Chapter Sixty-Seven: Plunder

At the very moment when Instructor He was feeling deeply awkward, it was Yi Ningyuan who, unable to hide his embarrassment, spoke up to defuse the tension: “I, Yi Ningyuan, do not fear a duel with Wu Songru!”

Instructor Song regarded this younger man as impetuous and reckless, thinking to himself that the grandson of the Painting Sage was hardly someone so easy to defeat. He hurried to dissuade him: “Nephew Yi, you mustn’t—”

“There’s no need for more words, Instructor Song. If I do not even have the courage to challenge Wu Songru, how could I ever face Li Bi of the Daoist Gate in the future!” Yi Ningyuan’s expression was resolute; it was clear he had firmly decided to face Wu Songru. Song’s persistent meddling left him uncomfortable, as if it implied he himself feared Wu Songru. A cultivator ought to press forward boldly; if he lacked even this measure of courage, how could he ever surmount the many obstacles that lay ahead on his path of cultivation?

Everyone admired Yi Ningyuan’s spirit, yet none truly believed he could defeat Li Bi. Despite being a few years older than Li Bi, his cultivation lagged by an immeasurable gulf, and Li Bi’s progress would only accelerate from here—he would not pause to let Yi Ningyuan catch up.

Neither man drew his sword; instead, each revealed a vast and imposing aura, as deep as an abyss and as steady as a mountain. They chose to clash in terms of their inner realms, rather than with fists or blades.

The students whose cultivation had not yet reached those heights saw only the two facing each other in stillness, unable to perceive the breathtaking contest unfolding between them. Only a few instructors could witness, in the void, Wu Songru’s brush—condensed from his cultivation—entwined ceaselessly with the sword intent of Yi Ningyuan.

The students of the Wave Battalion who clustered around Qingqing watched with envy. Xie Zhiqian sighed wistfully: “When will we ever have such presence, able to stand our ground and let our spirits wander the eight directions, crossing swords with nothing but our minds?”

“The skills of those in the Upper Three Realms are indeed enviable,” Li Chun murmured, gently stroking the sword at his side. Since returning from Western Capital, he had advanced faster than any of his peers and now stood at the peak of Shattering the Void. His elder brother, Li Yu, had summoned him back to Chang’an to seek a renowned master who would bestow upon him a Dao Mark and help him ascend to the Upper Three Realms. There were two ways to make this transition. The first was to have a senior expert infuse a Dao Mark into you; with this, one could break through when the time was right. Yu Lang, beneath the walls of Lanye City, had famously refused the Dao Mark offered by Li Bi—an extraordinary act, for the stronger and more talented the infuser, the greater the benefit. Many had begged Li Bi for a Dao Mark and been turned away, yet Yu Lang rejected it lightly. The second path was to comprehend the mysteries of the Upper Three Realms on one’s own, birthing a Dao Mark independently, which required no outside help. This method was arduous and unrewarding; not only was it exceedingly difficult to grasp one’s own Dao Mark, but those self-created tended to be weak, and cultivation progressed far slower than with an infused mark.

Most people chose the first method, accepting a Dao Mark from their seniors, for forging one alone was simply too difficult. Were it not for a genius a century past who invented the method of Dao Mark infusion, many would never glimpse the wonders of the Upper Three Realms in their entire lives. Li Chun, naturally, was no exception. He awaited Yu Lang’s return to bid him farewell, and then would leave Yangzhou for Chang’an to undergo the Dao Mark ceremony arranged by his elders. For scions of great families like him, reaching the pinnacle of the Lower Three Realms was an arduous journey, but breaking through to the next stage required far less effort—so long as the steps were followed.

As for someone like Li Bi, he had naturally rejected any Dao Mark from another. Not only did he comprehend one on his own, but he gained more than one: a Water Dao Mark, a Wind Trace Dao Mark, and a Calamity Fire Dao Mark. With three Dao Marks, he entered the Enlightened Profundity stage, and his debut immediately won him the admiration of heroes across the land.

Yi Ningyuan’s sword intent and Wu Songru’s brush intent were each their own Dao Mark, inherited respectively from the Sword Pavilion master of Western Shu and the Painting Sage. Though both had only recently entered the Enlightened Profundity stage, their marks were more solid than those of most beginners.

Li Chun, separated from a breakthrough by the thinnest margin, could just barely sense the ferocity of their struggle. Wu Songru’s brush intent was vast and unrestrained, pervading everywhere; Yi Ningyuan’s sword intent was peerlessly sharp and focused to a single point. Each had their own strengths, and for the moment, victory was undecided.

Rumor had it that since his return from the Western Capital, Nan Jiyun had also comprehended a Dao Mark of his own. With the mighty Juque Sword, his strength might even surpass Wu Songru’s. Yet he cared little for the Xiyue Academy, choosing instead to follow Zhang Xun devotedly with his elder brother Lei Wanchun.

Suddenly, Qingqing felt the whetstone blade she carried stir in her arms. She could not contain her joy and, following its guidance, dashed madly out of the Xiyue Academy. She did not know precisely where she was headed, only that if she obeyed the blade’s direction, she would surely find Yu Lang.

The others, absorbed in the contest between the two, failed to notice Qingqing slip away on her own.

Only Li Dahu, ever alert, followed closely behind her. Noticing Li Dahu’s movement, Li Chun felt a vague unease and trailed after them as well.

Qingqing made her way to a remote alley in the eastern part of the city, devoid of people.

She did not find Yu Lang, but instead encountered Kuduozha, the coldly smirking Grand Master of Tibet, arms crossed. It turned out this man had met with a fortuitous encounter in the desert, regaining his cultivation at the upper Enlightened Profundity stage before Yu Lang did. His first act was to seek out the whetstone blade Yu Lang had left behind. Having faced Yu Lang directly, he understood the blade’s wonders and, taking advantage of Yu Lang’s uncertain fate, rushed to Yangzhou to seize it.

Benevolence in desperate straits was always a mask for survival. Kuduozha, naturally, would show no mercy to Yu Lang’s friends. Whether for the grievance of his disciple’s lost arm or the death of his lover, for someone as vengeful as he, these were unbridgeable feuds.

“Didn’t expect to catch another one as well—how delightful,” Kuduozha said with glee.

With a mere wave of his hand, Qingqing lost all ability to struggle; both she and the blade were swiftly seized.

Li Dahu, noticing the disturbance, drew his blade and struck at Kuduozha. But Li Chun, arriving first, thrust his sword ahead of him.

When Kuduozha saw Li Chun, he was overjoyed. He had long lamented that his peerless skills had no worthy successor: his chief disciple Qili Dongzan’s right arm had been severed and his aptitude was mediocre at best. Li Chun, by contrast, was exactly what he desired. Kuduozha’s Dao Mark was the Lesser Formless Mark, which grew stronger against the strong and weaker against the weak, able to mimic myriad other Dao Marks—profoundly mysterious, though rarely suitable for infusion into others. Seeing Li Chun’s fine potential, Kuduozha was not about to let him escape.

Sensing Yu Lang’s aura approaching, Kuduozha dared not linger. He snatched the whetstone blade from Qingqing’s arms and subdued Li Chun, seizing both man and blade and fleeing at great speed, paying Qingqing no further mind.

“Ha! The mountains and rivers endure, and so shall our meetings—until next time!” Kuduozha’s voice faded as he shot a hundred yards away in a flash, having used his Lesser Formless Mark to mimic the Wind Trace Dao Mark, achieving astonishing speed.

Yu Lang, a step too late, was deeply vexed but could not keep up with Kuduozha. He could only pause to comfort Qingqing.

Devastated by the loss of the whetstone blade, Qingqing was in despair. But upon seeing Yu Lang, her grief turned to joy; she embraced him tightly and could not bear to let go.

Li Dahu, however, fretted for Yu Lang. He personally disliked the Li Linfu family and cared little for Li Chun’s fate, yet he understood what it meant that Li Chun had been taken for Yu Lang’s sake: it would likely bring the full, furious wrath of the Li family down upon Yu Lang.