Chapter 88: I

It was a eunuch outside the Taihe Hall who noticed the anomaly.

When the stars rose high in the sky, he was dozing against a red pillar outside the Taihe Hall, jolted awake by a chilling frost that made his hairs stand on end; then he heard a piercing sword hum, and frostlike sword qi filled the entire palace.

The emperor, already thirty this year, hurried here in panic, delighted by the ancestral sword’s cry.

Three hundred years ago, on the eve of the world’s collapse, that emperor could still wield a sword, ride his war chariot, and lead his armies to battle the warlords of the land—he was a tyrant, but not a fool, still possessing the courage to raise his blade, yet he died in the chaos, and the realm split apart.

Among those who overturned the first alliance that had once upheld peace were the founding monarch of Ying State, the initial overlord of Tuyuhun, the star-gazing scholars of the Eastern Land’s school, and the young heroes of the Hundred Schools; they tore apart a nation where noble clans towered above the people, where the masses wept blood, and sought to rebuild clarity.

Yet even so, not one of them could lift this sword.

In the end, they could only seal the Red Emperor’s Sword with a red cord stained by the blood of that great emperor.

Rumors spread without a messenger.

When the Red Emperor’s Sword is drawn again, all past traitors will be utterly purged, and the blade’s edge will run red with the blood of warlords; since no one has lifted it in the three centuries since, the legend has gradually faded.

The emperor’s expression turned fervent; he prayed to his ancestors, then reached out and grasped the hilt.

The sword’s cry was cold and sharp.

When the emperor gripped the blade, his palm seared with agony—he instinctively flung his hand away, and a deep, sharp cut bled profusely across his palm; his fervor froze on his face as he stared fixedly at the Red Emperor’s Sword before him.

The Red Emperor’s Sword rejected him.

The eunuch bowed his hands: “Your Majesty, shall we inform the Six Masters of the Academy?”

The emperor drew a deep breath: “No. I will tell them myself.”

“You have been rewarded for discovering this sword’s anomaly today.”

The eunuch’s face lit up with joy—then his head severed from his body.

Crimson divine dragon energy coiled around the emperor as he held his own sword, staring at the silent Red Emperor’s Sword; beside him knelt the eunuch, arms still raised, cradling his own head, his face still frozen in ecstatic delight—as if he still dreamed of sending money back to his parents.

The emperor clenched his fist, eyes locked on the blade, teeth grinding with bloodied fury:

“Red Emperor’s Sword…”

“Aren’t you my ancestor’s blade? Is there truly anyone else in this world worthy of your glory besides me?!”

“Don’t you wish to slay those traitors and villains?!”

The empire’s Academy was founded by the emperor who, after the Red Emperor, was the second to lift this sword.

Each generation, the Hundred Schools select six strongest to assist the emperor in civil and military governance.

But the emperor knew well: they revered the [People of the World], not his family.

The original heroes gathered beneath the Red Emperor’s banner—they recognized that peerless rogue hero.

If the Red Emperor’s Sword changed, and he could not lift it…

The Six Masters of the Academy would remain here, but the thirty-six sages and seventy-two elites within the Academy would scatter like stars across the heavens; the Academy might lie dormant, yet its halls teemed with strategists like clouds and generals like rain—this world would truly shatter.

The emperor gritted his teeth, blood seeping from his jaw:

“Eight hundred years have passed—my ancestor’s era is eight hundred years gone. If a generation lasts twenty years, that’s forty generations. Even if noble lineage fades after three generations, most are now commoners—but still, too many bear even a trace of blood tied to my ancestor, the Red Emperor.”

“Red Emperor’s Sword… do you recognize anyone with even that sliver of blood?”

“Or is it…”

“That a hero equal to my ancestor, the Red Emperor, has appeared?”

“So you think he has returned?”

“Why isn’t that hero me?”

“Why won’t you help me?”

The emperor, now ruler of only the Central Plains, sat slumped there, before him the Red Emperor’s Sword—once drawn, it shook the heavens—rested in silence.

Far away in southern Jiangnan, in the capital of Chen Guo, someone looked up and saw the celestial wind.

“...The Qilin’s manifestation? A reflection of starlight.”

“...That damned bastard!”

“The star of chaos, the mud-footed mongrel who deserves ten thousand cuts!”

“He’s still alive?!”

……………………

Li Guanyi steadied his emotions, watching the water flow past outside, gradually calming, then crouched by the stream to wash his face; he gazed at his reflection, slapped his cheeks, and returned to find his aunt.

He now possessed the altered Qilin manifestation.

Though neither the Qilin nor the Black Tortoise had corresponding cultivation arts or divine techniques, each manifestation carried inherent traits—like the Black Tortoise’s ability to seek fortune, or the Qilin’s endless vitality; Murong Qiushui paid no mind, merely teased him lightly as he offered to heal her, and extended her hand.

Murong Qiushui teased with a smile:

“Little cat, tending to your aunt’s wounds every day—you care for me this much?”

Li Guanyi placed his palm on Murong Qiushui’s wrist.

His eyes lowered; the [Four Symbols Body] activated. Following Grandpa’s guidance from the [Book of Imperial Supreme World], the White Tiger and Crimson Dragon manifestations shifted and transformed; crimson fire became a blue wind, his black temple hairs stirred slightly, and behind him emerged the Qilin—far stronger than any other manifestation.

The inner qi refined by the Peaceful Duke’s method could contain all disparate forces.

Thus, the previously vast and tranquil inner qi gained threads of vitality; Murong Qiushui felt a familiar sensation flow into her meridians—she froze slightly, for this vitality spreading through her channels felt both familiar and strange.

This was…

She looked at Li Guanyi; the Jiangnan breeze brushed his temple, his corner eye held a beauty spot that softened his aura; Murong Qiushui was momentarily lost, as if seeing a graceful woman, beauty spot at her eye, seated reading, holding her wrist, healing a scrape from childish mischief.

The vision vanished in a blink.

She had now reached the age she once was, and her son was like her younger self.

Murong Qiushui stared blankly, whispering: “Qilin…”

“You…”

Li Guanyi looked at her and replied: “I remember.”

“About my mother.”

Murong Qiushui pressed her lips together; Li Guanyi said nothing more, only smiled gently:

“Just as you said, Auntie—my mother was truly beautiful.”

Murong Qiushui lowered her gaze, saying nothing.

Beneath the flow of qi, the Qilin’s wings could faintly be seen circling around; Li Guanyi’s inner qi no longer scattered as it had before—he sensed that though her body was frail, it was healthy, free of chronic illness.

Her breath was long and steady.

If her essence and qi were unimpaired…

Then the illness could lie only in one place.

The Qilin manifestation flowed; the bronze tripod suddenly hummed. The manifestation settled upon Li Guanyi; the power of the Crimson Dragon and White Tiger, layered via the [Book of Imperial Supreme World], merged onto the Qilin, and the manifestation sensed Murong Qiushui’s spirit.

Li Guanyi’s eyes shimmered with misty qi.

It was the innate eye technique of the bronze tripod.

He glimpsed Murong Qiushui’s nascent soul—a magnificent bird, its entire body clad in crimson-gold feathers, similar to his own Qilin yet far more radiant; it was a phoenix, a manifestation known only to the world’s supreme literati, masters of music.

It was the phoenix.

That was Murong Qiushui’s nascent soul manifestation.

Yet now, her spirit manifestation was bound by chains; the divine bird could not manifest outwardly, barely able to sustain its own existence.

Murong Qiushui’s manifestation was sealed.

This was the true hidden injury—using her manifestation or her qin music would damage her root; hence, when she taught Li Guanyi the qin, she had suddenly coughed violently—it was the sealed seal retaliating.

Li Guanyi looked at his aunt, wanting to ask how this wound came to be.

But the boy opened his mouth—and said nothing.

If she could have healed her spirit wound herself, she would have long ago.

Asking now would only make her more anxious about him acting recklessly—what good would it do?

Li Guanyi withdrew his question, speaking as usual:

“Auntie, your body has no illness.”

“You’re perfectly healthy—you’re just teasing me, right?”

Murong Qiushui laughed playfully: “Oh? Little cat has caught me out.”

Li Guanyi knelt beside her, gently returning her hand, eyes lowered, smiling warmly: “Auntie’s body is strong—you’ll live to be a hundred, forever joyful and free from sorrow.”

Murong Qiushui reached out and ruffled Li Guanyi’s hair, whispering: “I know little of your parents’ final fate—that night was too chaotic. I don’t know why a simple banquet ended so terribly.”

“Why did your father, who ruled the battlefield with unmatched might, fall in the imperial palace amid music and revelry?”

Li Guanyi felt a cold killing intent swirl within him, calm: “Was it the emperor?”

Murong Qiushui shook her head: “I don’t know.”

“I can only guess it was someone of the imperial family. I was only seventeen that night; before then, I was arrogant, believing all the world’s scholars were mere clay dogs. In the end, I barely escaped the capital with you, aided by others—the capital saw too much.”

“I don’t even know if the emperor was the one who died that day—your parents were merely caught in it.”

“I don’t know whether the main force came from noble clans, powerful families, the imperial house, the empress’s kin, or even foreign powers.”

Murong Qiushui gently pressed her hand over Li Guanyi’s: “Guanyi must go to the capital.”

Li Guanyi nodded.

“The emperor has ordered it—leaving now would draw attention.”

“Chen Guo’s Crimson Riders will hunt you hard.”

Li Guanyi had no choice.

Murong Qiushui’s fingers lightly brushed the beauty spot beside his eye—the same as the woman of long ago—and whispered: “Even so, promise me one thing, little cat.”

“Don’t act rashly. Don’t do anything reckless, all right?”

Li Guanyi looked at her, exhaled slowly, and said: “Yes.”

I won’t take any risks.

Murong Qiushui thought for a moment and said, “If you truly encounter danger, go to the imperial palace and find one person—even if your identity is fully exposed, that person can get you out of the palace and save your life.”

Who is it?

Murong Qiushui half-closed her eyes, as if recalling again the fiery red-clad woman who once ruled with arrogance, and whispered:

Chen Qingyan.

The eldest princess of Chen Guo.

…………………

Li Guanyi walked through the training ground, spear in hand; the once heavy battle spear now felt lighter in his grip. As he wielded the spear technique, he seemed to pour out all his inner vexation—the spear’s edge grew fiercer, its whistle like a swirling storm.

He must go to Jiangzhou City to find Elder Zu Wenyuan and learn the entire *Imperial Supreme Classic*.

Even just a portion of it had allowed Li Guanyi’s Four Symbols cultivation to maintain balance.

If he truly mastered it—

Could he channel Bai Hu with his left hand and Chi Long with his right? Or gather all Four Symbols’ power into a single strike? Then Bai Hu would shatter armor, Chi Long would strike foes, Qing Luan would halt vitality, and Xuan Gui would reverse bloodlines—in one strike, four realms would erupt, a state far stronger than the inner force of [Rolling Waves] or [Crushing Mountains]!

Then go beat up Xue Shen.

This time, I’ll write a “zheng” character right on his head!

I also need to find [Siming].

The old man was the one Li Guanyi had met who understood the Dharma Form best.

He could see the Dharma Form directly—he would surely know how to treat his aunt’s illness.

Li Guanyi’s mood had slightly improved, for he had never known the cause of his aunt’s illness; he had lived in constant dread. Now that he knew the root, and with Siming the old man available, there was real hope of curing her—he could finally breathe easier.

But unfortunately, Siming had accompanied Elder Zu back to Chen Guo for the Grand Sacrifice.

Otherwise, Li Guanyi would have dragged the old man here right now.

He’d feed him fine wine and meat to heal his aunt.

And the origin of the poison, his parents’ past, and the events of ten years ago—Li Guanyi felt the past was a thick fog; the closer he drew, the more he learned, the more questions emerged, obscuring the truth and making it hard to see.

But only this way could he truly approach the truth.

He had no intention of acting rashly, but since Jiangzhou was unavoidable, gathering intelligence there under safe conditions was reasonable. Jiangzhou City had archives—places officials were exiled to, sitting idle. Li Guanyi planned to review the public records after arriving in Jiangzhou.

Historical texts and records employed the Spring and Autumn style.

For the same event, different books often gave different explanations—these were the hidden matters. By comparing multiple records, he could likely piece together useful fragments. And then there was that eldest princess…

Why was his aunt certain she was trustworthy?

Li Guanyi didn’t understand. He moved his hand—and the technique he had never mastered before, now executed with his Golden Skin and Jade Bones, shattered the spear’s shaft with sheer force. The handle snapped with a sharp crack. The spear fell to the ground. Li Guanyi bent down and picked up the wooden shaft.

His body relaxed, feeling his sinews and bones strengthened, his blood and qi surging like a dragon.

Beneath his Golden Skin and Jade Bones, even a martial cultivator below the Entry stage could not pierce his defense with a hundred-refined weapon.

Among peers of the same realm, whether in strength or defense, none could match him—he could dominate his generation with raw power. The Qing Luan’s Dharma Form further compensated for the Golden Skin and Jade Bones’ weakness in recovery, making his physical body exceptionally formidable.

He had even shattered his own spear.

“This thing… the old man should reimburse me, right?”

Li Guanyi set the spear down. His craving for power grew stronger. Even if he knew the truth, without power, it meant nothing. His anger then would be a joke. He had originally planned to conceal his cultivation for a while before seeking the next-level technique.

After all, going from Body Casting straight to Meridian Opening in a few days might scare the old man.

He needed to hide his talent.

But now Li Guanyi suddenly remembered what the old man had said.

Hide his talent?

“Hide your ass!”

Extraordinary people do extraordinary things!

Li Guanyi went to Tingfeng Pavilion. The old man sat sipping tea and flipping through scrolls. Seeing Li Guanyi, he invited him to eat, but Li Guanyi didn’t move. He only said: “Xue Lao.”

Xue Daoyong looked up: “Hmm?”

Li Guanyi said: “I’ve broken through.”

The old man froze. In the next instant, he was beside Li Guanyi. “You… entered Qi Condensation?!”

His voice had changed, as if he’d seen a ghost.

He quickly reassured himself, forcing a smile: “Ah, I see—you already had very refined internal qi, so this step came faster.”

Li Guanyi shook his head: “No.”

Xue Daoyong exhaled in relief. “Then did you break through the Shattered Jade Fist?”

The boy’s aura erupted—qi condensed and flowed from his shoulders, waist, and wrists, forming a crouching tiger behind him. Li Guanyi raised his hand, qi swirling. All his suppressed pressure, anger, and longing for truth condensed into four simple words.

“I’ve opened my meridians.”

And beside him, Bai Hu pressed its paw.

And the old man’s expression slowly froze.

“Huh???”