Chapter 299: The World Is Tedious, Better Not to Come
The eleventh punch was extremely fast.
The true power of the Divine Being Drumming Fist Intent lay in the fact that as long as the pugilist's physique and soul could withstand the violent pain caused by the qi flow within the body, and successfully deliver the next punch, then each punch would accumulate power, shaking mountains and toppling cities—this was no empty dream!
Chen Ping'an punched and sent that "Delicate" mountain, as large as a house, reeling back several zhang.
Without another word, he stomped hard again and punched upward.
The high-crowned old man's expression turned somewhat grave. No longer toying with the boy, he silently recited a spell, pressed his two fingers together, and drew four strokes near his Five Peaks Crown.
Even though it would consume a fair amount of spirit energy and the Five Peaks Crown on his head would temporarily lose its divine power, he was determined to kill this troublesome youth in one go.
As a rogue cultivator of the mountains and marshes who asked no favors of anyone and had no backer to rely on, this high-crowned old man possessed only this one magical treasure, obtained from a secret realm. To monopolize it, when it came time to divide the spoils, he had suddenly attacked and killed the brother with whom he had braved life and death. The dying man had begged him to take care of his descendants, ensuring they enjoyed a hundred years of worldly splendor. The old man nodded in agreement, but later he used some minor means to silently wipe out an entire mansion of more than a hundred people, roots and all.
When he had been chased for ten thousand li by the young Golden Core cultivator of Taiping Mountain back then, this priceless Five Peaks Crown had still been preserved intact, with only minor damage. After a hundred years of repair, it had been restored to its peak appearance. Unfortunately, the old man had perused countless texts and scriptures but still had not found the key to the True Form Diagrams of the Five Sacred Peaks inscribed on the crown. As a result, he could at most exert half the power of the treasure—a tremendous pity. Otherwise, during that encounter with the little bastard from Taiping Mountain, it would have been uncertain who was chasing whom.
Two mountains stacked one above the other, descending with a speed like rushing thunder.
Chen Ping'an's rapidly delivered thirteenth punch only managed to raise the lower Eastern Peak by about one zhang.
Soon another mountain pressed down.
Was it the weight of the mountains that held the advantage, or was the fist technique supreme and invincible?
The Five Peaks Crown on the old man's head had already dimmed, no longer emitting the pleasant sounds of crane cries and pine breezes.
Chen Ping'an's qi and blood surged but showed no signs of depletion. However, he did not want to be trapped by these three mountains. Who knew what other secret techniques the high-crowned old man possessed? Taking advantage of the connection still maintained through the Divine Being Drumming Fist Intent, he prepared to withdraw from the training ground, shift the battlefield, and then quickly deliver the fourteenth punch.
But Chen Ping'an, who had long prepared a Cun Square Talisman, was astonished to find that within the shadow cast by the mountains pressing down, it was like being in what Lu Tai had called a "realm where spells are forbidden." The Cun Square Talisman, which had performed miracles in several battles, had no reaction at all.
Having no choice, the two flying swords from his Sword-Nurturing Gourd, Chuyi and Shiwu, scattered left and right, soaring high into the sea of clouds.
Chen Ping'an then had to deliver another punch, causing the descending mountain to momentarily slow its momentum, and then he charged forward, trying to leave the area covered by the mountain's shadow.
The high-crowned old man laughed heartily. "Trying to run?!"
He pressed his palm downward, and a fourth mountain slammed down.
Four peaks stacked together, rumbling down toward Chen Ping'an's head. Moreover, the "foot" of the mountain—the training ground—was suppressed by overwhelming spiritual energy, slowing Chen Ping'an's forward dash by several degrees.
That gold-robed youth with the astonishing fist technique was finally successfully suppressed by the mountains.
After succeeding, the high-crowned old man was slightly stunned. "Since when could pure martial artists wield life-bound flying swords?"
High mountains are often accompanied by flowing waters.
The old man sensed the two flying swords breaking through the air. From the Five Peaks Crown, he "picked off" two rivers. After manifesting, they eventually became as slender as a woman's waist—one murky and yellow, the other clear and green. They swirled around the old man's meditation mat, flowing torrentially, blocking the fierce attacks of the two flying swords time and again. Water splashed everywhere, and the volume of the rivers steadily decreased.
The high-crowned old man focused more on the training ground.
By now, the sea of clouds was only about twenty zhang from the ground.
The old man's meditation mat was almost touching the summit of the fourth peak, blocking his view. So he tapped his forehead with one finger, silently recited "Open," and within his vision, there was first pitch blackness, then the mist of the night sky parted like clouds, revealing the true face of the bright moon. The world became clear. The old man's sight successfully penetrated the four stacked mountains and saw the silhouette of the gold-robed youth.
Good heavens, he was slippery as a loach, trying to slip away!
The youth first bent over, using his shoulder to bear the mountain, running forward. As the four mountains sank, he then crouched low and charged forward, using his back to support the mountains. The golden robe on his body displayed an impressive effect that amazed the old man, buying the boy precious time. When the mountains were only four chi from the ground of the training ground, he rolled, just barely avoiding being crushed into meat paste by the mountains.
The high-crowned old man sneered inwardly. The Tao is one foot high, the demon is ten feet tall. He was waiting for the boy to mistakenly think he had escaped.
The fifth mountain, which had been lying in wait, was none other than the most revered Central Peak. Its precipitous terrain was faintly visible in its true form.
That the youth could hold off four mountains had already exceeded the old man's expectations. He had originally thought three mountains stacked would be enough to crush the little fellow.
That kind of fist technique, whose power seemed to increase without limit, was truly strange!
If the boy left behind a manual of his fist technique after death, it might not be inferior to that golden robe.
The old man shouted, "Go!"
The Central Peak slammed down exactly toward Chen Ping'an, who was rolling on the ground.
At the same time, the previous four mountains began to scatter one after another, surrounding the Central Peak. They descended and "took root" on the ground—some crushing the buildings of the training ground, some toppling high walls, others landing on streets outside the training ground, and one smashing into a private courtyard next door.
Once the four directional mountains stood firm on the ground, with the Central Peak presiding in the center, a natural grand formation would be formed.
The two flying swords above the sea of clouds seemed to have a resonance with the youth trapped in a deathly situation. They attacked the two river manifestations with even greater ferocity.
The high-crowned old man laughed heartily. "So afraid of me, are you, you two little things? Fine, fine, I'll play hide-and-seek with you. Once your master dies, let's see what you'll do."
The old man reached out with both hands, grabbed two clumps of black cloud-mist, then clapped his hands together heavily. Clouds and mist shrouded everything, and the old man's figure vanished.
Chen Ping'an, trapped by the Five Peaks, was on the brink of life and death.
Although Chuyi and Shiwu had fierce sword energy, they were helpless against the hidden high-crowned old man. They could only try to reduce the black sea of clouds.
Even though Chen Ping'an had summoned the Demon Binding Rope made from the two long whiskers of an old flood dragon—glowing gold, suddenly enlarging like a golden dragon coiling around the Central Peak, forcefully lifting it several zhang to prevent it from pressing down and touching the ground, thus temporarily preventing the Five Peaks Formation from taking shape—the rope kept contracting, causing the Central Peak to constantly shed broken stones, yet the mountain still slowly sank.
The sea of clouds above Flying Eagle Fort was now only ten zhang from the ground.
If someone stood on the viewing terrace of the main tower and looked around, it would feel like being atop a mountain towering a thousand zhang above the earth—spectacular, with winds and clouds surging, and waves crashing against the shore.
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Inside the main tower of Flying Eagle Fort, the whisk-wielding man, trapped in a self-made confinement, was being chased frantically by the large and small life-bound flying swords.
The members of the Huan clan of Flying Eagle Fort had truly witnessed the dazzling methods of mountain immortals.
Everyone felt fortunate but also couldn't help feeling despair. We, martial artists of the jianghu, are nothing compared to these omnipotent mountain masters.
Lu Tai did not merely watch. He did not let the two extremely high-quality flying swords, Needle Point and Blade Edge, slowly drain the Sea-Viewing Realm qi practitioner. Instead, one by one, he took out magical treasures and artifacts collected from various places from that colorful ribbon. Using the gaps created by the flying swords slashing through the prison, he snuck in and launched insidious attacks on the man who had turned the whisk strands into a white snake. For that qi practitioner, this was like adding frost to snow—endless misery.
The tall man first begged for mercy repeatedly, pleading that everything could be discussed. If Lu Tai would stop, he would hand over all his belongings and allow Lu Tai to tamper with his soul.
Seeing Lu Tai unmoved, the man, now left with only the iron handle of the whisk, began to threaten harshly, swearing to destroy himself along with Lu Tai's two life-bound flying swords, ensuring Lu Tai's soul would be damaged and his cultivation would never advance again.
Lu Tai was leaning by the fortress master's wife's chair, waving his folding fan, paying no heed to the beleaguered Sea-Viewing Realm cultivator. The hall's main door had been forced open by him, giving him a full view of the scene outside Flying Eagle Fort.
The sky was dark and the earth dim.
Surely the hundreds of people of Flying Eagle Fort would never forget today's scene. That feeling of powerlessness was deeply etched into their bones.
And this effect was destined to be far-reaching. As long as these people survived, the story of that day—gods fighting and mortals suffering—would be passed down through generations.
If the nine continents of this righteous world were all so unrestrained, chaos would have long become unbearable.
That was why the three great academies and seventy-two Confucian academies had been established.
The purpose was to prevent mountain immortals from casually smashing mountains and rivers with a punch, or breaking down cities with a magic treasure.
After all, mountain dwellers ultimately came from the mortal world.
If there were no mortal world, what mountain world could there be?
Thus, boundaries were drawn, distinctions between good and evil, right and wrong.
Some qi practitioners sought the freedom of the Great Dao. Having already stood above the mountains, they cared not whether the mortal world lived or died.
Other cultivators either were pure and aloof, asking nothing of worldly affairs, or adhered to rules, willing to forgo their own comfort to ensure peace in the mortal world, and did not pursue absolute freedom.
The world was full of all kinds, each seeking something different. Right and wrong were a mess.
Because too many people used principles only as words for others, not as constraints for their own hearts.
This was true both above and below the mountains.
Lu Tai was a disciple of the Lu clan's Yin-Yang School, and his insight into human nature was deeper.
Moreover, both his family identity and his own being were very special. Not only was he not a sword cultivator yet had effortlessly nurtured two life-bound flying swords, but he had also obtained that strange colorful ribbon when he was young, playing in the clan's ancestral hall.
Lu Tai's existence within the Lu clan of the Central Earth Divine Continent was somewhat forbidden. To those silent and gloomy Lu ancestors, this younger generation was too "uncomfortable," and at the same time, astonishingly brilliant, as if born in accordance with the Dao, with almost no precedent in history. Hence, the Lu clan's attitude toward Lu Tai had always been ambiguous.
The sages had said: "Great men change like a tiger, petty men change their faces, gentlemen change like a leopard."
Lu Tai's physical form itself was like a magical treasure. Even compared to that "student" of Chen Ping'an's—the young Cui Chan who had schemed to seize a certain abandoned corpse in his early years—it was even more indescribably wonderful.
Lu Tai watched the sea of clouds outside the tower, looking for the best moment to strike.
The scene inside the main hall had long been obscured. It was as difficult as ascending heaven for the whisk-wielding man to send any message out.
The fortress master's wife said softly, "Immortal master, I have made my decision."
Lu Tai was slightly puzzled and looked down at her. "What do you mean?"
The woman's face was sad but her eyes were determined. She covered her heart with her hand and asked, "Can it survive?"
Although she was not a cultivator, the abnormality in her heart had persisted for several years. She was no fool. Connecting the sudden disaster at Flying Eagle Fort with the conversation between the whisk-wielding man and Lu Tai, she had already guessed roughly.
Lu Tai shook his head. "That little thing has been against the Dao from birth. It is naturally violent, cruel, and bloodthirsty. Even if you die and it lives, it will still be a scourge in the future. Then a small Flying Eagle Fort won't even be worthy of being buried with it. It would likely be the entire Chenxiang Kingdom..."
The woman cried in grief, "But I want it to live. I can feel its existence. After all, it is like my child..."
Lu Tai was neither moved nor disdainful. He just smiled blandly and stated a fact to the pitiful woman: "Do you know that the little thing has already opened its spiritual wisdom? So it will deliberately transmit false emotions to you. It will even use its instincts to subtly influence your mind as its host. Otherwise, why would you, knowing full well that your body was abnormal, never speak to your husband about it clearly?"
The woman pressed hard on her heart with one hand and quickly covered her mouth with the other, her face filled with pain and confusion. She shook her head at Lu Tai.
She silently endured that heart-wrenching pain, looking at Lu Tai with pleading eyes.
Lu Tai sighed. "Why are you doing this to yourself? Are you really willing to abandon the hundreds of lives in Flying Eagle Fort? Think about it—your husband Huan Yang, your children Huan Chang and Huan Shu, this castle that raised you—none of them matter? All for this filthy thing that hasn't even been born and is already ranked among the crooked paths?"
The woman just shook her head with tears. She lowered her arm, and a mouthful of blood immediately gushed out, black as ink, terrifying and eerie. She no longer cared about her appearance as the mistress of the house. Her mind was already wandering, her gaze blurred. She opened her mouth to beg Lu Tai, "Let it live, I beg the immortal master. What fault does it have? It has only killed its mother so far, and I don't blame it, not one bit! So, immortal master, please teach it well in the future, persuade it to be good, don't let it go astray. Immortal master, your Dao arts are omnipotent; you can definitely do it. My child will surely become a good person..."
The woman was like a piece of porcelain riddled with holes. As her heart trembled violently, she could no longer bear the burden and finally shattered completely.
But she kept her eyes fixed on Lu Tai's face.
Lu Tai smiled and nodded. "Fine, it can live."
Only then did the woman's mouth twitch, and she slowly closed her eyes. Shocking black blood still trickled from her eye sockets, for her eyelids had also shattered. Her two eyeballs fell in front of her, then slid off her robe onto the ground, rolling behind the chair.
In the hall, there was dead silence. No one dared to make a sound. Only Huan Yang, the fortress master bound to his chair and with his five senses sealed, had bloodshot eyes. He was filled with overwhelming anger toward his lifelong partner.
How could she be so selfish!
She must have been possessed, gone mad!
Her death was not unjust at all. She should have died together with that little bastard, that freak in her heart!
Lu Tai walked to the dead woman, bent down, and gazed at her blood-soaked heart, murmuring, "Your mother gave you so much, gave you everything, even gave up her conscience as a human being. And you? Still frantically absorbing the spirit energy and soul from her corpse? When she was alive, you tormented her enough. Now that she's dead, can't you let her have even a moment of peace?"
The woman's heaving heart suddenly stopped. There was a faint, tiny sound of wailing and crying, coming into the world like every infant in the world.
Crying as they come.
"It's too late."
Lu Tai's bamboo fan suddenly stabbed down, piercing through the woman's heart and nailing into the back of the chair. His face expressionless, he said, "The world is tedious. Better not to come."
A piercing shriek suddenly resounded through the hall. Candles went out, and the cracking sound of splitting pillars echoed simultaneously.
Everyone's hearts nearly burst.
Only Huan Yang felt relieved, then lost. His gaze hollow, he stared blankly at the chair beside him.
That gentle woman he had known since childhood had died ugly.
The man himself didn't know that, despite his resentment, he had long been crying uncontrollably.