Chapter 498: The Fire Qilin General, the Turning Point Appears

The dragon's roar shook the air on either side.

It was like a slaughter and battle unfolding on the level of the nascent spirit.

Shi Dalin and the others watched the silent general with deep worry—Fan Qing's will was facing the battle intent contained within the blood of the Primeval Scarlet Dragon, facing the battle intent of the Great Khan from the grasslands above.

In a daze, he seemed to stand upon the battlefield, gripping his weapon, facing the contemptuous Tie Futu army, their killing edge grim and overwhelming as they charged toward him, and then in the next instant he seemed to see the roaring Primeval Scarlet Dragon.

The Fan Qing within that will turned his head—could not see his own ranks, could not see his own comrades—yet still he gripped his weapon and charged into the certain-death ahead, roaring again and again.

Fan Qing's eyes were tightly shut, his face resolute, veins faintly bulging.

He was the most battle-hardened among the generals of the Fire Qilin army, and also the most enduring, yet even he wore such an expression—clearly, the agony his nascent spirit was suffering at this moment was terrifying beyond measure.

But the brows he had knit slowly eased.

Shi Dalin and the others exhaled in relief. With the old sorcerer's formation aiding them, the violent and overbearing power contained within the Primeval Scarlet Dragon's blood was restrained, released only in a slow, gradual manner, bit by bit.

Bit by bit increasing the pressure on Fan Qing.

After all, the purpose of these pills and strange arts was to gradually stimulate Fan Qing's nascent spirit, to try to help this warrior of extremely tenacious spirit pass the barrier from the Fifth Heaven to the Sixth Heaven, and step into the Sixth Heaven.

Not to drown Fan Qing beneath the blood and might of the Primeval Scarlet Dragon.

Shi Dalin exhaled:

"Phew… looks like there shouldn't be any problem."

"General Fan Qing, after this tribulation's test, should be able to reach the Sixth Heaven, should be able to possess the qualification to set foot upon this final battlefield…"

Just at that moment, the old sorcerer suddenly sensed something amiss, his face changing drastically: "Not good—the formation is going berserk!"

Shi Dalin and the others froze: "What?"

But before they could even react, before they could grasp what those four words—formation going berserk—truly meant, they heard a terrifying dragon's roar from over there, and an indescribable majesty erupted violently outward.

Within a radius of more than ten li, all fell deathly silent.

The golden-red bloody flowing light within the formation grew dense by countless times!

The old sorcerer reacted in an instant, pulling Shi Dalin and the others back rapidly so they too would not be swallowed in, retreating more than ten zhang in a flash before barely steadying themselves.

Shi Dalin and the others were ashen-faced, gasping for breath.

Their Wu Gong was utterly ordinary, and this sudden turn had left their minds slightly dazed.

But the next instant, Shi Dalin came to himself, his face changing drastically: "Not good—General Fan Qing!"

The crowd, souls still unsettled, raised their eyes to look, and saw that the great sorcerous formation, previously confirmed to be utterly stable, had begun an irregular rampage.

This strange art, aimed at Fire Qilin blood, Nine-Colored Divine Deer blood, Iron-Eating Beast blood, and the blood of over a hundred other strange beasts, possessed extremely stable, clear, and reliable restraining power—but at this moment, when facing the blood of the Primeval Scarlet Dragon—

This great strange-art formation had failed.

Not to mention restraining its spirit; at this moment the great sorcerous formation seemed more like a provocation.

Or rather, a challenge.

Then everyone saw the Primeval Scarlet Dragon's blood, without the slightest hesitation, rise to meet the challenge!

Even if it was only the blood of the Primeval Scarlet Dragon, it still possessed lofty passion and ambition, possessed the heart to dare battle!

The low, grim dragon's roar was like a war-drum.

The layers of sorcerous arts that had been restraining the bloody flowing light and the might of the Primeval Scarlet Dragon shattered one by one; the broken sorcerous flowing light suddenly collapsed inward, and a bloody aura, the golden-red dragon's blood, erupted in an instant.

Fan Qing was swallowed whole in a flash.

Shi Dalin's beard bristled on end: "Wh-what is this situation! Ancestor!"

The old sorcerer's expression was solemn: "The blood of the Primeval Scarlet Dragon has taken our formation as an opponent—like a slaughter, like a battle. Now, Its blood has slain this formation and has gone after General Fan Qing."

Shi Dalin was dumbfounded: "…………"

"It's just blood, and battle intent, and it can still find an opponent to fight?! This is an auspicious beast?!!"

"Th-this can't be right, can it?"

"What auspicious beast has this kind of fighting power and mad battle intent?"

"The ancestor of Lei Laomeng's house himself said it: auspicious beasts are borne of the harmonious Qi of Heaven and Earth, transformed and given spirit, nurtured into being, possessing many wondrous abilities—perhaps reading the wind and calming rain, perhaps quelling fire and settling thunder. Never once has he seen one this mad."

What they faced was the blood of the Primeval Scarlet Dragon, foremost among the Primeval Auspicious Beasts.

This was also the point Shi Dalin and the others had misjudged.

Normally speaking, even if the will of an auspicious beast still lingered within its blood and tried to issue a challenge, it would not lead to mortal danger—but unfortunately, the auspiciousness of the Primeval Scarlet Dragon and the auspiciousness of these many Innate Auspicious Beasts are written in entirely different ways.

The divine will of the Nine-Colored Divine Deer would even help ordinary folk heal their wounds.

The divine will of the Primeval Scarlet Dragon was very simple.

Fight!

Battle!

Either live, or die.

Only a head-on, hard collision.

Shi Dalin realized something had gone terribly wrong.

Even the Shiwaisan Sect and the Strange Beast Mountain Manor should not have attempted to use the fresh blood of a being like the Primeval Scarlet Dragon, comparable to a martial legend. Shi Dalin turned and sprinted, seeking out the old Sword-Madness, hoping he could break through this layer of the Primeval Scarlet Dragon's blood's spirit and pull General Fan Qing out.

He only hoped General Fan Qing would not be injured because of this.

Once Elder Murong learned of the situation, he rushed to the spot almost immediately, but upon arriving, the old man did not draw his sword—only looked at Fan Qing, shrouded within the blood of the Primeval Scarlet Dragon, in surprise.

As if watching the tempering of a new sword.

Shi Dalin was brought there by the old swordsman through a gentle current of Qi; though somewhat flustered, he was still barely composed: "Old senior, please help—this, the Primeval Scarlet Dragon's blood is somewhat special, we fear General Fan Qing will come to harm."

Elder Murong said: "Set your mind at ease. The divine will within that old dragon's blood knows its measure."

"Even if he cannot pass this trial, his life will not be harmed."

Shi Dalin exhaled in relief: "Then, can General Fan Qing walk out of it?"

Elder Murong said: "That, depends on him alone."

"The path of the Grandmaster is merely a tribulation of the heart."

Shi Dalin heard Elder Murong's answer, and the tension that had been wound tight in his spirit instantly loosened; then, suddenly realizing what that one sentence he had just heard implied, his face froze bit by bit. He stared fixedly at Fan Qing, who was enveloped by the dragon blood, and said:

"Grandmaster?!!"

He saw it clearly — several years ago, in the Battle of Yumen Pass in the Western Regions.

Beside Fan Qing, who had already manifested a posture like that of a majestic lion Dharma Aspect, that towering, divine-brave lion appeared once more, letting out a series of low roars.

Even though he was enveloped by the battle intent and dragon blood of the Ancient Crimson Dragon.

Fan Qing still did not fall.

His eyes bulged round in fury, like a nail driven dead into this spot, biting fiercely into the earth.

In truth, Fan Qing's consciousness had nearly sunk into oblivion. In a daze, the pain was unbearable; he opened his eyes, and what he saw was the home deep within his memory — warm sunlight falling down — he saw his father, and his mother working.

Fan Qing sat quietly there, merely watching this scene.

He did not want to recall anything, nor did he want to struggle free of anything; he merely sat quietly, watching, until his eyes turned completely red, until his mother happened to pass by, saw his eyes, let out a startled cry, and leaned over to pat his head.

That hand was large, the palm dry and warm; because of long years of labor, the veins on her palm were especially thick and prominent. She stroked Fan Qing's hair, then used a sleeve made of cloth of different colors to wipe at Fan Qing's eyes.

"Ah ya, what a big child already, still wanting to cry."

"What's there to cry about? Isn't it just going to that martial hall?"

The woman paused, then said softly:

"If you can't do it, then don't go. Not going is fine too."

"Stay by your mother's side…"

The man beside her said loudly: "Not go? How can he not go?"

"We have no learning, and we don't know any fists or Wu Gong; this life of ours is just like this. Are we to let our child be the same, living out a life just like the two of us?!"

"Don't be soft-hearted at a time like this. Besides, it's not like he won't come back."

Fan Qing looked at that tall man — tall, but with a back curved and bent.

When he spoke, he was full of vigor and spirit.

The old mage in the real world frowned slightly and said: "…As Master Jiankuang said, General Fan Qing's will, under the oppressive battle intent of the Ancient Crimson Dragon, has fled inward. If one is not careful, and the primordial spirit becomes lost within memory, I'm afraid there will be danger."

Shi Dalin's voice was somewhat hoarse as he said: "What will happen?!"

The old mage said: "It won't endanger his life, but—when a martial artist's Cultivation Realm reaches the fifth or sixth heaven, one particularly values the coalescence of the primordial spirit. Only when the primordial spirit coalesces into one, and one finds one's own path, and by some fortunate chance, takes a step forward—"

"—is it possible to coalesce one's own essence, qi, and spirit together with the merit of Heaven and Earth, and manifest them through the body of former auspiciousness. That is the so-called Dharma Aspect, the so-called Grandmaster Realm. If so, with the primordial spirit fled inward, I'm afraid that for the rest of his life, the Grandmaster Realm will be beyond his reach."

Shi Dalin grew anxious: "Th-this, what is to be done?"

"Master Jiankuang elder, do you have any method?"

Elder Murong merely looked at Fan Qing within the mage formation that had been swallowed and inversely affected by the blood of the Ancient Crimson Dragon — Fan Qing, whose eyes were closed and whose expression was calm — and a great deal of surprise rose in the depths of his eyes.

This child, it seemed…

Fan Qing did nothing, merely immersing himself within this life.

At that time his father had not yet had his leg broken by a corrupt official for embezzling land, and his mother had not yet cried herself blind. His father's shoulders were broad, and he was discussing this year's harvest with his mother.

The harvest was good, and the year was fair.

The common folk's days were growing more and more plentiful; Great Chen was rising like the sun at its zenith.

Peaceful days seemed to be right before one's eyes — so close, so close that it felt one only had to raise a hand to touch them.

This was something from when he was only a teenager. Looking back now, in that era, Zhou Lao the General was still alive, majestic and awe-inspiring.

He had heard that Great Chen had a young generation general named Li Wanli who had risen to prominence, winning quite a few victories, and under him was a young general not much older than himself named Yue Pengwu.

There was also an Imperial Uncle who had made his name, and under him was a young general about the same age, called Xiao Wuliang. The two were practically rivals.

He had heard that Yue Pengwu was valiant with a great spear, and that Xiao Wuliang had charged into formations at fourteen or fifteen.

But these things had nothing to do with a young man from a village town in the State of Chen.

At that time, when he heard these pieces of news, he only treated them as things he could boast about to his playmates, then forgot them as soon as they passed his ears. In that era, the young heroes had already stepped out into the world, galloping across the realm for the sake of the world.

He, of the same age, only knew that he was to be sent to Dacheng to become a martial apprentice. Before leaving, he swung the hoe with all his might, hoping to help shoulder a little more of the family's burden.

His father and mother said that the family had scraped together for all these years, and had finally saved up ten taels of silver.

They planned to take it all out and send him to the Motian Sect martial hall.

The Motian Sect's Grand Sect Master Ximen Hengrong had broken through to Grandmaster.

But the fees were still very fair — ten taels of silver could buy an apprenticeship, three years' time, with food, lodging, and Wu Gong instruction included. After three years, if one could develop qi sensation, one could stay; not only would no more silver be charged, but the previous ten taels would also be returned bit by bit.

A long time passed within the memory.

Fan Qing seemed truly, as if suppressed by the terrifying divine might of the Ancient Crimson Dragon, to have had his primordial spirit flee into his own memory—unwilling to coalesce, unwilling to face that terrifying Ancient Crimson Dragon, unwilling to confront that being the foremost of ancient auspiciousness.

He merely followed memory, living in the past, having given up the future.

Soon, the time came each year to deliver grain. At this time one had to borrow an ox-cart to send the grain into the city, and they also planned, at this time, to send Fan Qing to the great city of the State of Chen, to take out the silver they had saved for ten years, and send the child in to learn martial arts.

On the night of departure.

His father, with great rarity, brought out the home-brewed turbid wine.

This wine, in such a year as this, could be considered a family heirloom; ordinarily, he would absolutely begrudge taking it out to drink. But this time, not only did he open it to drink, he also poured a cup for him.

Father and son clinked cups beneath the candlelight. The old man's face bore a faint trace of anticipation, and a rare, hearty ease, and he said:

"Your mother and I, in this life don't recognize more than a few big characters, and we don't have any fists or feet either; we only know how to bend our backs and scratch a living from the earth. Even if we have to sell everything we own, we'll see you through it. Once you've learned the skills, you'll be all right then."

Fan Qing asked for the first time: "All right how?"

His father was stunned, unable to answer — as if he had never considered this question.

He merely consoled him, saying: "It's nothing. Your old man has no skills; if you want me to spout some grand principle, I really can't come up with one. Anyway, once you've learned the skills, you'll be able to live a good life."

"And that'll be that!"

Fan Qing was silent for a long while, merely drinking.

The next day, at the farewell.

His father came with expectation, while his mother was somewhat reluctant to part.

Fan Qing, carrying a bundle on his back, stood at the doorway of his home, looking at his own face in a basin of water—young and tender, still carrying a longing for the future—when suddenly he dropped to his knees before his father and mother.

His mother's tears fell; she turned aside to wipe them. His father said, "What are you doing this for? It's not as if you're never coming back. Just come home often from now on."

Fan Qing kowtowed three times in a row, then raised his head.

He seemed to see it all—his father beaten until his legs were broken, his mother weeping until her eyes went blind, and then dying; he saw the miserable state of things after his return, saw the illusion of a peaceful prosperous age shatter and break apart, close enough to touch yet like scooping the moon's reflection from the water.

He saw himself picking up a knife to kill an official, being bound, being forced down and tattooed, and thrown into the death row cell—scene after scene.

This was a past that had already happened; at this moment in his memory, it was merely a future not yet clear.

Fan Qing's father said, "Just come back more often from now on."

Fan Qing looked at them and said, "... I won't come back."

His father was somewhat sorrowful: "But when a person grows old, there must still be a matter of fallen leaves returning to their roots."

Fan Qing did not answer; he only once again kowtowed heavily toward the past.

This was the fourth kowtow—three for the gods, four for the dead; a farewell to those already departed.

Merely learning skill would not make things better.

Fan Qing said softly.

He suddenly recalled a few broken verses that person often recited.

The boy sets his heart to leave his hometown; if he fails to make his name, he swears not to return.

Why need the burial ground be in one's native soil?

Under all of heaven, there is nowhere that is not Qingshan.

Today, at last, he understood.

Why need the burial ground be in one's native soil—a true man walks upon the Dao.

Wherever one dies, wherever one is buried, one cannot turn back.

Fan Qing raised his head, his gaze carrying threads of divine light. The gentle memory around him dispersed; the dragon's roar of the Primeval Taigu Chilong echoed in his ears. Gripping the sword in his hand, his eyes blazed like fire.

No going home, no turning back.

Both hands gripping the sword, he raised it and suddenly thrust it down toward the ground. The sharp blade pierced easily into the earth. The agony of the Primeval Taigu Chilong's blood appeared once more, but this time Fan Qing forced himself to endure and devour this Taigu Chilong's blood.

Beside Fan Qing, the lion of the clouds descended to the mortal world, raised its head and roared.

One man, one Dharma Aspect—both let out long howls of fury.

It was a roar against his own past, against his own sorrow, a decisive severance from his own past suffering, and a roar of unwillingness against this chaotic age that had caused it all.

Life is like a humble grass, but the will soars high!

But, beneath the heavens, on what grounds?!

People like you and me—must our lives be like humble grass?! Does the ambition to change the world have to depend on bloodline?!

Even a stray dog spat at by the roadside must, beneath the starlight of this chaotic age, run free and wild until death.

Shi Dalin and the others were stunned, suddenly seeing the Primeval Taigu Chilong's blood being forcibly scattered and dispersed. In an instant, the lion Dharma Aspect beside Fan Qing let out a low roar and underwent a transformation—faintly, indistinctly, a dragon form emerged.

It seemed like a Fire Qilin, yet seemed not quite so.

Divine Beast · Suanni.

Fan Qing's aura surged violently—Break Through the Realm, taking one more step forward.

Sixth Heaven.

Not yet entered the Grandmaster realm.

But at this moment, Elder Murong Longtu nodded in approval. Shi Dalin heard a clear, soaring cry at his ear; four streams of flowing light flew forth from the Murong Clan. These four streams of light seemed to have sensed something and came of their own accord.

They came wrapped in hundreds and thousands of long swords, circling in the air.

Suddenly the flowing light gathered in, surging downward, accompanied by four crisp clanging sounds.

Four streams of light fell from the sky, planted upside down beside Fan Qing. The war general standing there, the killing intent between his brows, the condensed Dharma Aspect—none of it seemed like Sixth Heaven. The weapons cried out ceaselessly, emitting wave after wave of killing intent; the flowing light gradually calmed.

They transformed into four nascent forms of divine weapons, each flowing and shifting, their radiance dazzling the world; the aura of the military blazed fiercely toward the heavens.

Shi Dalin, the old sorcerer, and the others were lost in a daze.

Fan Qing—Sixth Heaven.

Dharma Aspect · Suanni—its might can swallow tigers and leopards; it loves stillness, dislikes movement, and wishes to watch the fireworks of the mortal world.

Resolute and decisive, a great commander and marshal talent of the army.

Possessing the qualification to wield the remaining four nascent forms of divine weapons!

Shi Dalin murmured, "... What kind of monster is this?!"

"What kind of freak is this?"

"He suppressed the battle intent of the Primeval Taigu Chilong and still took a step forward; after stepping out, he could still suppress his own realm, not seeking an instant breakthrough? At the same time he resonates with four nascent divine weapons—this is greatness incarnate..."

Fan Qing exhaled a breath of turbid air, feeling his own transformation.

All that had been accumulated through a hundred battles along the way had, at last, beneath this final resolve, taken that step of transformation.

He slowly extended his palm; one of the long swords fell into his hand—it was the divine weapon that had resonated with him back when he was only at Fifth Heaven. He reached out again and took the second divine weapon; once he gripped these two divine weapons, the other two nascent forms of divine weapons also gradually calmed.

"General Ji's Sword."

There was once a saying that a promise worth a thousand gold pieces was worth less than one promise from General Ji. It resonated perfectly with Fan Qing. He reached out again and took the second divine weapon; once he gripped these two divine weapons, the other two nascent forms of divine weapons also gradually calmed.

"General Mei's Bow."

With a body of Sixth Heaven, he can wield two divine weapons; his spirit is resolute, his will is unyielding, he has already broken through the Grandmaster's Heart Tribulation. He is a great general of the Fire Qilin Army, an old acquaintance of the State of Chen—Fan Qing.

The distance to Qin Wang's birthday, which is also his Coming-of-Age Ceremony.

There is still one month remaining.

Yue Pengwu was preparing to attack Chen, adjusting his generals; this time, only war generals at the Sixth Heaven level basically qualified to become the frontline main force, and just then, the sound of steady footsteps suddenly came from outside.

Yue Pengwu raised his eyes, looking at the steady great general over there.

The sound of armor was grim and murderous; a long sword hung at his waist as he strode forward, resolute and decisive. Beside him, faintly, spirit and primal energy sketched out, forming a strange beast that was like a dragon and like a lion, like a longsword tempered a thousand times over, revealing its edge.

"Fan Qing of the Fire Qilin Army requests to take the field!"

…………………………

Spring days gradually passed; in the fifth month, the cicadas sang.

With only twenty-some days until Qin Wang's capping ceremony, the whole world entered a period of calm and peace. The various matters in Xiyicheng had gradually drawn toward tranquility; the conflict between Chen and Ying had ceased, and the four directions were at peace.

On this very day, a sudden change occurred.

It seemed a unit of 'Tie Futu' had accidentally crashed into the place where Chen and Ying were negotiating; there were also rumors that Chen and Ying each had elites appearing within the other's country. Among them, Ying and Chen each had different accounts of the Xiyicheng incident.

There were also rumors that beneath the armor of the slain Tie Futu were Chen people.

A Chen official flew into a rage on the spot, but was pierced through the brow by an arrow.

The Chen people said the Ying people were traitors, going back on their word.

The Ying people said the Chen people were treacherous, scheming to harm others.

Beneath blades and blood, reason was briefly swayed by the surging blood; in that atmosphere, contradictions were ignited in an instant, and a fierce melee broke out. And this fierce melee happened to involve important figures at the two nations' border passes, and those of noble bloodline perished.

The days of peace that had been were directly shattered.

Ying and Chen, outside Xiyicheng, raised conflict once more; each side committed a hundred thousand troops, and the attention of the entire world—including within Chen and within Ying—was drawn to this spot.

The war began anew!

And Master Yan Daiqing had received a letter from Xiyicheng three days in advance.

It was in Master Wen Qingyu's handwriting.

This time there was no more banter, no more Mu Zi Yi; the words were simply concise and to the point, yet they gave Master Yan Daiqing a feeling that the situation had reversed, and that the great winds and clouds of the world would move at once.

【The turning point has appeared.】

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