Chapter 87: Four Symbols Converge, the Merit Body Complete, Huangji Jing Shi!

The recalled images faded, the woman’s appearance and voice gone.

Li Guanyi felt remarkably calm.

Strange—his emotions were steady, his inner temperature like a still lake, not a ripple stirred; at this moment, only the sudden realization of “so this is how it was” remained, and even the stabbing pain in his chest had vanished.

As if nothing had happened, he lifted his hand; the residual poison was shattered by the Phoenix Phantasm. Li Guanyi sensed the Qingniao’s phantasmal power—life-giving energy circulating within him, carrying the poison away through the Hand Shaoyin Heart Meridian.

Jiquan, Qingshu, Shaohai, Lingdao, Tongli, Yinxi, Shentan, Shofu.

Finally, the poison was transported to Li Guanyi’s Shaochong point.

His fingers swelled visibly, turning blue and purple.

Siming, who had been staring at Li Guanyi as if seeing a ghost since the Qingniao appeared, instantly recognized the poisoning. After a moment’s thought, the old man shouted without hesitation: “Juzi! Throw me something that can contain poison!”

The Mozi Juzi outside did not hesitate—he raised his hand and hurled something.

A black obsidian bottle flew through the air; the old man had no grasp of martial arts.

Yet he caught it in midair and flung it before Li Guanyi, who drew his ink blade from his waist and lightly sliced his own finger.

The three-hundred-fold forged blade cut through like soft armor, leaving not even a white mark.

Li Guanyi pressed harder—there was no sense of sharpness, as if the blade had never been honed.

Like a common man pressing his finger against an unsharpened iron sliver of a sword.

Slight sensation, but he knew it could not wound him.

Li Guanyi had no interest in exerting force to break his own defenses—he drew the Qiushui Sword from his waist. Beneath the Qiushui, his skin parted as naturally as if untouched, black blood dripping into the bottle, releasing a sweet, cloying scent that made Li Guanyi dizzy.

After several transports of the residual poison-blood, the obsidian bottle was about one-third full.

Li Guanyi corked it shut.

The Qingniao Phantasm turned.

The wound on Li Guanyi’s finger began to stop bleeding at visible speed; within sixty breaths, it was fully healed, the scar gone. At this moment, Siming rushed forward, staring at the phantasm on Li Guanyi’s body.

He grinned.

The Qingniao, inherently fire-aligned, now manifested as wood and wind, circling the youth with flapping wings; the Baihu lay quietly to his left, the Chilong to his right, the Xuan Gui closed its eyes in stillness. Li Guanyi closed his eyes, activating his internal energy to expel the remaining poison.

Siming paced around him rapidly, nothing like his earlier demeanor when activating the array; his lips moved constantly in muttering, his expression growing steadily grave: “This… this is too… too…”

It was the Four Symbols: Dragon, Tiger, Phoenix, Tortoise.

But not the usual Four Symbols—the elemental attributes of fire and wood had changed.

Zu Wenyuan whispered: “Among the Seven Mansions of the East, the first star once seen was the Dragon’s horns. As the sun and moon passed through Tian Guan, this star was called Tianmen. Now, the Azure Dragon has transformed into crimson fire—its fifth star shines brightest, surpassing all others. Thus, the Azure Dragon has become the Crimson Dragon.”

“That is the Dragon’s heart—great fire.”

Siming grinned: “Yes…”

Zu Wenyuan gazed at the sky: “Siming, do you recall what star accompanies Xingsu?”

Siming’s expression turned solemn. He said:

“The Dragon’s heart is called Da Huo. There is another star of the same element—”

“Yinghuo.”

“When both appear together, it is the omen of [Yinghuo Shou Xin].”

“All say that Yinghuo Shou Xin heralds great chaos. But how could they know the truth? Yinghuo guards the Crimson Dragon’s phantasm—the key is ‘guard.’ Like a man with illness who coughs incessantly—coughing is not the disease; the true cause is wind-cold in heart and lungs.”

“As one points at the moon, the focus is not the finger, but the moon.”

“Yinghuo Shou Xin—the focus is not Yinghuo, but the Dragon’s heart.”

“But when the Crimson Dragon’s Xingsu—the heart of heaven—falters, how can it be guarded?”

“Xingsu in the East, the Azure Dragon transformed into fire—this is the omen of great turmoil under heaven. In times of peace, one bearing the Crimson Dragon would be a mighty general or a ruthless warlord. But if it appears alongside the Baihu…”

Siming fell silent.

The last era when Baihu and Chilong appeared together was eight hundred years ago.

The Chi Emperor and the Overlord overturned the world then; dukes and marquises crawled on their knees into the war tents. They slaughtered each other until the victor emerged—the greatest heroic legend in Donglu’s history. The Turkic king’s ambition to enter the Central Plains stemmed from the claim that his ancestors once sought to marry the Chi Emperor’s daughter.

They bore the bloodline of the Chi Emperor’s Crimson Dragon, and thus had the right to enter the Central Plains.

Now, these two fated destinies that once overturned the world converged upon one man. Siming said: “It doesn’t matter. If the world is stable, he is the foundation of prosperity. But if chaos rises, he may be the flame that ignites it.”

Zu Wenyuan said: “Destiny is merely destiny—it does not determine all.”

“Have there not been countless mighty lords burdened with great fate who perished midway?”

They spoke in low tones.

But inside Li Guanyi, things were far less optimistic.

His original Golden Skin and Jade Bones, Dragon Tendons and Tiger Marrow, could withstand the tearing of Dragon and Tiger phantasms. But now, the phantasms had doubled: Qingniao, Chilong, Baihu, Xuan Gui—each phantasm, differing from the conventional Four Symbols, circulated endlessly within Li Guanyi.

Zu Wenyuan could not see the phantasms.

But he could deduce Li Guanyi’s condition. The old man watched Li Guanyi, frowning in meditation, and said gently: “Young Li, if you hear me, adjust your internal breath according to my words.”

Zu Wenyuan calculated aloud: “Among the Four Symbols, the Dragon is the sun, the Phoenix the moon.”

“The Tiger is the star, the Tortoise the constellation.”

“Your meridians and acupoints—arrange them in the most basic medical order.”

“Follow my words.”

“The sun’s meridian: Jia One. The moon’s meridian: Wu Seven.”

“The star’s meridian: Ren One Hundred Eighty-Nine. The constellation’s meridian: Zi Two Thousand Two Hundred Fifty-Seven.”

The old man did not practice martial arts, yet treated Li Guanyi’s meridians as a mathematical system. Li Guanyi fully understood the old man’s words, guiding his internal qi to make the four phantasms—Dragon, Phoenix, Tiger, Tortoise—flow and transform in distinct ways.

Zu Wenyuan’s recitation matched Li Guanyi’s internal circulation precisely.

For two full hours, the Four Symbols’ phantasmic power inexplicably achieved balance within Li Guanyi’s body—coexisting simultaneously. Zu Wenyuan watched the dawn’s pale glow on the horizon, tossed aside the twig in his hand, and smiled at the dense script covering the ground:

“The sun governs Heaven’s Yuan, the moon governs Heaven’s Hui, the star governs Heaven’s Yun, the constellation governs Heaven’s Shi. When the sun governs the sun, Yuan’s Yuan is known. When the sun governs the moon, Yuan’s Hui is known. When the sun governs the star, Yuan’s Yun is known. When the sun governs the constellation, Yuan’s Shi is known.”

“The sun, moon, stars, and constellations—the Dragon, Phoenix, Tiger, Tortoise—all flow and transform thus. Even if all four phantasms coexist within you, they may circulate freely.”

Li Guanyi exhaled slowly.

The Four Symbols’ phantasmic power gradually dispersed. He opened his eyes.

Before him, Zu Wenyuan smiled: “How do you feel, young friend?”

Li Guanyi rose—higher than ever before. He clenched his fist; within him, the Four Symbols fit like a perfect ring, no trace of unrest remained. He bowed: “Thank you, Elder!” Zu Wenyuan smiled faintly: “No need to thank me. I merely repeated what others told me.”

Li Guanyi hesitated: “May I ask, Elder, how did you know the state of my internal energy?”

Zu Wenyuan waved casually: “I calculated it.”

Li Guanyi froze: “Calculated?”

Zu Wenyuan chuckled: “Yes. Internal qi flows within the body as rivers flow across the earth. To understand the shifts of rivers, lakes, and seas, to know the rise and fall of stars—can one not deduce the internal qi of a single man with ease?”

“But I did not arrive at this truth myself.”

“An elder told me. That is why I never chose martial cultivation.”

“To know such truths too early… when I was young and full of vigor, I resolved: if I did something, I would do it best. Once I knew there was a path to calculate every possibility, how could I restrain myself?”

“I plunged straight into the art of calculation.”

“I intended to exhaust its mysteries, then return to martial cultivation and advance with great vigor.”

“But when I looked back, sixty years had passed. I had long missed the finest window for martial cultivation. Yet the profundity of calculation remained as countless as stars in heaven and grains of sand in rivers—I could never exhaust it. Only then did I realize I had been deceived by that elder.”

“But upon reflection, my life has not been wasted. Or rather—if I had become a martial cultivator, drawn my sword, and roamed the world as a wanderer, I would not have found such fulfillment as I have now.”

Siming’s expression shifted slightly: “Is this his method?”

Zu Wenyuan nodded: “Yes. It was the Daoist elder who guided me.”

He explained to Li Guanyi: “He is an unparalleled genius of the Dao Sect, one of the four legendary figures of the martial world, long vanished into seclusion. When I was young, I once held an umbrella for him during a rainstorm. He gave me a scroll, instructed me for seven days—and after that day, I entered the realm.”

“The scroll he gave me—I still find its uses boundless.”

“It was the Sixtieth Scroll of the Sixty-Four Scrolls of the Huangji Jing Shi Book.”

Zu Wenyuan looked at Li Guanyi as if he were the Daoist elder speaking to him years ago. He bent slightly, the white-haired old man gazing at the youth—just as he had once been gazed upon. Suddenly, he understood the Daoist’s joy, and whispered: “That scroll still lies in Jiangzhou. If you enter Jiangzhou City, go there. I will explain it to you.”

“Do not worry—the Daoist elder is free and easy, wild and unrestrained.”

“He would scorn both those who hoard knowledge and those who give it to fools.”

“Besides…”

The white-haired Zu Wenyuan blinked, smiling: “He may already be dead.”

“So you need not worry.”

Li Guanyi leapt up, clenched his fist, unsure of how far he had come. He exhaled, tucked the poison-blood bottle away, and resolved to uncover its origin—the array’s traces had been destroyed.

Siming tossed the Wang Xi to Li Guanyi: “It’s yours.”

“The Tuyuhun energy within has dissipated. Consider it his parting gift. For three centuries, Tuyuhun dominated the Western Regions. His descendants have lost the bearing of kingship—letting go is no loss.”

Li Guanyi said: “Tuyuhun is gone. Don’t you grieve?”

Siming laughed loudly: “Grieve? What was he? A slave-born man. He had no race—so he named his nation after himself, and that name endures for three hundred years, even millennia hence. People will still know the words ‘Tuyuhun.’”

“Even if future generations forget it was the name of a lowly slave, who once pointed to the stars and vowed to make countless people know his name!”

“He would not grieve. He would feel his legacy complete, and walk away content.”

“Boy, do not underestimate those old men.”

The old man pulled a wine cake from his robe, took a sip, and murmured:

“Besides, Tuyuhun’s descendants—his true bloodline—were slaughtered a hundred and eighteen years after his death, for seizing his uncle’s wife and daughters. Tuyuhun’s coup destroyed his bloodline. I rode seven days and nights to find him—by then, not a single child of his blood remained.”

“The descendants of heroes are not always heroes.”

“Tuyuhun’s descendants became the very men he would have slain with one stroke had he met them. His heroic spirit exhausted, his bloodline gone—but his great deeds remain in history. For Tuyuhun, his life was perfect.”

“Even if someone later seeks to unify the thirty-six Western Tribes, Tuyuhun remains the first hero.”

Yet he helped you complete the Tiger Roar Bone Forging Art.

If the chance arises, reunify the Western Regions.

Li Guanyi wanted to say that this matter and its legacy were too heavy for him.

How could I possibly accomplish it?

But he fell silent, gripped the King’s Seal, and aimed it at the empty space, saying: “Then, if a hero ever appears, I will give him the King’s Seal, that he may unify the vast lands of the Western Regions. But if no one on that land is strong enough to bear this flame...”

Li Guanyi held the King’s Seal and thought of the domineering figure he had just glimpsed, saying:

“Let me become their Khan!”

Siming burst into loud laughter, Zu Wenyuan laughed too, but Siming only pounded Li Guanyi’s shoulder hard, saying: “Good, good, ahahaha! You’ve learned to blow wind and talk nonsense!” These four did not return with Li Guanyi.

They were going to see Zu Wenyuan off.

The old man was the chief architect of Chen Guo’s Great Ritual Array; sneaking out this time must have already caused problems. Their methods could conceal his absence for one or two days, but could not hold much longer—eventually, they would be discovered.

Morning light broke. Li Guanyi returned to the city alone; he did not attempt a new physical cultivation form.

Xue Shenjiang will be the perfect test subject for the Four Symbols Physical Form!

And with the toxic blood sample, I can identify what poison I’ve been given.

And how much the Golden Skin and Jade Bone’s traits and power have truly improved.

As Li Guanyi crossed the stone bridge, he was calculating his next steps when he suddenly remembered.

The Qingluan Bird’s spiritual manifestation’s life-giving energy—could it be used to heal Auntie?

But Auntie and Mother were close; had Mother ever used this manifestation to heal Auntie before? Auntie would surely recognize its familiarity... For some reason, Li Guanyi’s steps halted abruptly, his heart suddenly constricted.

The wind over Jiangnan remained as always.

He stood there, beside him a woman in brown robes, holding a bamboo basket filled with coarse rice; she smiled, and beside her, a sturdy little boy tugged at her hem, calling out, “Mama!”

The boy’s steps froze. He stepped aside to let them pass.

Then he took two steps forward.

The heavy blade fell to the ground. Li Guanyi opened his mouth, but nothing came out—his mother from his past life, his mother in this life, pain, loss, all converged. He had felt nothing before, but that scene had just struck him like a knife to the heart—as if grief always arrives late.

It is only when you see ordinary, everyday moments that sorrow surges like a wave.

The boy’s lips tightened downward.

Then he leaned against the wall, crouched down, and pressed his palms hard against his face, rubbing furiously.

His palms were wet.

………………

And just before this, at the very moment the Four Symbols converged, as Bai Hu and Chi Long simultaneously appeared in the sky, deep within the Taihe Hall of distant Zhongzhou.

The Chi Xiao sword, sealed for three hundred years.

Sounded its long cry within its scabbard!