Chapter 49: Opportunity to Enter the Realm

He had no idea that Xue Daoyong had received a secret letter from Jingcheng, nor that Sun Wuchou had sent a secret message to the dukes beyond the pass; from Li Guanyi's perspective, he could only feel increasingly the oppressive pressure of storm clouds gathering before the wind.

Eastern Land Star Observers, Yin-Yang School's Top Three Seats: Master Siming.

Vassals under the Duke beyond the Guan Pass of Ying State.

The Xue family, stationed beyond the Pass.

The world is changing; heroes lie dormant, like dark clouds drifting over vast marshes, thunder rumbling dull and heavy.

Though he said nothing, Li Guanyi increasingly sensed the importance of power, increasingly yearning to enter the realm, to reach that level which seemed uniquely special among all Gejiage Sects; since Sun Wuchou arrived, Xue Daoyong had grown thoughtful, withdrawn, often sitting in silent contemplation.

Li Guanyi's visits to the Mystical Realm for cultivation grew ever more frequent; each time he returned, Master Siming could easily find him.

Ding! Chopsticks struck the table, producing a crisp sound.

Master Siming sat on a stool beside Li Guanyi, the massive black tortoise resting quietly beside him.

This was the tavern where the former Shopkeeper of Huichun Hall had taken Li Guanyi for a meal; Master Siming also favored such places. He held a cup of wine worth one cash, sipping slowly, gazing outside, saying: "Clouds are gathering in the heavens… it seems the young Master Zu is coming soon…"

"A great transformation is coming."

Li Guanyi remembered that a few days ago, when Sun Wuchou arrived, this Master Siming had come again to tell him that a certain Mr. Zu was coming; Li Guanyi asked what he intended to do, and the old man had merely smiled, pointing toward Jiangzhou City, saying: "To stir up this stagnant pond."

It was the tortoise's explanation; Li Guanyi roughly understood.

That Mr. Zu is a master of numerology, heading to Jiangzhou City to rescue Marshal Yue.

Master Siming held a cup of strong liquor—this wine was made from the root of a certain plant, possessing only a harsh, burning throat-fire, lacking any intoxicating fragrance; it was favored by laborers who sought the sharp, slashing pleasure of liquor like a blade scraping the throat.

The old man swallowed a sip, smacked his lips, and seemed to find it more flavorful than the sacrificial wine offered in the imperial ancestral rites; he shook his head, grinning at the young man: "You're thinking of entering the realm—and not just any entry, but the highest level. The Military School seeks the Hundred-Battle Sacred Body; the Daoist Sects seek the Primordial Dao Embryo; the Buddhist Sects seek reincarnated cycles."

"The Confucians seek the one destined by Heaven; the Mohists emphasize benevolence and righteousness."

"In my lineage, the key is not merely combat—it is also to align with Heaven's timing, Earth's advantage, and human harmony."

Li Guanyi asked: "What is Heaven's timing and Earth's advantage?"

Master Siming chuckled, extending a finger toward the sky outside—thick clouds loomed overhead—and said: "Aren't you already feeling it yourself? Look through history: every turbulent age produces great talents, just as great waves roll across rivers, allowing dragons to surge upward with the tide."

"This small Yicheng is now a convergence point of the world's great tide."

"Not the largest, but certainly not insignificant."

"Chen State will hold its grand ancestral sacrifice in two months."

"Such rituals require masters of Yin-Yang Grand Doctrine like myself—and numerology masters; young Master Zu is currently the strongest among them. When such a man enters Jiangzhou, he can sway the Emperor of Chen State to alter certain decisions."

"And young Master Zu's divination arts are sufficient to break the very array imprisoning Marshal Yue…"

"They will do anything to prevent him from entering Jingcheng."

"And likely, they've already tried to assassinate him."

Assassination.

Li Guanyi asked: "Will the elder be safe once he arrives in Yicheng?"

Master Siming, drunk, replied: "That's why we must gather great momentum here—host a grand gathering of renowned scholars that draws the world's attention, then let young Master Zu step into the public eye, onto the stage. Only then will he be safe; when momentum is righteous and overwhelming, no one dares touch him."

"Those who once sought to kill him will now have to protect him."

The old man said: "Strange, isn't it? I find it strange too."

"The people of Jingcheng are terribly awkward."

"They want to do all sorts of things, yet refuse to let anyone know."

"Some matters, hidden in the shadows, are worthless—even renowned scholars of the realm can be killed without hesitation; but if certain matters become public, they become matters of ten thousand taels of gold—so great that even if you curse them to their faces, they must endure it."

Master Siming stroked his beard and remarked: "It's like urinating. Old man that I am, I find a tree by the roadside, relieve myself, feel utterly free and comfortable—no one can drag me off. But what if I urinate on the tree beside the Emperor's tomb?"

"What if someone sees?"

"What if the one who sees… just happens to be the Emperor?"

"Isn't that entirely different?"

"Even if the Emperor doesn't care about the act itself, due to the circumstances, he will still rage—and act according to his status and position. That is momentum. The world is a vast stagnant pond; everyone within it is affected."

Master Siming gazed at the sky outside, unusually solemn, and said:

"But these are just the ramblings of an old man—listen and forget. Look, all Gejiage Sects have come here; a grand literary gathering, literary energy surging to the heavens—that is momentum. And young Master Zu, outside, how he enters here with dignity is like the 'Dragon Escaping the Encirclement' in Go."

Li Guanyi asked: "Why not go out to meet him?"

The old man fell silent for a long while, his eyes still clear, unclouded by drink; he whispered: "If we could meet him outside, that would be fine. But we don't know which of the world's renowned scholars are trustworthy, and which are traitors. A warrior's bones may not be firm; a scholar's heart may not be pure."

"Who hides beneath the armor—wolf or hero? Who hides beneath the robe—pig or backbone?"

"We don't know. Even old man that I am, I cannot tell…"

"So he cannot reveal his true location. He must find us. As I said before: when scholars gather, even the spineless can be made to reveal a sliver of integrity."

"Among warriors, some aid young Master Zu; others block him."

"This time, Mohists, Daoists, Confucians, the Jianghu, the court, warriors—all martial and literary energies, like dragons and tigers, converge in Yicheng. Do you still say this isn't a storm of momentum? If you can leap across it, you may forge an elite foundation."

Master Siming patted Li Guanyi on the shoulder.

He let out a drunken burp.

The stench of liquor sprayed over the young man.

His eyes were glazed, his earlier words sounding like drunken ramblings.

Li Guanyi paid for the wine and food; rain began to fall—spring rain, soft as grease. Li Guanyi left an umbrella behind and stepped into the rain, holding his own. Old Master Siming watched the scenery outside slowly, seeing the raindrops fall like beaded curtains, splashing into puddles on the ground.

Counting one, two, three, four, five, he suddenly burst into laughter. The fat Shopkeeper chuckled: "Old sir, you spoke truly about the world just now."

Men always enjoy talking about grand matters.

The old man slapped the table, laughing drunkenly and proudly: "Crude, perhaps—but close enough."

"All the great and small affairs of the world—ultimately, they're no different from an old man's piss!"

The fat Shopkeeper laughed warmly, nodding: "Yes, yes, yes."

Old Master Siming wobbled again, took another wine bowl, poured a full bowl of strong liquor, and set it on the stool.

The Black Tortoise lowered its head to drink strong liquor, while the old man gazed at the sky outside.

His eyes could see the qi and fortune of heaven and earth converging like waves—Mo Family, Daoist School, Confucian School, Yin-Yang School, the court, the martial world, scholars, warriors—he tapped his chopsticks against the table and cups, ding-dong, ding-dong, as if merging with the rain into a single song.

The Black Tortoise bowed its head to drink, Master Siming burst into loud laughter, singing in a voice like a peasant's:

"Wind and rain bring harmony, the people live in peace—yet none compare to the vermilion robes of the imperial city. The whole world is farmland, freely harvested; the common folk are oxen, freely driven. Scholars speak of great talent; warriors grasp swords to prove their ferocity."

"Recite! Recite! Recite!"

"Recite poetry and lyrics, speak of fu and songs—no mistakes."

"Lips touch heaven, mouth meets earth—no high or low, clever words and flowery phrases memorized by the score!"

"Speak of peace!"

"Speak of peace!"

"Purple robes, red robes, pink peace—the common folk become pigs and dogs."

"Make it go forward, it dares not go back; lift the left foot, it dares not lift the right; flip it over, beat it once, stir its heart into frenzy—then it raises its head, grips sword and blade, and smashes this broken club of the world into two halves!"

"Then a single stream of urine bursts forth—I'm helpless."

"I've endured and watched for three hundred years—mocked to death by the heroes of this golden age!"

"Hahaha—mocked to death by the heroes of this golden age!"

The old man knocked over his cup and bowl, reeled forward in drunkenness, toppled the vessels, lay still, snoring loudly—white hair aged, the absurd song's final notes all grand and bold, then fading like rain gone dry.

Drunk and asleep before the thatched hut.

It was great freedom.

Li Guanyi turned his head to watch the old man—whether foolish or free, whether chaotic or grand—he turned away.

The rain grew heavier; the youth, wearing a black blade, walked on blue stone pavement, rain flowing over his umbrella's surface, dripping down—he saw ahead a group of people, wearing conical hats, straw sandals, their hair tied with black cords.

At their waists hung heavy, black swords.

The youth passed by the group of black-clad men with heavy swords.

The lead giant's gaze, calm, swept over the youth; Li Guanyi stared straight ahead.

Beside the giant, an invisible beast paced.

Another one…

Li Guanyi's longing for Reached Entry grew heavier.

Three days later, within the Mystical Realm.

The heavy blade was deflected; the man opposite thrust his weapon toward Li Guanyi—the youth swung both hands, the blade leaping like a butterfly, lifting his body with it; as he spun, he released his grip—the heavy blade spiraled and slashed through the air.

The blade's edge cut the air with a sharp, piercing cry.

Yet within the Mystical Realm, the opponent formed from starlight moved only slightly.

His long spear flicked Li Guanyi's blade away; the youth kicked the spear shaft, curled his body into a ball, seized the opponent's spear, shoved him with his shoulder—the opponent tumbled onto the stone platform, rolled over, and grabbed another long spear.

Focused, poised—like a tiger pouncing.

Li Guanyi thrust his spear forward with all force.

The two spears clashed.

Xue Shen watched lazily from the side.

After countless defeats and deaths, Li Guanyi had finally learned how to wield a long weapon—now, his right hand gripped the spear's butt, held tight against his waist, each thrust powered by wrist rotation and body twist, the spearhead carrying a spiraling force.

The spear shaft taut, thrusting as its primary technique—the battlefield's great spear method.

A spear fourteen feet long.

Li Guanyi converted it to his past life's units: four point six meters.

Not something an ordinary person could wield.

But once one could twist such a spear, in the age of cold weapons, one held great advantage—unless facing a realm where qi broke through the body, or encountering a Divine Manifestation scripture—then victory was nearly assured. This time, Li Guanyi used spear technique to sweep aside his opponent's weapon, then struck with One Arrow's Cold Light, finally defeating him.

The opponent's body shattered into starlight; Li Guanyi was accustomed to such slaughter.

He no longer wasted energy as he had when first challenging the Iron Tere Prince—he could sit cross-legged, meditate, and draw in starlight.

After explaining infantry tactics, Xue Shenjiang said nothing more, merely watched Li Guanyi, stroked his chin, and said: "You've been here a long time—over twenty days. You've defeated many opponents. Your starlight refinement seems nearly complete."

Xue Shenjiang's eyes held amusement:

"You've reached the threshold of Reached Entry."

(End of Chapter)