Chapter 166 – Taishang Xuanwei True Person!

Just as Qi Wuhuo had foreseen, demonic creatures began appearing and attacking villages all across Zhongzhou. It was a repeat of the calamity that once befell Jinzhou—yet this time, their targets were not limited to the local Earth Deities, nor merely the prefectural city of the Zhongzhou.

When the young Daoist arrived at one such place, he found the same tragedy repeating itself as with the mountain fiend earlier. The village lay in chaos; countless had perished. His sword swept through in arcs of killing light, cutting down the demons, while the Earth Deities barely managed to shield what survivors they could. Qi Wuhuo and the other cultivators quickly departed again to rush to the next afflicted area.

But the enemies were far too many.

Those who had the means to contend with such disasters—the cultivators, the Daoists—were as a single grain of sand amid a sea, compared to the tens of millions who dwelled in Zhongzhou. A single rise and fall of the tide would engulf them, leaving no trace behind.

On the scroll before him, the regions still protected by Earth Deities would glow faintly with light—only to dim again soon after.

That meant new demons, born from the corruption and miasma, had appeared once more.

Without the aid of human destiny and fortune, it was utterly impossible to protect every place in its entirety.

The young Daoist rushed to Shuiyun Village, the place he had once called home. When he saw the demons pouncing toward the villagers and began to form his seals, he realized that the Primordial Qi within his body could no longer sustain him. Before he could slay the demon, the Lianyang Sword was already locked in battle high above. He could only watch helplessly as the old man who had once welcomed him was about to be torn apart before his eyes.

Terror filled Zhou Lingyi’s gaze.

Though only seven steps separated him from Qi Wuhuo, it felt like a chasm as vast as heaven and earth.

At that moment, however, the young Daoist suddenly sensed something—

There was still a Lingbao here he could call upon!

Without hesitation, he raised his hand and cast a seal.

In an instant, sword-qi flashed like frost. The demon pouncing toward Zhou Lingyi was pierced clean through—

And shattered to dust!

In that same moment, a lingering wisp of spiritual will from the Lingbao responded to Qi Wuhuo’s call, coalescing before him into the form of a woman.

The young Daoist froze. “It’s you…”

It was precisely the remnants of spiritual intent born from the many regrets within Qi Wuhuo’s earlier scroll. After fulfilling their wishes, Qi Wuhuo had not chosen to refine them into a Lingbao. Instead, he had used a decree to release their shackles, allowing them to return to themselves—to briefly remain beside those they once cherished. But at this moment, the young Daoist suddenly understood—

He had never truly freed them.

Or rather, once something was refined into a Lingbao through such a method, true liberation was impossible.

To behold yet not claim?

Such a thing could never be!

What an overbearing Daoist art this was…

Perhaps it was Qi Wuhuo’s sudden casting of the seal that stirred awe within the Lianyang Sword; the sword let out several ringing cries. Abandoning the seemingly endless foes in the heavens, it circled a few times and then returned to Qi Wuhuo’s side, humming softly in calm obedience. Old Master Zhou was nearly frightened out of his wits. Seeing the young Daoist who had once lodged in their village, he stammered,

“Th-this… Daoist Qi, this is…?”

Qi Wuhuo remained silent for a moment, then said gently, “Elder Zhou, please return and wait in peace…”

Leaving behind that faint trace of the Lingbao’s spiritual resonance, the young Daoist sped off once again toward another place. Yet at that moment, the voices of Ao Liu and Lord Lingmiao sounded beside his ears: “Little friend Qi… I fear it is already hopeless.” 

Qi Wuhuo’s steps paused slightly. When he looked up, he saw the Dragon King and Lord Lingmiao—both were drenched in blood, clearly having gone through fierce battles of their own.

The most powerful of the demonic creatures had required their personal intervention.

Yet even one as mighty as Lord Lingmiao now showed a faint sorrow of helplessness.

Qi Wuhuo understood what he meant.

The enemies could not be slain to the end.

The Earth Deities and cultivators might one day all perish, but the demonic miasma and filth seemed endless. Now that the fortune of the human realm was confined within the walled cities, no longer extending its protection beyond, the people of the countryside and villages seemed fated to only one path—death. The foul demonic creatures could never be completely eradicated, retreating only to return again and again, as if they would eternally reappear.

Ao Liu’s hoarse voice rasped out: “I do not understand why… The number of these demonic miasmas is wrong. It seems they do not come from Zhongzhou alone.”

Suddenly, laughter boomed across the void: “Hahahaha! What need is there for doubt?”

“You ruined my grand design with but a single rainfall!”

“Then I shall use your flesh and blood to shatter the nodes of your great formation!”

“Your lives shall become the chisels that pierce through the Heavenly Court’s array!”

“Let us see whether those mad dogs from the Northern Pole Exorcism Institute will dare to uphold ‘order’ by slaying the people of this province with their own hands! Hahahaha! To sacrifice all for the sake of Heaven’s order—what a marvelous scheme, truly marvelous!”

The laughter echoed wildly. Ao Liu and Lord Lingmiao were both enraged, searching for the source of the voice, only to find a local Earth Deity who had been fighting amidst the chaos.

The deity froze for a moment, then his pupils widened in horror.

A look of despair and terror surfaced upon his face as he stretched out a trembling hand: “Lord Lingmiao, save me!”

Lord Lingmiao reached out to suppress the turbulent qi within him, but it was already too late.

They had fought their way through battle after battle; the Earth Deity, his body riddled with dozens of wounds, suddenly burst open before them in a puddle of blood and flesh. A strand of his lingering divine thought laughed aloud, only to be smashed to powder by the enraged Lord Lingmiao. Still, Lord Lingmiao panted heavily, forcibly suppressing the rising slaughter in his heart as he spoke:

“Right now, we can only have the Earth Deities help — get as many people into the city as you can so they receive shelter.”

“There will be heavy casualties along this road, but if we do not do this, every Earth Deity and cultivator outside the walls will die.”

“Then all the people beyond the walls will be slaughtered as well.”

The young Daoist suddenly said, “No — perhaps there is another way…”

“I might be able to cleave down these dispersed demons, but the architects behind this scheme will have to be handed over to Old Master Ao Liu and Lord Lingmiao.”

Lord Lingmiao looked toward Qi Wuhuo. Qi Wuhuo held in his right hand a blank scroll that had once recorded many regrets, intended to be refined into Lingbao by transmuting the mortal world; he had earlier undone them all. But just now, he discovered his attunement to the Lingbao still remained.

All of the regrets and their auras on that scroll had scattered across Zhongzhou.

Over the past month, it had been Qi Wuhuo himself who returned them to places throughout the Zhongzhou.

At this moment, he could even use this scroll to draw the Lingbao back in full.

Was there any way to instantaneously strike with the sword across Zhongzhou?

A thought rose in Qi Wuhuo’s mind.

If so, perhaps…

Lord Lingmiao asked: “What method?”

The young Daoist told Lord Lingmiao and Ao Liu his plan. The two exchanged a look; both showed astonished sighs in their eyes, and spoke slowly, “You can try it, but you must be prepared — the cost to you will be great…” Qi Wuhuo slightly nodded and said, “I will accept responsibility.”

Ao Liu nodded and said: “This old man will give his all.”

Lord Lingmiao said: “The Earth Deities will also do their utmost to help you.”

Qi Wuhuo stood where he was and closed his eyes to regulate his breath.

Human destiny’s protective fortune could not perfectly shelter every place, and cultivators outside the walls, blocking the way, could not cover all the afflicted regions. This calamity targeted Zhongzhou; the enemy was no fool and had surely anticipated the Northern Pole Exorcism Institute’s intervention, laying a problem that struck directly at them here.

They also thoroughly understood the flaws of human-fortune defenses and knew how to lead the attention of these cultivators astray.

The greatest dilemma was this: humanity was too numerous, the land too vast.

Without the shelter of human-fortune qi, it was difficult to resist a premeditated slaughter set against the human race.

If that was the case, then only one possibility remained.

In a single breath, slay every demon confined within this boundless thousand-li radius!

Could it be done?

Absurd — impossible. Even if Qi Wuhuo were still the peerless master of that dreamlike memory, to accomplish such a thing would demand an unbearably brutal price: perhaps thirty percent or more of the mortal generals and troops would have to fall. Then the enemy’s hidden hand would naturally appear to reap the exhausted survivors.

One scheme after another lay in wait, ready to spring.

Yet humanity had already pushed itself to its limit.

Qi Wuhuo was no longer merely the Master Wuhuo who could recognize the opponent’s tricks.

He was a cultivator.

The young Daoist recalled what the Great Dao Sovereign had said: only by doing what everyone deems impossible can it be called a divine ability. Perhaps what seemed inconceivable was not utterly unattainable.

With no choice left, why not try?

Accompanied by the roar of a dragon, the Water Officials and the Earth Deities received a command — a command that spread to the other human cultivators and even to those demon-tribe cultivators who still fought with clear minds. After a moment of hesitation, they all answered in the same way. At that instant, the young Daoist closed his eyes; when he opened them, only resolve remained. He raised his sword and relinquished his attempt to suppress the thunder-and-fire wounds within himself.

The void trembled with the dragon-song.

Across Zhongzhou, across mountains and rivers, and cultivators of every race wove their seals in unison; the heavens and earth themselves shuddered.

Endless, unceasing.

The very Heaven and Earth, mountains and rivers joined as participants.

The twenty-four ritual drums resounded!

Millions upon millions of people, innumerable sentient beings—

The Dharma Altar was raised!

The young Daoist stood with his sword, his sleeves fluttering in the wind. The sword in his palm bore that surge of shifting qi.

A Daoist altar.

Its reversal pointed toward Qi Wuhuo himself.

In an instant, the young Daoist felt his consciousness soar, felt a tearing pain as if being ripped apart — yet at the same time, he “saw”: nearly every place across Zhongzhou was not praying to him, but forming around him as the central pivot. Qi Wuhuo understood then: the heart of an altar is to borrow force.

This time, he no longer borrowed strength from the immortals and deities of the heavens, but from all the living beings of the human realm.

With the mountains as his tracks and the rivers as his traces, he gathered the vitality of countless mortals into a great altar of Dao known as [Jiao].

The young Daoist’s sleeves fluttered in the wind as his eyes snapped open. He raised his sword, stepped in accordance with the Yu Footwork, and swept the blade horizontally, striking the earth with his first cut.

“Pindao, Xuanwei, establish this altar of the Dao!” [TL_Note: Pindao means ‘This Poor Daoist’]

“To establish the Dao of Heaven!”

Under the firmament, though the stars of the Northern Dipper had lost their divine power, they still remained, faintly glimmering. The young Daoist shifted form in an instant—turning, stepping, his movement already transformed into the Yu Steps. His sword edge swept across the ground at his side, and his spine gave a soft crack, as though straining under an immense pressure. His voice, hoarse, rang out:

“To establish the Dao of Earth!”

The deities of mountains and rivers stirred; torrents surged and rolled—the transformations of the mortal world, the grandeur of its mountains and streams.

“To establish the Dao of Man!”

The wrathful roar of the Xuan-Armored Army, the struggle and fury of all beings—another kind of power, not of mortals but born from them, converged together.

Before the young Daoist, a Dharma Altar manifested in the form of the Three Realms Positions. The Decree of the Earth Spirit, the Order of the Northern Pole Heaven, and the Command Talisman of the Xuan-Armored Army hung suspended in midair, drawing in the Qi flow from Ao Liu, Lord Lingmiao, countless earth deities, cultivators, and the life force of the people. These became the foundation of this altar’s Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and Man.

Then, taking the spiritual aura of the Lingbao once unbound by Qi Wuhuo as its guide, a scroll—its words, regrets, and lingering spirit long since faded—emerged before him.

The Jade Book bestowed by Tao Taigong unfolded into a painting of the mountains, rivers, and cities of the Zhongzhou.

Then it slowly began to collapse and shatter—but though the jade book broke apart, the image within did not vanish. It shone with radiant light, remaining in place. The spiritual scroll refined by Qi Wuhuo expanded in an instant, vast beyond measure, as if boundless. The young Daoist now seemed to stand within that blank, living scroll itself.

Then the earth deities began to move, dragons soared, and the unwilling spirits intertwined and surged.

He invited the mountains and rivers of Zhongzhou to enter the formation.

The myriad landscapes and mortal realms—all were now contained within that sword, within that painting. The power of the Xuantan flowed through the earth spirits and the Earth Veins, reaching swiftly to the human cities, to the currents of mortal fortune, then shifting again. Thus, their reflections appeared upon the scroll—not as remnants of regret, but as a complete map of Zhongzhou’s mountains and rivers.

If all beings and mortal dust can be refined into treasure—

Then why not take this land of ten thousand li, these rivers and mountains of the Central Province(Zhongzhou), and refine it into a treasure as well?

The Dharma Altar neared completion.

With it, all demons and fiends across the land could be perceived.

Qi Wuhuo slowly raised his sword.

Atop this Xuantan Altar of Twenty-Four Ritual Drums, it was as though he lifted the very will of the mountains and people of the Central Province itself.

Utterly heavy. Overbearingly vast.

Qi Wuhuo felt the cost this altar demanded—for he knew not how many earth deities had aided him in refining the mountains and rivers of the Central Province into this spiritual scroll. Within the altar’s state, the young Daoist could sense all corners of the province—he saw the monk’s unshaken resolve, the old Daoist’s desperate struggle as he finally slew the cultivator tainted by corruption, only to fall grievously wounded himself.

He sat upon the ground, powerless to resist further, watching as the demons surged closer.

He saw the slaughter of the Xuan-Armored Army, the struggle of countless lives.

The young Daoist’s hands felt unbearably heavy, and he remembered the precepts his teacher had left him upon parting:

[My disciple Xuanwei, cultivate the Orthodox Way.]

[In every act and deed, align with the will of Heaven; walk ever in Great Compassion, deliver all from calamity.]

[Can you uphold this?]

The young Daoist no longer replied—only his eyes remained calm.

Deeds speak louder than words.

This disciple is not one who condemns others while sparing himself.

He drove his sword downward with sudden force.

A terrifying surge of Qi burst outward in all directions.

With the obsessions of the living, with the wills of countless beings as its beginning—with the Earth Spirits as its foundation, and the Water Officials as its guide—his great Central Province Rite was finally complete. It was a grand ritual involving not only millions of people, but also numerous Earth Spirits and Water Officials; yet it was not a ceremony to supplicate Heaven.

Had it not been for Qi Wuhuo’s understanding of the celestial rites of offering to the Heavenly Venerates, had he not held both the authority of an Earth Deity and the mandate of a Heavenly Official, and mastered the turning of human destiny, such an audacious act would have been impossible to bear. Yet all the karmic bonds and vows forged along his path had now, at last, converged into this single Dharma Altar.

I am the core!

At the very moment the altar was completed—

The young Daoist, whose natural lifespan exceeded three hundred years, suddenly has his temples turn white in an instant, hair streaming backward.

To gain, one must first lose.

A sip and a peck, all is governed by the Dao of Heaven.

Behind him, the divine image bound to the Seal of the Five Thunders’ Judge suddenly manifested —a figure embodying the heavens above and the earth below. It was the remnant divine power once sealed by the Northern Emperor within the Judge’s Seal. Though only a fragment, forming the shape of a scroll-bearing judge, it now changed—the thunderous light dispersed, replaced by a pure and upright Qi. That immense Thunder Dharma Image lifted its arm, raised its sleeve, and swept it across the sky.

Lightning descended, then transformed into flowing patterns of water and clouds.

The brocade war robe split apart inch by inch, dissolving beneath the sweep of that sleeve—becoming fluttering Daoist robes, becoming a Daoist hairpin.

In that instant, the figure shifted as if rising from meditation; with a sweep of the sleeve, it transformed—from a thunder war god into—

A Daoist Primordial Spirit Dharma Image!

Then, the Dharma Image gripped its sword.

The young Daoist closed his eyes.

The sun is one’s nature; the moon, one’s destiny.

The vapors of cloud and the currents of water are the meridians of Qi, forever circulating without rest.

The simplest of Daoist incantations now reached its fullest expression. The young Daoist’s Primordial Spirit stirred, and the altar rapidly changed—Earth Spirits pulled at the Earth Veins, extending them through the void; Water Officials guided the flow of the water veins; and the cultivators’ natures of sun and moon intertwined, encasing the Daoist’s Primordial Spirit Dharma Image within.

In the next instant, it expanded without limit. Qi Wuhuo recalled the question he had once asked his master:

The sun is nature, the moon is destiny.

The human body is a small Heaven and Earth.

Then—is Heaven and Earth a vast human body?

His teacher had only smiled and said, ‘You will know when the time comes.’

Now, Qi Wuhuo truly understood.

A colossal Daoist Dharma Image, vast enough to uphold Heaven and Earth, rose behind him. The entire land of the Central Province shone faintly.

The grievously wounded old Daoist lifted his head, and the monk surrounded by evil spirits suddenly raised his gaze, his eyes fixed upon that distant sight. He murmured hoarsely:

“…The Daoist Sect’s Supreme Divine Ability—

“Law of Heaven, Form of Earth…”

The young Daoist stood silent and still, his hair turned fully white, his lifespan decreased by three jiazi. [TL_Note: one jiazi = 60 years]

Yet behind him, the Primordial Spirit Dharma Image opened its eyes.

The sword in his palm shrieked madly, bursting toward the heavens and transforming into a river of blood. The Daoist grasped it within his hand, then turned, one palm holding that blood river, the other sweeping gently across its surface. The crimson light scattered, and the piercing wail shattered the firmament—turning once more into a long sword.

His mind grew utterly clear. Perhaps because of this boundless divine power, when he sought to wield his sword, what flashed before his eyes was not his own comprehension, but the meaning behind the words once written by the Great Dao Sovereign—

[To kill or to protect—both lie within a single thought of mine.]

The Dharma Image that embodied Heaven and mirrored Earth raised its sword—then drove it down with a sudden thrust.

In that instant, Qi Wuhuo instinctively understood the name of the sword strike he was about to unleash.

Across the lands of the Central Province, patterns of light spread over the ground—crossing and weaving like the lines of a living scroll. Guided by the Earth Spirits and the will of the people, that sword pierced deep into the earth, following the flow of the Earth Veins. In a single breath, its power raced across a thousand li.

At the same time, the demons lunging toward the Xuan-Armored Army opened their maws wide—but as they struck, their bodies froze in place.

The next instant—boundless sword Qi erupted straight from the Earth Veins of the Central Province!

In a flash, the sword Qi tore through the clouds and sky, slaying only demons and devils—yet not harming a single mortal soul.

The sword Qi roared like a dragon.

Between Heaven and Earth, there was only that single thought, that single sound.

“Under this one sword—all demons are shattered!”

This was the exclusive art of the Shangqing Sect—

The Third Calamity(Jie) Sword:

Execution! (Zhū / 誅)