Chapter 34: When Cultivating the Supreme Method

At midnight, the wind was high, the moon bright and the stars sparse.

A white-haired, white-bearded old man leaned on the wall and told you, “We are destined to be connected.”

Li Guanyi’s alertness spiked instantly—he was no longer the man who had just arrived in this world; after ten years of fleeing, even though he always smiled, his vigilance ran deep. He drew his Suni Bow, the arrow locked tightly onto the old man’s throat.

The arrow and bow moved slightly.

To quickly adjust aim based on the opponent’s movements.

The locked targets were the third eye, throat, and heart.

The Xue family’s One Arrow, Cold as Ice, requires external Qi release and a martial manifestation as weapon.

He naturally could not achieve it.

But as the foundation for carrying One Arrow, Cold as Ice, he had already laid the groundwork; the wall was no more than twenty paces from his current position, the night windless, the bow newly tuned, its resilience and elasticity at peak condition—one arrow would pierce the target.

Yet the old man seemed unconcerned, grinning enthusiastically: “You don’t know how much trouble you carry. Your master just discovered—far from here, someone has noticed you. In this world, the more trouble you bear, the more extraordinary you are.”

“And you, especially so.”

“Become my disciple. Old man will teach you all the wonders of Yin-Yang arts.”

The old man spoke in a strange, cryptic manner.

Li Guanyi remained calm and composed, the bow unyielding: “If you wish to take a disciple, come by daylight, reveal your identity, and I shall respectfully accept your formal invitation. But climbing walls at midnight? That’s the act of a thief or a murderer. Please step back.”

The self-proclaimed Siming laughed heartily: “You’ve got spirit. But your old master is just impatient—eager to meet you sooner.”

“One walks through this world; the world’s rules bind the ordinary. To see a disciple, one simply comes. To meet a mediocrity, one glares with contempt. To meet one who stirs joy in the heart, one lights candles at midnight and talks late into the night—that is to follow one’s nature, follow one’s heart.”

Li Guanyi, uncertain of friend or foe, said only: “Please come again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Let me see—five, four, three, two, one.”

“Hmm. Midnight has passed. It’s about time.”

Siming clapped his hands and prepared to leap down.

Li Guanyi’s arrow was already nocked when a muffled rush of air pierced the night—a dark object arced perfectly through the air and struck the old man squarely on the face. He had just leapt downward when the object slapped his face.

His balance shattered.

He let out a startled cry and toppled backward.

It was an iron pot, clanging as it hit the ground.

Li Guanyi turned his head and saw his aunt, Murong Qiushui, stepping out from another room, still clutching a pot in her left hand, eyebrows raised, eager and alert. She gestured for Li Guanyi to step aside—clearly, that was the same flying-pot technique she’d used to repel forty-seven bandits.

The old man fell backward—but did not strike the ground. He landed in empty air, a space invisible to ordinary eyes. A dark tortoise calmly caught him. The old tortoise glanced at him, shook its head, and slowly walked away. The old man cried: “What?”

“You mean, that boy is right? Coming at midnight isn’t the act of a proper gentleman?”

The tortoise slowly nodded.

The old man burst into laughter: “Hahahaha!”

“Those who peer into Heaven’s secrets suffer five misfortunes. Those who disrupt Yin and Yang die a cursed death.”

“Both are the most lawless beings in this world. Kings make rules, hoping all are upright men. Yet men like me are called five-poison vermin, driven from the capital by spearmen.”

“But the emperor who cursed me died on the battlefield. The piss I spilled on his grave has grown into a great tree. His descendants kneel before his tomb every visit. Yet you and I still live—our teeth have fallen out and regrown five times. How can worldly rules bind you and me?”

“But this is a good child. We will meet again.”

“Today, I merely secured the master-disciple bond first.”

“After all, I was the first to say ‘your master.’”

The old man beamed with pride.

The tortoise gave a distinctly human eye-roll.

The young ancestor had once written, saying he’d introduce a disciple to them. Along with him came a Mohist Grand Master and a Confucian sage. He knew the old man had divined something, hence the midnight wall-climbing.

He stepped forward, vanished soundlessly. Almost simultaneously, the youth with the Suni Bow stepped out swiftly, scanning the surroundings—no trace of the old man remained, not even footprints. He picked up the fallen pot.

He’d used this old pot for years; it had been nurtured. He couldn’t just abandon it.

He touched the pot’s bottom. Li Guanyi’s expression grew grave.

The pot’s bottom showed no change—meaning the blow had not landed at all. The old man had deliberately fallen, made no sound upon impact, and vanished within moments. The youth knelt, touched the ground—no trace remained.

Perhaps arranging for his aunt to stay at the Xue residence would be safer.

Li Guanyi pondered, took the pot back inside. When his aunt learned the man had vanished, she was disappointed. Li Guanyi told her to rest quickly, then returned to his room. The interruption by the self-proclaimed “Siming” had dispelled his drowsiness—he felt alert.

Li Guanyi reviewed the “Three Levels of Entering the Realm” in his mind. It was the cultivation record of the Xue family’s supreme general, detailing the different tiers of entering the realm. It described the most basic method: strengthening the body while refining internal Qi. When both reached a certain level, they naturally merged, allowing entry into the realm.

A better method was imprinting divine intent.

“By using a technique imbued with the essence of a martial manifestation, one can preliminarily perceive its spirit. Breaking into the realm through such a method refines the body more subtly than mere physical training, allowing the cultivator to grasp an external Qi technique upon entry.”

“Since ancient times, this has been the core method of great sects and noble families.”

“Beyond this superior method, there is another.”

“Once, in the Western Regions, there was a Buddha called ‘Crowning.’ He entered the realm at age three. His sect had many servants and bone artifacts. I was curious about his method and borrowed the Crowning technique.”

“Refused? Destroyed it.”

These four characters carried a fierce, violent aura.

“Later, I learned the Crowning method was actually a transmission of martial manifestation. This path was heretical—it could transfer a martial manifestation from one person to another, but the recipient died instantly, his power lost. I burned its texts, its scriptures, its temples. Yet I had read them. After long thought, I gained insight.”

“Before entering the realm, one nurtures a small cosmos; one hones the body.”

“Entering the realm is linking inner and outer cosmos. Daoists call it inner and outer vision. Buddhists call it awakening spiritual powers. Confucians call it establishing resolve. To me, the three teachings are one: the human body is like the earth. Entering the realm is like digging canals to guide external water into them. Ordinary training is like digging blindly—slowest, least effective.”

“It may even damage the body’s foundation.”

“But if the direction is right, water will eventually be found—and entry achieved.”

“This was the method used by ancient warriors to enter the realm.”

“Later, they recorded their experiences—how to train the body, how to nurture Qi—and created the earliest entry techniques. These were like water maps: knowing where water lay, where to exert effort, where to accumulate strength.”

“Thus, half the effort yielded double results. The canals were more stable, and drawing in primordial Qi became most effective.”

“But this was still [human effort]. Far better was the natural force of Heaven and Earth opening the channels. If one hones the body before entry, then uses a special sacred site to combine inner and outer forces, letting nature burst open the gate—this is the supreme method.”

“I politely asked the Daoist sects and borrowed the scriptures of the Primordial Gate.”

“They opened their library to me. I studied for a month, synthesizing Buddhist and Daoist teachings.”

“I cross-verified with my friend Yaoguang and created a method of entry: drawing on external Heaven-Earth forces, cultivating upright internal Qi, flowing and transforming naturally into the realm. With the aid of a martial manifestation-level cultivator, one could shape a root as rare as a ‘Living Buddha Reincarnated’ or a ‘Primordial Daoist.’”

“I laughed. So the so-called supreme roots of the Three Teachings could be crafted by human hands.”

“Too bad I entered the realm at eight—I never got to try it.”

“Yaoguang didn’t care. The Eastern Land’s Star-Gazing School always acts this way. She didn’t understand.”

“If one could shatter the supreme roots, the chosen ones, forged by mystery and awe of the Three Teachings—”

“What immense significance this would hold for the world.”

“But she was too beautiful. I didn’t blame her.”

“After descending the mountain, Yaoguang spent three years finding a perfect fengshui site near Yicheng in Jiangnan Dao. She set up a formation to artificially create the sacred ground needed for entry. I moved the Xue family there and asked her how long it would take.”

“She calculated: ‘The sea turns to mulberry fields—at least two hundred years to gather earth Qi.’”

“By then, I might still be alive—but she would surely be dead.”

“Star-gazers glimpse fate, so they care little for life and death. The title is passed down generation after generation. Those who inherit it should try: you’ve already mastered the martial manifestation, hahahaha. Only those who possess a martial manifestation can wield my bow—and to possess one, one must enter the realm.”

“The agony of knowing the perfect method to enter the realm, yet being unable to reach it—that’s the gift your ancestor leaves you. Hahahaha. I was furious at the time, and I thought: my descendants must taste this feeling.”

Li Guanyi grimaced.

This invincible supreme general of the world, it seemed, had a mischievous streak. He kept reading: “But you may bring those you trust to find this sacred site. Yaoguang and I left behind some interesting things.”

“If you truly forge a top-tier root, go back to the Daoist Primordial Gate.”

“Yaoguang said there’s a young, most taciturn child there—perhaps he can cultivate Dao. He may live for centuries. Go up the mountain, find Qingwei Daoist.”

“Tell him: ‘The Xue lad returns once more.’”

“Is the peach wine I left there centuries ago still good?”

Li Guanyi saw the technique. The lineage ended here. His thoughts paused.

Wait…? Where’s the secret realm?

Where did you hide the secret realm?

What’s below? That’s it?

(End of Chapter)