Chapter 36: Those Who Come After, Step Forward!

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

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

Yao Guang built a bonfire here, then thought for a moment, picked up the garment, propped it against a stick beside the fire to dry, sat cross-legged beside the bonfire, pulled out a steamed bun, pierced it with a stick, stuck the other end into the ground, and pressed it against a stone to roast.

She took out a complex star chart, rarely seen by others, and quietly flipped through it.

Today's celestial signs were excellent; in spring, the star Yao Guang of the Big Dipper points eastward.

Opposite it, across the starry sky to the west, lay the Seven Mansions of Bai Hu, as if gazing at each other across the Tianhe River; Yao Guang glanced at the pool, recalling the legend from five hundred years ago, and sat there in quiet waiting.

The celestial signs have foretold our meeting.

Now, all that remains is to wait in stillness.

………………

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

Li Guanyi wore only modest covering; he glanced around and noticed a rock wall nearby, thought for a moment, retracted the Crimson Dragon Dharma Form into the bronze cauldron, and barely summoned the Bai Hu Dharma Form, which peered curiously at its surroundings; when the Bai Hu Dharma Form appeared, something within the cavern seemed to activate.

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

Then it surged outward in all directions—golden ripples swept across the cavern, and suddenly, something shifted; Li Guanyi suddenly heard a crisp sound, and one side of the rock wall slowly sank, revealing a stone rack holding various weapons, untouched by decay or rust after five hundred years, gleaming with icy radiance.

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

Li Guanyi's pupils contracted; instinctively he stepped forward, lunged forward on the ground, rolled—something slashed down where his back had been, a searing pain tore through his spine, but when he reached back to touch it, there was no blood; dust erupted, and a figure burst through the haze, blade gleaming as it slashed toward Li Guanyi.

"Shit!"

Li Guanyi cursed, forgot everything else, sprinted backward, grabbed a sword from the rack, drew it in one motion, inner qi surged, his foot shifted—The Breaking Formation Melody's inner qi roared, he twisted his body with the blade, tearing out a streak of icy light.

Eight Blades of Po Jun—Sweeping Clouds! Attacking to defend, successfully blocking the attacker.

The thunderous sound 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, adorned with gold, sporting curled whiskers, high nose and deep-set eyes, wearing a specially crafted hat—not the face of a man from the Central Plains of Donglu; his body slightly crouched, like a starving wolf ready to pounce.

More importantly, his body was semi-transparent.

Like a phantom.

Li Guanyi was about to counterattack when the man suddenly froze; a long hand pressed against his face and pushed him aside—the once ferocious wolf-like man dissolved into ash and dust, vanished; then came the tread of battle boots, and a clear voice spoke.

"This is the third prince of the Tiele, skilled in the golden curved blade; though I don't know if your era still has this tribe, 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 semi-transparent man step forward.

Dressed in armor and literary-military sleeves, his topknot immaculate, smiling faintly, right hand resting on the hilt of his sword, radiating both languidness and composure, his lips slowly curling upward: "This is the gift I left for you, my junior—tell me, will you be pleased?"

Pleased.

Pleased enough to nearly die of fright.

Li Guanyi gasped for breath, his gaze sweeping over the frozen, dissolving Tiele third prince, wondering what the Xue Shen's lingering shadow intended; he spotted a garment on the table, picked it up and put it on; the Xue Shen's shadow 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 Po Yun Zhen Tian 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 and a quiver of arrows, and followed the shadow; within the cavern, luminous butterflies rose and fell, and the lingering image of the divine general fulfilled his duty of guiding through the Mystical Realm, moving unhurriedly ahead.

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

After five hundred years, the figures in the paintings had faded, yet their spirit remained—depicted were a compassionate monk, a Daoist master raising his sword to drink, a cold-eyed tyrant, a breathtakingly beautiful woman, and an ancient elder.

The side corridors resembled painted scrolls; two luminous butterflies fluttered up and down, 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 Shen stopped; a butterfly landed on his armor's shoulder, his shadow's black hair stirred slightly; he gripped his sword hilt, turned his head to look at Li Guanyi, and smiled gently: "Here it is. You came here because you crave the strongest method of entering the realm, don't you?"

"The difference of a hair's breadth leads to a thousand-mile error; the weakest and the strongest begin with little difference, yet end as distant as heaven and earth."

"Since I last left this legacy ten years ago, I've gained further insights."

"I want to ask you a question: How many times does a person truly be born in a lifetime?"

Li Guanyi answered: "Once."

The Xue Shen 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 meeting heaven and earth—that is what we call entering the world."

"The second birth is from within the physical body, the true self meeting heaven and earth—that is entering the realm."

"Both are earth-shattering transformations; if a primordial qi can be left behind during fetal development, cultivation after birth will be greatly aided; likewise, if something special is cultivated before the second 'birth'—entering the realm—"

"The torrent of heavenly qi afterward will bring great benefit."

The Xue Shen extended his finger; two golden-luminous butterflies landed upon it; his expression softened: "Human instincts—breathing, crying—are formed in the womb and manifest after birth; if similar abilities are shaped before the second birth, the heavenly qi's purification will likewise become as instinctive as breathing—that is the path I have glimpsed."

"The Daoist ideal of the primordial body, where walking, sitting, lying, and standing are all in meditation."

"The Buddhist ideal of the Buddha reincarnations, where every gesture and movement is pure Dharma."

"The logic isn't far off, but I'm just a soldier, just a stinking grunt in their eyes—I don't have anything so refined."

He smiled faintly, seemingly unconcerned with such labels, and lifted his finger slightly; the butterfly flapped its wings and flew upward, gathering into a cluster, then suddenly blazed with intense firelight—the scrolls on both sides ignited, bright and vivid, and from them emerged figure after figure!

The scrolls on both sides were dim yellow.

Like the last ashes of a burned-out fire.

But now, these ashes blazed with their final firelight.

One by one, figures seized their weapons from history, shattered the dim yellow years, and returned to the present world—in an instant, the back of General Xue Shen was densely packed with shadows, their aura majestic, staring at the young man before them.

Li Guanyi couldn't control it—his hairs stood on end.

General Xue Shen turned his side, right hand gripping his sword hilt, smiling at Li Guanyi ahead, and extended a finger toward the surrounding figures, saying:

"Let me introduce you to them."

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

The figure of a gentle old monk bowed slightly with clasped hands.

"This one is Master Sikong Xuan, head of the thirty-seventh Daoist sect; Murong of Jiangnan, lord of Murong Imperial City; commander of the Saibei Spear-and-Banner Camp; Duke Chen; this is Tian Kehan, the hero-khan of the Tujue; the Supreme Elder of Taishan Sword Sect..."

He named their identities.

Uttering one by one the names that once shook the world.

Even Li Guanyi had faintly heard these legends.

Five hundred years ago, an age of great strife for the world.

There were divine weapons that shot three hundred li; Daoists wielding swords to slay dragons; Living Buddhas granting initiation and reincarnating; Daoist chants, free and peerless; the founding ancestor of Chen State, Grand Duke Chen, once slew a tiger with wings on its back; the hero-khan who united the eighteen steppe tribes, ancestor of the Murong clan.

Then, the young Central Plains general was surrounded by the heroes of five hundred years ago; he slowly opened his arms and softly chanted:

"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 this world—yet each of them died beneath my battle halberd; my weapon once pierced the head of the Great Khan of the Tujue; my warhorse's hooves 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 also be heroes."

"I had Yao Guang preserve the memories of our battles here; all martial techniques of this world are contained within—though they may change over the next few centuries, they never stray from their origin. She told me that if someone could grasp my bow and arrow, perhaps the world would no longer be at peace."

"Then, draw power from my era, and redefine the age of 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 a portion of their power—but it is enough."

"These techniques are their unique transmissions. I hope you can defeat them all before Already in the Realm, forging the peerless martial spirit of war and battle, then using the primordial qi of heaven and earth to turn these methods into near-instinct—this is the strongest method I can conceive for shaping one's foundation."

"You may refuse. You may choose the normal path—using the divine aura to Break Through the Realm."

"But if you harbor resentment, if you seek 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 general of the world clenched his fist and lightly tapped his chest, softly chanting: "A hundred battles, a hundred victories—I forge weapons with myself."

Then he lifted his gaze.

The heroes of five hundred years ago stepped forward half a pace, their swords drawn.

The long blades were broad and thick, pointing forward.

As if after five hundred years of separation, their peerless glory still shone—Bai Hu's manifestation raised its head and roared; before the sword's edge lay an age-spanning standoff—

"Posterity, step forward!"

(End of Chapter)