Chapter 716: 451 The Eight Realms of Martial Path: Observing Sea, Coming of Age at Fourteen

Two weeks have passed in the blink of an eye!

Your internal true energy has accumulated to fullness, reaching the threshold for breakthrough to the Observing Sea Realm.

Know this: cultivation of the upper three realms prioritizes the refinement of true energy; by the seventh realm, Snow Mountain, true energy must be transformed. Due to differences in martial arts, one may condense icy true energy, or gather blazing true energy—various transformations abound.

The key to cultivation lies in first converting primordial true qi into true energy, then replacing the body’s entire qi with this transformed variant.

When all 365 acupoints are filled with nine streams of true energy, the Snow Mountain Realm will be complete.

The crux lies entirely in patient, gradual effort.

Those with exceptional talent may achieve it in one or two years; those of average ability require four or five years; if one’s foundation is slightly inferior, even decades may prove insufficient. Martial cultivation is like rowing against the current—most dangerous is scattered resolve.

Once your momentum fades, further progress becomes impossible.

Those like Xie Renfeng, who have relied since childhood on pills to boost their cultivation, appear to advance swiftly, but are in truth draining the pond to catch fish.

When the critical moment arrives, they cannot even reach the threshold of the upper three realms, let alone the Snow Mountain Realm. Their entire cultivation is like paper armor—unable to withstand even a heavy rain, it collapses at once.

On the path of martial ascent, there are no shortcuts!

At this moment, all your acupoints are filled with nine streams of true energy.

Had you not cultivated both the Buddhist and demonic arts—the Lotus Master’s Golden Immortal Body Art and the Demon Master’s Purple Void Demon Scripture—you could have completed this in one month.

Now, your true energy has transformed: Buddhist and demonic forces coexist—one stern and majestic, the other cunning and ferocious. Though many martial artists cultivate multiple variants of true energy, none rival the profundity of the Four Schools: Confucian, Buddhist, Demon, and Daoist.

Buddhist true energy cloaks the body in golden light, rendering it indestructible, and can assimilate and harmonize all methods.

Confucian true energy is balanced and harmonious, capable of dissolving conflicts between variant true energies.

Daoist true energy is endlessly mutable, able to manifest the characteristics of all true energies.

Hence, these four lineages are the dominant martial arts of the age, the convergence of all streams.

At this moment, your true energy surges like a tide, the eight extraordinary meridians churning like rivers in turmoil.

The key to breaking through to the Snow Mountain Realm lies in drawing your fully refined true energy back to the dantian, where it undergoes qualitative transformation.

In the small courtyard, an unnamed wind suddenly arose; fallen leaves and dust hung suspended in midair, all drawn by the rhythm of your dantian, like stars circling the moon.

You silently activated the Golden Immortal Body Art; Buddhist true energy rose step by step from the coccyx, carving a path like excavating a mountain, until all streams converged into the lower dantian’s purple mansion.

This cultivation process lasted a full hour.

Behind the water vat in the courtyard corner, Madam Ruan peered out, her eyes filled with astonishment—the manifestation of breaking into the eighth martial realm, Observing Sea, was something she had never witnessed before.

Breaking through a realm is a critical matter, demanding absolute caution; ordinary sects or the Nine Surnames always assign guardians.

To allow her to observe thus is reserved for those held in the highest regard—she herself would never dare such exposure.

Madam Ruan blinked, and an unfamiliar thought stirred within her; silently, she released her primordial spirit to watch beyond the courtyard, guarding you.

At the threshold, Wu Tong clenched her fingers tightly, her expression tense.

One hour later!

The water flowed naturally, the cultivation complete!

As the sun slanted westward, your entire aura abruptly shifted—you shattered the mystical barrier and formally entered the eighth martial realm: Observing Sea!

The mystery of this realm lies in the fact that what now emerges from the dantian is no longer primordial true qi, but a purer, refined primordial true energy. Henceforth, no longer must you laboriously transform it as in the Snow Mountain Realm—true energy arises spontaneously, ceaselessly.

Within, you beheld a clear spring gushing from the dantian, true energy flowing like nectar and jade dew without end.

When this spring swells into an ocean, the Observing Sea Realm will be complete.

The benefits of the breakthrough were immediate: your meridians widened further, your physique stronger than ever. What once required a full day to complete a true energy cycle now took only two hours.

You slowly opened your eyes; a brilliant gleam flowed within them, as if the sea surged across the heavens.

Your rapid advancement resulted from multiple converging opportunities: the power of the Xuantian Snow Dew elixir, the Second Master’s “Nine Swords” stimulating your skin and membrane, and the synergistic interplay of the Golden Immortal Body Art and the Purple Void Demon Scripture—Buddhist and demonic arts harmonized by the Yang Fu Scripture, their resonance far exceeding expectations.

Beyond your own innate talent, it is due to these factors that your martial cultivation has progressed so greatly.

Yet even so—it is still not enough!

As your cultivation deepens, your perception of the qi of heaven and earth grows ever keener.

Beneath the sky, clear and turbid qi entangle endlessly: when righteous qi dominates, the four seas are at peace; when evil qi prevails, the nine provinces tremble.

In recent years, these two forces have gradually merged, forming a terrifying calamity-qi that swirls through heaven and earth.

You slowly exhaled the accumulated turbid air from your chest, drawing all residual energy from the breakthrough back into your dantian. As you turned, you met Madam Ruan’s watching gaze—and smiled.

Madam Ruan jumped back with a thud, hiding behind the water vat.

Cultivation is like rowing against the current; even today’s breakthrough has not caused you to pause a moment—you remain immersed in practice.

The Nine Swords within your mind-sea glowed brightly; you have fully comprehended the first seven sword intentions, mastering them thoroughly, able to wield them at will.

Yet the eighth sword intention remains stubbornly unbroken—overcoming the Second Master’s lingering sword intent is exceedingly difficult.

Though you believe your talent exceptional, as proven by your martial advancement and primordial spirit cultivation.

Yet on the path of swordsmanship, you have unexpectedly found yourself stymied—the Second Master’s sword art has reached the realm of “formless surpassing form,” every movement a marvel, his swordplay endlessly evolving.

Each strike is like a deer’s horn hanging from a tree—traceless, elusive.

Yet after eighty moves, even with your current cultivation, your spirit can no longer keep pace with the ever-multiplying transformations—each strike resembles a galaxy of stars, its complexity beyond human calculation.

These seven months of sword intent clashes have deepened your dread.

The Second Master’s realm likely long transcended the mundane title of “Great Master of the World.” And that Master above him—the Master—the height of his realm is beyond reason.

The Third Master, Su Xiang, the great masters of the world—each a towering peak of martial cultivation, inspiring awe.

Time—

At this moment, your deepest realization is the weight of these two characters.

Another two weeks slipped by; it was now the beginning of the osmanthus month.

You remained within the small courtyard, never stepping outside.

In these two weeks, the Xie family grew increasingly oppressive; the old matriarch lay gravely ill in bed, and Xie Hong, who studied at the academy, returned once.

In the Xie Fu, minor faults once met only scolding now brought whippings—fear hung thick in the air.

Especially in the Second Courtyard, dozens of servants have died from punishment recently.

The sky over the Xie Fu seemed shrouded in gray mist—even the sun’s rays struggled to pierce through.

You instructed Wu Tong not to venture out in recent days.

For Bianjing has begun to unravel: this prosperous capital hosts the academy, the Suspended Mirror Bureau, the Demon Slaying Bureau, the Divine Hidden—so many institutions.

Even every street holds residences of the Nine Surnames, and the Master’s Heaven-Shaking Array—no petty thieves or ordinary demons would dare act openly. Yet…

In the past two weeks, the news Wu Tong brought has been chilling.

In Bianjing, murders have erupted repeatedly—not one, but in relentless succession.

Such events had not occurred in centuries; Bianjing now trembled with unrest, the cases continuing without end—now numbering in the hundreds.

Bianjing’s people have begun to live in fear.

Yet the court of Great Qi turned its gaze beyond Bianjing, to the southern mountains.

A great battle stirred the hearts of Bianjing’s citizens.

There, the Crimson-Eyed Army and the Great Qi Imperial Army are engaged in a decisive battle. Initially, the Imperial Army swept through Jiangnan like a storm; then the tide turned—now they have been pushed back to Shannan. This war, which determines the nation’s fate, shakes every anxious heart in the capital.

Great Qi deployed such a massive force, yet instead of crushing victory, the two sides have been locked in stalemate for the past two weeks.

Recently, a children’s rhyme has spread through Bianjing’s streets: “Crimson-Eyed Star, whirls sand. The Yellow River climbs backward. Nine-headed wings broken, fall in filth. Blood soaks feathers, turns to peach blossoms. Nine Surnames’ towers crumble to dust. Gold bricks, jade tiles shatter like sand.”

In past times, such treasonous omen would have been shattered by the Suspended Mirror Bureau’s mirrors, and the Demon Slaying Bureau’s cavalry would have trampled every quarter.

Yet strangely, though the rhyme now echoes through the entire city, both bureaus remain eerily silent—this silence is more terrifying than thunder.

Today, the small courtyard was unusually lively: Hu Yunniang arrived with a group of courtesans.

These women, once smiling and radiant, now bore clouds of sorrow on their brows. Yuehua Pavilion closed without cause; soon after, three other brothels announced they would cease operations.

Notices plastered the city: “Full City Curfew.” Such measures are exceedingly rare.

Looking back, only two hundred years ago, when the Master sailed overseas seeking immortals, did the Third Master impose a single night’s curfew in the academy’s name.

Before that, one must go back to when the Master established dominion over the world—when great masters from every nation gathered in Bianjing, only to be subdued by the Master alone.

Though Bianjing’s people dwell in the marketplace, they sense the hidden currents beneath this calm surface.

Hu Yunniang and the courtesans acted decisively, abandoning their lucrative tavern businesses and closing their doors.

These women, long freed from servitude, had long ago purchased a house beside the Linshu Academy, hiring trusted martial heroes as guards at great cost.

In the past month, they have secretly stockpiled enough grain to last two years.

Over dinner, Hu Yunniang revealed several shocking pieces of news:

“The Xue family among the Nine Surnames has sealed their gates since the month’s start, refusing all visitors.”

“Even stranger: the Zhuge family—this illustrious house that produced three empresses—yesterday added another odd case. Sima Chunfeng, famed for his feminine beauty and said to be destined for greatness, suddenly died!”

“And two high officials of the Zhao family perished mysteriously in their offices on the same day.”

Yun Wan also slipped into the courtyard today. The courtesans all wore light veils and plain garments, moving through the streets with extreme caution.

In Bianjing now, shops are shuttered, markets desolate. The continuous murders remain unsolved; new blood cases are reported daily to the prefecture.

The people are like startled birds; every household locks its doors, streets lie empty.

Even these usually composed courtesans now dare not show themselves openly.

They move through silent alleys, each step cautious, as if danger might leap from the shadows at any moment.

Li Xiangjun sighed softly: “Who could have imagined that in just one month, Bianjing has fallen to this?”

“The glittering lights of the Eight-Month Banquet eight months ago now seem like a dream from another life.”

Zhou Yuner asked timidly: “Lord Guan, do you truly believe the Crimson-Eyed Army will breach Bianjing? Lately, patrons in the taverns say the Crimson-Eyed leader Ban Sheng is the earthly incarnation of the Great Emperor Zhenwu—”

She stood up, gesturing, “His left hand summons thunder, his right hand turns beans into soldiers!”

You found her manner oddly sweet and endearing.

Li Xiangjun sighed and interrupted: “Yuner, don’t believe such drunken nonsense. Those are just wandering martial artists from afar—three cups of wine and they spout nonsense.”

"It's strange..." Hu Yuniang frowned in thought. "Rumors about the Red-Eyed Army vary wildly. Some say the Red-Eyed Heavenly King is the Thunder God; others claim Deng Chao, the leader of the Eighteen Generals known as Cloud Dragon, can spit out floods; still others say the strategist Wulan secretly controls wind and rain... But one thing is certain..."

"Since the Great Qi army clashed with the Red-Eyed Army, the heavens have behaved strangely—sudden downpours, raging winds, even flash floods."

Yun Wan could no longer hold back. "Even stranger, some in the Jianghu say that in August, snowflakes as large as goose feathers drifted down in Shannan Province! Crossing the river brought even stranger sights—when the Red-Eyed Army crossed, a thousand li froze solid; when the Imperial Army crossed, the waters surged violently, as if heaven’s will were inscrutable."

Hearing this, your eyes darkened slightly, and you recalled how, during the battle at Yunyue Marsh in Jiangnan Province, Xie Ling had also been struck by sudden rain that raised water levels—becoming a crucial turning point in his victory against greater odds.

After some casual chatter, the women had initially thought your claim that the Red-Eyed Army would breach Bianjing was merely a jest.

But now, as the days passed, a quiet unease stirred in their hearts—if your words came true... how would they respond?

Seeing the mood grow heavy, Hu Yuniang smiled sweetly. "By the way, August is the young master’s coming-of-age ceremony."

Her words jolted them awake. Zhou Yuner quickly pulled a brocade box embroidered with lotus vines from her sleeve and offered it forward. "We sisters have prepared a small token of our regards—we hope you won’t refuse it..."

The other courtesans likewise produced their carefully prepared gifts.

As the sun dipped westward, the women took their leave, leaving only several gifts on the stone table.

You returned to the courtyard to find Wu Tong and Madam Ruan emerging from the corridor with two more bundles—they too had prepared gifts.

Wu Tong’s eyes sparkled. "Master, after this month, you’ll be a full-grown man."

"A man?" You paused, suddenly struck by realization.

You looked up at the sky; the evening clouds were dyed crimson.

"Yes... it’s been fourteen years."

(End of Chapter)