Fu Xiaoxiao left with great flair, even humming some nameless little tune in fine spirits before her departure.
She was quite satisfied with Gu Chengming's performance. For this Elder of the Harmonious Joy Sect, tonight's furtive little cream-stealing-cat visit could be counted as having wrapped up perfectly.
Gu Chengming stood at the courtyard gate, watching her recede into the distance, and only after that faint scent of rouge and powder had been thoroughly scattered by the night wind did he turn and close the gate.
Yet, just as he was about to head back inside to clear away the leftover mess—
"Creeeak—"
The gate he'd only just shut was suddenly, ever so lightly, pushed open a crack from the outside.
A familiar eye peered through the crack, sneaking a furtive scan around the courtyard.
Only after confirming that Gu Chengming was the sole person in the courtyard, and that the aura belonging to that unfamiliar cultivator had indeed gone far away, did that crack at last swing wide open.
Yu Wenqiu, looking for all the world like a thief, tiptoed in from outside, then with a backhanded motion slammed the gate shut with extreme speed, and incidentally added a sound-proofing spiritual-power restriction for good measure.
Only when all this was done did she lean against the gate-panel and look toward Gu Chengming, saying: "Has that one just now left?"
Gu Chengming looked at his own Elder—who, though she was plainly the master of this place, was carrying on as if she'd broken in to burgle the house—and couldn't help finding it a touch amusing:
"She's gone. Left about the time it takes a stick of incense to burn."
He pointed at the empty teacup on the stone table that he hadn't yet had time to clear away:
"I say, Little Elder Yu, this is our own home. Why are you so timid coming back to your own home?"
Yu Wenqiu shot him a white-eyed look: "And whose fault is it but yours, bringing a stranger back here for no rhyme or reason."
Gu Chengming thought to himself that he most certainly hadn't brought her back—she had come knocking of her own accord.
Though he thought so in his heart, he offered no retort on his face.
Yu Wenqiu sighed and said: "Out with it, then—how did you go and get acquainted with someone from the Harmonious Joy Sect again?"
Last time it was Yun Wan, the steward of Yayuan; this time it was straight off Fu Xiaoxiao, a real power-wielding Elder of the Harmonious Joy Sect. Wasn't Little Gu's social circle just a bit too off the beaten path?
Gu Chengming had no choice but to give a simple account of how, by chance and circumstance, he had come to learn the «Yin-Yang Creation Strategy».
"The «Yin-Yang Creation Strategy»?!"
Having heard Gu Chengming's account out, Yu Wenqiu was rather taken aback. She had originally assumed Gu Chengming had merely learned from the Harmonious Joy Sect folk a few minor techniques for preserving one's looks, regulating one's breath, or beguiling the soul—but she had never in her wildest dreams imagined that Little Gu had actually gone and learned the Harmonious Joy Sect's core cultivation method!
Almost reflexively she took half a step back, folded both arms across her chest in a defensive posture, her eyes brimming with wariness: "That's not right. Just what do you mean to do with this method? Dual-cultivation harvesting?"
Looking at Elder Yu's gird-for-battle expression, Gu Chengming said helplessly: "Rest easy, Elder Yu. I won't be using this Harmonious Joy Sect method on you."
[Yin-Yang Creation Strategy: ?]
[Yin-Yang Creation Strategy: No, no, that's wrong!]
——Shut it. I've got my own rhythm.
Gu Chengming looked at the Yin-Yang Creation Strategy that was questioning his words, and couldn't help grumbling inwardly.
Yet upon hearing this assurance, although the wariness on Yu Wenqiu's face receded, what replaced it was a far more subtle emotion, tinged with a few notes of inexplicable displeasure.
She lowered the arms folded across her chest, and her heart suddenly felt rather stifled and choked-up.
What did he mean, "rest easy, I absolutely won't use it on you"? Why did that line sound so very off-putting?
Could it be that using this method on her, this Elder, was a thing so disadvantageous, so repugnant? Or was it that Little Gu thought this Elder wasn't charming enough?
Though she knew full well that such a thought was very dangerous and ill-befitting an Elder's station, Yu Wenqiu simply couldn't help turning her face away, pretending to gaze at that osmanthus tree, and muttered a single line: "I didn't say you weren't allowed to use it."
As her voice fell, the little courtyard sank into a dead silence.
The evening wind blew past, stirring up a few fallen leaves with a rustling sound.
Gu Chengming: "?"
He looked at Yu Wenqiu's profile, and slowly an enormous question mark welled up above his head.
——What did that line mean? Did it mean what he thought it meant?
[Yin-Yang Creation Strategy: ?!]
[Yin-Yang Creation Strategy: Ohhh, right, right!]
[So it was retreating in order to advance! Brother Gu, you're awesome!]
Meanwhile, on the other side, the instant Yu Wenqiu spoke that line, she already regretted it.
What did "I didn't say you weren't allowed to use it" amount to? Didn't that sound exactly like the sort of hint that meant "hurry up and use it on me"?
Her face flushed crimson in an instant, the heat surging straight to the roots of her ears, her eyes darting about in panic with nowhere to land. She had to walk it back! At once! This very instant!
"Uh, that is..."
Yu Wenqiu jerked her head around, her gaze shifting, and explained at breakneck speed:
"What I mean is... in any case, even if you wanted to use it, you couldn't use it on me! Right! That's exactly what I meant!"
"After all—after all, I'm a third-realm sword cultivator. My Dao-heart is rock-solid. With that paltry little cultivation of yours, even if you used it, it'd be wasted effort. That's why I said do as you please—it wouldn't have any effect anyway!"
Having said this, she stole a glance at Gu Chengming, only to find his face still wearing that same subtle expression.
It's over—it seems the more I explain, the worse it gets.
Yu Wenqiu let out an inner wail, so flustered that sweat was nearly beading on her forehead. Hurriedly she spoke up again, trying to salvage her precariously teetering image:
"No, no, no, that—what I mean is! Even if you really did harbor some notion of betraying your master and forsaking your elders, this Elder could easily suppress you flat, so I'm certain you wouldn't have the guts for it anyway!"
Having said all this, Yu Wenqiu felt she'd finally managed to patch the logic back together. She snatched up the teapot from the table, and never minding whether it had gone cold, poured herself a cup and gulped it down in great glugs, trying to mask her fluster.
Afterward, as if to thoroughly change this awkward subject, her gaze fell upon the two "jingle-bells" hanging at Gu Chengming's waist, which he had only just put on.
"Ahem... that, the bells—you've put them on?"
"Put them on." Gu Chengming nodded.
"Wearing them is good."
She rose to her feet and scooped up the orange cat at her feet—which had already fallen asleep with its eyes rolled back—and her voice came out somewhat muffled and indistinct:
"Next time, if that Elder Fu comes looking for you again, remember to give me a heads-up in advance."
"That way this Elder can prepare some good tea to receive the guest, lest people say we of the Wenjian Sect don't know our manners."
Having said this, without even waiting for Gu Chengming to answer, she fled as though making her escape, slamming the room door shut with a "bang."
The little courtyard returned to silence, with only that tightly shut door still carrying a few traces of fluster.
Gu Chengming looked at that door and shook his head with a wry laugh.
The night's commotion at last dispersed with the faint light of dawn.
Gu Chengming had not forgotten the real business at hand. After all, every increase in his sword-formation's bond was a considerable boost to his own strength; now that he had fine materials, he naturally ought to convert them into combat power as soon as possible.
And so, early the next morning, he tucked away the jiao-core and headed straight for the Artifact Forging Workshop of the Night-Watch Bureau.
He'd been wholly convinced that, on the strength of his merit in slaying the jiao, he could trade for a fine sword—only to run headlong into a bucket of cold water.
The Night-Watch Bureau, the Artifact Forging Workshop.
Gu Chengming stood before several deeply seasoned old artificers, that third-realm jiao-core cradled in his hand.
These artificers, who on ordinary days would scramble after high-grade materials like ducks to water, were now every one of them shaking their heads like rattle-drums, as though they'd seen a ghost.
"It's not that this old one fails to know what's good for him."
One grey-haired old artificer, his face screwed up in distress, waved his hands again and again, even reflexively retreating two steps:
"This thing is simply far too hot to handle."
"This is the inner core of the Fubai Dragon Lord's offspring. You have a Director shielding you and a sect backing you up—if you kill, well, you've killed. But we're just a pack of craftsmen who eat the imperial grain and draw a stipend. If we help you forge a sword, then should the East Sea side ever come to settle accounts one day, that old dragon may not dare touch you—but would he not dare touch us blacksmiths?"
The other several artificers chimed in one after another. Gu Chengming, watching this group of artificers—with whom he'd normally been on decent enough terms—now shunning him as though dodging a plague, felt rather helpless, yet he understood their difficulties as well.
After all, for this group of artificers, there was no need to throw away their lives for the sake of earning that bit of extra coin.
He asked at one place after another, and the answers he got were all much the same.
Somewhat dejected, Gu Chengming put away the jiao-core. He had just walked out the gate of the Artifact Forging Workshop when the Night-Patrol Token at his waist gave a shudder.
It was a message from Vice-Commander Liu, saying the Director wished to see him.
Within the Director's office, the smoke from the boshan censer curled and wafted.
The moment Gu Chengming stepped in, he felt a gaze land upon him.
Zhou Qingmu was, as ever, in her official robes, only today she was not bent over her desk attending to business, but rather stood with hands clasped behind her back before the window.
Hearing his footsteps, she turned, and that face which was usually so cold and severe wore, for once, a few notes of a smile.
"You're here?"
Zhou Qingmu pointed at the chair across from her, signaling Gu Chengming to sit, her tone brimming with approval:
"That sword-stroke in the East Sea—well slain."
"The Night-Watch Bureau has lain dormant too long. We need young people like you to go set some rules for that pack who've forgotten what pain feels like. Auspicious beast or not—before the laws of the Great Qian, devour a person and you pay with your life."
Gu Chengming cupped his hands: "This subordinate merely acted according to the law, all thanks to the Director's instruction and guidance over the days."
"Enough, let's set that aside."
Zhou Qingmu waved a hand, and suddenly her gaze grew rather fervent. She leaned slightly forward, staring at Gu Chengming as she asked:
"You went to the Heart Sutra Hall at the Imperial Academy, didn't you? I expect you've also read the notes of insight I left behind there."
"What did you think of my ideas? And of how they were written?"
Gu Chengming felt a subtle stir within. Into his mind surfaced those several bizarre tomes she had written, yet his face betrayed nothing as he cupped his hands and said:
"The Director's concepts are grand and sweeping, striking straight at the human heart—truly quite ahead of their time. After studying them, this subordinate felt as though awakened by a draught of finest cream, and even gained fresh insight into the «Zhouli Heavenly Harmony Righteous Heart Method» that I myself cultivate."
Not a single word of this was false.
Hearing it, Zhou Qingmu nodded with satisfaction.
Indeed—there is, after all, someone who understands me!
Yet before she could finish being pleased, Gu Chengming's words took a turn:
"However, while this subordinate was studying the Director's chapter on 'the practice of ritual and law,' a few new lines of thought arose in my heart."
"Oh?" Zhou Qingmu's eyes lit up, her interest piqued: "Go on, let me hear them."
"The Director's book often says that, upon encountering an injustice, one ought to subdue people by force, making the other party understand propriety beneath one's fists and feet. Such a method is satisfying indeed, yet this subordinate believes it still has its flaws."
"As for reasoning with people—it need not always be a matter of displaying martial force first and then expounding the principle. On the contrary, if one expounds the principle first and then displays martial force, the effect may perhaps be better."
Zhou Qingmu's brows knit slightly, as if somewhat puzzled.
Gu Chengming explained: "If one uses force first and reasons afterward, then though the other party is beaten into submission, in their heart they may feel it a confession extorted under torture—submitting with the mouth but not the heart."
"But if one treats them with 'ritual' first, enlightening them with reason—should the other party refuse to listen, then it is the other party who was discourteous first."
"Since the other party was discourteous, when we then display ample martial force, that is moral instruction. This, in fact, shares a wondrous likeness with the theory mentioned in the Director's book—of striking a female cultivator with a copper kettle filled with hot water."
"The hot water, warm and mild, symbolizes the warmth and goodwill of our reasoning first; while the copper kettle, hard and unyielding, represents the justice and firmness of our striking afterward."
"First, with the warmth of the hot water, move and reform their body; and should they still fail to comprehend, then with the hardness of the copper kettle, correct their conduct. In this way, and only this way, is it truly the complete and well-rounded ritual."
The office sank into a brief silence.
Zhou Qingmu sat there, her brows now smoothing, now drawing tight, her fingers tapping lightly upon the desk.
After a long while, she said with feeling: "Ritual first, soldiers after; subduing people through virtue... Gu Chengming, you truly are a fine seedling for cultivating the «Zhouli»!"
Seeing how things stood, Gu Chengming seized the opportunity to ask about the matter in the East Sea.
At the mention of real business, Zhou Qingmu reined in her smile:
"On that score you may rest easy. It is presently busy contending for a slot at the 'Dragon-Transformation Pool'—that bears upon the great fortune of whether it can truly transform into a dragon, so for the short term it ought not come after you in person to make trouble. And even if it really did go mad and dare, shamelessly, to come run riot in the Capital, I would help you hold it off."
"That said..."
Zhou Qingmu let out a sigh, and rubbed her brow with a touch of annoyance:
"A spear in the open is easy to dodge; an arrow from the dark is hard to guard against. Though that old jiao cannot come, that pack of good-for-nothings at the Court of State Ceremonial—who are only good at infighting—are vexing indeed."
"What these people excel at most is tripping you up within the bounds the rules allow. We of the Night-Watch Bureau are, after all, a martial-office yamen; there's little we can do to help, so in your dealings hereafter you'll need to take extra care."
Gu Chengming understood clearly in his heart, and cupped his hands: "This subordinate understands."
"Oh, right."
Gu Chengming recalled that Dharma Sword of his that still had no resolution, and took the chance to speak up:
"This subordinate has one more matter to request. In slaying the jiao this time, I obtained a jiao-core, which I had intended to forge into a Dharma Sword to complete my sword-formation. But this jiao-core's notoriety is too great, and the masters at the Bureau's Artifact Forging Workshop... all seem to have misgivings and are unwilling to take it on."
"Artifact forging?"
This time it truly did stump Zhou Qingmu.
This Director, who proved her Dao through force, was a fine hand at brawling, yet when it came to a delicate craft like artifact forging, she was utterly clueless.
"This is indeed a troublesome matter."
Zhou Qingmu knit her brows: "Our Bureau's Artifact Forging Workshop—most of its personnel are seconded over on loan from the Ministry of Works; they're not our own direct line. Their fear of offending the East Sea is only human nature, and it wouldn't do for me to force them into it."
She pondered for a moment, her fingers unconsciously tracing circles upon the desk.
Suddenly, as if remembering something, her eyes lit up slightly:
"Oh, that's right—I know an artifact-forging master with a fairly good reputation. When the time comes, I'll introduce you."
When she said those words "fairly good reputation," Zhou Qingmu's expression seemed to flicker subtly for an instant, but it was quickly covered over.
"Many thanks for the Director's guidance!"
Having secured Zhou Qingmu's promise, Gu Chengming's heart settled firmly.
Though that artifact-forging master had yet to appear, since it was a recommendation from the Director, there were surely some real connections behind it.
While taking advantage of the waiting interval, he did not idle either. Each day, apart from cultivating, he made trips to the Imperial Academy to study the Red Dust Art further with that Senior Sister Fu of the Harmonious Joy Sect.
The days passed rather fulfillingly.
In the secluded woodland garden behind the Imperial Academy's side hall, the setting sun sifted down dappled flecks of gold through the mottled leaves.
Fu Xiaoxiao casually dispersed the strand of entangled red-dust qi at her fingertip, and stretched lazily without a shred of decorum; that somewhat oversized red Elder's robe slid with the motion, baring half a stretch of fair wrist.
Her mood today was evidently excellent. Looking at the Gu Chengming before her, whose aura grew ever more restrained and profound, the smug smile at the corner of her mouth simply could not be pressed down.
"All right, today's lesson ends here."
Fu Xiaoxiao clasped her hands behind her back, circled Gu Chengming twice, and pronounced her assessment with great solemnity:
"Though it's still a touch short of the mark compared to this Mistress back in her day, among second-realm cultivators, this Red Dust Art of yours is barely good enough to get by."
Gu Chengming reined in his qi-mechanism and said with a smile: "It's all thanks to Senior Sister's able instruction."
Fu Xiaoxiao nodded with satisfaction, then flicked her sleeve: "All right, all right, off you go."
Gu Chengming saluted once more and turned to leave.
"Hey, wait!"
From behind came Fu Xiaoxiao's sudden call.
Gu Chengming turned back, only to see this Elder who looked all of sixteen or seventeen puffing out her cheeks, somewhat awkwardly fishing from her sleeve an exquisite box of pastries, which she tossed over offhandedly:
"That—this is something that girl Li Suizhuang brought over just now. Too sweet, this Mistress doesn't care for it. Take it back to feed that cat of yours, so it doesn't go to waste."
Gu Chengming took the pastry box; it was slightly heavy in the hand, and stamped upon it was the mark of "Suxiang Pastry House," the most expensive shop in the Capital.
She doesn't care for sweets? That cup of honeyed tea at the little courtyard last time had been drunk down to the very last drop.
Gu Chengming saw through it but did not say so, a smile in his eyes: "Many thanks for Senior Sister's bestowal. That cat of mine will surely love it."
"Hmph, off with you, off with you!"
Fu Xiaoxiao, flustered into a fit of pique under his gaze, turned away and paid him no further mind—only the roots of her ears, lit by the setting sun, seemed a few shades more flushed than usual.
Gu Chengming gave a little laugh, and carrying the pastry box, walked out of the Imperial Academy treading the lingering glow of the sunset.
The Imperial Academy's vermilion gate slowly closed, sealing off the scholarly air within—and that Senior Sister of the Harmonious Joy Sect, still in a flustered fury.
Having finished his studies in the Red Dust Art, Gu Chengming was in rather a good mood.
By now the sun hung westward, and the clamor upon the streets gradually faded.
Gu Chengming was just calculating what food to bring back for Elder Yu that evening when, upon reaching a secluded corner, his steps were forced to halt.
The path ahead had been blocked by a single person.
It was a woman who looked to be some thirty years of age, clad in a loose, lotus-root-pink long dress. Her hair was not done up in the meticulous, not-a-strand-astray manner of the Capital's noblewomen, but rather casually coiled into a falling-horse chignon, with a hairpin of something that resembled wood yet was not wood thrust through it.
She was leaning against the wall, her whole person exuding an indescribable air of languor.
But when she lifted her eyelids and looked over, Gu Chengming's heart gave a slight jump.
"You're Gu Chengming, aren't you?"
The woman's voice was somewhat soft, carrying a kind of nonchalant certainty.
Gu Chengming did not answer at once; his palm hung at his side without any betraying motion, mere inches from his sword-hilt, and he countered with a question:
"And you are...?"
Seeing this, the woman was not annoyed; she merely gave a soft chuckle. She did not rise, only waving a hand casually.
"Hummm—"
In that instant, Gu Chengming felt the air around him seem to grow heavier.
The withered leaves drifting down at the alley's mouth hung suspended in midair; the footsteps of passersby in the distance grew sluggish and far-off; even the rays of the setting sun seemed to be drawn out long.
This was no simple spiritual-power suppression, but rather a far more wondrous means—something approaching a "Domain."
Gu Chengming's heart turned cold with caution. Means such as these were by no means within the power of a third-realm cultivator; the person before him was, in all likelihood, at least fourth realm.
Next, he heard the woman speak coolly, announcing who she was: "The Longevity Sect—Qin Qing, that is I."
The Longevity Sect?
The moment these three characters entered his ears, the string in Gu Chengming's mind instantly snapped taut.
Before, there had been the Eternal Life Sect, laying formations to refine people aboard the Drunken Dream Boat—and now here cropped up a Longevity Sect?
These two names were so very alike; add to that the fact that this woman, upon their very first meeting, had laid down a restriction sealing off the surroundings, her methods sinister and overbearing—by any reckoning she boded ill, most likely a remnant of that evil cult, or an expert come to seek revenge!
Without the slightest hesitation, in the instant before the other party's words had even fallen, the fingers hidden in Gu Chengming's sleeve had already savagely crushed that Night-Patrol Token long since clasped in his palm.
Across from him, Qin Qing looked at Gu Chengming's gird-for-battle bearing, and at that extremely faint, veiled ripple of spiritual power in his sleeve, and the profound, mysterious speech she'd had all prepared abruptly stuck in her throat.
She arched a brow somewhat puzzledly: "What are you—"
Before she could finish.
"BOOM——!!!"
A thunderous crash suddenly exploded.
That sluggish restriction, only just laid down and not yet fully stabilized, was like a layer of thin, brittle window-paper—forcibly shattered from the outside by an extremely violent, brutal force.
A gale swept shattered stones streaking inward, and a burly figure, wreathed in a bitter cold blade-light, descended from the sky like an enraged black bear, smashing down heavily between the two of them.
"What demon-spawn are you?! How dare you raise a hand against the Night-Patrol Guard in the sacred heart of the Capital?!"
Vice-Commander Liu gripped a long saber, killing-aura roiling about him, and that single furious roar shook every roof-tile along the entire alley into a clattering rattle:
"Little Gu, fear not! I've come to save you—"
Yet his domineering opening line had only been roared halfway when, like a drake with its neck throttled, it cut off abruptly.
The dust and smoke dispersed.
Vice-Commander Liu held his saber-swinging, about-to-strike pose, his eyes goggling round, fixed hard upon that languid woman before him—who was still leaning against the wall, regarding him with a look that was half a smile and half not.
The killing-aura that had wreathed him, in the instant he saw that face clearly, turned into cold sweat trickling down from his brow.
His throat bobbed with difficulty, and the hand gripping the saber began to tremble uncontrollably. His voice, too, went from the earth-shaking thunder of a moment ago to a gingerly, probing tone:
"Qin... Senior Qin?"
The hand with which Gu Chengming gripped his sword-hilt froze in midair. He looked at the utterly speechless Qin Qing, then looked at his own Vice-Commander, who in one second had gone from a wrathful guardian-god to a meek quail, and rather couldn't keep it together.
——Senior?
The Night-Watch Bureau, the Vice-Commander's office.
Vice-Commander Liu sat with utmost meekness on the very edge of a chair in the lower seat, both hands placed primly upon his knees, not daring to so much as draw a heavy breath, with none of his usual might as the commander of his own domain.
And seated in the main seat, Qin Qing was at this moment holding a teacup with a thoroughly aggrieved face, her resentful gaze sweeping back and forth between Gu Chengming and Vice-Commander Liu.
She was genuinely vexed.
As an old friend of Zhou Qingmu, and a great cultivator at the perfected fourth realm, she had originally meant to display, before this junior whom Zhou Qingmu had praised to the skies, the lofty bearing of a senior master.
To that end, she had specially designed that grand entrance—and who could have guessed that this lad, fresh-faced and clear-browed as he looked, would have so many wiles in him?
Before they'd even exchanged two sentences, he'd called for reinforcements without a word?
Her "lofty master's entrance," which she'd racked her brains over for ages, hadn't even finished striking its pose before that hothead Liu Batian hacked it to bits with a single saber-stroke—and she'd nearly been cut down as some evil-cult demon-spawn to boot.
If word of this got out, what would become of her, Qin Qing's, lifelong illustrious name?
"Liu Batian."
Qin Qing set down the teacup and gave a cold snort, all smiles that weren't smiles:
"It's been so long, and your saberwork hasn't improved much, but your guts have gotten fatter and fatter, eh? You'd even dare hack apart my restriction?"
Vice-Commander Liu's body gave a shiver, and he forced an obliging smile: "Senior Qin, calm your anger... this junior was just too eager to save someone, wasn't I? Besides, you didn't exactly send word ahead..."
Inwardly he felt wronged too, thinking: you, a great living buddha, going off to block the path of some second-realm disciple with nothing better to do, and the moment you show up you unleash a restriction—who in that situation wouldn't get muddled?
Gu Chengming sat off to one side, his face likewise full of helplessness.
This matter truly couldn't be blamed on him.
"Senior Qin, this too is the fault of this junior's excessive caution."
Gu Chengming cupped his hands in apology and said with a wry smile: "It's just that this name 'Longevity Sect'... differs by only a single character from that 'Eternal Life Sect' which did so much evil. Add to that your restriction snapping shut, and this junior took you for evil-cult demon-spawn come to seek revenge."
"..."
Qin Qing's lips twitched. She wanted to retort, only to find that she did, in fact, seem to have no good ground to stand on.
In the end it was through Vice-Commander Liu's jesting and patter and a round of detailed introductions that this misunderstanding was at last thoroughly cleared up.
This Senior Qin Qing's background was no small thing indeed.
She had once been an inner-gate, real-power Elder of the Hunyuan Sect, her body-tempering arts honed to miraculous mastery; later, for reasons unknown, she fell out with the sect's philosophy, and so she withdrew from the sect with great flair, set up her own banner, and founded this faction named the "Longevity Sect."
At the same time, she was also an artifact-forging grandmaster renowned throughout the Great Qian. That long saber in Zhou Qingmu's hand and the magical implements she carried—their everyday upkeep and repair were, for the most part, the work of this Senior Qin's hand.
And this so-called Longevity Sect was likewise named after a cultivation method she herself had comprehended, called the Longevity Art; it had nothing whatsoever to do with that evil cult, the Eternal Life Sect.
Gu Chengming thought to himself that one who could break away from a great sect like the Hunyuan Sect to set up her own banner—this Longevity Sect ought, by reckoning, to be quite formidable as well.
How was it he'd never heard of it before?
As if seeing through Gu Chengming's thoughts, Vice-Commander Liu added in a low voice from the side: "This Longevity Sect... is actually just Senior Qin, one person."
Qin Qing slapped the table in displeasure: "Hey, hey, I'm sitting right here listening!"
After a round of conversation, the atmosphere eased considerably.
But Gu Chengming, on the contrary, grew somewhat conflicted.
A perfected fourth-realm forging master who could forge fifth-grade magical implements, coming to forge him a third-grade Dharma Sword?
——Director Zhou, the people you scrounge up yourself are far too outrageous. Can I really afford the forging fee?
"All right, enough idle chatter. Since that woman Zhou Qingmu has spoken up, I'll naturally lend a hand."
Saying this, she paused, her gaze sweeping over the somewhat conflicted expression on Gu Chengming's face, and waved her hand with breezy carelessness:
"And don't you go fretting over the money. Since I've taken on this job, I won't take your spirit stones."
Not taking money?
Far from feeling relieved, Gu Chengming grew all the more wary—what comes free is often the most expensive of all.
Sure enough, Qin Qing promptly held up a single finger:
"However, you have to learn a body-art technique from me. Only when you've mastered it and won my approval will I fire up the furnace and forge your sword. After all, I don't want a magical implement I've forged falling into the hands of someone of crooked heart and mind."
At this demand, Gu Chengming was likewise stunned.
"You don't want the implement falling into the hands of someone of crooked heart and mind? Shouldn't that be a test of one's character, then?"
"Character?" Qin Qing rolled her eyes: "The heart-method you cultivate is the «Zhouli»—what the devil would I be testing your character for?"
"What I'm testing is your talent and your strength—to keep you from getting killed by someone down the line and having the implement fall into the hands of the jiao clan."
Having heard all this, Gu Chengming was dazed for a moment, then suddenly understood.
This reasoning did make sense; and on second thought—a perfected fourth-realm body-cultivation powerhouse of Hunyuan Sect origin personally instructing him in body-arts—this was a treatment one couldn't buy outside even with spirit stones in hand.
He'd just been fretting that, although the «Hundred Bones Resonance» granted him a powerful physique and blood-energy, it lacked the corresponding combat moves through which to bring them to bear—and now this was a case of a pillow being delivered just as one grew drowsy.
"This junior understands."
The misunderstanding cleared, the terms agreed upon.
Though Qin Qing's temperament was somewhat unrestrained, in handling matters she was a decisive, swift-acting sort.
Seeing Gu Chengming agree so readily, she wasted no more time, and at once led him off to the training grounds on the rear mountain.
The Night-Watch Bureau's rear mountain, the training grounds.
The autumn wind soughed bleakly, stirring up a few fallen leaves.
Qin Qing did not employ a shred of spiritual power, merely standing casually at the center of the grounds, that loose, lotus-root-pink long dress swaying gently in the wind.
She was in no hurry to impart any moves, but first tossed out a question.
"Gu Chengming, since you are a sword cultivator, do you know what is meant by 'form,' and what by 'intent'?"
Gu Chengming pondered a moment, then answered: "Form is the move; intent is the spirit-charm."
"Well said—that is the path of you sword cultivators."
Qin Qing nodded, then shook her head again: "But body cultivators are different. Or rather, at the level of this Myriad Forms Creation Fist of mine, form and intent are no longer a relationship of reliance, but a relationship of borrowing and lending."
"Borrowing and lending?" Gu Chengming was slightly startled.
"Just so."
Qin Qing slowly raised her right hand, its five fingers fair and slender, seemingly soft and boneless.
"Body-arts in this world mostly imitate the forms of beasts, the postures of mountains, the flow of water, and by these temper the flesh and hone the force of one's strength. The Tiger Fist trains the bone, the Crane Fist trains the essence—this is guiding qi by means of form. But this manner of practice has its ceiling locked fast by form. However fierce the tiger, it is but king of the hundred beasts; however high the mountain, in the end it has its moment of collapse."
"This Myriad Forms Creation Fist of mine, however, goes precisely the contrary way."
Before her voice had fallen, Qin Qing's momentum abruptly shifted.
She struck no stance at all, merely throwing out a single, simple punch.
This punch was exceedingly slow—so slow that Gu Chengming could clearly see every minute tremor of the muscles in her arm, could see the arc to which her cuff was billowed by the force of the wind.
But within Gu Chengming's spiritual perception, what came striking toward him was not a fist at all, but a towering, majestic snow-mountain in the very act of collapsing and toppling!
That suffocating sense of oppression filled his vision in an instant.
"Boom——"
The fist-wind halted an inch from the tip of Gu Chengming's nose, the force it stirred up blowing his chignon into disarray and setting his garments snapping and fluttering.
Qin Qing withdrew her fist and stood, and that terrifying mental image dissipated in an instant, as though it had never appeared.
"Did you see it clearly?"
Qin Qing said coolly: "This punch of mine has no fixed move. If I will it to be a mountain, it is a mountain's collapse; if I will it to be water, it is a tsunami. As they say—form turns with intent, qi is born of form, and the myriad methods return to the origin."
"This fist-art has no fixed form. Whatever you can pack into it, that is what it can strike out."
Saying this, Qin Qing glanced at Gu Chengming and said with a smile:
"Of course, this fist-art of mine is still in the process of being perfected. Though I've drawn out the framework, its flesh and blood still need people to fill it in."
She clasped her hands behind her back, circled Gu Chengming twice, her tone carrying a few notes of candor:
"The reason I won't take your money—apart from being on account of Zhou Qingmu's face—is also that I want to see what someone like you, a genius she lauds so highly, can pack into that empty shell."
"Everyone who cultivates the Myriad Forms Creation Fist ends up training out something different. The more people I observe, the stronger this fist-art's capacity to encompass becomes, and the more I too can draw inferences and perfect my Longevity Art."
As Gu Chengming listened on, his expression turned somewhat subtle.
So you're running an open-source cultivation method, crowdfunding your enlightenment?
"What? Feel you've gotten the short end?"
Qin Qing seemed to see through his thoughts, and gave a light snort: "This is my bottom-of-the-chest masterwork. Were it not that I find you agreeable, I couldn't be bothered to teach it even if others begged me. It's only that fellow Zhou Qingmu—all day long she's off hacking people with her saber, utterly disdainful of learning this delicate craft of mine. Otherwise, I'd long since have made her my... exchange partner."
Having heard this, Gu Chengming's heart settled firmly instead.
This kind of mutually beneficial relationship put him more at ease than pure charity.
Since it was crowdfunding the writing of a body-art, then so long as he contributed his own share of creativity, he could count the favor repaid.
Over the next two hours, Qin Qing began to teach Gu Chengming, hand to hand, the qi-circulation methods of this fist-art.
Just as Qin Qing had said, the entry into this Myriad Forms Creation Fist was utterly unlike ordinary body-arts—call it hard and it was hard, call it easy and it was easy.
The hard part lay in its requiring one to break the ingrained, fixed patterns of thought, to scatter the true essence and blood-energy within the body entirely, no longer confined to the running-courses of the meridians, but shifting and transforming in an instant along with the turning of one's thoughts; the easy part lay in its having no fixed moves at all—so long as one grasped the core principle of "creation," every lift of the hand and step of the foot was the fist-art itself.
Gu Chengming's comprehension was exceedingly high, and with the «Hundred Bones Resonance» as his foundation, his control over his flesh-body far surpassed that of ordinary people.
By the time the sun set behind the western mountains, he could already barely throw a straight punch carrying a few notes of intent.
"Not bad."
Qin Qing nodded with satisfaction and tossed Gu Chengming a jade slip recording her insights.
"This counts as having entered the gate. As for how far you can train from here, that depends on what mental image you yourself can comprehend. Remember—don't be greedy for more; first specialize deeply in one. Choose the thing best suited to you, best able to draw forth a resonance in your heart and spirit, and brand it into your fist-art."
"When you can someday strike that mental image out with seamless naturalness, come find me again. By then, I will of myself fire up the furnace and forge your sword."
With that, this languid Longevity Sect-Mistress waved her hand, her figure flickering and vanishing into the dusk, leaving only Gu Chengming standing alone upon the training grounds, gripping the jade slip in deep thought.
By the time he returned to the little courtyard in Jishan Ward, the night had grown deep.
Gu Chengming sat cross-legged beneath the osmanthus tree, replaying again and again in his mind the fist-manual's verbal formulas that Qin Qing had imparted.
"Myriad Forms in creation; intent precedes form..."
The principle he understood well enough, but when it truly came to the practical stage, it stumped him.
Just what mental image should he visualize?
Gu Chengming racked his brains for half an hour, swapping through several mental images, yet always felt them a touch off the mark, unable to mesh perfectly with his own spiritual power.
Just as he was at his wits' end—
[The «Hundred Bones Resonance» stared at the contents of that Myriad Forms Creation Fist, lost in thought.]
[It thought: among all the myriad forms of this world—be they mountains and rivers, grass and trees, or divine beasts and savage fowl—what thing could possibly compare to one's own mighty power?]
[If one is to imitate, then naturally one should imitate the strongest existence!]
[The Hundred Bones Resonance entered a state of comprehension.]
"Holy crap?"
Gu Chengming couldn't help being stunned.
The Hundred Heavenly Emperor—could it be...?
Within the sea of consciousness a flash of radiance blazed, and a new prompt arrived right on schedule.
[Comprehension successful!]
[CG / Hundred Heavenly Emperor, Aid Me!]
The CG's imagery slowly unfurled. Though that phantom's silver hair left its features indiscernible, that aura of sole supremacy, suppressing all the ages—who else could it be but the Hundred Heavenly Emperor?
[Hundred Bones Resonance CG / Hundred Heavenly Emperor, Aid Me: Comprehended by the Hundred Bones Resonance from the Myriad Forms Creation Fist. May imitate the Overlord's mental image of the Hundred Bones Resonance's «Primordial Boundless Myriad-Qi Dao-Source True Sovereign, Nine-Heavens-Ten-Earths Cosmos-Sole-Honored Imperial Merit», expending one's whole-body strength to strike out a single supreme punch.]
[Annotation: Heavenly Emperor Gu, I have come to aid you.]
Holy hell, Hundred Heavenly Emperor! You're insanely awesome!
____
________________________________________
If you want more chapters, please consider supporting my page on (P). with 50 advanced chapters available on (P)
👻 Join the crew by searching Leanzin on (P). You know the spot! 😉