Yaoguang looked at the set of clothes—it had been carefully hidden.
But as night began to fall, droplets of water from the surrounding cliffs were slowly soaking into the clothes. The current Yaoguang loosened a bag she had slung over her back. The contents—bundled firewood—fell to the ground.
She built a small campfire, then thought for a moment before picking up the clothes, propping them up near the flames with a stick to dry them out. Sitting by the fire, she took out a steamed bun, skewered it with a stick, and held it over the flames, anchoring the other end with a rock.
Then she pulled out a rare and complex book on constellations and quietly began reading.
The stars were perfectly aligned tonight. In spring, the Yaoguang star of the Big Dipper pointed eastward.
It stood opposite the western heavens where the White Tiger's seven stars resided—like two celestial beasts gazing at each other across the Milky Way. Yaoguang looked at the water pool in front of her, thinking about the legend from five hundred years ago. She sat there quietly, waiting.
The stars had foretold their meeting.
Now, she only had to wait.
…
Li Guanyi emerged from the water, looking around the cave. It glimmered with strange beauty—completely beyond his imagination that the water pool outside would lead to such a place. Could this truly be the sacred ground, left behind by the Xue family's divine general and Yaoguang, that could shape a foundation to rival even the greatest of Buddhist or Daoist cultivation?
Wearing only minimal clothing for modesty, Li Guanyi scanned the surroundings. When he looked at a nearby rock wall, he decided to draw back his Scarlet Dragon Aspect into the bronze cauldron and allowed the White Tiger Aspect to cautiously peek out, curious.
As soon as the White Tiger Aspect emerged, something in the cave seemed to activate.
A glimmer of golden light lit up beneath Li Guanyi's feet.
In the next moment, it rapidly spread in all directions—golden ripples swept through the cave. Then, something shifted. A crisp sound echoed, and one side of the rock wall slowly descended, revealing a stone rack covered in all kinds of weapons. Though five hundred years had passed, none of them had decayed—each still gleamed with a lethal chill.
Li Guanyi was still trying to grasp the meaning behind the general's intentions when a sudden gust brushed the back of his head.
His pupils shrank—his body moved instinctively. He lunged forward and rolled. Something heavy crashed down behind him, tearing open a searing wound across his back. But when he reached back to touch it, there was no blood—only dust stirred up violently. A figure burst through the cloud and slashed at him again with cold, lethal intent.
"Shit!"
Li Guanyi cursed, no time to think. He dashed backward, grabbing a blade from the rack mid-run. Drawing it in a reverse grip, he channeled his inner energy and twisted his stance. The violent energy of Breaking Formation Melody surged within him. He turned, dragging the blade in a slash that ripped through the air with icy light—
"Eight Blades of the Dipper—Cleaving the Clouds!"
He met the attack head-on—offense for defense.
The massive sound shook the sealed cavern.
His wrist throbbed in pain.
As the dust settled, Li Guanyi finally saw his attacker.
The man was tall and powerfully built, with a striking face, a golden-decorated curved saber, a curly beard, a high nose, deep-set eyes, and a distinct hat. Not from the Eastern lands of the Central Plains. His posture was crouched like a hunting wolf—
More importantly—his figure was semi-transparent.
Like a phantom.
Just as Li Guanyi prepared to counterattack, the man's movements suddenly froze. A slender hand appeared and lightly pushed the attacker's face. The wolfish warrior dissolved into smoke and dust.
Then—boots echoed forward. A clear voice followed:
"That was the third prince of the Tiele tribe, master of the golden curved saber. I don't know if your era still remembers that people, but he was a worthy opponent to me. I begged Yaoguang to preserve his image here—for the one who came after."
"A little greeting gift."
Li Guanyi saw another translucent man step forward.
He wore armor, sleeves fit for both scholar and warrior, his hair neatly tied, and a faint smile on his lips. His right hand rested on the hilt at his waist, exuding both laziness and composure. The corner of his mouth curled upward as he said:
"This is my gift to you, my descendant. I wonder if you'll like it."
Like it?
I nearly died from it.
Li Guanyi gasped for breath. He glanced at the dissipated phantom of the Tiele prince, unsure of the general's intention. Noticing clothes laid out on a nearby table, he quickly got dressed.
The remnant spirit of the Xue general smiled and said:
"You found this place without needing further clues from the divine weapon—that's impressive."
"So, I've left something behind for you."
"The most precious thing I have."
"More valuable than the Sky-Piercing Bow or my war halberd."
"If you want it, come get it."
He began walking forward.
Li Guanyi thought for a moment, picked up the bow on the rack and a quiver of arrows, and followed behind the shadow.
Fireflies—or glowing butterflies—rose and fell in the cave, their light dancing. The shadow of the general fulfilled its duty as a guide, unhurriedly moving ahead.
The walls were painted with five-colored pigments forming a long scroll.
Though faded with age, the figures retained their divine aura. The mural depicted kind-faced monks, sword-wielding Taoists drinking wine, cold-eyed tyrants, seductive women, and ancient elders.
Both sides of the corridor resembled a living scroll. Two glowing butterflies fluttered above, leaving behind golden dust.
The general walked as if traversing history.
Li Guanyi stared at the mural, counting the figures.
One, two, three...
Ten, fifty...
More and more.
Until at last, the general suddenly stopped. One butterfly perched on his shoulder plate, his black hair stirred faintly. He gripped the hilt at his waist, turned slightly, and looked at Li Guanyi with a gentle smile:
"Here we are. You must be here in pursuit of the strongest method to reach the border realm, yes?"
"They say a tiny misstep at the beginning can lead to a huge disparity in the end. The gap between the weakest and the strongest often starts small but becomes vast."
"I've gained more since leaving that inheritance ten years ago."
"And I want to ask you a question."
"How many times is a person born in their lifetime?"
Li Guanyi replied: "Once."
The general shook his head.
"That's what common sense says. But from the perspective of heaven and earth, it's twice."
"The first is birth from the mother's womb—flesh sees the world. That's 'entering the world.'"
"The second is being born again from the flesh—the true self sees the world. That's 'entering the border realm.'"
"Both are transformative. If a fetus absorbs innate energy before birth, cultivation afterward will be greatly aided. The same goes for the second birth—if something unique is left behind beforehand…"
"The rush of heavenly energy upon entering the realm will refine it, turning it into instinct."
The general raised a finger. Two golden butterflies landed on it. He said gently:
"A fetus breathes, cries—all these instincts are developed before birth. If you can similarly shape certain instincts before the second birth…"
"Then once heaven and earth refine them, they become like breathing—effortless."
"This is the path I discovered."
"The Daoists say sitting, walking, lying—all mirror the innate Dao body."
"The Buddhists say every motion is a manifestation of Buddha."
"The theory is much the same. Alas, I'm just a soldier, what they call a crude brute—not so poetic."
He smiled, unconcerned by those labels. He lifted his hand. The butterflies soared into the air, gathered, and burst into brilliant light. The mural walls suddenly lit up—vivid and blazing. One by one, figures stepped out from the paintings!
The murals dimmed.
Like ashes left after the fire.
Yet now, those ashes sparked again.
Each figure stepped from the scrolls, weapons in hand, crossing five centuries to stand once more in the present. In an instant, the general was surrounded by an overwhelming host of heroes, their aura grand, all staring at the young man before them.
Li Guanyi's hair stood on end.
The general turned, resting his hand on his sword, smiling at the stunned youth:
"Let me introduce them to you."
"This is the third living Buddha of the Western Buddhist sect."
A kindly monk folded his hands and bowed.
"This is Daoist Master Sikong Xuan, head of the 37 branches of Daoism. That's Murong Huangcheng of the Murong clan. The Banner Lord of the Northern Spear Fort. Duke of Chen. This is the hero Khagan of the Tujue. And the Grand Elder of Mount Tai Sword Sect…"
He named each one.
Spoke names that once shook the world.
Even Li Guanyi had heard the legends.
Five hundred years ago, the world was in turmoil.
A divine bow could shoot three hundred li. A Daoist once cleaved a dragon with his sword. The Living Buddha guided souls through reincarnation. Daoists sang their long songs and wandered freely. The founding ancestor of Chen wielded a sword and slew a winged tiger. The khagan united the eighteen tribes of the steppe. The Murong clan's ancestor.
And then—a young general of the Central Plains was surrounded by them all.
He opened his arms, smiling softly:
"All the weapons of the world… are gathered here."
"I fought them. I befriended them."
"We shared life and death. We turned on each other. We battled for the world. In the end, each one of them died by my halberd. Once, the head of the Tujue khagan hung on my blade. My warhorse trod upon the celestial palace of the Daoists."
"I ended the age of chaos."
"But their names and martial arts shouldn't fade into history."
"Even those who lost… can still be heroes."
"I asked Yaoguang to preserve our battles, to store every technique we exchanged. Though centuries pass, the principles remain. She told me—if one day someone wields my bow and arrow, perhaps the world would be thrown into turmoil again."
"Then take power from my time—and remake the world."
"This is all I can offer to the future."
"Of course, due to the limits of time, Yaoguang could only preserve fragments of their strength—but it is enough."
"Their techniques are unique to them. I hope, before you enter the realm, you can defeat every single one of them. Forge an unmatched spirit of warfare. And then, let the world's energy shape it into instinct. That's the strongest foundation I could imagine."
"You may refuse. You can choose the normal path-breaking through using divine resonance."
"But if there is even a shred of dissatisfaction in your heart, if you too seek greater power, then stay."
"If what you wish for requires strength—why not try?"
"After all, there's nothing to lose."
The once-greatest general of the world clenched his fist and tapped his chest, smiling quietly:
"A hundred victories forge my blade."
Then he raised his eyes.
The heroes of five hundred years past stepped forward, drawing their swords.
A wide, heavy sword pointed ahead.
Even after centuries—its brilliance remained unmatched.
The White Tiger roared.
Before the sword's tip—time crossed swords once more.
"The one who comes after—step forward!"
(End of Chapter)