Chapter 721: The Spirit is the Hardest to Capture in Painting
"What exactly are martial arts and martial souls?"
Qin Mu observed the divine descendants around him. These people indeed possessed an extraordinary bearing and aura, a spirit of charging forward without hesitation, breaking through all obstacles.
This was different from the fiery, boiling zeitgeist of the cultivators of Yankang Kingdom.
Though the cultivators of Yankang were also bold and aggressive, their temperament and spirit were lively and changeable, like bubbling oil, each bubble carrying a different color. That was the spirit bestowed upon them by the era of reform—a hundred flowers blooming, a hundred schools contending.
But the essence of these divine descendants was not the spirit of the age; it was the spirit of martial artists.
This spirit was unlike that of Butcher, a master of the blade whose talent was vast and unrestrained. It was unlike Village Chief, a master of the sword who was agile yet reserved. It was unlike Granny Si, a master of techniques who was clever and quirky. It was different from Deaf's talent, which was confined within his paintings, different from Blind's insight into all things coupled with his carefree abandon, and different from Mute's fiery temper hidden within a volcanic furnace.
They were like ascetic monks, like Horse Uncle before he attained Buddhahood.
Qin Mu's eyes lit up.
Yes, exactly like Horse Uncle!
Horse Uncle from the days of the Crippled Village.
Back then, Horse Uncle was stern, unsmiling, serious about everything. Qin Mu had learned his own seriousness and focus from him.
Though Horse Uncle's body stood straight as a ramrod, he gave the impression of carrying a heavy burden, as if bearing a Mount Sumeru on his back. That mountain pressed down on him.
That pressure became his motivation.
Of course, pressure becomes motivation only when it doesn't crush you. If the pressure is too great, it will break a person entirely.
There was a time when Horse Uncle was nearly crushed. It was only after Qin Mu arrived at the Crippled Village that he steadied himself under the pressure and continued forging ahead.
These young divine descendants in the Bullfighting Heavenly Palace were like Horse Uncle—a group of martial artists bearing immense pressure.
But their pressure wasn't a Mount Sumeru. It was the despair of having their racial Divine Bridge completely severed, the Bridge Realm entirely nonexistent, making it impossible to cultivate to the divine realm.
This despair could become motivation, driving them forward to find a solution.
Or it could become a crushing mountain, utterly destroying their spirit and will.
"They are martial artists!"
Qin Mu's gaze grew brighter and brighter, a smile spreading across his face. "Once upon a time, before I cultivated techniques, I was also such a martial artist. But after opening my Embryonic Divine Treasure, I gradually forgot this spirit."
A martial artist was what one was called before stepping onto the path of cultivation. Martial artists could only use low-level means like fists, feet, and weapons. Horse Uncle's state in the Crippled Village was that of a martial artist. The Combat Techniques School used their physical bodies to unleash the effects of techniques, and with even greater power and ferocity!
Finally, everyone began to enter the Southern Heavenly Gate. Qin Mu stood still, puzzled. What was the point of Martial Heavenly Teacher making them enter the gate? Entering the path of martial arts through the Heavenly Palace—what was the connection?
Suddenly, beneath the Southern Heavenly Gate, a woman groaned. Crushed by immense pressure, her bones snapped and tendons tore. Her entire body shrank, and she collapsed to the ground, vomiting blood.
Another young man walked forward, only to have his leg bones snap.
Someone else's body burst open with small holes, blood spraying out like a fountain.
Yet another person coughed up mouthfuls of blood, their internal organs ruptured by the crushing force.
Others seemed to be carrying the Southern Heavenly Gate on their backs. Some were compressed by the pressure, their bodies shrinking as they pushed forward. With each step, the pressure increased, shrinking them to less than five feet tall.
As they continued, they grew even smaller, soon shrinking to less than a foot.
Some were crushed, kneeling on the ground, hands supporting them as they vomited blood. Then their arms couldn't withstand the pressure of the Southern Heavenly Gate, and their arm bones snapped.
More people roared, their fists and feet moving with great force, using physical techniques to resist the pressure of the Southern Heavenly Gate. Their fists and feet were like axes splitting the heavens, cleaving through the pressure as they advanced step by step.
Qin Mu frowned deeply, staring at the Southern Heavenly Gate in shock and doubt. Was this gate truly the gateway to the Imperial Throne? Was the pressure only bearable by true gods?
How could cultivators at the Life and Death Realm withstand such pressure?
If this was the Southern Heavenly Gate of an Imperial Throne expert, only true gods would have the strength to cross it. Without becoming a true god, one would be crushed or even killed!
Martial Heavenly Teacher couldn't be using this method to eliminate them, could he?
"The runic marks on the Southern Heavenly Gate haven't fully lit up."
Qin Mu observed. The patterns and textures on the gate had less than one percent of their area illuminated, indicating the pressure was far from the level of a true god.
Clearly, Martial Heavenly Teacher had his limits.
Though these divine descendants had been walking for a long time, the Southern Heavenly Gate was too tall and wide. They hadn't even covered half the distance. As the pressure grew, this gate alone would eliminate most of the cultivators.
Qin Mu took off his clothes, baring his upper body, and tied up his pant legs. Smiling, he said, "Fatty Dragon, you don't need to come in. Take care of my clothes for me."
He handed his clothes and the Taotie pouch to Dragon Qilin, bare-handed and without any weapons.
Dragon Qilin sighed in relief, taking the clothes, and asked, "Sect Master, aren't you using your sword pellet?"
"No need!"
Qin Mu let out a low shout, raising one hand and lowering the other. Azure Dragon patterns emerged on his back, gradually forming a great azure dragon. The dragon flew out of his body and coiled around his flesh.
He stretched his body again, bones cracking. The azure dragon dissipated, replaced by White Tiger patterns on his back. A white tiger leaped out, roaring through the forest.
He stepped back with one leg and crouched with the other. Black Tortoise patterns appeared. A giant turtle with a dragon's head rose from beneath his feet, treading on a black sea, with a thousand-winged Flying Snake coiled around it, fierce and menacing.
Qin Mu spread his arms, and the Black Tortoise dispersed. Flames shot up behind him as a Vermilion Bird spread its wings and rose from the fire, a sea of flames spreading.
"I must reclaim the spirit of martial arts and fight my way through!"
He cast aside all distractions, forgot all techniques, forgot his swordsmanship and sword path, forgot all external conflicts and troubles, forgot Yankang. He let his spirit return to his childhood, to the days of hard training in the Crippled Village, to the time he spent with Horse Uncle, Blind, and Butcher, training relentlessly.
Back then, he tempered his body with the village elders, herded cattle in his spare time, and played the bamboo flute.
His mind became incredibly pure, as if he were once again a cowherd boy. Yet there was a difference.
In the past, his mind was pure like a blank sheet of paper. Now, after enduring countless trials and dangers, his heart had settled.
The Wisdom Beads gifted by Emperor Shakti Buddha scattered from his neck. Each bead fell off, only to be replaced by a new one.
These were his own wisdom, formed into beads.
Each Wisdom Bead was the size of an egg, round and translucent, flowing continuously around his neck, as if they could reflect the human heart.
Qin Mu strode into the Southern Heavenly Gate. As soon as he entered, an invisible pressure bore down on him, making his bones crack.
The pressure on his physical body was still mild, but the pressure on his Primordial Spirit was the most ferocious!
Qin Mu roared, activating the Overlord Body Three-Dan Art, forcefully resisting the pressure as he moved forward.
The further he went, the greater the pressure. Dragon roars echoed from within Qin Mu's body—the Eight Sounds of the Ancestral Dragon. The roars vibrated, driving his blood and energy to flow throughout his body.
He had already caught up with those who had collapsed first. He reached down, picked them up one by one, and threw them out of the Southern Heavenly Gate. Leaving them under the gate would only crush them to death, and he couldn't bear that.
The pressure grew heavier. Qin Mu's blood and energy overflowed, growing denser and denser.
His blood and energy were nearly violent and raging, surging behind him like a torrent, while his eyes grew brighter and brighter.
Behind him, the torrent of blood and energy sometimes transformed into an azure dragon, thunder rolling; sometimes into a Black Tortoise, black sea waves rising; sometimes into a Vermilion Bird, flames blazing; sometimes into a White Tiger, fierce and savage.
Various phenomena shifted and changed behind him, helping him cleave through the waves and advance bravely!
Finally, he caught up with those ahead. They had been crushed down to the size of three inches, yet none of them retreated. They continued forward.
Blood poured from their eyes, ears, noses, and mouths, but they still resisted the pressure, trying to cross the Southern Heavenly Gate.
Qin Mu himself was compressed to only about a foot tall. He stepped ahead of the others and suddenly burst into laughter, wild and unrestrained: "The spirit is the hardest to capture in painting!"
He used the Eight Sounds of the Ancestral Dragon and the Buddhist chanting to roar, bare-chested as he advanced, reciting: "How can mere words capture the noble intent? Wings lighter than powder, thinner than silk, forever entangled by flowers, unable to free myself!"
Behind him, the others listened, their hearts stirred by his voice. Their blood and energy surged, connecting with each other, inspired by Qin Mu's spirit.
"If even the Brahma Heaven is not my true self, how could I sacrifice my life for the Heavenly Palace?"
Qin Mu peeled back the willow leaf on his forehead, shook his body, and manifested three heads and six arms. The three vertical eyes on his forehead blazed with golden light, and his three faces beamed with joy. He laughed loudly: "Moonlight through the pines shatters gold, wind over the river stirs snow into avalanches! In one strike, I break through the Heavenly Gate, sitting in the Ancestral Court, laughing at heroes!"
"Well said!" one of the divine descendants shouted, his heart surging with emotion.
Qin Mu's song was bold and unrestrained, merging everyone's spirit into one. He led the divine descendants forward.
Their spirits connected, united in purpose, and they managed to withstand the pressure of the Southern Heavenly Gate. Behind them, their blood and energy surged like an ocean, waves rising and falling.
At that moment, the old farmer leading the cow had arrived at the Hall of Divine Might in the Heavenly Palace. Just as he was about to enter, he felt a sudden shift. He turned to look and saw blood light shooting up from the Southern Heavenly Gate, shaking the Bullfighting Palace and stirring the stars!
The old farmer was astonished, watching as Qin Mu led the crowd forward beneath the gate. Their bodies gradually grew taller, rising higher and higher, rendering the pressure of the Southern Heavenly Gate completely ineffective!
"Master, this hundred-and-seventh-generation descendant of the Kai Emperor seems quite remarkable."
The old cow spoke, saying, "His influence is strong. He has the bearing of a hero, somewhat like the Kai Emperor in his youth. In the past, only a handful could pass through the Southern Heavenly Gate. But with him here, dozens might make it through."
"The Southern Heavenly Gate is only the first trial. The real danger lies ahead."
The old farmer's expression was blank as he turned and walked into the Hall of Divine Might, saying, "You guard this hall. I want to see if he can fight his way in!"
The old cow stood on its hind legs, shook its body, and azure dragon scales flowed with a clatter. It laughed, saying, "Master, this is bullying them. But if they can't defeat you, how can they ascend to the Heavenly Palace when they're missing an entire realm?"