Chapter 89: Hunyuan Wuji, the Phoenix Approaches

Xue Daoyong exerted great effort to maintain the expression on his face.

He reached out and placed his hand on Li Guanyi’s shoulder, feeling that exquisitely pure qi—when a martial artist reaches this level, their qi can burst forth from all eight meridians; theoretically, they can move freely without injury, and even if clad in armor, a hundred martial artists below the threshold cannot overwhelm them by sheer numbers.

Even if his limbs are gripped, his shoulders and back can erupt with qi to crush his attackers.

After his shock, Xue Daoyong’s first reaction was concern—he seized Li Guanyi’s wrist, poured his internal qi into it, frowned slightly, and said, “Such rapid breakthrough—did someone persuade you to use a shortcut method?”

In his youth, he had traveled far and wide across the land.

He had encountered demonic sects on the western frontier, where practitioners would hurl themselves forward, their internal qi exploding, flesh and blood flying—some branches even swallowed pills to saturate their bodies with poison, then detonated themselves; even martial artists of higher realms could be caught off guard.

Now he feared Li Guanyi had rushed forward out of greed, feared for his body.

Do not ruin your foundational cultivation for temporary progress—but as he sensed the flow of internal qi, the old man realized this youth’s sinews and bones were robust, his qi vast and potent, the condensed qi churning and transforming with astonishing purity.

This was certainly not the product of reckless haste.

This person’s foundation was solid—among the hundred years of Xue Daoyong’s travels, it ranked among the top ten.

The few others who surpassed him were already legends—one of the two primordial masters of the Daoist sect, who had once crossed paths with Xue Daoyong in his youth; back then, Xue Daoyong had deemed the Taiji Soft Cloud Art profound and deeply rooted, yet now he felt Li Guanyi’s foundation was no weaker.

But Li Guanyi was older than that primordial master had been at the time.

That man had been only ten years old.

Then Xue Daoyong suddenly realized how long this youth had been cultivating.

From Self-Casting.

To crossing the Qi Condensation stage, reaching Meridian Unblocking.

Less than ten days!

That young Daoist, by contrast, had already cultivated for six years.

Xue Daoyong fell silent, rubbed his brow, and said, “How did you do it?”

He stared at Li Guanyi.

Before arriving, Li Guanyi had considered how to explain.

He had thought of revealing the Xue Shen’s secret realm, of naming the Tiger Roar Bone Strengthening Art, even of invoking Master Siming directly—claiming he had met a high master—but after careful thought, he discarded all these ideas.

Too many words invite error.

Xue Daoyong was an old hand.

The more he spoke, the more likely hidden truths would surface—so Li Guanyi’s only choice was one: his expression solemn, he answered, “Just cultivation. Sitting meditation. Yue Qianfeng came to me and taught me a Qi Condensation method. That’s all.”

“Just cultivation?”

“Just cultivation.”

Xue Daoyong’s lips twitched—he felt his hundred years had been fed to dogs.

Li Guanyi paused, then spoke with humble, earnest sincerity:

“I think… perhaps… I might have a little talent.”

Xue Daoyong’s vision darkened.

The old man drew a deep breath, exhaled slowly, steadied his heart, clasped his hands behind his back, nodded slightly, and chuckled, “What do you mean ‘a little talent’? This talent is legendary—I’ve never seen its like!”

“You may be as proud as you like.”

“In my hundred years, I’ve seen many geniuses—Xiao Wuliang charged into battle at thirteen; Tai Ping Gong marched thousands of miles at twenty, slaying tens of thousands. These were unmatched generals. Xiao Wuliang was a noble scion, but Tai Ping Gong was born a peasant, only beginning cultivation after joining the army.”

“I swear, your talent is no lesser than theirs!”

Li Guanyi said, “Tai Ping Gong’s home was…”

Xue Daoyong replied, “Precisely in the Eighteenth Province of Jiangnan.”

“They say that as a boy, Tai Ping Gong rolled up his pant legs to plant rice, picked lotus pods to eat, lived in poverty, owned only two thin robes a year. One winter, when Jiangnan was buried in snow, he collapsed frozen on the roadside—so the tale goes, a girl gave him food and wrapped her cloak around him, saving him from the cold.”

“Without that, there would be no such mighty general in the world.”

“Back then, he was that poor. After he rose to fame, his family enjoyed sudden wealth and glory—but ten years ago, that great fire…”

The old man said no more.

Li Guanyi lowered his gaze.

Xue Daoyong led Li Guanyi to the inner courtyard’s training ground and said, “Since you’ve achieved such a foundation, I should now explain your next steps. After entering the threshold, the first level has three gates: [Self-Casting], [Qi Condensation], [Meridian Unblocking].”

“Afterward, these three merge into one—that is Ascending the Tower.”

“Now the world is in chaos, nations wage diplomacy and war constantly; in the martial world, military rank is the standard for judging cultivation. A martial artist who has entered the threshold may serve as a squad leader on the border, commanding five new recruits, with meat in his rations; one who reaches the second level may become a Captain, the limit being a seventh-rank military officer.”

“After retiring from the border, one may serve as County Warden.”

“Provided housing and armor, one becomes a notable figure in the city.”

“Guanyi, do you know the difference between the second level and the threshold?”

Li Guanyi shook his head.

He had killed a second-level martial artist once—the first was defeated when Yue Qianfeng absorbed primordial qi, reducing the threshold warriors to relying solely on their bodies; Li Guanyi had used his Dharma Form power to prevail. The second was swiftly dispatched in a sudden ambush—he had not seen the detailed techniques.

Xue Daoyong smiled faintly. “When a martial artist enters the threshold, their qi emerges from the body.”

“After Qi Condensation, the qi becomes refined. To reach the second level, one must harmonize [Qi Condensation], [Meridian Unblocking], and [Self-Casting], allowing the refined qi to naturally circulate through the body. Look—like this.”

The old man’s robes fluttered, and a refined aura spiraled around him.

Li Guanyi reached out to touch it, feeling distinct resistance—as if plunging his hand into a storm. Xue Daoyong said, “This is [Defense]. The qi flows through the body, deflecting most projectiles, causing arrows to veer off—it is the foundation of the third level’s Qi Armor.”

“As for [Offense], it’s simpler.”

Xue Daoyong gripped a wooden staff, and a blade of qi surged forth.

This was the hallmark of Qi Condensation.

He flicked his wrist, and the qi exploded into a jet of force, slicing through the air and striking the stone tablet before him. As the staff shattered into dust, the tablet—requiring a threshold martial artist’s full strength to break—slid sideways.

The cut was smooth.

Sword qi.

Xue Daoyong said, “Defense is the self-contained qi cycle. At the second level, one can unleash sword qi to kill at a distance. At this stage, martial artists must use new weapons—special materials allow qi to flow and endure the strain of explosive release; these are called [Precious Weapons].”

“This is the second level—ninth to seventh-rank military officers.”

“On the border, all Captains, and the finest cavalry and infantry across the land, are all at this level. The one you killed was the same—though he likely hadn’t reached the point of unleashing sword qi.”

Xue Daoyong said, “If entering the threshold makes one a notable figure in a small town, the second level makes one among the top two in a small city. Moreover, our Dharma Form powers can only be truly wielded at this level.”

Li Guanyi looked up and saw the old man smile, then casually extended his hand—qi surged forth.

He swept his sleeve, and the qi coalesced into a tiger, lunging forward and reducing the stone tablet to dust, leaving deep craters in the ground, dust swirling. The old man brushed his sleeve and said:

“Qi can carry the Dharma Form. Once qi leaves the body, such techniques become possible.”

“But when I gained my Dharma Form, I was already beyond this level. In the second level, I never once enjoyed the sweet advantage of overwhelming others with force—ha!”

Li Guanyi stared at the exploded crater, his eyes shimmering.

He thought of the Night Gallop cavalry who had hunted him ten years ago.

The Night Gallop cavalry were all above the second level.

Li Guanyi gripped his weapon and said, “Xue Lao, if I reach this level, how would I fare against the Night Gallop cavalry?” The old man burst into laughter. “If you enter the second level and unleash a punch with a roaring Bai Hu, it will dwarf sword qi by far.”

“When you face the Night Gallop cavalry then—”

“You’ll crush them like old pigs and dogs.”

“At that time, I’ll give you a famous martial weapon for defense. Three-hundred-fold forged steel is still mere iron—it cannot withstand the erosion of primordial qi; the more you use it, the more it fractures internally. Weapons that can carry internal qi are forged from rare materials—these are Precious Weapons.”

“Above Precious Weapons lies a higher tier—those attuned to the Dharma Form are called [Treasures]. Though the terms ‘Treasure Sword’ and ‘Treasure Blade’ are common, in truth, not just any blade may bear that title. Every Treasure Blade is worth a thousand gold.”

Li Guanyi said, “Above that is the Divine Weapon?”

The old man laughed. “Yes—and no. Between Divine Weapons and Treasures lies another class. These weapons have not yet followed great heroes to achieve earth-shattering deeds, so their names remain obscure, unshaped in the furnace of fate, lacking sentience—they cannot be called Divine Weapons.”

“But they are not comparable to ordinary Treasures either. Their material alone rivals that of Divine Weapons; a single clash shatters any Treasure Sword or Precious Weapon before them. Each possesses unique mysteries—these are called [Mystic Weapons].”

“Every Mystic Weapon holds the potential to become a Divine Weapon.”

“Only the Sword Valley of Ying State and the Divine Weapon Mansion of Jiangnan hold large numbers of Mystic Weapons.”

“Two hundred years ago, Jiangnan’s greatest swordsman swept the land, shattered every Dao and Sword sect in the Central Plains, collected dozens of sect-preserving Mystic Weapons, and in his arrogance, left his noble lineage to found his own sect in Jiangnan—the Divine Weapon Mansion, the Murong Clan.”

“He bore countless blood debts and supreme renown.”

“He still lives today—the greatest master of the martial world.”

“He wielded his weapon and sword art to thrice enter the Central Academy, forcing back the Daoist primordial masters, fought three times with Gongyang Su Wang and never died, never lost, never retreated—a peerless hero. Originally a sword master, his arrogance made him countless enemies; he dueled three hundred times and never lost.”

“The Sword Madman, Murong Longtu.”

Li Guanyi silently recorded the name, unconsciously recalling the Autumn Water Sword his aunt had given him.

Yet even if this short sword came from the Murong Mansion, it could not be a Mystic Weapon.

Perhaps a Treasure?

The old man instructed him on how to Ascend the Tower.

This step is called [Hunyuan Wuji]—it requires fully fusing [Self-Casting], [Qi Condensation], and [Meridian Unblocking] into instinct, requiring no conscious thought. But at this moment, Li Guanyi recalled the Four Symbols Dharma Forms within him.

If he were to condense all three into one,

should the four Dharma Forms also be integrated into the next stage’s cultivation body?

Currently, Li Guanyi maintained balance only through the [Imperial Scripture of Governing the World]. The four Dharma Forms’ power could only be activated one by one via internal qi—should he seek out Zu Lao and learn the Sixtieth Scroll of the [Imperial Scripture of Governing the World] to reach greater power?

Li Guanyi silently memorized the method to break through to the second level of the [Jade Arm Divine Bow Art].

He planned to wait until reaching Jiangzhou City, then seek out Zu Wenyuan before breaking through.

Xue Daoyong said, “By the way, we leave for the capital in three days.”

Li Guanyi said, “Three days? But there are still over twenty days left.”

Xue Daoyong chuckled, “You little rascal—do you think we should wait until the grand sacrifice to go? Then you and I might as well just lie here and wait for the Emperor to come carry us in his palanquin.”

Li Guanyi muttered, “Not that it wouldn’t work.”

Xue Daoyong kicked the boy in the buttocks and said, exasperated, “Kid.”

“You’re bold, aren’t you?”

“Because of what that old rascal Yue Qianfeng did, all those martial aristocrats who moved against you ended up ruined. Now that you’re entering the capital, you’ll have some trouble.”

The old man picked up a letter and spoke slowly:

“Guan Yi, remember—you’re a Xue family member living abroad.”

“Fifteen years old, trained in martial arts since childhood. Got it?”

Li Guan said, “Will they believe it?”

Xue Daoyong said coolly, “Of course not. But they’ll assume you’re a secret agent planted by my Xue family—they’ll never guess your true identity. This second identity is one they’ll invent themselves, so they won’t doubt it.”

Li Guan whispered, “Xue Lao.”

“Your kindness today, I will repay in full someday.”

The old man sighed. “Don’t talk nonsense in front of me. Rub my shoulders instead—that’d be better.”

So Li Guan stepped forward obediently and rubbed his shoulders.

The elder beamed. “This day might be worth recording—future great generals, when they were young, used to rub my back and shoulders. Hahaha, Guan Yi, give it your all. Maybe I’ll go down in history thanks to this.”

Li Guan was torn between laughter and exasperation.

The old man pulled out something and reluctantly handed it to Li Guan. “Here, take it.”

“What’s this?”

The old man sighed. “It’s a letter from Shuangtao.”

He waved his hand. “Alright, go back and read it. Don’t clutter my eyes with your presence. Remember—in three days, armor up, take up arms, and join my Xue family’s caravan to Jiangzhou City. No delays. If you’re late, go alone.”

“I won’t wait for you on something this big.”

The old man waved him off. Li Guan returned to his quarters and opened the letter—inside fell a flower.

The paper bore neat, plain script:

“Dear Brother Guan Yi, seeing your words is like seeing you face to face. How have you been?”

The young mistress began writing with stiff formality, but her tone grew lighter as she went on, recounting her observations in the capital: the imperial harem was dull, yet people kept mentioning Li Guan’s name more and more—some called him a fierce tiger, others a jackal.

Her words carried clear resentment; she must have argued with them.

Though she appeared gentle and gracious, she could wield a heavy bow and ride and shoot with skill.

She surely found court intrigues unbearable.

Li Guan read in silence.

He turned the page and saw the young mistress had written:

“The Turkic envoys have arrived—all towering and formidable, even bringing a contingent of Iron Cavalry. It seems there will be martial contests for amusement before the grand sacrifice. The imperial family of Ying has not yet arrived, but the advance party of the Duke Prefecture is already here. The Second Young Master should arrive soon.”

Li Guan narrowed his eyes slightly.

Meanwhile, on Chen Guo’s soil,

the girl who had separated from the main group looked up at the sky, the Phoenix gliding along her shoulder, radiant and bright. She smiled faintly.

“Li Guan, Li Guan.”

“We’ll meet at last.”