textbook hot‑blooded shōnen script.

But at the crucial moment, the Marshal abruptly cut the scene and started singing.

"In the storm, this little pain, what does it matter," isn't that the same song the Pioneer sang earlier!

Are you both taught by the same vocal coach or what!

No, why is the Marshal also singing this song!

Does every character in this broken dream have a copy of the lyrics in hand!

She hadn't finished spitting out this gag when a massive shock slammed down from the sky, pressing her half‑over onto the fish's back.

It wasn't the physical pressure from the branches falling earlier, but a soul‑piercing oppression, as if an invisible hand split all the air between heaven and earth to the sides.

Instinctively, she turned her head to look.

A vast silhouette stood on the horizon.

A colossal half‑human, half‑horse form, its upper half a humanoid clad in battle armor, long hair cascading like moonlight from its crown down to the waist, threaded with faint blue strands of light.

The lower half merged the sleek vigor of a steed, its hind legs replaced by gleaming war‑chariot wheels, swirling with azure‑blue flame.

In its hand it grasped the long bow formed from condensation, now fully drawn; a light arrow rested on the string, its tip flashing with a penetrative brilliance.

The tail feathers, shaped like a flying arrow, bore a fierce, sky‑splitting momentum.

Before this vast silhouette, the towering Golden Giant Tree appeared especially tiny.

The faces newly opened on the tree trunk all turned toward the same direction, each bearing the same expression, wanting to recoil yet nailed in place by a stronger force.

Even the branches that had been wildly expanding halted their growth temporarily, their blood‑red eyes flicking toward the sky, as if confirming whether the bow‑drawing figure truly existed.

Qingque's mouth opened, but no sound emerged from her throat.

Her mind went blank, a cold, sharp breath surging within.

Suddenly a voice erupted from the center of her chest, not her own but the overlapping voices of countless people, deep and reverent, as if sounding simultaneously from the bloodlines of every Xianzhou person, converging into a single booming chant: Imperial Bow above!

Qingque's lips moved slightly, but she couldn't utter the mantra.

She was jolted entirely, her pupils contracting to the limit.

Imperial Bow.

Patrol Hunt Star God.

Storm.

That Si Ming, praised by all the people of Xianzhou, who uses light arrows to cleanse the Abundance Offspring.

Yet at the moment when that fierce and sacred feeling in their heart surged to its peak, their gaze involuntarily shifted from the fully drawn bow upward, moving to the face of the Imperial Bow.

That face wore a Mask.

Its base color was pure black, with a white star emblem set in the center, and slender black trim extending on both sides.

And the one worn on this Si Ming's face below was orange.

The entire Mask was painted in an extremely vivid orange, with a large laughing mouth drawn at its center, the corners of the mouth curled to the extreme on both sides, and the eyes represented by two curved arcs.

They recognize this Mask.

Lord Chang Le Tian.

Aha.

Joyful Star God.