The wooden sword bearing a piece of Cheng Qianâs primordial spirit shuddered violently. Yan Zhengming held it with boundless bewilderment, sensing the painful resonance between it and the one that refined it.
He wasnât sure what was going on with Cheng Qian, but made a quick decision. âIâll take you away from here before anything else, and then we can talk about anything needed.â
Then, he reached out to hold him, only for Cheng Qian to instinctively lift his head and shoot a palm at him.
Murderous qi now overflowed everywhere. As soon as this strike was made, Cheng Qian was immediately terrified, quickly taking back all of the frigid true essence that was surging into his palm. As a result, the high-lifted palm gently fell, lightly waving Yan Zhengming away with extreme restraint, yet didnât injure him in the slightest.
Heavy true essence having left and come back, the force of the backlash shook half of Cheng Qianâs body numb. He choked out a mouthful of blood at once that dyed his own lapels red, his chaotic consciousness temporarily incited into soberness by the pain.
âWhat are you doing?!â Yan Zhengming asked in horror.
Cheng Qian ignored him. First of all, that would be a long story, and second of all, he himself wasnât too clear on it, plus really didnât have the strength to explain.
Yet, he also knew well that if he said some nonsense to Yan Zhengming to make him leave, the other would not only not listen, but get even more nervous and come in close. Hence was why Cheng Qian had to silently push him away, biting the tip of his own tongue until he was clear-headed from the pain inside his bloody-tasting mouth. He simply and efficiently popped his limbs out of their joints, then seized this time to concentrate on his inner sanctum, draw all of his true essence into his qi sea â regardless of how turbulent said essence was â and focused in on colliding it against the seal Shang Wanânian had left in his primordial spirit.
Prior to his death, Shang Wanânian had been worried that his damaged primordial spirit would not be able to handle Hear the Universeâs inheritance and sealed it up, only to be unsealed on its own if his spirit was fully repaired. He couldnât give that much consideration to that now, though; he was burning to release Hear the Universe, wanting to use its help to get rid of the soul-painting Tang Zhen had placed upon him.
As for whether he could endure that brutal inheritance, he wasnât considering that at all.
When factors permitted, he would always be dependable in conduct. When he was truly forced to dire straits, he would believe that there was nothing he couldnât do.
Yan Zhengming felt that the encompassing child was momentarily going towards Cheng Qian, making him shiver with the cold when it brushed by him, and then that a tiny, ear-shaped mark was shining between his brows.
Inside this Site, encountered lamps were blown out, encountered wicks drawn out, not a trace of light tolerated at all â and yet, that radiant sigil wasnât affected in the slightest, brightening and brightening until he could clearly see the bloodstains upon Cheng Qianâs pale lips, and the hovering black qi between his brows.
He couldnât fathom what was happening here, too afraid to step forward. By his intuition, this appeared to be some sort of mysterious inheritance, but the time and place was wrong.
Moreover, what kind of inheritance would make him self-harm?
Yan Zhengming had never heard of one before. He also didnât know if interrupting an inheritance partway through would do something to Cheng Qian.
Since he would never dare to risk him, Yan Zhengming could only take the wooden sword back into his inner sanctum, using the force of his own primordial spirit to repeatedly sooth the trembling weapon.
The wooden sword was his origin sword, after all. Over time, he had come to feel a weak resonance inside it, like he was hearing a distant, faint bell.
He was not allowed to think more on that before he suddenly felt the Site beneath him begin to shake, the sound of raging waves heard through the partition of the thick ice.
The waters of Beiming outside were resonating with whatever was between Cheng Qianâs brows!
Yan Zhengming put on the utmost of guard, his entire body practically tensing up into a sword itself. Just the seawater resonating is fine, but there canât beâ
The second he had that thought, he heard sharp wind sound through the Site once more â that bizarre gale returned in a whirl without any sort of warning. This time, it actually bypassed the skeletons in front of them to exactingly give chase!
He pretty much wanted to laugh in pain. For the first time, he was learning that he, too, had a misfortune-spewing crowâs beak.
Even though sword cultivators couldnât be said to be made of metal, their bodies were forged the year round, and were certainly not made of clay. Ordinary swords couldnât hurt him at all, but with a mere sweep of that wind, several half-chi long wounds had been left behind on him, making his back feel wave after wave of sweeping, unbearable pain even now.
Taking a deep look at the completely out-of-it Cheng Qian, Yan Zhengming called the wooden sword out and held it in hand. All his primordial spirit swords lined up in a row beside him, the entire boundary of âEnter the Sheathâ opening, creating a sword realm within the Mystic Site.
The Site was rocked by the vicious inheritance of Hear the Universe. As if it was discovering the intruder after the fact, the astral wind that had only just swept in front of them pounced right for Cheng Qian.
Yan Zhengming swiftly used the spirit swords to weave an expansive net of them. With a low shout, he refused to yield one minor step, about to firmly isolate the mountain of snowâs anger to the outside.
The sword realm and astral wind collided on a narrow path. In an instant, millions of rays burst apart, the sharp weapons that cut iron like it was clay now continuously bent and broken within the strong and angry gust. Just one exchange, and the sword realm was instantly half-trampled flat.
Cold light reflected on the walls, bright candles dimmed. The sound of metal and rock was endless in the ears. Yan Zhengmingâs long hair had been completely blown loose by the leaked wind, and his long robes were moving erratically, getting a few new tears made in them every once in a while, which made them nearly ragged after not that long.
Then, he shut his eyes lightly, allowing the swordwill of Fuyao Wooden Sword tirelessly surge into his hands.
He had once believed that after Cheng Qian died before, he would not have been able to open the mountain-sealing order in any capacity. He had thought that there would come a day where he could use his own power to suppress the spiritual consciousnesses of Sect Leaders past in the Sect Leader Seal, then forcefully circumvent the order to make Fuyao Mountain reappear in the human world.
In front of him at this moment was the entire treacherous Mystic Site deep in Beiming, while he held a wooden sword, as motionless as a mountainâŠ
With how much of a life-cherishing person I am, why am I always running into death-seeking things?
The skill of âEnter the Sheathâ was more reserved in edge, yet also more drawn-out.
And those that were violent would not be for long.
He alone began to endlessly exchange back-and-forth with the Site. Not a trace of sword qi was seen around his body, as it was rushing from his inner sanctum and into the sword realm non-stop.
Constantly blown down by the overbearing wind, then constantly standing back up again.
There were no days, nor nights in this mountain of snow. He had no idea how long he had been holding on, himself. A long-missed ache gradually emerged in all of his meridians, like sticking needles; this meant that his internal true essence was about to be exhausted.
He hadnât experienced this feeling of running out of power for who-knew-how long, and couldnât help but turn back to look at Cheng Qian. The otherâs face was as pale as paper, yet he seemed to be able to draw infinite strength from it.
All of a sudden, he felt quite strange. He had been under the impression that with his own fearful nature that feared any sort of pain and suffering, he absolutely would not have been able to persevere when his wick was about to go out, bound to tidy up his appearance, sit down, and wait to die upon encountering something like this â but, once Cheng Qian was near him, everything changed.
Cheng Qian could transform him from a âdelicateâ crisp to a worn rag that could never be wrung dry. Even if it didnât look pretty, once twisted hard, it could always hold up for a little while.
The needly pain gradually spread all over him. His limbs seemed like they were getting torn off in a stern warning to him from his baked-dry meridian. Ignoring it wholly, he abruptly withdrew his full-body barrier, and then all his spirit swords rose up high. In a second, his inner sanctum was entirely emptied, a rumbling in his ears â and then he pushed out the swords with a palm!
The spirit swords changed into swordwill on the spot. There was no place they did not go, counter-attacking like they were going to topple the mountain and overturn the sea, a howl going through the air that was close to the roar of a beast. The astral wind of the Site was legitimately shoved backwards by him.
Entire body swaying, he actually began to seep blood. He struck his sword against the ground to forcibly stand, but the look in his eyes was already dulled, and he unconsciously mumbled, âXiao QianâŠâ
His inability to protect the young Cheng Qian had always been his lifelong regret. Owing to the passage of time, the other had become so powerful, he didnât need him at all; only the surplus dread from the past dimly entrenched his heart, forever impossible to shake off.
A smil of unclear meaning showed at the corner of his mouth, and then he fainted while standing up.
The wooden sword left his hand, but didnât fall. Its tip pointed down as it hung in midair, the utmost of loyal to its duty as it defended his front.
However, after waiting for a minute, an even stronger counterattack did not come. The astral wind had somehow been broken up by the swordwill, meandering back into Da Xueâs depths.
Cheng Qianâs overwrought spiritual consciousness within the wooden sword sighed in relief. What he felt right now defied description; all of his consciousness was split into two parts, one half in his body, and the other in this sword. It was like he had two brains deliberating at the exact same time, even interfering with each other. He was now experiencing Han Yuanâs own feelings, whether it was from the soul-painting, or the strangeness of being divided into two.
The consciousness in his body was desperately resisting the influence of soul-painting, and maintaining his final piece of rationality before he could open Hear the Universeâs seal. The consciousness in the sword was instead defending Yan Zhengming, and reflecting upon the events within the noisy disturbance of that soul-painting.
Seeing that the astral wind had withdraw, Cheng Qian had a brief bit of respite, though the suspicions inside of him floated upwards â what meaning was there behind soul-paintingâs suggestion?
What reason did Tang Zhen have to try to make him kill Yan Zhengming?
If Tang Zhen was said to have done this to incite the world into chaos, then he probably would have wanted to get rid of Han Yuan, Shang Wanânian, and the others, but there was no way he hadnât figured out Yan Zhengming. The total of sore spots on their Sect Leaderâs body could be counted on one hand, so as long as no one bumped into him, he could peacefully remain on Fuyao Mountain for a lifetime, never taking the initiative to go looking for trouble.
What sense was there in Tang Zhen provoking such a fierce and almighty sword cultivator for no reason, and also taking such great troubles to swindle him into the Da Xue Mystic Site?
Even if Tang Zhen was actually insane and just had to use him to get at Yan Zhengmingâs life, why hadnât he just done it while on the Mountain, where they had had so many times in both the day and night where guards were down, and Yan Zhengming would have had absolutely no way to escape? Why did it have to be here?
Having expected the danger that was at every step of the Site, and also being unable to see a thing, the two of them had had very tense nerves ever since they entered this place, making sneak attacks nearly impossible.
Why did Tang Zhen believe that as long as he attacked, Yan Zhengming would be certain to die?
Cheng Qian was a cultivator with a primordial spirit that had undergone seven lightning tribulations; he was far different from the low-cultivation, easy-to-control Han Yuan from back in the day. Were he to find something off about himself, he would definitely resist it. If Tang Zhen believed that he was so scatterbrained that he could casually injure a Sword Spirit Realm cultivator, then he was really viewing him too highly.
What was the use of Tang Zhen setting the soul-painting buried on him off right now, other than to alert the enemy?
Yan Zhengming was only unconscious for a short bit before he woke. He leaned against the wall in a sorry state, first sensing the disordered direction of the wind in the Site, then snatching the opportunity to regulate his true essence. Following a long period of slow breaths, he inclined his head to look at the motionless Cheng Qian. âNot dead yet⊠hey⊠when are you getting up and brushing my hair?â
The ear sigil between Cheng Qianâs brows seemed to get brighter as he continued to pierce the increasingly teetering seal. That familiar cauterizing sensation that seemed like it was going to burn him into a pile of ash once again rushed into his internal organs, which inevitably affected his spiritual consciousness that was active in the wooden sword, causing it to make a soft hum.
Yan Zhengming tore his eyes off of Cheng Qian, then lifted his head to look into Da Xue Mountainâs depths. With just one glance, some kind of indescribable impulse arose in his mind, as if the Site had something inside of it that had an unspeakably magnetic force to him, causing his heart to jump like mad.
However, he did not move, hand slowly rubbing across the wooden sword. âStrange. All of a sudden, it feels like youâve just gotten out of the bath.â
Cheng Qianâs spiritual consciousness, currently doing all it could to perceive Hear the Universeâs situation, had the misfortune of hearing this, and nearly got jolted out by the wooden sword that was incessantly shuddering.
Yan Zhengming stood up three paces away from Cheng Qian; both not close enough to bother him, but also place him completely within his line of sight. Like so, he appeared to be able to resist the inexplicable magnetism in Da Xueâs depths.
He lighted licked his chapped lips, feeling that there there was not only something off with himself, but even the entire Site had been excited by something.
Suddenly, he blinked forcefully, only to see a ray of light pierce from deep within the Site, looking like broken bits of pure gold in the darkness. The was only one line, at first, and then it slowly unfurled, millions of golden flowers blooming in that place most black.
A mysterious, secluded halo in this land of ice swayed to and fro, shining all over the place like clear glints of light on waves, resembling an immortal paradise in the human realm.
This scene was beyond description. Anyone who saw it would not be able to resist drawing in a breath.
Yan Zhengming was struck mute for a long time. A guess suddenly flashed past his mind â was that the Golden Lotus Leaf of Da Xue?
It actually existed?
The instant that golden light emerged, Cheng Qian felt that the soul-painting in his inner sanctum could no longer be suppressed. Black qi immediately invaded his sanctum, his weak primordial spirit nearly drowned in it, where only the corner of it that Hear the Universe was in remained holding up.
He, who had been unmoving with his eyes closed, abruptly opened them. They were colder than when he normally used his techniques, nearly bottomless.
Yan Zhengming finally snapped out of it. âYouâre awake, dear ancestor?â
Cheng Qian paid him no heed, though, bones and joints issuing crisp sounds as he then got up unsteadily, entire body covered in frost. His movements were extremely stiff and unnatural, the blood-strained Shuang Ren he held permeated with a murderous aura that wasnât concealed in the least.
At exactly this moment, the wooden sword in Yan Zhengmingâs hand suddenly shook off his control. Taking advantage of the otherâs moment of inattentiveness, Cheng Qianâs spiritual consciousness temporarily took control over the sword, striking a band of sword qi at himself that had been accumulated for a long time.
Yan Zhengming grabbed the wooden swordâs hilt, but it was still too late to stop it. He helplessly watched as the sword qi embedded itself straight into Cheng Qianâs body.
He knew, of course, that the wooden sword was haunted by a part of Cheng Qian himself. âCheng Qian, are you on the wrong meds?!â he yelled, shocked and angry.
The otherâs body swayed, seeming to know no pain. Frost formed up from his neck to suffuse his face, blood already flowing down from the corner of his mouth, and yet he was unaware, staring out in front of him with a lifeless gaze. That blank-eyed look seemed exceptionally familiarâŠ
Yan Zhengmingâs back went cold â this was soul-painting!
Cheng Qianâs grip on Shuang Ren was slack, its tip dragging across the ice, making a sound that hurt the teeth. Gait nearly a lurch, he walked, step by step, over to Yan Zhengming.
Does he want to kill me?
That idea flitted past Yan Zhengmingâs mind at flying speed, his entire body going cold, from his head to the soles of his feet. He stood stock-still where he was, in inner turmoil.
Then, a burst of golden light suddenly flickered out of the corner of his eyes. His heart beat heavily â right, the Golden Lotus Leaf!
Regardless of who had harmed Cheng Qian, and when they had, as long as he could get the Leaf, dealing with soul-painting would be nothing.
Embracing this notion, he tightly gripped the wooden sword, prevented Cheng Qian from injuring himself with his sword qi, and flew for the light source of the Leaf.
Cheng Qianâs consciousness in the sword immediately understood what he was going to do. Senior! Stop!
Yet, no one could hear a swordâs words.
Tang Zhen had guided them here, using the astral wind inside to send his soul into turmoil, which led to the soul-painting.
That guy was proficient in all sorts of soul-cursing techniques, so why had he picked out soul-painting?
In the span of a spark, a guess suddenly arose in his mind â since Yan Zhengming had once encountered true soul-painting at the East Sea, he could recognize it. No one in the Fuyao Sect would forget it.
Tang Zhen had to know that Cheng Qian wouldnât be able to kill Yan Zhengming; he was just alarming him. If he was trapped by soul-painting, what would Yan Zhengmingâs first reaction be?
It didnât need explanation. He would go for the Leaf.
In that moment, Cheng Qianâs sword-consciousness acutely fluctuated, nearly affecting Yan Zhengmingâs inner sanctum. The latter felt the familiar consciousness, instinctively pausing.
Cheng Qian decisively drew his sword-consciousness back into his own inner sanctum by force. Wrapped up in Enter the Sheathâs sword qi taken from the wooden sword, it slashed open Hear the Universeâs seal.
The loosened seal fell apart in an instant. The spiritual object in his inner sanctum flared brightly, as if it was going to burn all of his innards black.That abominable, nefarious technique placed on the space between his brows was swept away like a rotten leaf, the soul-painting eliminated in an instant.
Immediately after that, an even harsher test arrived.
His body seeming like it was burning. The fine frost that had just formed on him visibly melted away, soaking his hair and clothes through in the blink of an eye. The senses of his primordial spirit and corporeal form were disconnected, pretty much like how it was before his body made from the Spirit-Collection Jade was formed, on that first time he had nearly been hacked by a heavenly tribulation.
The Site started trembling. Not caring that he hat been hit by soul-painting, Yan Zhengming grabbed Cheng Qianâs hand and pulled him into his arms. If he wants to kill me, then he can, he thought.
Yan Zhengming almost jolted from the burn Cheng Qianâs sweltering body gave him, after which the astral wind that had vanished once against started flying about at random, its sharp, blade-like edges crashing around the Site like a wild horse off of its reins, going completely off the walls.
He held Cheng Qian tightly. At almost the exact same time, the Site collapsed beneath their feet. Using his sword qi to attack and defend the both of them, a protective barrier formed, engulfing them as they rolled down together into the Siteâs abyss.