Chapter 10

“Without castration, one practices the Scripture?” Li Xian looked at Zhao Ti, his frost-white eyebrows trembling slightly.

After a long silence, he said: “The martial arts recorded in the Scripture follow the path of extreme yin, devoid of yang fire. Heaven gives birth to water; Earth completes it with six. Utterly yin, utterly soft, profoundly eerie and bewitching. Should yang fire arise, it burns all to ashes—losing prior achievements is minor; falling into demonic deviation is grave. There is no possibility of success.”

Zhao Ti pondered: “Then, if one simply avoids lustful thoughts, would that suffice?”

Li Xian sighed: “Your Majesty, all mortals are ordinary. How can one avoid lustful thoughts? Even those with will but no strength still have will first, strength second. Where there is will, fire arises. Unless the root is resolved, as thoughts stir, yang meridians awaken—everything becomes futile. Not only do all efforts vanish like dreams and bubbles, but demonic deviation may strike at any moment, leading to sudden death.”

Zhao Ti rose and paced twice around the room: “Can women practice it?”

Li Xian replied: “The Scripture is no ordinary cold-natured method. Men may be castrated; women have no way to extinguish lustful fire, cannot balance yin and yang—impossible.”

Zhao Ti smiled: “Then that’s it. This Scripture hinges entirely on fire. Women, being yin, cannot practice it either—clearly, it has nothing to do with the human body. As long as one can absorb yang and conceal fire, contain hardness and mask intensity, ordinary men and women may yet practice it.”

“Your Majesty has read the Scripture only once, yet understands it so deeply?” Li Xian fixed his gaze on Zhao Ti: “Had you not truly no internal strength, I would have assumed you had long studied this path. Yet while your reasoning is sound, solving it remains exceedingly difficult.”

Zhao Ti fell silent: “Over the years, I’ve studied only external fast swords. My knowledge of internal arts is limited. Seeing the principle is one thing; understanding all internal arts is another. Master Li, think again. I refuse to believe that if a principle exists, no solution can be found.”

“This…” Li Xian showed a flicker of hesitation, then concealed it instantly.

Zhao Ti seized the change in his expression, his voice dark: “Master Li, I love martial arts above all else. Last night, in a dream, the late Emperor asked me about my life. I answered truthfully: daily honing strength, crude fists and clumsy legs—unsuitable for noble halls. The late Emperor sighed, then swept his sleeve and left. When I awoke, my spirit was unsettled, as if plunged into a deep abyss, utterly lost.”

“Alas, Your Majesty,” Li Xian stared at the Kuihuabaodian manuscript in Zhao Ti’s hand, his lips trembling, then clamped shut.

Seeing Li Xian unmoved, Zhao Ti gestured to Tong Guan and returned the Scripture: “Truthfully, I don’t intend to practice this Scripture. After all, it was tailor-made for eunuchs. I merely harbor doubt. I return the Scripture to you—no need to look at it again. If you know how to resolve this, speak plainly. Ease my curiosity, or I’ll be driven mad with frustration.”

Li Xian watched Tong Guan return the manuscript, his heart easing. The Scripture contained nearly thirty thousand characters; there was no way Zhao Ti could memorize it all. He wasn’t afraid Zhao Ti would steal the art—it was born within the palace, meant for the imperial family. Outsiders were guarded fiercely; as for the imperial house, even if Zhao Ti destroyed it outright and vowed never to practice again, Li Xian would obey. He feared only that Zhao Ti, as he claimed, was a martial fanatic—should one thought falter, he might slash his own genitals, making Li Xian a criminal.

Now that the Scripture was returned, Li Xian felt relief and spoke: “Your Majesty, I once speculated about the lost Zi Xia Jin. I suspected that first cultivating this art might spare one the pain of castration—but it’s only speculation, not certain.”

“Zi Xia Jin…” Zhao Ti shook his head. He now understood why the name felt familiar—it was too similar to Huashan Sect’s Zi Xia Shen Gong.

Huashan Sect was not the one founded by Hao Datong of the Quanzhen school in early Yuan Dynasty. The Quanzhen-affiliated Daoist Huashan Sect lay beneath Chaoyang Peak as a temple; the true Huashan Sect resided on Yünu Peak—two entirely different things.

If Zi Xia Jin was the precursor to Zi Xia Shen Gong, then Huashan Sect may have been founded by the Chen lineage—consistent with Chen Tuan’s deep ties to Huashan.

Yet he didn’t believe learning Zi Xia Jin alone could spare one from castration to practice the Kuihuabaodian —especially since it was merely Li Xian’s guess.

Zhao Ti persisted: “Master Li, I’ve heard that during Emperor Taizong’s southern campaign, he crushed the martial underworld and seized countless martial manuals. Dou Dahuan accompanied him closely and surely managed them. When the Kuihuabaodian was later created, it must have drawn heavily from those arts—surely among them lies a solution?”

Li Xian froze: “How did Your Majesty know of this?”

Zhao Ti replied: “Not hard to deduce.”

At that moment, Tong Guan brought water. Li Xian moistened his lips, fell silent for a long while, then said: “Since Your Majesty knows of this, I shall no longer conceal it. The Kuihuabaodian was indeed founded by Master Dou, drawing from those martial texts. Our ancestor once passed down a saying: if one cultivates a certain art from the Shanhai Guan by the Yangtze River, one need not be castrated to practice the Scripture’s martial arts.”

“Hmm? Truly?” Zhao Ti narrowed his eyes.

“Yet Master Dou created this Scripture to pass to his eunuch disciples—all of whom were castrated—so no one cared whether they practiced that art.”

“Shanhai Guan by the Yangtze River… what art is that?” Zhao Ti asked.

“Shanhai Guan is a great Daoist monastery. Its supreme art is called Yi Yin Zhi, also known as Huan Yin Zhi—extremely yin, cold, and sinister, chilling and spectral. If cultivated, it harmonizes yang fire, conceals true hardness. Then, when practicing the Kuihuazhenqi , it will not be burned by lustful fire.”

“Huan Yin Zhi? So this is the art!”

Zhao Ti remembered this technique—it was Cheng Kun’s ultimate skill from the late Yuan era, the era of the Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber. Extremely cold and venomous, Cheng Kun once used it to cripple seven Ming Jiao masters at Bright Peak.

Huan Yin Zhi’s original name was Yi Yin Zhi; it was later renamed. It resembled the Tian Shan Life-and-Death Mark—a cold internal force that clings to the body and wanders through the limbs and meridians. Because it clings and moves, rather than being a fixed counter-force, once struck, it is nearly impossible to eradicate.

Not only was the technique deadly, it was cruel. Once wounded, the venomous chill clung to the body; only pure yang internal force could dispel it in battle.

His mind raced. Not learning the Kuihuabaodian , but learning Huan Yin Zhi instead—wasn’t that acceptable?

“Master Li, where is Huan Yin Zhi now?”

Li Xian shook his head: “Your Majesty, I didn’t conceal it deliberately from the start—Huan Yin Zhi is gone too…”

“Gone too?” Zhao Ti was stunned.

“Your Majesty knows Emperor Taizong once collected martial manuals during his southern campaign—surely you’ve heard of Emperor Renzong’s destruction of the Three Libraries?” Li Xian asked, puzzled.

“Emperor Renzong destroyed the Three Libraries? What three libraries?” Zhao Ti frowned: “I’ve never heard of this in the palace since childhood. It’s not recorded in Emperor Renzong’s daily records.”

Li Xian thought: “I spoke carelessly. The Three Libraries were built by Emperor Taizong; after Emperor Renzong destroyed them, how could such an act be recorded?”

“Please tell me the truth, Master Li. What libraries were destroyed? What do they have to do with martial arts?” Zhao Ti asked, frowning.