Chapter 132: [Name Redacted]’s Personally Transmitted Great Divine Ability

The characters upon this scroll, each one imbued with a flowing spiritual resonance, truly seemed as though a black-robed Daoist were standing before him, speaking aloud. Just a few short sentences struck like thunder, shattering and illuminating the darkness and confusion in the young Daoist’s mind.

Yes—that’s it.

To protect or to kill is merely [use].

It is like ascending a mountain—indeed, you did climb this particular path.

But once you’ve reached the summit—

You can then see the other paths upon the mountain.

To kill, to protect—they are but [use], but [method], but [skill].

He seemed to see a black-robed Daoist, his expression half-smiling, half-somber, shouting a question like a sudden thunderclap—

“You wield the sword. You train in methods.

But have you attained the [Dao]?!”

Qi Wuhuo murmured softly for a long while. And upon the Kill the Thief Sword, the once unified and flowing Qi subtly began to shift, the sword’s hum rising and falling.

Yet this Dharma method was truly profound beyond measure. Every single character was imbued with divine resonance, each letter capable of countless transformations. Though there were not many words, it seemed to contain infinite possibilities. What was written on the surface, in truth, was but the core of the spiritual essence within. If one were to draw a comparison, the content explicitly written in words was no more than the title of an essay.

What lay hidden within these Cloud-like Seal script characters had already become a magnificent vista.

Could this be… the Dao, concealed?

The young Daoist felt a faint stirring in his heart.

Were it not for the fact that he was still in communication with Yun Qin and Uncle Niu at this moment—

Qi Wuhuo would have shut himself away in seclusion right then and there, cradling this scroll in his hands, eager to delve into it, to comprehend and cultivate it, to refine the countless thoughts that had just now surged forth from his heart. The young Daoist closed his eyes briefly. The calm returned to his gaze, and he finally moved his eyes away from that scroll, which seemed to be imbued with endless, profound truths of the Dao.

He did not cling to it with obsession.

And just then, his eyes happened to meet the girl’s gaze.

Yun Qin asked, puzzled: “Wuhuo, what’s the matter?”

“This thing that uncle wrote for you, is it really that fascinating?”

“Don’t tell me there’s some incredible divine ability written in it? But uncle said there were no divine abilities in there.”

“He said he wouldn’t teach you any divine abilities.”

Qi Wuhuo held the scroll in his hand and pondered for a moment.

He could sense that the spiritual resonance within was deep and abstruse, extremely difficult to comprehend. Yet it pointed out a path—a direction. Divine abilities were merely blossoms that sprouted along an already-existing road. But this pointed toward a path never before imagined; if one could truly walk it, then those so-called divine abilities would be like flowers and grasses by the wayside—within easy reach, picked up with a simple lift of the hand.

So he answered: “What it speaks of is not divine abilities.”

The girl nodded with sudden understanding. “So uncle really wasn’t lying after all.”

The young Daoist hesitated for a moment.

Senior Sister Yumiao’s swordsmanship was already extraordinary. She claimed that the path she had glimpsed led straight toward the boundless realm of Primordial Unity, a level where, in the Heavenly Realm, one would already be titled Great Emperor. And for those who did not enter the Heavenly Court but cultivated independently in the mortal world, such a level would be honored as a Heavenly Venerable. Yet within the words spoken by that uncle, there faintly lay a breadth and majesty surpassing even what Senior Sister had seen.

Senior Sister had not yet glimpsed the realm of the Great Emperors and Heavenly Venerables.

What she spoke of as Primordial Unity(Hunyuan) was likely nothing more than lifting her head on the mountain path to catch sight of the peak.

But the true scenery at the summit would surely be different.

Could that uncle be some Great Emperor of the Heavenly Court? Or perhaps a hidden Heavenly Venerable of the Daoist path, dwelling in seclusion? Qi Wuhuo had meant to voice his doubts, but upon seeing how indifferent the girl looked, he gave it some thought and decided there was no need. Since the Daoist had already answered in such a way, then he too should act just as he always had.

Why cling to those so-called titles and ranks at all?

The girl began chatting with Qi Wuhuo and Uncle Niu about the things that Uncle had done, and added: “He must be a lazy ghost! He even has all sorts of clever ways to avoid being found by others. He even told me how to hide myself! Let me tell you—Wuhuo, Uncle Niu—uh? Uncle Niu?”

Yun Qin received no response. She turned her head instinctively.

What she saw startled her. Uncle Niu was actually sitting cross-legged.

One hand forming the Wish-Fulfilling Mudra, the other forming the Fearlessness Mudra.

His face was just like when he had been enlightened by the Medicine Buddha, filled with compassion, devoid of all worldly desires. Even his eyes had become gentle and elongated, like the serene expressions of the Bodhisattva statues in temples. Looking at him now, it was as though a glowing halo were about to appear behind his head. Only because he was doing this of his own accord, there were no other mystical signs to accompany it.

Only his lips moved slightly, as if muttering something. If one listened closely, one would hear the old ox murmuring—

“I can’t hear, I can’t hear… I don’t know, I don’t know…”

“Not listening, not listening, not listening…”

“If I hear, it’s the Buddhist sect’s responsibility. Has nothing to do with me, Old Ox.”

“I hear nothing, nothing at all…”

Though Old Yellow Ox lacked any power to foresee fortune or calamity, and had no great lineage of mystical insight—

He had, however, roamed the world for many years. Be it the human realm, the demon clans, the Buddhist halls, or Daoist mountains, even the Northern Dipper Star Domain—he’d wandered them all.

And that wealth of worldly experience had taught Old Ox this one truth: When you’ve been squeezed dry by trouble, you know full well—damn, this one’s big.

The second thought that came to mind: whoever that person is, he likely harbors no ill will toward little Yun Qin or Wuhuo.

The third thought: better to just play deaf and blind.

Saves you from one day becoming dried beef jerky.

“Can’t hear, can’t hear.”

The girl looked puzzled, then turned to Qi Wuhuo and said: “Forget Uncle Niu—if he doesn’t want to listen, then fine. But Wuhuo, Wuhuo, do you know how much experience that uncle has? He has so many ways to hide from people trying to find him! He’s very interesting too. He even categorized all his methods—clearly they’re just lazy tricks, but he laid them out like some grand Daoist canon!”

“There’s the [Hidden Methods], the [Evasion Methods], and even the [Primordial Unity Methods]. He even said stuff like, ‘Methods that [fix one’s fate] too deliberately, while they might prevent detection…’”

“Are actually a form of exposure—because by locking down your own fate, you’re announcing to others that you’re definitely within that [domain].”

“Though they can’t interfere or seek you out directly…’”

“They can just swing a sword.”

“If they directly cover the entire area of [fixed fate], the enemy would definitely show up. If they do this, you will certainly be forced out. This is not good.”

“Instead, one should use many imperceptible means to achieve an effect similar to [Veiling the Heavenly Mechanism]. It might not truly reach the level of a real [Heaven-Veiling Technique], but it’s wonderful precisely because it leaves no trace behind, goes unnoticed, and allows one to advance or retreat freely. Unlike fixing one’s fate, which ends up shackling oneself. He even gave me several examples…”

At first, the young Daoist was simply smiling mildly as he listened to the girl’s words.

But gradually, he realized—This wasn’t just some [experience].

This was a supreme, peerless method of manipulating the heavenly secrets.

That which is called the Daoist Canon—is it not merely the writings of those who have walked the path before, recording their sights and experiences, their knowledge and insight, to pass on to their disciples? If one views it from this perspective, then what the young girl before her received may not have been some so-called [teachings on avoiding disciples], but rather the most direct kind of transmission—[wordless and unwritten, passed down from mouth to mouth].

That person had even been concerned that the girl might dislike listening to the dry and tedious scriptures.

Thus, the wondrous truths were hidden within daily banter and lighthearted jokes, and passed on in this manner.

Old Yellow Ox’s mouth twitched slightly, and then he let out a long sigh. He rose to his feet and said: “Uncle Niu is tired. I’d like to rest for a bit.”

“You all carry on with your talk, carry on.”

Then he turned around—

And walked in a direction out of the youths’ line of sight.

He came to embrace one of the pillars of the Ox Lodging Palace.

He placed a palm upon it.

And felt only a smooth surface beneath his touch, solid and heavy in weight.

With a sigh of emotion, he murmured:

“What a fine pillar.”

“Sturdy enough!”

These pillars of the Twenty-Eight Mansions’ palaces were all hewn from the branches of the World Tree itself—resilient, weighty, capable of supporting the fortune and might of the stars and constellations they bore. Naturally, they were heavy. The old ox wrapped both arms around the pillar, then murmured a few words with devout solemnity. And then, with arms strong enough to shoulder mountains, he suddenly exerted force.

Without using any protection, he lowered his head and slammed his forehead against the World Tree wood with a resounding clang, striking it with all his might.

Boom!!!

Even the Ox Lodging Palace seemed to tremble slightly.

Old Yellow Ox’s eyes rolled back, yet he did not immediately collapse.

He staggered a few steps, swaying, before finally toppling backward—falling into a deep slumber on the spot.

His spirit, seasoned by countless years, severed its awareness with practiced ease and precision.

Thud—he dropped to the ground.

Both hands folded neatly over his chest.

His face was peaceful.

He sank into a slumber as tranquil as when he had been a young calf, thousands of years ago.

What ought not be heard, must not be heard.

The young girl spoke with great enthusiasm, explaining the practical applications of various techniques. Even in some of the more complex parts, which Qi Wuhuo found rather challenging, Yun Qin spoke fluently and clearly, saying: “These things are really useful! I’ve used them myself—they really can avoid the teacher’s Primordial Spirit!”

Qi Wuhuo thought for a moment, then asked: “Yun Qin, you’ve truly mastered them?”

The girl replied as a matter of course: “Of course I have. Such handy little tricks!”

“They’re not difficult at all!”

Qi Wuhuo murmured to himself: “Not difficult…”

With her cheek resting on one hand, the girl spoke righteously:

“They’re not some grand Daoist arts or divine abilities. Not some secret transmissions of the Daoist Canon. What’s so hard about it?”

“They let you avoid the teacher! Sure, I still got caught afterward—but if I can dodge her for a while, that’s already a win. As they say, my heart is vast as Heaven and Earth.”

“Hehe, so? Want me to teach you?”

“Uncle never said I couldn’t tell anyone.”

The girl explained methodically, categorizing each method, even citing her own experiences of evading her teacher as examples. Though separated only by a mirror, her voice was earnest as she spoke, her eyes bright and gleaming—like a schoolgirl eagerly sharing tips for skipping class. She spoke for quite a while, and the young Daoist quietly pondered the examples Yun Qin offered. Suddenly, by his ear, he heard a soft chuckle.

He lifted his gaze slightly and saw the girl on the other side of the mirror stifling a laugh.

“What is it?”

“Ah, nothing.”

After a moment, he heard another soft laugh.

The young Daoist sighed helplessly: “What is it, really?”

“It’s nothing!”

The girl feigned indifference—but still failed to hold it in. “Truly, it’s nothing.”

“It’s just, all of a sudden, I realized—it’s finally my turn to teach you. And I felt so happy, I just wanted to laugh.”

“It’s not even for any particular reason.”

“Ah, is that strange?”

Qi Wuhuo thought for a bit and said: “Not really.”

“That’s good then! Here, here—look, I’ll show you how to avoid it like this…”

Yun Qin smiled as she explained.

Qi Wuhuo listened attentively.

Just then, the little peacock seemed to feel uneasy—it shifted slightly, crawling out from the hidden pouch within the young Daoist’s robe sleeve. Letting out a couple of soft cries, it leapt upward with a sudden flap of its wings, and in that instant, it burst forth with a momentum as if a great roc spreading its wings to soar ten thousand miles.

It landed stably on the young Daoist’s shoulder.

Then rubbed affectionately against Qi Wuhuo’s temple.

Afterward, as if sensing something, it instinctively turned to look at the strange bronze mirror.

There, it saw Yun Qin leaning in closer.

Yun Qin’s eyes widened in surprise.

The little peacock fell into thought.

It extended its wings and rested them on Qi Wuhuo’s temples, as if to draw courage from him.

Then, with eyes opened wide, it stared back at the beautiful girl within the mirror.

Big eyes locked with big eyes.

Together, they spoke:

“Wuhuo, Wuhuo!”

“A-Qi, A-Qi!”

“What is this?!”