Chapter 293
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Before he could even get close, Zhang Xiaohua raised his hand and gave a slight flick. With a sharp whoosh, the small sword flew up, as if imbued with spirit, and slanted into the rapidly fading orange-red glow.
At once, the glow dimmed, then flared with dazzling brilliance, so much so that Zhang Xiaohua had to squint slightly. His divine sense was also violently shaken. The small sword suddenly rebounded, almost slipping free from his spiritual control.
“Why is this barrier’s restriction completely unfazed by the small sword? I clearly remember back in the Piaomiao Sect’s Library Pavilion, I used this very same sword to break the seal on that box.”
Thinking of that box from Piaomiao Sect, a strange feeling stirred in Zhang Xiaohua’s heart. Looking back now, that box must have been sealed with a restriction of the Immortal Dao. Surely, Sect Master Ou and the others must have tried to open it too—and failed—otherwise it wouldn’t have been left so perfectly intact on the third floor of the Library Pavilion. That he had managed to break the restriction by sheer chance using the small sword… well, one couldn’t deny that his luck was truly exceptional!
“Since the small sword could break the Piaomiao Sect’s restriction, it ought to have some effect on this one too, right? Why is there no reaction at all this time? Don’t tell me… has my luck finally run dry? Just because my clothes are a bit ragged doesn’t mean I’ve lost all refinement, have I?”
Zhang Xiaohua stroked his chin thoughtfully as he stared at the now dim light curtain. The small sword hovered silently in the air before him, motionless.
Suddenly, Zhang Xiaohua’s eyes lit up, and the small sword stirred in response—not to strike the light curtain, but instead to flash back into his left hand. The moment the sword touched his palm, a sensation like bloodline resonance surged within him. Without hesitation, he raised his left hand and executed a move from the nameless sword art, thrusting the blade straight toward the now-transparent barrier.
As his sword form unfolded, a stream of warmth rose from somewhere deep within his left arm, tracing along a certain meridian and flowing into the small sword. The moment the sword tip touched the invisible restriction, that warmth poured into the blade. Though his ears heard no sound, Zhang Xiaohua’s divine sense faintly caught a subtle crack.
The orange-red glow flared once again, flickering sharply several times before a fissure appeared where the sword had pierced it. That crack swiftly spread, and in moments, the entrance it had sealed was fully revealed. At the same time, a wave of scorching heat rushed outward to meet him!
Zhang Xiaohua took a few steps back, carefully studying the cave hidden behind the restriction.
It was a cave much like the one he resided in, only the entrance was far larger. From within, not only did waves of heat surge outward, but a faint glow also filtered through the opening.
Zhang Xiaohua frowned, hesitating to enter.
After waiting for half a moment, he called out cautiously: “Is there someone inside the cave? I am Zhang Xiaohua. I’ve intruded upon this place by chance—may I ask if we could speak face to face?”
He repeated the call a few more times, but no sound came in reply. Only then did Zhang Xiaohua extend his divine sense.
The space within the cave was vast. Stone bed, stone chairs, and a long stone table were all present. The four walls of the cave were veiled with restrictions, isolating divine sense. Inside, waves of Yuan Qi could be sensed, with the most concentrated emanating from a ball atop the stone table. None of this, however, stirred Zhang Xiaohua’s heart. What truly caught his attention—what stunned him—was this: atop the stone bed, seated in a cross-legged posture, was a skeleton draped in a long robe.
And furthermore—the cave walls were inlaid with fist-sized luminous pearls that shone like stars in the dark.
Zhang Xiaohua almost drooled!
Resisting the powerful urge to rush forward and pry one out with his small sword, he stepped into the mysterious cave with deliberate calm. His gaze lingered longingly on the walls before reluctantly turning away. But the moment his eyes landed on the robe worn by the skeleton, they lit up again. He quickly walked over and gave a deep bow, saying respectfully: “Senior, I am Zhang Xiaohua. Forgive me for barging into your cave uninvited. I… I know I’ve disturbed your secluded cultivation, but I have a small and shameless request—may I trouble you for a moment?”
The skeleton remained silent, and Zhang Xiaohua continued on his own: “As you can see, my clothes are practically falling apart. In a few days, I’ll be walking around in rags, completely losing all sense of decorum. This robe of yours… you probably don’t need it anymore, right? If you’ve no objection, might I borrow it for a few days? I’ll return it once I leave the island—what do you think? I’ll count to three. If you don’t object, I’ll take that as your consent. One… two…”
“Oh, and by the way, I noticed your robe seems to carry traces of Yuan Qi. I wonder what kind of material it’s made from? Mind if I take a look?”
As he spoke, he extended a hand and lightly touched the sleeve of the skeleton’s robe. That slight movement was all it took. The moment the garment shifted even slightly, the entire skeleton collapsed onto the stone bed, turning to dust. Only the robe remained intact, falling into a neat bundle. As it turned out, the skeleton had long since decayed into powder over countless years. It had simply remained in its seated posture, undisturbed by any external force—until now. Zhang Xiaohua’s gentle touch was all it took for it to return to dust.
This startled Zhang Xiaohua so much that he leapt backward. Seeing the situation, he muttered under his breath: “My apologies, my apologies, Elder. I truly didn’t mean it. I never imagined you were this fragile…”
“Aiya, Elder, I hadn’t even gotten to saying ‘three’ yet. Tell me, should I still say it or not?”
After a long pause, Zhang Xiaohua gave a deep bow and sincerely said: “Elder, I have no idea who you were, or how you came to be on this deserted island. Of course, if nothing unexpected happens, perhaps a hundred years from now, you might even become my role model. There’s an old saying where I come from: ‘May the departed rest in peace.’ I don’t have much with which to honor you, so let me lay your remains to rest. What do you think?”
With that, he no longer bothered calling out “one, two, three.” Using the robe, he gently gathered up the ashes that had once been a skeleton, and drifted out of the cave. This gorge was filled with nothing but rock—there wasn’t a patch of earth to dig into. So Zhang Xiaohua flew back beside the small lake, carefully surveyed the area, and at the lakeside, dug a small pit with his little sword. He then poured all the ashes from the robe into the pit.
Just then, with a soft clang, something fell from the robe into the pit. Zhang Xiaohua reached in and picked it up for a closer look. It was a long metallic object with a triangular head, resembling a command arrow. Strange symbols and intricate patterns, ones Zhang Xiaohua had never seen before, were engraved on its surface. A faint pressure, akin to a fluctuation of Yuan Qi, gently emanated from it.
Zhang Xiaohua turned it over left and right, completely baffled. In the end, he simply tucked it into his robes.
Once he had shaken the last of the ashes into the pit, Zhang Xiaohua tossed the robe aside, and personally used his hands to scoop earth over the hole, forming a small burial mound. Then, from among the many surrounding stones, he picked one that looked pleasing to the eye and placed it in front of the mound. Speaking to himself, he said: “Elder, I don’t know your name or your family name, nor do I know how to write a proper epitaph. Ah—wait, didn’t you leave some things back in the cave? Once I go through them, I can write it properly. But Elder, I’ll have to go through them for your epitaph’s sake, alright?”
“Oh, and one more thing, Elder. I’ll be taking this robe. I suppose I don’t need to return it to you. Judging from your age, you must have been far older than even my grandmother. Let me bow a few times—it counts as a gesture of filial piety from a junior.”
Having said that, he knelt solemnly on the ground and gave three resounding kowtows. Only then did he rise, pick up the robe nearby, and prepare to leave.
The robe was black. Held in hand, it felt remarkably soft and fine, and under the sunlight, faint strands of light reflected from its surface—it was clearly of exquisite quality. Even though it had lain in that cave for who knows how many years, not a speck of dust clung to it. Nevertheless, Zhang Xiaohua still carefully placed it into the lake to wash.
But soon after, he realized he was wasting his efforts. The dark robe was completely water-repellent. No matter how he dunked it into the lake, once he pulled it out, the droplets would slide right off, unable to dampen it in the slightest.
Zhang Xiaohua was overjoyed. With just a few motions, he tossed away his long-tattered clothes, leapt into the lake without a care—regardless of whether this was the water he’d later drink—and gave himself a thorough wash. Then, he put the robe on. He had thought it might not fit since he was still young, but to his surprise, though not a perfect fit, it wasn’t overly large either.
At that, Zhang Xiaohua felt at ease. After all, he was still in the stage of growing. It had already been nearly a year since he’d arrived on this desolate island—naturally, he’d grown a fair bit. Even if his old clothes weren’t in tatters, they likely wouldn’t fit him anymore. He realized he’d been thinking of his previous height and hadn’t kept up with the changes.
Dressed in the black robe, Zhang Xiaohua returned once more to the small grave. He gave a deep bow, and only then did he drift away, flying back toward the gorge within the island.
The restrictions on the cave had already restored themselves, and Zhang Xiaohua repeated his method to re-enter the still-scorching cavern.
Seeing the now-empty stone bed, Zhang Xiaohua let out a deep sigh. No matter who that skeleton had once been, if they failed to attain the Dao of longevity, what use was it? Moments ago they had sat upright on the stone bed; now they were but a pile of dust. No one could recognize them anymore.
Just then, a stirring arose in Zhang Xiaohua’s heart. The bottleneck of the fourth level of Qi Refining, which had long held firm, suddenly loosened. He didn’t dare to be careless—he stepped forward at once, sat cross-legged without even taking out the Lying Ox Rock, and focused his mind to begin cultivation.
As soon as he settled down, the True Qi in his meridians—silent for a long time—seemed to respond to some kind of summoning. It surged wildly through his veins. Zhang Xiaohua quickly released his divine sense, and to his surprise, discovered that within the cave, there was a faint, continuous, somewhat fiery flow—threads upon threads of Heaven and Earth Yuan Qi.
“This Heaven and Earth Yuan Qi doesn’t feel quite the same as what I used to absorb from before or from yuan stones. Whatever—no time to think it over. I’ll absorb it first!”
Without further hesitation, Zhang Xiaohua immediately activated the fourth level of the Carefree Heart Sutra and focused all his efforts on absorbing the surrounding threads of Qi. He had assumed the Qi was so thin that it would be used up quickly, but to his amazement, though sparse, it seemed inexhaustible. No matter how much he absorbed, it never diminished.
And the True Qi in his meridians, infused with this new kind of essence it had never encountered before, became even more lively. It pulsed and danced—it wasn’t just flowing, it was dancing through his veins. He didn’t know how much time passed, but the True Qi in his meridians eventually reached a critical state. Naturally, it surged toward the fifth level!
