Chapter Thirty-One: A Sudden Mastery

Shen Lian smiled and said, “If this method is so swift in its cultivation, why not raise a stock of demonic creatures? Life is like grass; cut one crop down, and another rises.”

Zhang Ruoxu gave him a long look and said calmly, “To tend demonic creatures is no different from tending all living things. The difficulty of this path does not lie in seizing blood essence, but in the impossibility of holding fast to one’s original heart. Even one born cold-blooded will be controlled by savage and ferocious qi. Thus, when Heaven would destroy a man, it first drives him mad. Moreover, even if the original heart remains intact and one attains the Dao and gains immortality, there is still the possibility of failing to survive the heavenly thunder tribulation.”

Shen Lian replied evenly, “Why must the sect master explain this to me so plainly? Are you afraid I might also walk this road?”

“As you said, the will to survive is instinctive; at times it can even overpower human nature. The higher your talent, the more I fear you may take a wrong turn.” A faint sigh rose in his heart. If the previous sect master had once made certain matters clear, that man would not have gone down another path, and the great Azure Mystics would not have suffered that calamity more than a hundred years ago.

Shen Lian fell silent. Even the sect master could not fully understand him. He had asked for clarity only out of curiosity about this path; he had no thought whatsoever of taking such a road of slaughter in order to attain the Dao.

Of course, he could guarantee his present thoughts, but he could not know where the future would lead him. The marvel of fate lies in the fact that it is forever unknown; even the decrees of destiny, before they come to pass, remain full of variables.

Heaven gives birth to all things, and the weak are prey to the strong. This is certainly the ultimate truth. Yet destruction without end, without understanding the cycle of renewal and ceaseless becoming, can never endure, no matter how torrential the river may be.

Cultivators certainly seize the essence of heaven and earth and plunder the mysteries of the cosmos, but they also know when to stop. The Blood-Transforming Divine Blade was precisely about not knowing where to stop.

“I have only one thing to say,” Shen Lian said leisurely, shaking out his robes before bowing deeply. “Know the masculine, keep to the feminine, and do not dare to be first under Heaven.”

This bow was both gratitude for Zhang Ruoxu’s regard and an expression of his own restrained bearing.

Not daring to be first under Heaven meant always standing in awe of the path ahead, not shrinking in fear. A cultivator may cut through thorns and brambles, but must never boast of his own ability.

As Zhang Ruoxu looked at Shen Lian, it was hard to tell whether he was satisfied or not. Shen Lian’s strength lay in the fact that once a point was made, he understood at once and could infer the rest from it. His weakness was that one rarely felt the intimacy of master and disciple with him; instead, it felt more like a conversation between fellow Daoists.

Suddenly, Shen Lian heard the cry of a sword, like a dragon’s roar and even more like a tiger’s howl. The Azure Mystics Hall had its own restraints, yet they could not block out that sword cry.

Hearing it, Zhang Ruoxu was not alarmed but delighted. He clapped his hands and laughed, “Half my life has gone into forging a single sword; its frosted blade has never yet been tested. Today I shall present it to you—who dares to claim there is no injustice in the world?”

As soon as he spoke, the Heaven-and-Earth Mirror rolled out of his sleeve. Azure light, as smooth as water, spilled onto the floor and spread like a vast screen. Beneath it stretched blue sky and white clouds, and a solitary, precipitous peak—that was precisely Cold and Clear Peak.

Mist and clouds in the mountain converged toward a single direction, taking form as a dragon and a tiger, radiating multicolored light that shifted and transformed in dazzling succession. More striking still was a magnificent sword qi that shot skyward, cleaving through layer upon layer of obstruction and piercing straight into the void.

The sword’s cry sounded like dragon and tiger together, rolling on and on without end. When it reached Shen Lian’s ears, it set even his spirit platform trembling, and before he knew it he was lost in it.

It was as though a dry stream had appeared before his eyes, and then, all at once, fresh living water had welled up from its source. He did not know why, only that life was being born there, and from it countless insights could be gained.

It seemed as though innumerable profound truths were rushing toward him, yet each one remained veiled beneath moonlight and gauze, misty water stretching into the far distance.

Even the heavens above gathered wind and cloud, surging and tumbling.

Shen Lian’s ears were filled with the sword’s cry, and he had already forgotten the scene before him. Only Zhang Ruoxu remained, gazing intently at the sights on Cold and Clear Peak.

The reason the sword cry could pierce the restraints of the Azure Mystics Hall was that it was a profound sound capable of stirring resonance between heaven and earth. There was no doubt that the one who had entered the Core Formation stage was Chen Jianmei. The only thing Zhang Ruoxu cared about was whether Chen Jianmei’s core would be refined through eight revolutions or nine.

Thinking of it, after so many years, Azure Mystics had finally produced another cultivator who had entered Core Formation by his own power. This too was a sign of the sect’s revival.

If, in the future, disciples who achieved eight or nine revolutions in their core rose like bamboo shoots after rain, endlessly and in abundance, then he would have no further regrets.

He was trapped at the Delusion-Piercing stage, and in truth there was already no hope of a breakthrough. It was not because of his Dao heart, but because his body and soul could no longer bear the strain of breaking through.

This could not be helped. Zhang Ruoxu held no attachment to it at all.

The Azure Mystics creed was this: if one would cultivate one’s conduct, one must first cultivate one’s heart.

When the heart is complete, the work of cultivation completes itself. But if the foundation of the Great Dao is damaged, then unless one finds a peerless immortal elixir, even the most perfect temperament will be of no avail.

If, before he entered his final dissolution, he could see Azure Mystics safely through this transition, then he would not have betrayed the legacy of Patriarch Yuanqing.

Shen Lian awoke on the fifth day. By then, a thin film had already covered his eyes, as though a faint layer of quicksilver lay over them. It was only after a long while that his gaze returned to its former clarity.

At that time the profound sounds of heaven and earth still had not ceased, and they had grown even more drawn out. Yet compared with the beginning, they now contained a few obscure and indescribable nuances.

Zhang Ruoxu said to Shen Lian, “You were able to listen to the heavenly sounds of one entering Core Formation for five whole days. As long as your cultivation reaches the proper level, you will be able to use an external elixir to step into Core Formation. In a thousand years, among those at your level of cultivation and with a Dao heart like yours, you would count as only the second.”

Shen Lian smiled inwardly. Only moments ago he had said he did not dare to be first under Heaven, and now he had become second. He also caught the teasing in Zhang Ruoxu’s words, and it was clear the man’s mood was rather good.

He mocked himself in his heart, but felt no anger.

The heavenly sounds were indeed marvelous. Unfortunately, Chen Jianmei cultivated a sword path of absolute sword and self, a path in which a thousand spells and endless divine powers are met with a single sword from me to break them all.

Its power was certainly boundless, but without Shen Lian’s own temperament, he could only draw out part of what had been gained from the heavenly sounds. Even so, his subtle comprehension of the “sword qi that gives rise to both form and formlessness” had climbed another level, and in the faintest sense he had even touched a trace of its fundamental mystery.

It was as if this sword qi were only a foundation, like addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division with single digits, and beyond it could advance to two digits, three digits, and even to infinity.

The Dao has no end; neither does the sword path.

So Shen Lian remained with Zhang Ruoxu in the Azure Mystics Hall, waiting for the completion of the Core Formation. Four more days passed, making nine days and eight nights in all, before the scene of core formation finally came to an end.

Yet Zhang Ruoxu showed no joy. If it had been nine full days and nine nights, then that would have been the perfect completion of ninefold perfection, and nine revolutions in the core would have been beyond doubt. But one night short of that left the matter uncertain: whether it was eight revolutions or nine remained ambiguous.

It was not that eight revolutions and nine revolutions differed so greatly. Rather, Chen Jianmei was by nature proud and solitary; if he fell short by even one revolution, the matter would likely stick in his throat like a fishbone and impede his Dao heart.

Still, the emergence of a new true disciple from the sect was something to rejoice in.

In terms of treatment, true disciples were not much different from elders, and in some key positions, once an elder passed away, a true disciple would naturally take his place. If he refused, only then would it fall to someone else.

Thanks to Little N, the Sage of Knights, and the Midnight Soul-Shaking Rhapsody for their tips.