Chapter 36: Latercomer, Step Forward!

Yao Guang looked at the garment, which had been carefully hidden away.

But night was falling, and water dripped from the surrounding rocks onto the garment, slowly soaking it; Yao Guang loosened the sack on her back, and the contents tumbled to the ground—firewood she had gathered.

Yao Guang built a small fire, then paused, picked up the garment, propped it against a stick beside the flames to dry, sat cross-legged beside the fire, took out a steamed bun, skewered it with a stick, stuck the other end into the ground, and pressed it against a stone to roast.

She pulled out a rare, complex star chart and quietly flipped through it.

The celestial signs were favorable: in spring, the star Yao Guang of the Big Dipper points east.

It faces the White Tiger’s seven mansions across the western sky, as if gazing across the River of Heaven; Yao Guang glanced at the pool, thought of the legend from five hundred years ago, and sat there in quiet waiting.

The heavens have foretold our meeting.

Now, all that remains is to wait.

………………

Li Guanyi rose from the water and surveyed the cavern—its colors magnificent, utterly unimaginable that a mere stream could lead here; was this the hidden sanctum left by the Xue family’s divine general and Yao Guang, capable of forging a foundation rivaling the pinnacle of Buddhist and Daoist cultivation?

Li Guanyi wore only modest clothing, glancing around; he retracted the Crimson Dragon manifestation into the bronze cauldron, and the White Tiger manifestation barely emerged, curiously scanning the surroundings—and when the White Tiger manifestation appeared, something within the cavern seemed to activate.

A glimmer of light ignited beneath Li Guanyi’s feet.

Then it surged outward in golden ripples, sweeping through the cavern; suddenly, a change occurred—Li Guanyi heard a crisp sound as one wall slowly sank, revealing a stone rack lined with weapons, untouched by five centuries of decay, still gleaming with lethal coldness.

Li Guanyi was still puzzling over the Xue family’s divine general’s intent when a gust of wind struck the back of his neck.

Li Guanyi’s pupils contracted; he instinctively stepped forward, threw himself to the ground, rolled—something slashed down where his back had been, tearing agonizing pain along his spine, yet when he reached back to touch it, no blood came; dust erupted as a figure burst through the haze, blade flashing toward Li Guanyi.

“Damn!”

Li Guanyi cursed, forgot everything else, sprinted backward, snatched a blade from the rack, drew it in one motion, internal Qi surging; his footwork shifted—“Break the Formation Melody” Qi surged violently; he twisted his body, slashing the blade through the air with a flash of cold light.

Break the Army Eight Blades—Sweep the Clouds! Attacking to defend, he successfully blocked the attacker.

The thunderous clash echoed fiercely within the enclosed cavern.

His wrist throbbed with pain.

The dust cleared; Li Guanyi saw his attacker.

Tall and imposing, handsome features, wielding a curved blade with an exaggerated arc, inlaid with gold, sporting curled whiskers, deep-set eyes and high nose, wearing a distinctive hat—not a face of the Eastern Central Plains, body slightly crouched like a prowling wolf.

More importantly, his body was translucent.

Like a phantom.

Li Guanyi was about to counterattack when the man froze—long fingers pressed against his face, shoved him sideways; the once-fierce wolf-like man dissolved into ash and smoke, vanished; then came the tread of battle boots, and a clear voice spoke.

“This is the third prince of the Tielei. Expert in the golden curved blade. I don’t know if your era still has this tribe, but to me, he was a worthy opponent—I pestered Yao Guang until she preserved his image here, for those who come after.”

“Consider it a greeting.”

Li Guanyi saw another translucent man step forward.

Dressed in armor and scholar’s sleeves, his topknot immaculate, smiling faintly, right hand resting on the hilt of his sword, radiating both laziness and calm; his lips curled slightly: “This is the gift I left for you, my junior. I wonder if you’ll be pleased.”

Pleased.

Pleased enough to nearly die of fright.

Li Guanyi gasped for breath, his gaze sweeping over the frozen, dissolving Tielei third prince; he didn’t know what the Xue divine general intended by leaving this phantom. He spotted a garment on the table, put it on. The Xue divine general’s phantom smiled faintly: “You didn’t seek fortune among the divine weapons, yet still found this place—quite impressive.”

“So I’ve left you something.”

“My most precious thing.”

“More important than the Break the Clouds Thundering Bow, or the battle halberd.”

“If you want it, come.”

He slowly walked forward.

Li Guanyi thought for a moment, picked up the bow from the rack, took a quiver of arrows, and followed the phantom. Inside the cavern, glowing butterflies fluttered up and down; the divine general’s lingering shadow fulfilled his duty of guiding the sanctum, moving unhurriedly ahead.

The walls bore colorful pigments, painted with long scroll murals.

After five centuries, the figures in the scrolls had faded, yet their spirit remained—depictions of a compassionate monk, a Daoist priest raising a sword to drink, a cold-eyed tyrant, a ravishing woman, an ancient elder.

The side corridors resembled painted scrolls; two glowing butterflies fluttered above, leaving trails of golden dust.

The general walked among them, as if walking through history.

Li Guanyi stared at the murals on either side, counting the figures.

One, two, three.

Ten, fifty.

And more…

Finally, the Xue divine general halted. A butterfly landed on his armor’s shoulder; his shadow’s black hair stirred slightly. He gripped his sword hilt, turned to Li Guanyi, and smiled: “Here it is. You came here because you crave the strongest method of entering the realm, don’t you?”

“The difference between the worst and the best begins slight—yet ends as vast as heaven and earth.”

“Since I last left this legacy ten years ago, I’ve gained even more.”

“I have a question for you: How many times does a person truly be born?”

Li Guanyi answered: “Once.”

The Xue divine general shook his head:

“Yes—but that’s the thinking of ordinary people. From the perspective of heaven and earth, a person is born twice.”

“The first birth is from the mother’s womb—the physical body meets heaven and earth; this is called entering the world.”

“The second birth is from within the physical body—the true self meets heaven and earth; this is called entering the realm.”

“Both are earth-shattering transformations. If, before the first birth, a thread of primordial Qi is planted in the fetus, cultivation afterward will yield great benefit; likewise, before the second birth—the entry into the realm—if something extraordinary is cultivated…”

“Then, after entry, the celestial Qi will cleanse you with great benefit.”

The Xue divine general extended a finger; two golden-glowing butterflies landed on it. His expression softened: “Human instincts—breathing, crying—are formed in the womb and become automatic after birth. If, before the second birth, you similarly forge such an ability, celestial Qi will refine it into an instinct as natural as breathing. This is the path I have glimpsed.”

“The Daoist ideal of walking, sitting, lying, standing—all in meditation, the primordial Dao body.”

“The Buddhist ideal of every gesture, every step, embodying the Dharma—the reincarnated Buddhas.”

The principle is much the same. But I am a soldier, merely an “old soldier” in their eyes—I possess none of their refined elegance.

He smiled faintly, unconcerned by the label; his finger lifted slightly. The butterflies flapped their wings, soared upward, converged into a cluster—and suddenly blazed with fierce light. The murals on both sides ignited, vivid and bright; then, one by one, figures emerged from within!

The murals on both sides turned dull yellow.

Like the last ashes of burning.

Yet now, these ashes blazed with final fire.

One by one, figures from history seized their weapons, shattered the yellowed centuries, returned to the present—within an instant, the Xue divine general’s back was crowded with shadows, their aura majestic, staring at the young man before them.

Li Guanyi could not help but feel his hairs stand on end.

The Xue divine general turned, right hand gripping his sword hilt, smiling at Li Guanyi ahead, pointing at the surrounding figures:

“Let me introduce you.”

“This is the third-generation Living Buddha of the Western Buddhist sect.”

A gentle old monk’s shadow clasped his hands in greeting.

This one is Master Sikong Xuan, head of the thirty-seventh Daoist sect; lord of the Southern Murong family’s imperial city; chieftain of the Northern Long Spear and Banner Camp; Duke of Chen; this is the heroic Khan of the Turks; the Supreme Elder of the Mount Tai Sword Sect…

He named their identities.

Uttering titles that once shook the world.

Even Li Guanyi had heard whispers of these legends.

Five hundred years ago, an age of great strife.

A divine weapon struck three hundred li away; a Daoist priest slew a dragon with his sword; a Living Buddha granted initiation and reincarnation; Daoists sang songs of boundless freedom; the founding ancestor of Chen Guo, the Grand Duke, once slew a winged tiger with his sword; the hero who united the eighteen steppe tribes, ancestor of the Murong clan.

Then, the young Central Plains general was surrounded by the heroes of that world; he opened his arms slightly, murmured softly:

“All the weapons of the world are here.”

“I once fought them, befriended them.”

“We shared life and death, turned against each other, fought together for dominion—yet each of them died beneath my halberd. My weapon once bore the head of the Turkic Great Khan; my warhorse once trod upon the Daoist Cloud-Piercing Celestial Palace.”

“I ended the age of chaos.”

“But their names and martial arts must not vanish from history.”

“The defeated can still be heroes.”

“I had Yao Guang preserve the memories of our battles here. All martial techniques of this world are here. Even if they change over centuries, the essence remains unchanged. She told me—if someone grasps my bow and arrows, perhaps peace will not endure.”

“Then take power from my era, and redefine the chaos.”

“This is the last thing I can do for this world.”

“Of course, due to the passage of time, even Yao Guang could preserve only fragments of their power—but it is enough.”

“Each technique is uniquely passed down. I hope you can defeat them all before entering the realm, forging an unmatched martial spirit of war, then refine it into instinct through celestial Qi. This is the strongest method I conceived for shaping a foundation.”

“You may refuse. You may choose the ordinary path—using their spirit to break through.”

“But if you harbor resentment, if you crave greater power, stay here. If what you wish to accomplish demands strength—will you try? After all, even if you fail, you lose nothing.”

The once-greatest divine general clenched his fist, gently tapped his chest, murmured with a smile: “A hundred battles, a hundred victories—I forge weapons with myself.”

Then he raised his gaze.

Five hundred years’ worth of heroes stepped forward half a pace; their swords drew.

Broad, heavy blades, pointing forward.

As if after five centuries of separation, their peerless splendor still shone—the White Tiger manifestation roared, head raised; before the blade’s edge lay an age-spanning standoff—

“Latercomer, step forward!”

(End of Chapter)