Chapter 95: Your Name!

Using the Fire Qilin formation diagram as an example to teach the contents of the Wang Zhi Scripture, Zuo Wenyuan's suggestion gave Li Guanyi no reason to refuse—he immediately said, "I willingly accept."

The old man stroked his beard, yet asked Li Guanyi to close the door.

Li Guanyi shut all doors and windows; outside, it was still afternoon—the sun had tilted westward but had not yet set, yet the room plunged into darkness at once. The old man lit a candle and whispered:

"Since this is a secret transmission, it must not reach a fourth ear."

"Come, come, come."

Li Guanyi sat beside the old man, who pointed to the intricate Juan Sect scroll and said, "I suddenly recalled using the Fire Qilin Pavilion's formation diagram to explain this to you—first, because you seem quite interested in formations, and second, because of your cultivation foundation."

Li Guanyi said, "My cultivation foundation? The Four Symbols united?"

Zuo Wenyuan nodded and pointed to the scroll: "The formations within the Fire Qilin Pavilion follow the path of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases, crafted personally by the second of the Three Elders of the Yin-Yang School, 【Master Siwei】. He used Yin-Yang to move the Five Phases, the Five Phases to transform into the Four Symbols, and finally, the Four Symbols to form the formation."

"Though I possess many computational texts, they are far too dry for a beginner."

"The Central Wu Earth Fire Qilin can be contained only by the Four Symbols—and coincidentally, this perfectly matches your cultivation foundation."

"Thus, using this as your entry point is the most fitting possible."

Li Guanyi asked curiously, "Is Master Siwei the same sect as Master Siming?"

Zuo Wenyuan sighed and said, "No."

"Their studies both fall under the Yin-Yang School's scope, and both achieved feats beyond ordinary imagination—but in truth, they were mortal enemies. If they met, they would kill each other. Though Master Siming is peerless in qi observation and fate divination, in direct combat, he would surely perish at Master Siwei's hands."

"It's not hard to understand—since ancient times, haven't soldiers killed soldiers, and Confucians destroyed Confucians?"

"Same school, yet opposing doctrines and thoughts."

"To some, rivals within their own school are more hateful, more worthy of death than those from other schools."

Zuo Wenyuan's voice carried complex emotions—ones Li Guanyi had yet to comprehend. The old man pointed to the scroll and explained to Li Guanyi, one character at a time, the meaning of each word and how their combinations produced shifting interpretations.

Li Guanyi's expression slowly tightened.

Difficult!

Absolutely excruciating!

The logic of the formation reminded Li Guanyi of programming languages he once studied—if Yin and Yang represented zeros and ones in code, their transformations generated the Five Phases, which then twisted into the Four Symbols, and within them, the Twenty-Eight Mansions and the Celestial Constellations functioned as individual program systems, then the "Four Symbols Binding Spirit Formation" before his eyes was equivalent to an impossibly complex supermassive program.

Dense, crowded characters covered the scroll.

The scroll, fully unfurled, stretched over twenty meters, written in tiny regular script, its characters intricate.

Each character concealed information equivalent to several sentences.

When colliding, they generated further layers of meaning.

Zuo Wenyuan explained slowly; Li Guanyi could only memorize by rote. The old man said, "The way of formations lies in infinite change, and the Yin-Yang duality is the most fundamental source of change. As the duality flows, it transforms into the Five Phases and Four Symbols. Master Siwei's formation is alive—it constantly shifts."

"One misstep, and it collapses like an avalanche, triggering a backlash of Yin and Yang energies."

"Truly brilliant—this formation was completed when he was only thirty."

"Only such a formation could bind a divine beast like the Fire Qilin."

Li Guanyi exhaled, feeling a throbbing ache in his forehead.

"Thirty?"

"Is he still maintaining this formation now?"

Zuo Wenyuan said, "He is too wrathful and arrogant. If he were still here, this diagram would never have come to me for repair. After completing the formation over a decade ago, he left, declaring he would use mountains, rivers, earth veins, and all things as components to forge a peerless grand formation, enveloping all of Central Plains."

"Since then, for over ten years, no one has seen him. Master Siming's coming here likely also stems from a desire to trace Master Siwei's footsteps."

The old man smiled faintly and said, "Take your time—we have ample time."

"I possess only one scroll of the Wang Zhi Scripture. The complete set comprises sixty-four scrolls. I believe that once you fully comprehend this one scroll—the Four Symbols Great Formation—you will have grasped the flow patterns of the Four Symbols, and at that point, your cultivation foundation problem will resolve itself."

"The second level of a martial cultivator also requires Hunyuan, correct?"

Li Guanyi said, "You are right, Elder."

"But the Wang Zhi Scripture is truly tedious."

The old man chuckled lightly and said, "Tedious?"

"If it is a precious thing, a supreme art, it cannot be mastered easily."

"Yet do not think the Four Symbols Binding Spirit Formation is useless. If you learn it, you can activate it. With your Four Spirits' manifestations, as long as your energy is sufficient, you alone can form the array and seal all things."

"One person forms a formation?"

Zuo Wenyuan said, "Yes. Around the second level, when your qi can extend several feet beyond your body, you can begin to activate it. From beginner to mastery, this formation progresses through Yin-Yang, Three Talents, Four Symbols. The Fire Qilin Pavilion only used the 'Binding' aspect—but given Master Siwei's wrathful nature, how could this formation have only a 'Binding' effect?"

"After 'Binding' comes 'Killing.'"

"Though martial cultivators always claim that armor and weapons make them invincible in close combat, if you possess this one-person formation technique, the Four Spirits locking your essence will let you fight even higher-level martialists without defeat—and even triumph over them."

"You must study it well."

At that moment, a clamor suddenly erupted outside.

Zuo Wenyuan lifted his gaze slightly: "Again?"

Li Guanyi recalled the young Daoist Priest's earlier words and raised an eyebrow: "Is it the Monk?"

"Even if the Emperor forbids ordinary Yamen Runners and constables from targeting monks or Daoists, how dare they come here and cause a disturbance in a Daoist temple?"

The old man showed no anger, merely said:

"There is reason. This place was originally a temple."

"Over a decade ago, when Prince Puyang's elder brother—the Regent's older brother—reigned as Emperor, he revered the Buddhist faith. There were four hundred and eighty temples in the Southern Court. Later, Prince Puyang's iron cavalry broke through and burned it all to ashes. The monks who weren't conscripted fled in all directions."

"Gradually, wandering Daoist Priests gathered here and built this temple."

"Over time, the incense offerings grew, and the place gained some renown—until the monks returned, claiming this land belonged to them, demanding the Daoists leave, and insisting they pay back rent for the past decade in one lump sum: one hundred thousand taels of silver."

Li Guanyi stared, dumbfounded: "They actually dare?"

"The temple was burned to ashes. They ran away."

Zuo Wenyuan said, "That's what they claim."

"But Daoist priests aren't easygoing either; fights and brawls between them have happened more than once or twice. Recently, during the grand ceremony, the Emperor, who reveres both Buddhism and Daoism, forbade ordinary Yamen Runners from laying hands on them. Word also came that a living Buddha from the Western Regions has arrived as a guest of the grand ceremony—so these monks have grown bolder than ever."

Li Guanyi exclaimed, "A living Buddha from the Western Regions?"

"Isn't there a Buddhist kingdom in the Western Regions? The living Buddha rules over vast territories." This was Xue Shen's knowledge. Zu Wenyuan, astonished, couldn't help pointing at Li Guanyi and laughing, "You, you—these are ancient history from what era? How can your knowledge be older than mine?"

"Five hundred years ago, a divine general from the Central Plains launched an expedition against the Buddhist kingdom, striking the living Buddha down with three blows of his battle spear, shattering his golden body and leaving him spitting blood. The kingdom's prestige was ruined, yet it clung to life. Afterwards, they brutally oppressed their servants—until one slave escaped."

"More than five hundred years ago, a divine general of the Central Plains once launched a punitive expedition against the Buddhist Kingdom. Wielding his war-halberd, he shattered the Living Buddha's golden body in three strikes and sent him coughing blood to the ground. The Buddhist Kingdom's prestige was swept into the dust, and though it could barely cling to a wretched existence, afterward they began oppressing their slaves to an extreme degree. But later on, one of their slaves escaped."

"He made many friends, forged the Alliance of the Fire of Chaos, then returned to the Western Regions, wiped out everything—thus arose Tuyuhun; the Buddhist kingdom you speak of has long since been crushed to dust beneath Tuyuhun's iron cavalry."

"They say when he was young, his sister sang to him—her voice as clear as the wind across the grasslands. Later, that sister vanished without a trace. Tuyuhun fled in madness."

"When that conqueror finally subdued the Western Regions, the living Buddha flattered him, playing a song of submission on the most exquisite instrument: a white bone flute made from the shinbones of beautiful maidens, and ritual vessels carved from skullcaps, their tones clear as the wind across the grasslands."

"Under moonlight like frost, the Western Regions' conqueror sat alone in the Buddhist palace, holding his blade, silent all night."

"Then he bound the living Buddha and stuffed him into a sack. On the grasslands, the Western Regions' heavy iron cavalry trampled him for three full hours, grinding his diamond body into pulp."

"He raised his blade under the sun, burning the Buddhist palace—while inside, the serfs picked up their swords."

"Thus he forged his first invincible army of the Western Regions."

"Nowadays, the living Buddha is no more than a martial sect, nothing like the glory of centuries past. Yet now they dare leave the Western Regions, come to the Central Plains, and brazenly join Chen's grand ceremony."

"It's only because Tuyuhun's dynasty has fallen; they hope to cling to Chen's power like the Tanguts and rise again in the Western Regions."

The old man told Li Guanyi to take out the Wang Yin he carried, holding the small seal in his palm, saying, "The golden śarīra passed down through generations of the Buddhist kingdom have all been melted into it."

"Guanyi, according to the Buddhist kingdom's doctrine, your current rank surpasses even that of the living Buddha—you could sit upon the lotus throne."

Li Guanyi grimaced, ignoring the old man's teasing, and said, "The Emperor's intent is surely not merely to support the Buddhist sect?"

Zu Wenyuan smiled. "Indeed. But it's because the aristocratic officials and the Daoist sect are too close."

"The Emperor feels uneasy, so he supports Buddhism to suppress Daoism."

"He seized the throne amid struggles among factions, so his entire life trusts only balance—he fears any one side growing too strong. Once you understand this, you'll realize he's always been afraid."

The court has a rule: no sword qi is permitted within Jingcheng.

Besides, those who can release sword qi are all Captains; even among monks, they're prominent figures who wouldn't appear here. Yet the old man merely pulled him aside, smiling faintly: "No rush, no rush—let's look at the formation chart first."

"He won the throne through the contention of several factions, so in his life he trusted only the word 'balance,' unwilling to let any single faction grow too powerful. Once you understand this point, you'll know that he has actually been afraid all along."

The old man continued explaining the formation's transformations slowly.

Li Guanyi focused his mind, drawing on the experience of cramming for exams the night before and specialized training, forcing himself to memorize every detail of the formation. In the end, he succeeded through the accumulation of two lifetimes' spiritual essence, and ten years of qin-playing strengthening his spirit.

His head spun, veins throbbing on his forehead.

The noise outside grew closer.

Li Guanyi steadied his breathing and focused his mind. Drawing on the experience of cramming the night before an exam in his previous life and his specialized training, he forced himself to memorize the contents of this formation by sheer rote effort. In the end, relying on the superposition of two lifetimes' worth of Yuanshen and the ten years of qin-playing that had strengthened his Yuanshen, he managed to commit it to memory by brute force.

Li Guanyi said, "Memorized."

The old man nodded, flicked his wrist, and rolled up the scroll. The candle flame flickered out just then. The old man chuckled, "Then come again tomorrow. I'll teach you the first transformation."

"Deliver this formation chart to the Zhu Que Gate of the imperial palace."

Li Guanyi took the scroll.

The old man nodded. With a flick of his wrist, he rolled the scroll shut, just as the candle flame was about to burn out. The old man smiled and said, "Then come back tomorrow. I'll teach you the transformations of the first layer."

Perhaps I should go near the Fire Qilin.

Monks had already reached the door. Li Guanyi rose, and as the door opened, he raised his right foot and delivered a direct chest kick. The pent-up frustration of staring at math problems for ten hours exploded instantly.

Outside stood a monk nine feet tall, waist like a water barrel. The boy's kick sent him flying three feet off the ground, tumbling down with cries of "Oof! Oof!" Li Guanyi retracted his leg, exhaled, rolled up the scroll, and slung it behind his back. Outside, the crowd erupted.

From inside the room, dozens of fat monks charged forward. The Daoist priests were slender—these Daoists weren't martial sect members, no match for them. Even the herbalists serving the people were shoved down; stoves toppled, filling the air with thick herbal scent.

A monk had already forced his way to the door. Li Guanyi rose, and the instant the other party opened the door, he raised his right foot and delivered a straight kick straight to the chest. The pent-up, stifling feeling of staring at math problems for ten hours exploded in one cathartic instant.

Outside the door was a monk nine chi tall, with a waist like a water vat. Kicked by the youth, he flew three chi off the ground, tumbled head over heels down the stairs, squalling "Ouch, ouch, ouch" noisily. Li Guanyi withdrew his leg, exhaled a breath, rolled the scroll shut, and turned his back. The people outside immediately began to raise a ruckus.

Li Guanyi exhaled, grabbed a green bamboo pole beside him used for hanging clothes, shook it sharply—the bamboo shot out like a spear. With a flick of his wrist, the pole trembled, sending several monks flying.

The monks roared and charged Li Guanyi. Other worshippers, bound by court rules, couldn't interfere. Li Zhaowen had been leaving, but seeing Li Guanyi step out, wielding a staff, frowned slightly. One boy against dozens of fat monks? No killing allowed—he'd be at a disadvantage.

She gripped her weapon, then froze in surprise.

The boy charged out, swinging his staff—blocking, thrusting, slashing. Dozens of monks couldn't match him. Fifteen monks rushed in, grabbing the bamboo pole together. Li Zhaowen stepped forward—when suddenly, the boy roared.

A slender fourteen-year-old boy versus fifteen round-headed, big-eared, specially selected fat monks—a grotesque contrast. Yet the boy lifted them all with just the bamboo pole!

Changsun Wugou stared.

The youth charged out in great strides, gripping the long staff in his hand, sweeping, thrusting, slashing, and hacking. Several dozen monks were actually no match for him. Over a dozen monks rushed at him all at once, throwing themselves together to grab his green bamboo staff. Li Zhao Wen had already stepped forward, but the youth suddenly let out a thunderous roar.

On one side, a fair and handsome youth of only fourteen; on the other, a dozen or so round-headed, big-eared, specially selected fat, burly monks. At first glance, it was an absurdly lopsided matchup—yet the youth, gripping only his green bamboo staff, actually lifted all those dozen monks clean into the air!

She turned, and indeed saw the girl gripping her sword, watching the scene, her phoenix eyes gleaming with excitement. Changsun Wugou sighed helplessly.

Of course.

After lifting the fifteen monks, Li Guanyi roared again, gripping the bamboo pole like a mighty general shaking his twelve-foot spear. One shake, one tremor—the force spread, and all fifteen monks were thrown off their feet, losing their grip.

They crashed to the ground, groaning endlessly.

Yet Li Guanyi merely breathed a few times—his muscles, having exerted maximum force, recovered rapidly.

After Li Guanyi lifted the dozen monks, he suddenly let out a thunderous roar. Gripping the green bamboo staff in both hands, just as a fierce general might brandish a twelve-foot spear, he gave a single shake and tremor; the force rippled outward, and the dozen monks were all sent tumbling together, unable to keep their grip on the green bamboo staff.

Li Guanyi used the bamboo pole to knock the remaining monks down. One monk, bruised and swollen, shouted like a thug: "We've lost today! Hey, you little Daoist—dare you give your name?!"

Li Guanyi was heading to the Zhu Que Gate; he didn't bother answering.

Giving his name? He wasn't a wandering knight.

He merely raised the bamboo pole, pointing it at the monk, making the man turn pale with fear. Then he spun the pole like a dragon, pointing it behind him at the Daoist temple, before sheathing it and striding away. The monks were baffled: "Temple? You're not calling yourself 'Temple,' are you?!"

Li Guanyi was heading for the Zhu Que main gate and couldn't be bothered to answer.

Just leaving a name, not like some wandering knight-errant.

He simply raised the green bamboo in his hand and pointed it at the monk, scaring the latter pale as earth, then flicked his wrist; the green bamboo spun like a dragon, pointing at the Daoist temple behind him, before he finally withdrew his weapon and strode off in great strides. The monks were baffled, only saying: "Daoist temple—you wouldn't call it Daoist Temple, would you?!"

"No, brother, he might be saying we should ask the Daoist Priest?"

"What kind of Daoist Priest could it be?"

Changsun Wugou blinked her eyes and said gently, "Is the Daoist temple called Li Dao?"

"Or Li Guan?"

She, wise and insightful, whispered softly to herself: a Daoist temple.

Li.

Li Yi Guan, or perhaps…

Li Guanyi?

Changsun Wugou seemed to understand, and Li Zhaowen, hand on his sword, smiled: "Li Guan, Li Dao?"

"What kind of name is that?"

She thought for a moment and smiled: "Perhaps it's like that?"

Looking ahead, the boy, clad in brocade robes, held a green bamboo staff and walked steadily forward; though merely a youth, in brocade and bamboo, the people around him knelt low—in a haze, it seemed as if he marched clad in armor, spear in hand, his presence majestic.

Li Zhaowen said: "There is a Li Yaoshi inside, so his name is—"

The girl with the bearing of a dragon and phoenix watched the boy holding the bamboo like a spear, stepping forward with calm strides, and said:

"Call him Li Yishi."