Chapter 33: Lingbo Weibu

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 technique.

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

He drew his short sword, hacked through thorns and brambles, and climbed up 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 below, then concealed the cave entrance, lit a candle inside, and took out the silk scroll from his person.

The entire scroll unfurled, beside the words "Beiming Divine Art" was a painting of a reclining goddess, utterly naked, her face identical to the jade statue of Langhuan Fudi, yet her eyebrows and corners of her eyes radiated seduction, her lips and cheeks exuded 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 supine, alluring postures, bewitching and soul-stealing, as if alive, gazing at him with fixed eyes and faint reproach; each image bore colored lines marking acupoints and cultivation instructions, with explanatory text beneath.

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

After a quarter-hour, he reached the end, where it read: … Yet if one does not know the enemy's true strength, and their inner energy surpasses one's own, it is like seawater flooding into rivers—extremely perilous. Beware. Beware.

Zhao Ti frowned, his expression growing serious; the foremost divine art of the Xiao Yao Sect must surely be the Eternal Youthful Spring Technique, also known as the Sole Sovereign of Heaven and Earth Technique or the Sole Sovereign of the Eight Directions Technique.

But others claimed it was the Beiming Divine Art; yet now, it seemed the Beiming Divine Art was not as miraculous as imagined, and carried many constraints.

It required one to completely dissipate one's original inner energy; after dispersing it, one entered a period of weakness, and if one had previously cultivated an extremely powerful technique, 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, and it was not something one could casually do at any time, against any person.

Top experts possessed stable, profound inner energy foundations, making forced absorption extremely difficult; the battle between Fang Zheng and Ren Woxing in The Smiling, Proud Wanderer was an example—if the Absorbing Star Technique could not absorb what Beiming could, then when Ji Mo Zhi had not gone mad, Duan Yu could not absorb him either, let alone the Three-Foot Qi Wall of the Sweeping Monk.

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

He could almost confirm she had never cultivated Beiming Divine Art; she never used it in combat. Whether Xiao Wu Xiang Gong could activate Beiming he did not know, but he recalled a saying: Xiao Wu Xiang Gong could indeed activate Beiming, yet it could only absorb inner energy of the same origin—that is, Xiao Yao Sect's internal arts.

So why did Li Qiushui not cultivate Beiming Divine Art? Was she afraid of dispersing her energy, or was there another reason? At the time, she and Wu Yasheng were in no danger at Lianghuan Blessed Land; if Beiming vastly surpassed Lesser Formless Skill and Li Hongzhang, why did she not disperse her energy to learn it? Or did she believe that even if superior, the gain was negligible—dangerous in the early stages, useless in the later—so she chose only Lingbo Weibu?

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

Before leaving the capital, to ensure self-defense in Dali, he had learned the advanced martial art Huan Yi Yin Zhi; now his entire body was filled with Huan Yin True Qi—if he directly dispersed it, the nature of Huan Yin True Qi would surely cause backlash, unlike someone who had never cultivated inner energy at all.

The Four Evil Ones were likely already gathered near Lianghuan Mountain; he still needed to visit Tianlong Temple to glimpse the true form of Yi Yang Finger; now was certainly not a good time to disperse his energy.

Zhao Ti pondered for a long while, deciding first to learn Lingbo Weibu, and to postpone Beiming until he returned to Dongjing or found a suitable environment.

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

The footprints were densely packed, numbering in the hundreds or thousands; each footprint connected to the next by green lines, marked with arrows indicating the Eight Trigrams' directions.

He did not know how others fared, but for him, learning this technique was not difficult; he was well-versed in the Yi Jing, and the scroll clearly marked the sixty-four hexagram positions, 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 in midair, allowing a seamless, elegant transition.

Whether one could figure out how to connect the steps depended on innate talent; some strained their minds to no avail, others found the solution quickly—that was the difference in aptitude.

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 swift, unrivaled grace.

When his movements became as smooth as flowing clouds and running water, he murmured aloud: "Lingbo Weibu, silk socks stir dust; motion is unpredictable, perilous yet safe. Advance or retreat, uncertain—going, returning."

He added: "Lingbo Weibu, Xi Zi's shadow, treading waves, singing lightly on a five-lake boat; whose graceful girl washes silk? Laughing, watching the courts of Wu through many autumns."

After mastering Lingbo Weibu, he practiced Huan Yi Yin Zhi 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 true qi outward to injure others.

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

He had not seen Zhou Dong or Bai Hong these past days, and he had no desire to linger near Lianghuan Mountain; he considered heading to Dali City.

Before leaving Dongjing, they had agreed: if separated by accident 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 Lianghuan 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, then suddenly saw, beneath the shade of trees beside the path, a courtyard—someone appeared to live there; he was about to approach and knock, when from within came a loud "Hiiii-luuu!"—a horse's neigh—and his heart leapt with joy.