Chapter 24: Make Your Move
Chen Ping'an stomped again, the tip of his foot striking the other's waist and ribs, sending the Ancient Shaman, whose body had bounced off the ground, flying away.
If the Ancient Shaman, whose hemp robe had been shattered, hadn't managed to replace it with a brand new one in time, he would have nearly been snapped in half by that kick.
The Ancient Shaman slammed a single palm against the ground, halting his backward slide, and rose gracefully. No sooner had he steadied himself than he saw a face growing clearer and clearer before he could even make a move.
Chen Ping'an grabbed hold of the other's arm with both hands and yanked it outward with all his might.
Then he headbutted him.
One arm was torn off on the spot and casually tossed aside.
The Ancient Shaman was left with only one arm remaining.
Chen Ping'an drove a knee into him, forcing his body to lurch forward. Seizing the momentum, he tore off the remaining arm as well, then slammed his shoulder into the other's chest.
Like a chisel carving into a mountain.
A simple shoulder charge carried the battlefield momentum of a cavalry charge breaking through enemy lines.
The Ancient Shaman was knocked backward, barely managing to stop at the edge of the white divine platform.
Chen Ping'an twisted his wrist lightly and tossed the arm in his hand back to the other from a distance.
The Ancient Shaman had already summoned the first arm that had been torn off back to his side with his mind, reattaching it to the severed shoulder, where it quickly mended itself. He then raised his hand to catch the second arm. At this moment, the hemp robe covering his upper and lower body had changed once more, now made of the coarsest raw hemp, unhemmed and sparse, as if cut by an ordinary blade. It was indeed the ritual attire of "Zhan Cui" (the severest mourning), one level higher than "Qi Cui" (the next level).
That was it.
As one of the earliest great shamans on the mortal earth to communicate with the gods, he would naturally offer the most solemn rituals and mourning for the collapse and extinction of the ancient divine path.
The Ancient Shaman's donning of hemp robes of different specifications and ritual levels corresponded to different degrees of physical resilience, different heights of martial attainment, and different amounts of pure incense and offerings he could bear.
A fluttering blue robe, barefoot on the snow-white divine platform, one hand clenched into a fist behind his back, the other palm open and extended forward.
Even after ten thousand years, the Ancient Shaman could clearly understand the other's intent.
Make your move.
The Ancient Shaman, who had once enjoyed the worship of countless beings on the earth, had seen the heads and backs of countless prostrate creatures on this divine platform.
After that, the other seemed to have drawn a circle on the ground, moving at most one foot, allowing the Ancient Shaman to approach and launch his attacks.
On the snow-white divine platform, it seemed as if thousands of hemp-clad figures appeared simultaneously, but there was always only a single streak of blue.
Two torrents of dense, water-like fist intent surged mightily, like the scene at the confluence of two rivers in the mortal world, different in color—one blue, one yellow.
The Ancient Shaman's punching speed and strength had indeed undergone earth-shattering changes, and through some unknown divine ability, he could even borrow a portion of Chen Ping'an's external fist intent.
Moreover, the Ancient Shaman could mimic various divine abilities with his own fist intent, "channeling" them onto the divine platform. His fist intent condensed like flying swords forming a formation, carrying the true meaning of wind, rain, lightning, and thunder. He could even casually "manifest" various ancient divine weapons, such as the narrow saber "Zhan Kan," which specifically broke the "dragon veins" in key areas of a martial artist's physique.
How could later-generation martial artists ever imagine that martial arts could reach such divine heights?
Finally, a leg swept fiercely across his face.
Chen Ping'an's body remained motionless; he just tilted his head slightly and spat out a mouthful of blood.
The Ancient Shaman, on the other hand, was knocked back dozens of feet by the immense force. The shin of his leg was exposed, revealing white bone with fine cracks, and strands of pale golden blood slid down his calf to his ankle, flowing onto the immaculate white mirror-like surface.
The blue-robed man standing at the pinnacle of martial arts ten thousand years later did not speak, but the Ancient Shaman could clearly perceive his meaning.
Weak, too weak!
---
Among the onlookers, no one thought Chen Ping'an would lose, but few believed he could win so easily.
Xu Xie felt that earlier, when he had first arrived at the National Master's residence and was still deducing how to break the suppression technique, he had clearly overthought things.
As long as Chen Ping'an got close, he himself would be dead for sure. The question was how to prevent Chen Ping'an from getting close? Impossible!
As for those within the Great Li capital, besides Song Yunjian, whose Dao name was Ying Ning, the very few who could see the truth included Feng Yi, sitting on the stone bench under the trellis at the Fire God Temple. She rarely drank today, resting her elbows on the stone bench, wearing a playful smile as she looked up at the battle in the sky. She vaguely felt that the multi-colored-faced Ancient Shaman looked somewhat familiar, but after the collapse of the divine path back then, old spirits like her had not only been demoted in divine rank and reduced in divine duties, but had also lost a great deal of memories that were hard to trace. Especially after Little Confucius cut off communication between heaven and earth, ancient spirits like her became even more like ordinary mortals who "grow forgetful in old age." It was a helpless matter, but in a sense, it could also be considered a stroke of luck.
Then there was the old coachman, Su Kan, who had set up a small table in his own courtyard with two plates of pickled vegetables on it. The old man, sitting on a small stool, took a sip of wine, smacked his lips, picked up a piece of vegetable with his chopsticks, and crunched it loudly, savoring every bite. Earlier, when he saw several of the White Bone Daoist's signature techniques, this former ancient spirit who had once presided over the Zhan Kan Division of the Jade Pivot Courtyard couldn't help but find them extremely irritating.
Then there were Yuan Huajing and the Daoist Ge Ling, the Earth Branch cultivators who remained in the capital.
Ge Ling asked softly, "Don't we really need to call Zhou Haijing and the others back?"
Yuan Huajing shook his head. "No need."
Unfortunately, due to the restrictions of the capital's formation, he couldn't transmit his thoughts outward for now, but he believed that with National Master Chen's achievements, he wouldn't let himself be shortchanged. After all, the next step in enhancing the killing power of the Earth Branch lineage, aside from Zhou Haijing's "multiplicative increase" in martial realm, would be the upgrade in the rank of Yuan Huajing's flying sword "Ye Lang" (Night Wolf).
Ge Ling and the others could roughly see the situation, feeling both a comforting sense of "the National Master and I are on the same side" and a sense of being similarly afflicted, as if they had also suffered similar hardships. In short, their emotions were extremely complicated.
There was also a guest official of the Imperial Observatory in the capital, a man of profound knowledge who had yet to hold any official rank. He held a stack of books and was looking up at the sky thoughtfully.
At the cliffside outside the Qing Xuan Cave of Yuan Rou Stack, Zhu Su watched with a scalp-tingling sensation. It was a good thing that the ancient great shaman's bones were strong enough, or else the Hidden Officer might have just ripped his head off, right?
It wasn't that Zhu Su had limited experience and was making a fuss over nothing; it was simply a scene and meaning completely different from sword dueling.
Like a frail scholar in a Confucian robe, sitting on the ground amidst the ruins of a remote academy, devouring a basin full of raw, bloody meat. When he looked up, his smile was still warm and gentle.
Strange, wasn't it?
If the Hidden Officer, fully unleashed, were thrown into the desolate wilderness, she dared not imagine those scenes.
The old Lord of Green Hill, who surrounded the capital with her massive body, was also deeply startled. She knew very well the Ancient Shaman's martial arts achievements and his proficiency in summoning gods and spirits. In the realm where they, the rebels, were imprisoned, "historically," there had been several great cultivators who couldn't withstand the erosion of time. It was hard to say whether they were seeking death or their Dao hearts had collapsed into demonic possession, but they wanted to cross that "chain." Without the Gatekeeper intervening, the Ancient Shaman would step in to stop them, killing them one by one. Thus, the White Bone Daoist, ambitious to establish a sect and claim patriarch status, had repeatedly tried to recruit the nameless, unnamed Ancient Shaman during his "wading" journey back to the mortal world, but the Ancient Shaman remained silent and ignored him.
Perhaps to relieve the pressure, the old Lord of Green Hill deliberately changed the subject, not discussing the dueling performance, and asked Bai Jing, "Are you Dao companions with him now?"
Xie Gou rubbed her mink hat. "None of your damn business."
The fox face of the old Lord of Green Hill could also be enchanting; she smiled charmingly. "He seems to be seriously injured, yet he insists on being impulsive, stubbornly delivering his sword. Not afraid that instead of recovering from injuries, he'll continue to decline in realm. Sister Bai Jing, aren't you going to stop him?"
Xie Gou curled her lip. "A sultry fox only knows the pleasures of the bedchamber. What do you know about love between men and women?"
Since they were mutually attracted and had decided to become Dao companions, and both were pure sword cultivators, then whether she was Bai Jing or Xie Gou, she had to respect Xiao Mo's decisions to deliver his sword or not, respect his mistakes, his hesitation, or his disregard for consequences and his unwavering resolve—in short, she had to respect all his good and bad, his life and death, his freedom.
This was how Sword Cultivator Bai Jing loved, the same ten thousand years ago as it would be ten thousand years later.
The old Lord of Green Hill curled one of her snow-white fox tails to cover half her face, like a noblewoman hiding her face with a silk fan. "This thing called love, whether you see it as pure or turbid, you can never avoid the joy of passion. Nowadays, practitioners don't understand its true meaning, belittling it as some bedchamber art. Little do they know that heaven and earth are like an inn, and seeking Dao and immortality is nothing more than everyone being in a room. Sister Bai Jing, isn't that right? How about I teach you a thing or two?"
Xie Gou shook her sleeves, her face full of killing intent, threatening, "You wanton hussy, I'll stab you."
But in her mind, she said, "Do you have any Daoist scriptures or secret manuals? You can give me a few, preferably with pictures."
Xie Gou added an extra reminder, "Oh, and Sister A Zi, don't make the content too crooked. It should be balanced with superior Daoist methods."
The old Lord of Green Hill brushed her eyelids with her fox tail and sighed, "Who would have thought that a pure sword cultivator like Bai Jing would also fall into the trap of love and lose her way."
Xie Gou immediately turned hostile and cursed, "Shameless bitch, you're getting too big for your britches, aren't you?"
The old Lord of Green Hill sighed deeply, her fox tail drooping gently. She nodded and said, "Yes, of course I have. If we can wait until this turmoil subsides, I'll give you a few dozen volumes."
While chatting with Bai Jing, she couldn't help but feel pained and bitter in her heart. The children of my mountain have been in decline for so long.
After all, receiving favors makes one soft. Having found the old Lord of Green Hill slightly more agreeable, Xie Gou kindly advised, "No need to be downcast, sister. The sky is vast and the earth is wide. As long as you don't foolishly seek your own death, with your level of skill, where can't you go? Where can't you be at ease?"
The old Lord of Green Hill asked doubtfully, "Bai Jing now knows how to care about others' feelings?"
The mink-hatted girl said seriously, as if talking to herself, "Heaven and earth are vast, drifting for so long. This body originally knew no sorrow, but I most fear encountering tenderness."
The old Lord of Green Hill was first stunned, then shocked, and finally praised, "Bai Jing, I didn't expect you to have such insights beyond the way of the sword."
Xie Gou waved her hand casually, her expression indifferent. "No need to be surprised. You're just people reading books, but I'm about to be a writer publishing my work."
The old Lord of Green Hill thought seriously for a moment, then tentatively asked, "Are you planning to first record your tribulation experiences from ten thousand years ago in a book, then compile and edit it, find a scholar to proofread and polish it, and sell it to wild cultivators in the mountains?"
Xie Gou looked disgusted and pointed at her. "Long hair, short wit. All you can say is nonsense that ruins the mood."
The old Lord of Green Hill turned her head and looked up at the snow-white platform floating in the sky, murmuring to herself, "I'm just like that Ancient Shaman, mistakenly thinking that this time I might see the 'mortal incarnation of that being.' I believe that if I truly saw it, I wouldn't be overjoyed, and if I didn't see it, I wouldn't be as sorrowful as my friend. I'd just... just feel a little empty."
Xie Gou scoffed, "Zhou Mi deliberately broke the old heavenly laws to release all of you, just to have you cause chaos in the mortal world."
The old Lord of Green Hill smiled and shook her head. "Then you're underestimating Zhou Mi."
The mink-hatted girl neither agreed nor disagreed. She glanced toward the Qing Xuan Cave and stomped her foot. "This fool."
Xie Gou said to the old Lord of Green Hill, "Fox tail, make a bridge."
The old Lord of Green Hill obliged, raising a snow-white fox tail. Xie Gou leaped onto it, and the fox tail flicked, tossing the mink-hatted girl toward the Yuan Rou Stack on the capital's outskirts.
Xie Gou landed gracefully and said, "Zhu Su, quickly open your heart and stabilize your natal flying sword. You've been ensnared."
Zhu Su didn't understand why, but without asking for details, she indeed held her breath, concentrated, and did as told, immediately retracting the two flying swords within her "San Lai" back into two of her natal acupoints.
Xie Gou shook her sleeve, and a short sword slid out. Holding the sword in her left hand, she made a sword finger gesture with her right hand and rapidly tapped several points on Zhu Su's glabella. Then she thrust the short sword fiercely toward Zhu Su's heart. The blade materialized, and without any obstruction, it entered the human-figure cave dwelling Zhu Su used for "copying" true words, scraping off a water pattern, leaving only a faint trace. Zhu Su's brows furrowed slightly, but even with the heart-wrenching pain, her body remained motionless.
Xie Gou pulled out the short sword, the blade turning back into a solid object. She opened her right palm, gathering the Five Thunders in her hand. With her left hand, she lightly flicked the sword tip, shaking off a few things like bright red earthworms, which fell into the thunder formation in her palm. They were immediately refined by the thunder method, sizzling and emitting an unbearable stench.
Zhu Su's Dao heart trembled violently.
Xie Gou waved her hand to disperse the smell, glared at Zhu Su, and said irritably, "If I hadn't discovered it in time, the Master of the Three Courts would have unknowingly made a cuckoo's nest. He would have quietly established a divine master in your qi mansion. In a hundred or two hundred years, this body of yours would have become one of the White Bone Daoist's forest retreats! After that, every time you activate your flying sword 'San Lai,' he could use the flying sword as a ferry, wandering around inside your body at will. Eventually, he would completely turn the tables and become the master."
Zhu Su's face turned pale.
Any great demon that could roam the ancient earth for a thousand years was not to be trifled with.
It wasn't that the White Bone Daoist had foreseen everything and had long planned to target Zhu Su specifically; it was just that she had been too careless, allowing the White Bone Daoist to take advantage of her.
Xie Gou said, "There's no hidden danger now. You still have a chance to ink that water pattern with gold once. Take your time, no rush."
Xie Gou said seriously, "When you were a private sword in the wilderness, you had to keep your nerves taut every day. In Haoran, becoming a registered cultivator, especially after getting your hands on the coveted 'Great Sword Immortal,' you would naturally relax suddenly. Your Dao heart is going to have big problems."
Zhu Su was dripping with sweat. She cupped her hands and said, "I've learned my lesson. Zhu Su thanks you here."
Xie Gou adjusted her mink hat, paused for a moment, and said, "It's nothing. Consider it a refinement of the heart. It's a good thing."
Helping Zhu Su remove the hidden danger, although Xie Gou made it seem effortless, was actually quite taxing. In the end, it was because her current realm was too low. Infuriating!
The old Lord of Green Hill saw this from afar, her eyes playful. The Sword Cultivator Bai Jing, who had once been so single-minded, now carried a strong human touch.
If she were to judge the alchemists within the capital solely by their Dao hearts and cultivation methods, she would have to say that practitioners nowadays were truly inadequate—either ugly women trying to imitate frowns or parrots mimicking speech.
On the snow-white divine platform suspended high in the sky, the Ancient Shaman, probably having finally given up any restraint or holding back, had finally made the fight less one-sided.
Rumbling thunderclaps, caused by the clash of martial artists' fist energy, sounded as if an ancient thunder god was beating a drum.
The higher one's Dao power, the more one could feel the immense pressure of that fist intent in the sky. The old Lord of Green Hill couldn't help but remark that it was all just human strength.
Zhu Su, after all, wasn't a martial arts grandmaster. Watching the fight on the platform was like seeing flowers through a fog—she felt a layer removed.
She asked through her mind, "The mountain master is already an eleventh-tier martial artist, and he's still fighting back and forth with this guy?"
Xie Gou rolled her eyes. "You know our mountain master's nature, don't you?"
Zhu Su smiled. "I earnestly ask Senior Bai Jing to enlighten me."
Seeing that Zhu Su wasn't pretending to be ignorant, Xie Gou had to explain, "Sword cultivators, Dao practitioners, and martial artists all value the word 'purity.' When exchanging blows, both sides have mutual respect and admiration. Of course, the mountain master also has the idea of learning some ancient martial arts from the opponent. He needs to let the other side throw his punches to his heart's content, make a grand entrance, and make a magnificent exit."
Zhu Su nodded, understanding. "I see."
The mink-hatted girl returned to the city wall, her slender figure like a tabby cat, crouching between two battlements.
The old Lord of Green Hill smiled. "This female sword immortal, how can she be so careless? Could it be that sword immortals at the celestial realm of the Sword Qi Great Wall are all so sloppy?"
Xie Gou shot her a sideways glance and remained silent.
The old Lord of Green Hill immediately changed her tune. "Actually, this is right. Practitioners who are used to looking down on life and death are always careless in matters. I suppose it's precisely because of this that those who survive are the cautious ones like us."
When it came to the battle to ascend to heaven, the sword cultivators suffered heavy casualties. Was it because their killing power wasn't high enough? Was it because they weren't numerous enough?
Was it because they didn't understand the principle that demons like the White Bone Daoist could live longer?
Xie Gou nodded. That sounded more like human speech. She pulled out a bag of wedding candy from her sleeve, took two pieces for herself, and tossed the rest, bag and all, to the old Lord of Green Hill. "This is called wedding candy. Have a taste."
The old Lord of Green Hill hesitated for a moment, then chose to let her yin spirit travel out of her body, transforming into a beautiful woman. She reached out and caught the embroidered bag, sincerely praising, "What a delicate bag."
Xie Gou glared. "If you're not eating the candy, give it back to me."
The old Lord of Green Hill shook her head and said with a smile, "I dare not eat the wedding candy for fear of being tricked by Sister Bai Jing, but I can't bear to return the bag either."
She raised her hand and looked at the embroidered bag. Ah, this was the first thing she had obtained since arriving in this brand-new mortal world. Wedding candy? A good omen.
Far from the center of the turmoil, at the Dragon Spring Sword Sect.
Liu Xianyang had already flown away from the You Yi Peak training ground on his sword and had gone to the Five Flower Temple atop the Zhu Hai Peak. He sat cross-legged on a cushion, his hands folded on his abdomen, half-asleep, about to deliver a sword in his dream.
She Yue, who was guarding the gate outside, didn't bother with platitudes like "you just asked three swords of Zheng Juzhong, you need to rest and recuperate" or "since Chen Ping'an already has the upper hand, there's no need for you to gild the lily." Neither she and her Dao companion Liu Xianyang, nor Liu Xianyang and his close friend Chen Ping'an, had such reasoning.
At Huanghu Mountain, the fish were plentiful and the baiting accurate. Liu Cha caught two big blackfish in a row, feeling extremely proud and pleased.
He carried the fish on his shoulder and hung them on a bamboo pole used for drying clothes. The bamboo pole, bent into a crescent shape, creaked loudly. Liu Cha clapped his hands. It was a pity this wasn't in a bustling market—it lacked some flavor.
Liu Cha reached out his hand, summoning the sword hanging on the wall inside the house. He casually gripped it, and his figure shot up into the air, turning into a rainbow streak of light heading toward the Great Li capital. Liu Cha planned to watch the excitement first before deciding. If he really needed to draw his sword, he would be keeping the agreement. In this mortal world, whether man or demon, whether they deserved to die or not, the swordsman Liu Cha had his own judgment.
The sword light suddenly turned in midair, and Liu Cha went to Zhu Su's side, landing at the cliff edge. He watched the battle for a while, then said, "It seems I shouldn't have come."
Zhu Su laughed inwardly. "On the neighboring mountain peak are the martial artist Cao Ci and the sword immortal Xu Jun, a newly ascended one who carries great responsibility."
Liu Cha said flatly, "I've only declined in realm, I haven't gone blind. I can still see a flying-ascension sword cultivator."
Zhu Su was momentarily speechless.
Liu Cha was silent for a moment, then said, "Congratulations on breaking through your realm."
Zhu Su cupped her hands in return and smiled, "I heard you know A Liang, and you're good friends?"
Liu Cha bluntly dropped a line, "I don't know him. I don't drink with dogs at the same table."
Zhu Su had to fall silent again.
Liu Cha glanced toward the neighboring mountain peak. Like Zhu Su, he wasn't particularly concerned about the flying-ascension sword cultivator Sword Immortal Xu Jun; he was more focused on the white-clad martial artist Cao Ci. He had to admit that in terms of appearance and bearing, Cao Ci was truly a jade tree before the wind, a first-rate figure in the contemporary world.
Cao Ci noticed Liu Cha's gaze and took the initiative to cup his hands in greeting.
Liu Cha nodded in response.
Xu Xie, of course, knew exactly who Cao Ci was.
Haoran cultivators had always regarded martial artists with far more contempt than wariness, let alone respect. When mountain Daoists and registered cultivators occasionally shifted their conversations from Dao discussion to fist technique, the name "Cao Ci" was always unavoidable.
But cultivators across several worlds would never underestimate the martial artist Cao Ci.
Those watching from the foot of the mountain were at most discussing the subtlety or obscurity of martial arts techniques. Those halfway up could see some intricacies. Only cultivators at the summit would understand one thing: Cao Ci's significance to the world's martial arts was extraordinary.
But after witnessing Chen Ping'an's martial arts firsthand, Xu Xie now looked at Cao Ci with a different state of mind.
Faced with Chen Ping'an, having won four consecutive fist fights! How exactly did you do it, Cao Ci?
Cao Ci seemed to sense Xu Xie's thoughts and explained, "We first met at the Sword Qi Great Wall. Back then, Chen Ping'an's martial arts skills weren't high, but he had great tenacity, and his attitude toward fist fighting was pure enough. He would first assume he was bound to lose before asking for a fight. Whether he learned any techniques from me or used the opportunity to temper his own physique and patch up a few flaws in his fist frame, losing the fight was winning the fight."
"I, Cao Ci, am naturally his imaginary enemy on the path of martial arts, but his greatest imaginary enemy is still himself."
"Chen Ping'an firmly believes that all his 'tomorrows' will be stronger than his 'today's self.' Driven by this mindset, he can afford to lose to anyone, including Cao Ci, but he cannot allow himself to waste time or show even a moment of slackness."
"Such a Chen Ping'an is also a good thing for me, Cao Ci—an invisible spur. It's like every time I turn around, I see someone in a position not far away, silently practicing his fists without stopping. Once is the same, twice is the same, three times is still the same. Over time, Cao Ci no longer needs to look back; he just forces himself to try a little harder."
Hearing this, Xu Xie nodded deeply and joked, "Like in official circles: the children of aristocratic families and those of humble origins who pass the imperial examinations in the same year—the latter are relatively more willing to take risks."
Cao Ci thought for a moment and said, "That metaphor from Xu Jun isn't quite apt."
Xu Xie said, "I once heard my mentor mention the world's martial arts, saying that a pure martial artist must have the spirit of wanting to grab his own topknot and rise to the heavens. I didn't understand it back then, but now I do."
Cao Ci nodded. "The higher one goes on the martial path, the closer to the summit, the fewer companions there are by one's side. The more one must emphasize the nature of a martial artist: dare to say, dare to think, dare to act, and dare to take responsibility."
Xu Xie said, "The path of cultivation is roughly the same."
Cao Ci condensed his voice into a thread and whispered, "When my master was traveling to the Sword Qi Great Wall back then, she brought me back to the Central Divine Continent. During that time, she wanted to ask Mr. Zheng for a fist fight, but Mr. Zheng didn't agree."
Xu Xie nodded. He had indeed heard of this mountain story.
Cao Ci said, "However, Mr. Zheng did offer some commentary, regarding some of the martial artist aptitudes in his eyes."
Xu Xie was extremely curious. "Can you tell me the specifics of Mr. Zheng's comments?"
Whenever Zheng Juzhong was mentioned—whether as Lord Zheng or Mr. Zheng—one always had to be cautious to be safe.
Cao Ci slowly revealed Zheng Juzhong's evaluation, which concerned the innate talent and material endowment of a martial artist.
"Cao Ci is nine parts heaven, one part man. Forest Master of the Azure Underworld World, and Duan Pei of the Great You, are both eight parts heaven, two parts man. Zhang Tiaoxia is seven parts heaven, three parts man."
"Jiang She, the first ancestor of the Military Strategists, is five parts heaven, five parts man."
"Xie Shiji of Peach Blossom Blessed Land is four parts heaven, six parts man. White Lotus of the Green Spirit Dynasty is three parts heaven, seven parts man. Jiang Zhaomo of the Jade Capital is two parts heaven, eight parts man. Chen Ping'an is one part heaven, nine parts man."
On the divine platform.
Wearing the last tattered hemp robe of Zhan Cui, the Ancient Shaman knelt on one knee, vomiting blood uncontrollably.
His vision blurred, but he still mustered the strength to look into the distance.
Like an old man approaching the end of his life, calmly facing the arrival of death—a happy funeral that needed no sorrow.
In this duel, undisturbed by outsiders, the Ancient Shaman had displayed everything he had learned in his lifetime. He was thoroughly satisfied.
The other party had also allowed the Ancient Shaman to experience the brand-new martial arts of ten thousand years later: how to refine bones in innovative ways, how to open up a new realm with fist frames. The duel was like a martial arts tome, explaining the subtlety of operating pure true qi in the present day, and what it meant to say "my spirit is my temple."
The Ancient Shaman grinned and nodded at the man, as if saying, "Good fists. I lose."
But the Ancient Shaman still struggled to his feet, swaying unsteadily. His body and spirit were already at the end of their strength, unable to gather a single breath of true qi. Yet he still mimicked the blue-robed man's stance, slowly raising a hand that had no flesh left on its bones, the blood soaking through his sleeve. His trembling palm extended forward.
Make your move.