Chapter 29: Chapter Twenty-Nine: Ancient Lands

Su Li sighed deeply and said, “All things in this world, no matter their kind, are restricted by Heaven’s Dao once they grow strong enough—human cultivation realms are limited, and nations too prosperous are likewise constrained.”

“Entering the ‘Nine Deaths, One Life’ peril, dying suddenly from accidents, or cultivation going awry…”

“All of these are restrictions imposed by Heaven’s Dao!”

“The higher one ascends to ‘that’ level, the clearer one sees the boundaries of Heaven’s Dao.”

“Your restriction is rare—given your current realm, you shouldn’t be so severely limited. Strange…”

Lu Fang remained silent as Su Li spoke.

The ink-brush manuscript’s spirit “dipped ink” within his mind, and in an instant, he learned more about the restrictions imposed by this world’s Heaven’s Dao.

The righteous qi and literary qi he could draw forth were far fewer than those of ordinary people—he was indeed restricted by Heaven’s Dao.

It wasn’t just him that Heaven’s Dao restricted!

The ink-brush manuscript’s existence on the edge between dream and reality was also due to this world’s Heaven’s Dao restrictions.

To this world, Lu Fang and the ink-brush manuscript were both outsiders, unrecognized by Heaven’s Dao—this special restriction would grow more pronounced the higher his realm rose.

Unless…

Seeing Lu Fang’s grim expression, Su Li reassured him:

“Don’t worry too much. In this world, all things give rise to and counterbalance one another. Where there is Heaven’s Dao restriction, there is always a way to break it—if your fortune is great enough, it can offset the restrictions.”

Lu Fang’s mouth tasted bitter; Su Li’s words matched the information from the “dipped ink.”

To resist Heaven’s Dao’s restrictions, one needed sufficient fortune.

Fortune was gained by performing acts of “great influence”—the greater your reputation, the more fortune you received.

Yet Lu Fang had written “Dream of the Red Chamber” and “Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio: Nie Xiaoqian,” along with two Manifest-Level poems.

His influence and reputation in the Great Zhou Dynasty were already immense.

Yet there was no sign of weakening in Heaven’s Dao’s restriction.

This meant the restriction against him was too severe—his accumulated fortune was still insufficient to offset most of it.

He had already done all this—what more could he do to increase his influence and reputation? Did he have to become emperor and exterminate every non-human race?

Su Li did not notice Lu Fang’s expression and continued on his own:

“It’s a pity you’re only Eighth Rank, First Tier. Entering the ‘Small Upper Realm,’ which opens once every ten years, carries some danger—but if you go there to seize fortune, it could improve your situation.”

“Small Upper Realm? Seize fortune?”

A spark flared in Lu Fang’s eyes.

Su Li nodded: “The Small Upper Realm opens once every ten years. Those within Seventh Rank, Third Tier or below may enter. Its Heaven’s Dao is incomplete and cannot bind fortune, allowing fortune to cling to all things…”

After further questions and answers, Lu Fang fully understood what the Small Upper Realm was.

In ancient times, the great beings of various races fought and shattered certain regions—these shattered zones, floating beyond this world in unknown lands, were called the Small Upper Realm.

The Heaven’s Dao of the Small Upper Realm is incomplete and cannot bind fortune.

Thus, fortune clings to all things within it; those who enter and slay creatures bearing fortune may, through special methods, obtain unclaimed fortune.

The Small Upper Realm generally imposes realm restrictions on entry.

The Seventh Rank Small Upper Realm, opening every ten years, permits only those of Seventh Rank, Third Tier or below.

When the Small Upper Realm opens on the first day of the eleventh month, it won’t be just Confucians who enter—all factions will send their people.

Anyone who enters the Small Upper Realm may seize another’s fortune by killing them.

The Small Upper Realm is perilous, with extremely scarce entry slots—usually granted only to Seventh Rank, Third Tier cultivators with real strength.

Even one rank or one tier lower, and you’d be at a severe disadvantage.

Worse still, the Small Upper Realm contains “Ancient Lands,” places where Confucian Dao is heavily restricted.

Su Li explained: “The Ancient Lands are remnants left behind by ancient great beings during their battles—these remnants retain immense power, enduring even after countless ages.”

“This is unique to the Small Upper Realm, where Heaven’s Dao is incomplete.”

“Entering an Ancient Land bearing such remnants allows one to perceive the extraordinary power contained within.”

If recognized, one may even inherit a Legacy Imprint Skill.

“But this requires a precondition: only those of the same lineage as the ancient being who left the imprint may receive this opportunity. Others will be suppressed by the Ancient Land.”

“In ancient times, our human race had few great beings, so human remnants are rarely seen. In the Ancient Lands, the two dominant non-human factions—the Yao and Man—thrive most easily…”

Before leaving, Senior Brother Su Li warned Lu Fang: never enter the Small Upper Realm unless you’ve reached Seventh Rank, Third Tier.

The Small Upper Realm opens on the first day of the eleventh month—less than forty days remain.

Lu Fang could not raise his realm to Seventh Rank, Third Tier in such a short time—but he had no choice but to enter the Small Upper Realm.

…

Tian Feng Year 29.

The 27th day of the ninth month.

“Dream of the Red Chamber” had reached Chapter 43 in the Great Zhou Literary Gazette; the plot had deepened and sparked nationwide discussion in the capital.

“Dirge of the Fallen Flowers”

“Petals fall, drift, fill the sky; red fades, fragrance dies—who pities them?”

“Silken threads drift, clinging to spring pavilions; falling fluff lightly sticks to embroidered curtains.”

“A maiden in her chamber grieves the fading spring; sorrow fills her heart, with no release.”

“Holding her flower-hoe, she steps beyond the curtain, hesitating to tread on fallen blooms, returning again and again…”

“Next year, peach and plum will bloom again—but who will be in this chamber then?”

“Now you die, I bury you; who knows when I shall perish?”

“I bury flowers today, they laugh at my folly; who will bury me when I am gone?”

“Watch as spring fades and petals slowly fall—that is when beauty grows old and dies.”

“When spring ends, beauty fades; petals fall, and the one who loved them is gone—no one knows.”

At first, I dismissed “Dirge of the Fallen Flowers” as trivial; now, reading it again, each word pierces my heart with sorrow—my chest tightens, tears well before I can weep!

“Daiyu Buries the Flowers” has wept countless maidens, filling their hearts with endless grief.

This “Dirge of the Fallen Flowers” is recited in every dance hall and theater, now the nightly finale, adored by countless elegant literati.

Behind the Li family’s courtyard.

In a maiden’s chamber.

Li Yu sat on the floor, frowning, before her a low table spread with “Dirge of the Fallen Flowers” written in Zan Hua Xiao Kai script.

Having learned of Lin Daiyu’s fate from Lu Fang, she felt even deeper emotion reading the poem.

“Petals fall, drift, fill the sky; red fades, fragrance dies—who pities them?”

As Li Yu spoke, a gentle breeze stirred in the chamber—petals of pink peach blossoms appeared out of thin air, whispering softly around her in comfort.

…

Lu Fang, who had been silently copying “Dream of the Red Chamber,” suddenly lifted his head—he sensed something. The peach blossoms around him danced in the wind. He reached out, plucked a petal, and exclaimed in delight: “Someone has read ‘Dream of the Red Chamber’ and gained the transcendent power—Dirge of the Fallen Flowers!”