Chapter 33: Lingbo Microstep

Zhao Ti observed the vast black forest, devoid of any dwellings, and followed the path straight ahead.

The sky was already late; he had originally planned to find a place to rest and eat, but there were no houses or villages nearby, so he turned his thoughts to finding a secluded spot to practice his cultivation.

He picked some fruit from the black forest, then walked deeper; the forest was immense, disorienting like a true wilderness, and as he walked, the terrain ahead gradually rose, revealing a chain of rolling hills.

He drew his short sword, hacked through brambles, and climbed the hill; halfway up, he discovered a natural cave, threw in a few stones, and out leapt a red-furred monkey, baring its teeth and lunging at him.

He slashed at it with one sweep of his sword and hurled the corpse far down the slope, then concealed the cave entrance, lit a candle inside, and took out the silk scroll from his person.

Unfurled completely, the scroll bore the words “Northern Darkness Divine Art” beside a painting of a reclining goddess, utterly naked, her face identical to the jade statue in the Langhuan Fudi, yet her eyebrows and corners of her eyes radiated seduction, her lips and cheeks exuding allure—though her features resembled the jade statue’s, her expression was utterly different, stripped of solemn majesty.

Zhao Ti’s face remained expressionless; he turned to look behind, where more female figures were painted, each sprawled in languid postures, radiating enchantment, stealing souls and captivating spirits, as if alive, gazing at him with lingering glances and faint reproach; each image bore colored threads marking acupoints and cultivation instructions, with explanatory text beneath.

He took a deep breath, his gaze returning to the text of the technique before him, studying it carefully.

After fifteen minutes, he reached the end, where it read: …Yet if you do not know your opponent’s true strength, and their inner energy surpasses yours, it is like seawater flooding into rivers—extremely perilous. Beware. Beware.

Zhao Ti frowned, his expression grave; the supreme technique of the Xiaoyao Sect must be the Eternal Youth and Immortality Art, also known as the Sole Sovereign of Heaven and Earth or the Sole Sovereign of the Eight Directions.

But others claimed it was the Northern Darkness Divine Art; yet now, it seemed less miraculous than imagined, burdened with many constraints.

It required one to completely dissipate one’s original inner energy, and after dissipation, there was a period of weakness; if one had previously cultivated an extremely potent art, one might even suffer backlash and injury.

Moreover, if the opponent’s inner energy surpassed one’s own, complications arose; if vastly superior, danger loomed—seawater flooding rivers—or worse, one might be unable to absorb anything at all, for it was not always possible, nor could anyone absorb at will.

Top-tier experts possessed stable, profound inner energy foundations, making forced absorption extremely difficult; the battle between Fang Zheng and Ren Woxing in Laughing in the Wind is proof—if the Absorbing Star Art could not absorb what Northern Darkness could, then even before Jiumo Zhi went mad, Duan Yu could not absorb him, let alone the Three-Foot Qi Wall of the Sweeping Monk.

Zhao Ti fell into thought, then recalled another matter: if Li Qiushui possessed both the Lingbo Microstep and the Northern Darkness Divine Art, why did she learn only the former and not the latter?

He was nearly certain she had never cultivated Northern Darkness Divine Art—she never used it in combat; whether the Xiao Xiang Xiang Gong could activate Northern Darkness he did not know, but he recalled a saying: Xiao Xiang Xiang Gong could indeed activate Northern Darkness, yet only effectively absorbed inner energy of the same origin—namely, Xiaoyao Sect’s internal arts.

So why did Li Qiushui not cultivate Northern Darkness Divine Art? Was she afraid of dissipating her energy, or was there another reason? She and Wu Yasheng had been safe in the Langhuan Fudi on Liangshan Mountain; if Northern Darkness vastly surpassed Xiao Xiang Xiang Gong and Baihong Palm Power, why not dissipate and learn it? Or did she believe that even if superior, the gain was negligible—dangerous early on, useless later—so she chose only the Lingbo Microstep?

Zhao Ti stared at the long scroll, his expression shifting; under current circumstances, even if he had decided to learn Northern Darkness, it was not suitable.

Before leaving the capital, to ensure self-defense in Dali, he had learned the profound art of Illusion Yin Finger; now his body brimmed with Illusion Yin Qi; if he directly dissipated it, the nature of Illusion Yin Qi would inevitably cause backlash—this was not like having no inner energy at all, never having cultivated.

The Four Evils were likely already gathered near Liangshan Mountain; he still needed to visit Tianlong Temple to glimpse the true form of Yi Yang Finger; now was not a good time to dissipate his energy under any circumstance.

After pondering for a long while, Zhao Ti decided to first learn the Lingbo Microstep, and leave Northern Darkness for later—when he returned to Dongjing, or when his surroundings were more suitable.

He turned to the final section of the scroll: the Lingbo Microstep technique. He had studied it for some time in the Langhuan Fudi; now, seeing it again, it felt familiar.

The footprints were densely packed—countless thousands—each linked to the next by green lines, each line marked with arrows indicating the hexagram directions of the I Ching.

He did not know how others fared, but for him, learning this technique was not difficult; he was well-versed in the I Ching, and the scroll’s depiction of the sixty-four hexagram positions was clear in his mind; yet the footwork was peculiar—sometimes, after taking one step, he could not proceed to the next until he realized he must spin midair, allowing a seamless, elegant transition.

Whether one could conceive of this connection depended on innate talent; some racked their brains without solution, others found the answer swiftly—that was the difference of talent.

Zhao Ti memorized the footwork thoroughly and practiced it inside the cave, sometimes leaping forward and backward, darting left and right; sometimes swaying, his long sleeves fluttering; sometimes flying, dancing, moving with unrivaled speed.

When his movements became as fluid as clouds and water, he murmured aloud: “Lingbo Microstep, silk socks stir dust; motion is unpredictable, perilous yet safe. Advance or retreat, uncertain—going, returning.”

He added: “Lingbo Microstep, Xizi’s shadow, treading waves, singing lightly on a boat of the Five Lakes; whose graceful girl washes silk? She smiles, watching the autumn seasons of Wu Palace.”

After mastering the Lingbo Microstep, he practiced the Illusion Yin Finger technique inside the cave for two more days, advancing rapidly—he had reached the third level of the sixth tier; one more level would allow him to project inner energy to harm others.

Only then did he step out of the cave, climbed to a height, and surveyed the landscape; one side of the hill faced away from the sun, its trees sparse, so he descended toward that side.

He had not seen Zhou Dong or the other two these past days, and he had no desire to linger longer around Liangshan Mountain; he considered heading toward Dali City.

Before leaving Dongjing, they had agreed: if separated by unforeseen events and unable to find each other, they would rendezvous in Dali City, at a designated location and time.

Now descending the small hill, Zhao Ti pondered: to reach Dali, he needed a horse; there were no villages or markets here, so where could he find one? He could not return to the foot of Liangshan Mountain to retrieve his previous horse—likely, the Wuliang Sword Sect was under attack now, and no horses remained.

He continued along the path, reasoning that if there was a road, he would eventually encounter people; if he found a horse, he would buy one—even a donkey would do, and he could exchange it later in a bustling place.

He walked another seven or eight li, when suddenly, beneath the shade of trees beside the path, he spotted a courtyard—someone appeared to live there; he was about to approach and knock, when from within came a loud “hee-haw” of a horse’s neigh—and his heart leapt with joy.