The rule governing the far western frontier had stood for centuries. Over those centuries some had tried to violate it in secret, but all were killed by experts from both righteous and demonic-path sects. Only those who reached a certain level understood that this rule alone allowed all human cultivators of the Xuanyu Domain to unite against the demon cultivators.
The images vanished like a film the instant Xu Ziyan touched the statue.
An imposing burst of divine sense, suffused with killing intent, erupted from the stone. Xu Ziyan felt his heart turn cold. An indescribable terror weighed on him, as though the statue would strike him at any moment and reduce him to ashes.
The murderous divine sense swept across Xu Ziyan’s body once, then disappeared.
He touched his chest, unable to shake the oppressive sensation. His eyes widened as he gasped for breath. The brush with death had been so real that he almost thought he had seen the Buddha himself.
The divine sense arrived and vanished equally fast, like someone strolling past, scanning Xu Ziyan’s body before going on its way.
Wait… scanning?
Xu Ziyan’s eye twitched. Remembering the scenes of the axe-bearing cultivator slaughtering demonic beasts, he thought he understood the purpose of that divine sense.
“Calm your heart. Focus your mind.” A majestic voice suddenly spoke above him.
Xu Ziyan immediately sat cross-legged, gathered his concentration and resisted the enormous pressure descending on him.
His stamina and spiritual power had been entirely depleted in the earlier two trials. All he could still summon was the strength of his divine sense.
But he had not reached Foundation Establishment and could not project his divine sense outside his body. With no alternative, he had to turn his own body into the battlefield.
The pressure was vast and unrelenting. It was not particularly aggressive, yet resisting it was exceedingly difficult. Xu Ziyan’s divine sense retreated step by step, barely managing to slow the invading force. Driving it back was impossible.
Once the force entered his body, it began breaking down his meridians. Each time it destroyed a section, a gentler power immediately repaired it. Destruction and renewal alternated until the meridians that had been tempered became extraordinarily resilient.
The advantages of stronger meridians were obvious. After Foundation Establishment came Meridian Condensation, a stage devoted to tempering the meridians so they could contain more spiritual power.
But…
Damn it, this hurt!
Tears streamed from Xu Ziyan’s eyes.
Forget the saying that men should not shed tears. That only meant the pain had not yet been bad enough.
Ordinarily, with Zirong nearby, Xu Ziyan felt obliged to preserve his big-brother image and endure any pain. Here there was nobody watching. He could roll around and scream if he wanted.
“Damn it! It hurts like hell!” His face was flushed, his eyes wet and tears gathering at their corners. He clawed desperately at the ground until his nails cracked.
Even while suffering, he kept directing his meager divine sense against the invader. It achieved almost nothing, but he could not bear to give up and let the force continue tearing apart and repairing his meridians unopposed.
He nearly bit through his lips, his eyes bloodshot. Only his stubborn refusal to be controlled by the force kept him conscious.
The power passed through Xu Ziyan’s body, destroying and rebuilding every meridian along its route.
The benefits were immense, but Xu Ziyan had already passed out. He did not know his performance had attracted the attention of a Nascent Soul cultivator in the rear hall, who was controlling the entire formation: Dao Lord Luo Yun.
“Heh, interesting,” a middle-aged man chuckled in the depths of the great hall…
When Xu Ziyan opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a ceiling with holes in it.
Sunlight streamed through one hole and fell across his face, waking him.
He tried with difficulty to raise an arm, only to discover in horror that he could scarcely feel it. Cold sweat broke out instantly.
“Big Brother, you’re awake?” The door creaked open, and Zirong entered carrying a basin of clean water. Seeing his brother’s open eyes, he cried out with delight.
Xu Ziyan struggled to turn his head and force a smile, but failed.
He looked around and felt his heart sink. They were living in a decrepit little thatched hut containing only a wooden bed, a table and chair, and absolutely nothing else.
Did I fail the final examination and get sent to a place like this?
His mouth was painfully dry. Fortunately, Zirong had already prepared warm water and carefully helped him drink.
“Don’t worry, Big Brother. The sect master said you performed the best of everyone and received the most complete inheritance. Your body had trouble withstanding it, so you need medicinal baths. You may not be able to feel your limbs for now, but you’ll recover in a few days,” Zirong quickly explained, sensing his alarm.
Xu Ziyan nodded and looked around again. “Then this place…?”
Zirong’s expression became rather unhappy. “After the examination, the sect master intended to take you as his personal disciple, but some madcap cultivator stopped him.” When he mentioned the man, Zirong sounded as though he wanted to bite him.
“If he stopped it, fine. I didn’t plan to become the sect master’s disciple anyway.” Xu Ziyan did not particularly mind. He had intended to apprentice himself to an obscure cultivator whose name he did not know, but whose favorite napping place he remembered.
“But…” Zirong was indignant. “If he’d merely prevented you from becoming the sect master’s disciple, that would be one thing. Instead he shamelessly insisted on taking you himself. He completed all the formalities before you even woke up. You’re already his disciple.”
Xu Ziyan fell silent. Discovering that he had somehow acquired a master while unconscious felt… rather strange.
“I’m sorry, Big Brother. I couldn’t beat him or stop him,” Zirong said dejectedly. Without the power of his previous life, he felt unbearably weak, unable even to defeat a Meridian Condensation cultivator.
Xu Ziyan had been unhappy, but those words made him laugh. He reached over to rub Zirong’s head. “You’re still young. When you grow up, Big Brother will rely on you for protection!”
Zirong nodded with a frown, still suspicious of the eccentric cultivator. Everyone’s behavior toward him was strange. How could a mere Meridian Condensation cultivator openly defy the sect master? Even the amiable Dao Lord Wuchen ought not to tolerate that.
Unless…
Zirong abandoned his contempt. Someone able to make the sect master behave that way was no ordinary person. Was everyone wary of the cultivator himself, or of someone standing behind him?
“Hey, my arm can move!” Xu Ziyan exclaimed with delight.
He had not noticed until he reached to stroke Zirong’s head. His hand was responding again.
It was still stiff, but sensation and movement were returning.
Zirong smiled. The Flowing Light Sect’s medicinal baths were working.
But remembering how the man had insisted that Xu Ziyan would receive no medicinal-bath prescription unless he accepted him as master, Zirong still could not feel pleased.
Xu Ziyan exercised his arms and then tried his legs. Unfortunately, he still felt nothing below the waist. They might need several more days.
Zirong brought a stool to the bedside so they could exchange information about what had happened.
Of course, Xu Ziyan had been unconscious, so all he had to do was listen while Zirong related the events.
By coincidence, that year’s examination might have produced the best results the Flowing Light Sect had seen in decades.
Three people received the complete inheritance: Wei Qing, Xiahou Lian and Xu Ziyan.
Hu Yutian also performed admirably, but fainted just short of completing the inheritance.
Several other disciples did well, but none of them managed to remain conscious to the very end.
The brothers chatted happily as time passed unnoticed, until…
Crash! A worn cloth shoe with toes sticking through the front kicked open the hut’s door. It creaked twice before collapsing completely.
“Oops, sorry, sorry. Couldn’t be bothered pushing it, and I used a little too much force,” said a ragged cultivator with an apple between his teeth, sounding not the least bit sincere.
Xu Ziyan stared as the fellow swaggered to the bedside. With no spare stool, he simply shoved Xu Ziyan toward the inside of the bed and sat down on the edge.
“Want one?” He produced a bright-red fruit from somewhere and waved it in front of Xu Ziyan.
Xu Ziyan swallowed, his heart pounding. He knew who this visitor was. What astonished him was the man’s appearance.
Shouldn’t the fellow be asleep in some hidden corner? Why was he walking about so openly?
“Master,” Zirong said, frowning at the cultivator’s filthy clothing.
“Wait, Zirong, what did you call him?” Xu Ziyan gaped. Didn’t this man choose disciples according to fate? Xu Ziyan had intended to use his first-place ranking to seek him out. How had Zirong become his disciple already?
“Master, obviously. What else? And you, boy, aren’t you going to greet me?” The slovenly cultivator nudged Xu Ziyan with his foot.
Xu Ziyan blinked blankly. Call him what?
“What else? Call me Master! Didn’t the brat tell you you’re my disciple already?” the disheveled cultivator demanded loudly.