Chapter 29: Supreme Legacy

ZOOM!!!

Almost the moment Li Guanyi’s hand closed around the divine bow, the ancient bronze tripod on his chest began to violently tremble—not because of the tripod itself, but due to the newly branded White Tiger spirit form upon it.

It reacted as if meeting an old friend, as if encountering a being of the same bloodline.

It writhed and shook violently; layers of flowing light suddenly blazed across the bronze tripod, no longer suppressing as before, but converging into a surging wind that clustered around the White Tiger spirit form, forcing the emerging red dragon back into the imprint.

In Li Guanyi’s eyes, threads of qi began to gather.

To the Xue family’s grandfather and grandson, nothing had happened.

They only saw the young man eagerly approaching the battle bow, placing his palm upon it.

But in Li Guanyi’s vision, a certain aura now flowed across the bow—he tried to pull his hand away, but could not; the White Tiger spirit form on the bronze tripod climbed onto his shoulder, standing atop a peak as it roared loudly forward, while the aura continued to accumulate.

Li Guanyi saw that a transparent hand had appeared upon the battle bow.

He looked up.

The gathered aura coalesced into a towering man clad in ancient armor, his face indistinct; beside him, a seemingly real White Tiger paced, its gaze cold, as if perceiving the secrets of all things, behind him stretched mountains and rivers—a towering peak and a majestic city rising into the heavens.

Two men. Two White Tiger spirit forms.

As if gazing across a vast expanse of time.

A breeze passed over the lotus pond, bringing the crackling sound of banners from a battlefield five hundred years past.

Five hundred years ago.

A cruel yet brilliant king emerged upon the steppe—he killed his own father, forcibly married his stepmother according to the steppe’s ancient customs, conquered every tribe, and swept across the grasslands with unstoppable force.

In ten years, eighteen steppe tribes became one rope.

They held an annual gathering on the steppe, free of grudges, drinking, feasting, wrestling, racing horses—gradually, only one voice echoed across the grasslands, one king’s name sung by the wind.

Thus, armed with spears and short bows, riding hardy steppe horses, they assembled a three-hundred-thousand-strong army to invade the Central Plains, even besieging the Emperor of the Middle Kingdom in a fortress, nearly killing him; upon his return, the Emperor appointed the Xue family’s divine general to resist this steppe enemy.

The two sides would decide their fate beneath the mighty pass; the Xue family’s divine general sat cross-legged in his camp, calmly polishing his battle bow, the White Tiger lying beside him; the young man stroked the bow, sensing its excitement, looked toward the distant steppe’s sacred mountain, and said: “We are about to achieve our greatest feat in this life.”

“Ancient generals sealed their glory at eighteen by slaying wolves at Mount Langju—my ambition is greater.”

“I will shoot the steppe king dead beneath his own sacred mountain of sacrifice, ensuring that this horse-born people dare not invade our Central Plains for three hundred years, safeguarding our descendants’ peace for generations.”

“Such a feat must not be buried in the dust of history—let this divine weapon be its witness.”

“Engrave this deed as unmatched for five hundred years before, and five hundred years after.”

The giant White Tiger yawned.

The young man, five hundred years ago, held the battle bow and said: “I believe that if any descendant of mine can lift this bow, they too shall see our resolve—I shall pierce their sacred mountain with a single arrow. Should any later soul find this path, go to the hollow within that sacred mountain—I shall leave something there.”

“The Emperor was besieged, and I slew his enemies—my fame grew too great, inviting backlash. I feared the Xue family’s legacy would perish, so I left my battle halberd here, transmitting only bow and arrow to the Xue line—this self-imposed limitation safeguards our descendants.”

The young man smiled faintly: “Finally, accept this greeting from the distant past.”

“People of the future.”

“Hello.”

“Is the world still at peace?”

Five hundred years ago, the general’s strategists entered the tent, curious: “General, what are you saying to the battle bow?”

The young man looked up: “Nothing.”

“I was just wondering—if this bow never breaks, perhaps one day someone might hear my words? Ten years, a hundred years, even longer—even if I am already dead.”

“Like finding an ancestor’s handwriting in an old book.”

“Is that not something to smile about?”

The strategists exchanged glances and sighed: “General, your divine intent has already endured a thousand years?”

The young man merely caressed the bow, silent, gazing toward tomorrow’s battlefield.

Outside the tent, the clatter of weapons and the flutter of banners in the steppe wind faded gradually; the scene before him dissolved like smoke, reflected in Li Guanyi’s eyes—he heard the words left behind by the first divine general five hundred years ago.

As if sensing something, he lifted his head.

Before him stood a colossal, almost divine ancient White Tiger spirit form, its eyes golden, its head fur longer, flowing like morning light in the wind.

To call this White Tiger spirit form the celestial White Tiger Star Lord incarnate would be unchallenged.

The White Tiger spirit form struggled to stand steady upon Li Guanyi’s shoulder.

Its body trembled slightly, its furry forepaws lifting and pressing down, as if massaging Li Guanyi’s shoulders; finally, its tail tensed like a drawn spring, then released in one swift motion—its entire body launched outward like a small steel ball, then unfurled midair.

Plop.

It landed upon the peerless spirit form formed by the divine weapon.

The giant White Tiger beside the Xue ancestor lowered its gaze, watching the tiny White Tiger spirit form clutching its whiskers, limbs wrapped tightly, tail tucked, trembling in fear; its face seemed to show affection and sigh, then it lay down, pressing its forehead against the little one’s.

Both White Tiger spirit forms emitted faint flowing light.

The lingering divine aura of the Xue ancestor suddenly dispersed, becoming a beam of light that shot straight into Li Guanyi’s third eye; his face turned instantly pale, and a flood of knowledge erupted in his mind—the transmission of divine martial arts.

The Nine Heavens, Ten Lands: Stabilizing the Heavenly Gang

The Ten Directions, Six Realms: Infinite Hatred

Kill Heaven. Break Clouds. Subdue the Nine Provinces

Names flashed past, but Li Guanyi could not perceive their content—his realm was too low to comprehend.

A summer insect cannot understand ice.

Like asking a primary school student to memorize the solution to a graduate-level math problem.

Math at least can be memorized by rote to answer questions—but these martial arts transmissions lack even the privilege of rote memorization.

Li Guanyi groaned, clinging desperately to his spirit; then, in the chaos of his mind, a melody surfaced—the aunt’s guqin music. For some reason, his nausea and agitation began to ease.

Suddenly, a passage of text swept across Li Guanyi’s “vision.”

【The Threefold Method of Entry】! This one he could barely make out.

Li Guanyi forced his spirit to stabilize, enduring dizziness and nausea, his face pale as paper, yet he forcibly imprinted the text into his mind—no time to understand it—then the beam of light left his body, forming before him the shape of the divine general.

The general’s body was transparent, his meridians and acupoints glowing one by one, flowing along a unique path.

Ahead, dozens of enemies loomed; mountains and rivers rose from the earth.

The general stepped forward, his body roaring like a White Tiger, using his shoulder to launch the enemies before him flying.

Then he loosed an arrow.

The arrow was wrapped in dominant golden wind, tearing forward.

The White Tiger roared—the enemies ahead were shredded.

Mountains and rivers cracked.

Divine Technique: 【One Arrow, Cold Light】! Then he drew two arrows, placing them both on the bowstring; faint thunder rumbled around him—far stronger than the previous technique, evidently a more powerful ultimate art.

But at this moment, the guqin melody could no longer sustain Li Guanyi’s mental stability.

His realm was too low.

He was vastly distant from the divine general who had once achieved the supreme feat.

The gap was so immense that even receiving this transmission was a crushing burden for Li Guanyi at this moment.

A voice, devoid of will, only calmly replied beside his ear.

“Realm too low.”

“When your bowcraft reaches minor mastery and your entry reaches great mastery, then return to receive this transmission.”

All strange phenomena shattered, becoming indistinct; the young man’s vision cleared—only the giant White Tiger remained, transmitting something to its tiny White Tiger spirit form; Li Guanyi felt his forehead split with pain, gasping heavily, his pallor visibly deepening.

Li Guanyi’s mind was clear—he lacked the qualification, the strength, to wield this bow.

But he also felt something.

One day, in the future, he would draw it.

Perhaps he could not pierce a mountain range or shoot three hundred and eighty li—but with this divine weapon, shooting fifty li? Not impossible.

He noticed Xue Daoyong’s puzzled gaze, released his grip, and sighed:

“Indeed heavy—I cannot lift it.”

Xue Laoyezi’s bewildered expression returned to normal; he laughed heartily: “Hahahaha! After all, this is our ancestor’s divine weapon—capable of shooting three hundred and eighty li. Its weight and might are naturally extraordinary.”

Li Guanyi thought for a moment: “Perhaps it’s just my cultivation that’s insufficient.”

“Old Master, may I come back after I enter the realm to try again?”

He had received only one arrow, one technique.

Li Guanyi was curious about the other ultimate arts.

But to speak of receiving the Xue family’s transmission? He would never again be able to leave the Xue family or Chen Guo with his aunt.

Xue Daoyong assumed the boy was merely showing youthful pride, unwilling to lose face before a girl his age; he thought this was how a true youth should be—since no White Tiger spirit form existed, no one could lift this bow anyway. He saw no harm in indulging the boy, and laughed loudly: “Hahahaha! Good! Young men should have courage, defiance, and unwillingness to yield—that’s splendid! Come back after you enter the realm and try again!”

“Thank you, Old Master.”

The old man and the young man drank tea, each feeling they had struck a great bargain.

Xue Shuangtao’s eyes lit up—she too wished to try, but the girl lacked the White Tiger spirit form.

With no other divine aura, she strained for a long while, her jade-white face flushed crimson, sweat beading on her forehead, yet still could not lift it; she felt embarrassed, turned away, unwilling to let Li Guanyi or her grandfather see her damp hair clinging to her cheeks.

Li Guanyi never saw this innocent, girl-like moment.

He reluctantly drank tea, using its bitterness to anchor his spirit.

At this moment, the giant White Tiger slowly dissipated; Li Guanyi’s White Tiger spirit form had only existed outside his body thanks to the divine bow’s aura—now that the weapon had calmed, it returned like a weary bird to its forest, sinking back into the bronze tripod.

Li Guanyi’s movement paused slightly.

As the White Tiger spirit form returned.

Ninety-eight percent of the bronze tripod’s jade fluid.

Instantly full!

(End of chapter)