Chapter 1261: The Inner Path

The Great Dao of Heaven and Earth is vast and boundless!

Formless and intangible, it has no concrete scale nor true substance. It is supreme, lofty beyond reach.

At this moment, a majestic fluctuation descended, shaking the heavens and earth, causing Shi Hao’s life core to tremble and his soul to nearly shatter. Were it not for the protective slate beneath him, he would have been reduced to ashes.

Wiping the blood from his lips, he gazed into the void, contemplating that grandeur. Though he could not see the “Dao” in its concrete form, the rain of light and the intangible aura alone were enough to awe the heart.

The Great Momentum, the Great Dao!

Shi Hao closed his eyes, withdrawing all his divine senses from the study of minute elemental states. For now, he ceased to obsess over the fundamental components of order and instead turned his focus to the most ancient and primal “Dao.”

This so-called Great Momentum, this so-called Dao, was entirely abstract—unlike the chains of order, which required deliberate construction.

If one truly sought to construct it, it would entail the endless interweaving of countless chains of order, influencing one another, densely packed, forming the intangible field that spanned the cosmos.

Yet, how could such a Dao be interpreted or explained? It was ever-changing, nearly inscrutable!

To attempt to imitate or replicate it in concrete terms was simply impossible.

The so-called enlightenment of the Dao, the mastery of its principles—these were but minor rules, fragments of the Dao, far from its ultimate truth.

Or perhaps it could be said that living beings merely grasped a corner of Heaven and Earth’s Great Dao, obtaining fragments, comprehending a mere sliver rather than achieving complete mastery.

If one truly comprehended the entirety of the Dao, they would transcend all, not only achieving immortality but perhaps even ascending to the status of the heavens themselves.

Shi Hao suspected that even true immortals might not have fully grasped the Dao in its entirety.

“Are the so-called myriad Daos of the heavens implying that there are infinite Daos, countless variations? If so, how could one ever hope to comprehend them all?” Shi Hao murmured to himself.

In the distance, a flawless woman with radiant violet hair and eyes shimmering with iridescent light watched in astonishment. How could a mere youth, not yet of high cultivation, dare to venture into such profound realms?

Soon, Shi Hao shook his head. He suddenly understood—the idea of myriad Daos was too concrete, a fallacy.

There was only one Dao—just the Dao. To artificially divide it into countless variations was a mistake.

He realized that high-level cultivators all knew this: the Dao was formless, without fixed patterns, elusive and singularly supreme.

Yet, since ancient times, people had occasionally grasped fragments of the Dao’s principles and believed they had comprehended a “Dao,” understood a “truth.”

Thus, artificial divisions emerged—Three Thousand Daos, Myriad Daos of the Heavens, Ten Sacred Daos, Five Elements Dao—all defined under such circumstances.

Nameless, it is the origin of Heaven and Earth; named, it is the mother of all things.

The Dao is formless, the Dao is intangible, the Dao cannot be truly described—vast yet omnipresent, unfathomable.

Shi Hao understood now. The so-called Three Thousand Daos, the so-called Myriad Daos of the Heavens, were merely rules, not the Dao itself. They were but meticulous classifications by predecessors, partial imprints of the “Dao.”

Perhaps only by piecing together all rules could one approximate the true “Dao.”

In the past, Shi Hao had also spoken of the Myriad Daos, aspiring to transcend them, to comprehend them fully and achieve liberation.

“Must I first master thousands upon thousands of laws, like the ancients, before piecing together a vague semblance of the Great Dao?” Shi Hao muttered.

He had entered this seed precisely to interact with the myriad rules of the heavens, to study them concretely, to comprehend them, and thus approach the one true Dao.

Stretching out his hand, Shi Hao allowed the descending chains of order and rules to coil around his fingers. His eyes gleamed as he studied them—how could they be assembled into the ancient, primal, singular Dao?

Time flowed—one day, two days, three days…

Fragments of time dissipated. Here, the passage of years was imperceptible; it flowed in solitude. The one who sought enlightenment turned to stone, motionless, as if extinguished.

Many days passed—perhaps dozens, perhaps hundreds—before Shi Hao revived. To him, it felt like but an instant, leaving little impression.

He attempted to assemble various rules, striving to express that Great Momentum, to unleash the might of the Dao. Yet he discovered, with dismay, that all descriptions were inadequate. He manifested a powerful “momentum,” but it remained but a fragment of the Dao—an imprint of the ancient Dao, a mere sliver grasped.

“The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao. The name that can be named is not the eternal name. All is elusive, all belongs to the natural order of Heaven and Earth. Forceful seizure is futile; inaction is freedom.”

Shi Hao sighed, somewhat resigned.

If becoming a master was the goal, he had long achieved it. He had frequently grasped profound rule trajectories—true fragments of the Dao.

But those were merely rules of order, not the complete visage of the singular Dao.

He desired more, for he knew that studying the Three Thousand Daos—or rather, the Three Thousand Rules—was insufficient. They were but partial glimpses of the Dao’s true nature, as perceived by predecessors.

And how formidable would future enemies be? Surely stronger than the sages of old—else why had the ancients fallen in battle?

“To transcend the Myriad Daos of the Heavens—is this arrogance? Perhaps. Youth is reckless; one must voice bold words.” Shi Hao mocked himself.

He knew that to transcend all rules was to truly comprehend the Dao. Yet, in practical terms, it was less about the Dao and more about opposing the myriad laws of order.

“Dao!”

Shi Hao sat cross-legged, his hand resting on the slate, his eyes blazing with fervor. He had sought much externally, reaching the limits. Perhaps the answer lay within.

“The Dao is formless, without fixed patterns. All things under Heaven—every blade of grass, every tree—exist under its principles, enveloped by the Dao.”

Shi Hao spoke to himself, then turned his gaze inward, treating his own body as Heaven and Earth.

“My body is the cosmos. My spirit, my blood, my inner self—these are the Dao, the internal truth. Nameless, the origin of Heaven and Earth; named, the mother of all things. Is this contradictory?”

To equate his individual self with the vast world!

Shi Hao felt his own audacity. Only by being “ignorant of Heaven’s height and Earth’s depth,” by treating his body as a great cosmos, could he dare make such a comparison.

“My form is the cosmos, though compared to the starry realms, I am but a speck of dust. My spirit is the Dao within.”

His black hair cascaded, his eyes burning with intensity. If one revered the heavens, if one always looked up to the Myriad Daos and the rules of the world, such boldness would be impossible.

He sought answers within, temporarily disregarding all external things.

“This is the essence of my enlightenment. I had such thoughts before—now, I shall advance further. Let the myriad rules of the heavens enter my body, resonate with my Dao form, and through comparison, perceive and comprehend the Dao within.”

“I seek my own Dao!”

He acknowledged the ancient Dao of the great cosmos but understood that its full momentum could never be fully grasped or depicted.

Thus, the only path was true introspection!

Heaven births all things—a speck of dust, a world. The human body, too, is a cosmos, perfect in itself, capable of constructing that elusive, supreme “Dao.”

And relative to oneself, it is also singular.

“Boom!”

The slate trembled. Shi Hao was truly attempting this—dangerously so. He drew the chains of order into his body, evolving their forms, seeking resonance within.

The rules blazed like a river of stars, densely packed within him, endless, nearly tearing him apart.

Yet the slate protected him, ensuring he did not perish.

For this was within a seed—a celestial womb, a place where the world nurtured its favored children.

Now, Shi Hao had taken that place, enjoying its blessings.

This was an unimaginable opportunity—to observe the myriad rules, their infinite extensions and interweavings.

As his flesh crumbled, divine chains shimmered brilliantly within, while the slate swiftly restored him.

It was terrifying, cruel, yet dazzlingly magnificent!

Shi Hao’s blood flowed, resonating with these rules, spreading through his limbs. These were extensions of the Dao’s principles. His meridians trembled, glowing—fragments of the Dao, pulsating in harmony.

His bones clanged like metal—the framework of his inner Dao, its main structure.

His flesh rustled like countless leaves, swaying in unison—the form of the Dao, filling all deficiencies, striving for perfection.

Time passed indeterminately before Shi Hao awoke, nearly charred by the endless external rules. The slate had revived him.

“Are my bones, blood, and flesh the inner Dao?” Shi Hao’s face was pale.

It seemed absurd, laughable if others knew.

“The Dao is formless, without fixed patterns. It can be anything, yet nothing.” Shi Hao’s gaze gradually brightened, growing resolute.

“Indeed, the Dao within me is whatever I will it to be. My form is the cosmos; all within me is the Dao.” Shi Hao spoke with solemn conviction.

In the distance, the beautiful woman was stunned. She wondered if this youth had lost his mind, considering whether to intervene.

“I am not mad. This is the path—seeking the Dao within! A speck of dust can fill the sea, can sunder the great cosmos. Though my mortal form is small, it too can break the Great Dao of the world!”

The next moment, Shi Hao fell silent and still. The myriad rules of the heavens descended, encircling him as he continued to ponder and explore.

His form mirrored the great cosmos; his inner Dao resonated with the supreme Dao beyond.

First, he understood the components of the chains of order—those minute elements. Then, he contemplated the vast Dao. Shi Hao sank into the deepest state of stillness, like a corpse.

Time flowed indeterminately. The rules, the endless chains of law from the heavens, coiled around him, forming a net, then weaving further, entangling endlessly.

Finally, all rules intertwined, forming a cocoon—ancient, unadorned—enveloping Shi Hao within.

“With my form as Heaven and Earth, the inner is the Dao.”

A soft voice emerged from the cocoon, causing the distant woman to shudder. She sensed something momentous was about to happen.

“Boom!”

The next instant, a flame burst from the cocoon—fist-sized, first transforming into a mirror reflecting infinite Dao principles, then into immortal fire exuding chaotic energy. It began to scorch the cocoon.

Time passed indeterminately, as if spanning countless epochs.

The flame burned the cocoon, scriptures chanting endlessly. The “silk threads” of the cocoon pressed into Shi Hao’s body, vanishing, then reappearing, before finally snapping.

At last, all was charred—the cocoon was breaking!

“A Cocoon of Dao?” The sole observer, the woman, was horrified.

To use the external Dao as a cocoon, seeking the inner Dao, seeking metamorphosis—to emerge, to become a butterfly.

She thought this youth a madman, incomprehensible, daring to do such a thing. Was he truly forcing the Dao from his flesh?

Soon, she gasped, seeing the charred cocoon reveal parts of his body—dull but unburned. She realized—this youth might succeed!