Chapter 67
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Qi Wuhuo pondered for a moment, then turned around and returned. After closing the door, he extended his hand and took out a bronze mirror from the wooden box. The mirror, covered in a shallow green patina, appeared plain and unremarkable at first glance. However, it now shimmered with flowing light, and countless arcs of spiritual light emerged on its surface, eventually forming a large character.
[Good]
The young Daoist froze, staring intently. Yet no other characters appeared.
It was only this word, “good”.
Written with bold and sweeping strokes, it carried an imposing and majestic air.
It was strikingly beautiful.
As though it had been scrawled in a fit of indignation.
Or perhaps it was the result of painstaking effort, finally accomplishing something previously unattainable.
It exuded a sense of unrestrained freedom and an outpouring of satisfaction.
“Good?”
“Is this some sort of response?”
Qi Wuhuo recalled what he had written earlier, sharing some of his experiences and inscribing his spell incantation. At the end, he had seemingly asked whether she liked osmanthus cakes. If she did, he had offered to bring some for her next time.
The young Daoist suddenly understood, exclaiming: “Ah, does she like sweet osmanthus cakes?!”
Thinking of the carefree and playful demeanor of that girl, he chuckled knowingly and said with a hint of realization: “That makes sense.”
“With her personality, she probably does like sweet things.”
“But, this village doesn’t seem to have anywhere that sells osmanthus cakes.”
Qi Wuhuo pushed open the window and gazed into the distance. He saw that, though the rain had ceased for the evening, the sunlight was gradually obscured once more. For some reason, the clouds lingered, spreading and permeating the heavens and earth without dissipating. From the density of the rainclouds, it seemed as though more rain might yet fall, but not a single drop descended.
The cloudlike mist hung like a veil of rosy haze, enshrouding the village and town, stretching into the distant mountains.
Though the rain had stopped, perhaps a few more drops would fall?
The young Daoist rose, took the bamboo umbrella his teacher had given him, and set off toward the prefectural city of Zhongzhou.
As he walked, he leafed through the teachings of Senior Sister Yumiao’s [Hunyuan Sword Code] within his mind. Much of its content was foundational, suited to his current stage of cultivation. After all, the teachings his master imparted were of the [Heart Method], not specific techniques for cultivation. As for techniques, his master had instructed him to wander the mortal world, peruse the Daoist canons, and forge his own path.
Senior Sister Yumiao seemed to have anticipated this, so the sword manual she left him was rich in foundational practices.
Yet even these foundational practices pointed directly to the Great Dao.
For instance, this particular section: [In the act of walking, there are three key principles: Clarity, Tranquility, and Stability.]
[“Clarity” refers to focusing one’s Spirit at the Niwan Palace, like clear water under bright moonlight, or a gentle breeze on a warm day.] This pertains to the serenity of the Primordial Spirit.
[“Tranquility” involves drawing Qi to the navel, contemplating the purity of a lotus.] This pertains to the purity of Primordial Qi.
[“Stability” directs Qi to the base of the sea, anchoring it there. One must think of the steadiness of Mount Tai, unshaken by external disturbances—like a flourishing pine, the crisp warmth of autumn sunlight, dew cradling pearls, or the moonlight reflecting on water. Its firmness is as steel; its softness, as cotton.] This pertains to the circulation of Primordial Essence, safeguarding one’s Life Treasure from external influence.
These three principles guide the operations of the Primordial Spirit, Primordial Qi, and Primordial Essence.
Yumiao combined the cultivation methods of these three disciplines with the footwork of swordsmanship and required practitioners to maintain this form of cultivation even in their daily movements. Over time, this not only allowed them to gather their Spirit and focus their Qi during combat but also enabled them to remain as steady as Mount Tai, impervious to external disturbances.
Ultimately, with diligent practice, one could achieve a state where [the three principles merged into one. From the Niwan Palace to the Yongquan acupoint, energy would flow smoothly, clear and boundless, without hindrance or cessation. In time, divine light would gather naturally].
This was already a Daoist cultivation path, one that pursued the Innate One Qi and the convergence of the Three Flowers atop the Crown.
Just this section alone was a true transmission of the Dao, a key to breaking through barriers, which ordinary cultivators might spend their entire lives seeking without success.
This segment was part of the chapter [A Thousand Words on the Essence of the Sword] written by the girl. Qi Wuhuo had, in the fleeting Dream of Golden Millet, experienced wandering the world with a sword on his back. It was precisely because of this that he could better appreciate how those sparse thousand words captured the essence of swordsmanship so vividly. They spoke little of the techniques or specific moves of swordplay but instead illuminated the grand path of the sword from an elevated perspective—majestic and expansive, yet calm and unhurried.
Step by step, Qi Wuhuo moved forward, learning the Hunyuan Sword Code as he walked toward Zhongzhou Prefectural City.
Gradually, his Primordial Spirit became composed, his Primordial Qi clear and pure.
His Primordial Essence condensed and converged, as if the vitality of his entire being gathered in his Dantian.
According to records in the [Record of Ascension to Immortality] and the Mountain God’s cultivation notes, in this state, the Primordial Qi and Primordial Essence would naturally begin to accumulate. When they fully converged into a single point, the cultivator would naturally enter the realm of [Innate One Qi], achieving the state of [Reversing the Three to Become Two] and transcending the mundane.
However, Qi Wuhuo discovered that, perhaps because he had only recently stepped into the realm of the Three Talents Complete or for some other reason, his Primordial Essence, Primordial Qi, and Primordial Spirit remained unusually active.
The three energies flowed and transformed naturally, yet showed no signs of converging.
The young man, however, paid it no mind. He merely continued forward, stepping in accordance with the mental principles of the sword formula.
The circulation of the Three Talents within his body, the interplay of spiritual energy, was endlessly fascinating.
It felt like a game!
Before long, the grand Zhongzhou Prefectural City came into view.
The towering city gate stood majestically.
Beneath the plaque on the gate tower hung a Bagua Mirror.
On either side of the gate tower were statues, one of Chaofeng and the other of Jiaotu, both carved in lifelike detail.
However, as soon as these statues saw the young Daoist approaching, the Chaofeng statue seemed to wish it could yank its feet out of the base with a loud pop, turn its head, and scurry away. Unfortunately, it was just a statue. True to the nature of the real Chao Feng, it loved high places. Since the city gate tower was the tallest structure around with the most expansive view, it was loath to leave.
“Drat, that Daoist disciple is here again!” Thought Chaofeng.
“Drat, that one has returned again!” Thought Jiaotu.
The two exchanged a glance.
And promptly feigned ignorance.
As the young Daoist walked closer, both statues fixed their gazes downward, focusing on their noses, their noses focusing on their hearts, adopting the air of true clay sculptures—utterly lifeless and unmoving.
Entering the city once more, Qi Wuhuo glanced up at the two dragon-child statues. He had the distinct sense that they were still paying attention to him, though their act of pretense was flawless this time. Only his innate sensitivity allowed Qi Wuhuo to perceive the faint awareness in their gazes, sneaking glances his way, though it was imperceptible to the naked eye.
The young Daoist thought for a moment but decided not to clasp his hands and offer a greeting this time.
Using a subtle illusory technique, Qi Wuhuo entered the city unnoticed. Once inside, he dispersed the technique and continued along the streets. The roads were paved with large slabs of green stone, their usual dusty appearance washed clean by the rain, revealing a quiet elegance. Holding his bamboo umbrella, Qi Wuhuo followed his memories and made his way to a particular street. From a distance, amidst the many boastful fortune-tellers proclaiming their supposed omniscience, one stall stood out, marked with the unique sign [Everything Unclear].
As Qi Wuhuo approached, it felt just like before—like stepping into another world, isolated from the bustling red dust of mortal life.
Placing his umbrella beside the table, he leaned it against the edge and took a seat.
This time, the fortune-teller wasn’t slouching over the table in a lazy, unkempt manner, napping as he had been last time. Instead, he was gazing at the sky, at the lingering rain clouds that refused to release their burden. When he noticed Qi Wuhuo, he raised his eyes to look at the young man. It was as if he could see through the boy’s very essence, perceiving the dramatic growth in Qi Wuhuo’s Primordial Qi and Primordial Essence. With a faint smile, the fortune-teller remarked: “Oh?”
“You’ve broken past the barrier of awareness.”
“After a night of meditation and breath refinement, you’ve managed to gather your Primordial Qi into your heart.”
“Not bad at all.”
“It seems you’ve realized what went wrong with your question yesterday, haven’t you?”
Qi Wuhuo nodded and replied: “Yes.”
The fortune-teller chuckled and said: “Then, as promised, you may now ask your first question again.”
With a solemn expression, the young Daoist asked: “Not about yesterday—what happened last year?”
The fortune-teller looked at him, his gaze deep, and answered:
“Last year, a [guest star] crossed the Ox Constellation.”
“It lingered for a single day before departing.”
A [guest star]—a celestial anomaly—had streaked across the night sky, passing through the Ox Constellation, one of the Twenty-Eight Mansions, for a single day before vanishing.
The young Daoist lowered his gaze.
The fortune-teller extended a finger and pointed directly at Qi Wuhuo, smiling as he said:
“You are that [guest star].”
PS:
Scratches head—Earlier in the story, it was mentioned that Wuhuo spent an entire year meditating on the river in reality.
There’s no “one day in the heavens equals one year on earth” setting in this book.
As for the Sword Principles of [A Thousand Words on the Essence of the Sword] and the techniques for cultivating Essence, Qi, and Spirit while walking, they genuinely come from the [Hunyuan Sword Code].
For those interested, feel free to give it a try!
