“How could I possibly give up?”
“My hard-earned cultivation, the foundation that truly belongs to me, the greatest assurance of achieving legendary status—how could I discard it as if it were an illusion?”
Hearing a series of questions from Qi Zhengyan, Meng Qi’s mind naturally arose such thoughts.
Without martial cultivation, what would I rely on to face the return of legendary experts?
Without martial arts cultivation, how could I resist those with ill intentions like the Gold and Silver Twin Demons?
Without martial cultivation, would I always depend on powerful figures from the other shore?
Without martial cultivation, how could I find clues to revive Xiao Sang?
Without martial cultivation, if my mentors and friends were in danger, wouldn’t I just watch helplessly, even if my heart burned with anxiety and worry?
Climbing step by step to my current realm and status, so many things are built upon martial cultivation. Without it, I’d be like a rootless floating weed, unable to act on my desires. Just imagining it makes me keenly aware of what helplessness truly feels like!
Seeing the rare display of changing expressions on Meng Qi’s face, Qi Zhengyan’s expression grew even more solemn, though his tone remained calm:
“If it weren’t for our mutual trust, if someone else had suggested this, wouldn’t you suspect it was a plot to trick the strongest Celestial Immortal of our age into self-destructive cultivation, making it easy to kill you?”
“Isn’t your intense inner resistance and struggle proof of your dependence on martial cultivation?”
“Weren’t you alive for many years without martial cultivation before?”
“Without martial cultivation, would you no longer be yourself?”
Each word struck Meng Qi’s heart. His thoughts surged and clashed, contradicting and refuting each other, creating a sense of wavering, yet he still couldn’t make a decision:
Indeed, by this point, I’ve become too dependent on martial cultivation. It’s hard to imagine what life would be like without it. If I can’t pierce through this fog shrouding my true spirit, how could I ever see my “real self”?
Are you kidding? The strength I cultivated bit by bit is the most real and tangible thing I have. How could I abandon it for some vague, uncertain hope? Without martial cultivation, how would I face the challenges of the future?
If I don’t quickly “cut through the self-perception and see the true self,” in this situation where legendary experts are returning early, even a Celestial Immortal seems no different from an ordinary person. Why not take the risk and try?
But even if I don’t give up martial cultivation, with time and perseverance, perhaps I could find an opportunity to break through in the next few years? With the protection of the Moonlight Bodhisattva and the goodwill of the Green Emperor, I should be able to hold on for a few years. Why try such a dangerous and uncertain method?
All this explanation, isn’t it precisely because I can’t let go of martial cultivation and have become its slave?
Without martial cultivation, I’m already someone else’s slave!
…
In such a short time, to answer a question so crucial to my future and life—despite always being decisive and daring to take risks—Meng Qi found himself hesitating and struggling. His lips trembled, and he tried to speak several times, but no words came out.
Only by cutting away the external “self” can one see the true “I”?
Qi Zhengyan’s expression returned to normal as he slowly said, “You think about it yourself. Only you can make this decision.”
With that, he left without looking back, stepping deeper into the Southern Wilderness, where scattered sparks gathered like a crimson flood.
Meng Qi stared at his retreating figure, then let out a long sigh, filled with thoughts. If this method were as clear and certain as severing the past and cutting off the future—where following a plan would give a good chance of success—I would have already tried it. But Master Qi has clearly said that even giving up martial cultivation might not fully allow one to “cut the self-perception and see the true self.” That would be a waste of effort and lose my greatest support, leaving me a useless cripple. The path ahead would be so uncertain, so unpredictable, how could I make such a decision?
Since the beginning of legends, the path from martial arts to Dao has been indescribable, naturally shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.
Lost in thought, Meng Qi wandered aimlessly and, before he knew it, found himself outside Guangling City. The mighty river surged forward, its dusk-laden waters seemingly unchanged for millennia.
This was the last place I saw Xiao Sang.
She struggled, and she lost… Meng Qi closed his eyes briefly. Memories were as clear as carvings, vivid and real—the expressions and tones of Gu Xiaosang felt like they had just happened.
Opening his eyes, his gaze deep and unfathomable, Meng Qi looked through the evening mist and saw a line of tall ships moored at the riverside port, their lights flickering like stars.
Year after year, the flowers remain similar; from year to year, the people change.
The river flows, unchanged through past and present. As Meng Qi approached, scenes from the past echoed in his mind.
From all the clues I’ve gathered so far, Xiao Sang never gave up. Even when forced to choose death by my hand, she left a way out, waiting for her chance to rise again.
That’s just who she was—deeply strategic, unpredictable, never one to give up easily.
A demon girl should be a demon girl—the kind you think is dead, with no hope of revival, only to see her return in a white fur coat and simple dress under the lantern-lit night.
“Xiao Sang left a backup plan, seemingly placing her hope of revival in me. Why would she believe I could do it?”
“Was it a last resort, or was it an expectation mixed with subtle emotions?”
“Was it a firm belief in my future, or trust in my potential strength and adaptability?”
Meng Qi’s thoughts soared, eventually circling back to the matter of “martial cultivation,” lingering there in deep contemplation.
The bright moon gradually rose, casting its clear glow. In the silence of ten thousand things, Meng Qi’s green robe fluttered in the wind, his back figure lonely as he crossed the river, walking northward.
Another night of wandering aimlessly. When the sun rose in the east, Meng Qi found himself at the edge of a misty lake—again a familiar place, again a memory etched in his mind.
The former Bayan Valley, now Bayan Lake.
He had sat here for months, patiently hunting, finally slaying the wolf king.
On the lake, facing each other—you with white lotus, I with green lamp—only to find one word became a prophecy.
Ripples danced in the morning light, with fishing boats and decorated tall ships along the shore.
Breathing in the fresh lake breeze, Meng Qi recalled past events, while a few tourists moved around nearby.
“Is this Bayan Valley?”
“Yes, the Bayan where the Mad Dao beheaded the wolf king. This place witnessed his first ascent to the top of the Human Ranks, and his transformation from a mad swordsman into the Yuan Emperor.”
“Later, the Yuan Emperor fought a great battle here, turning Bayan Valley into Bayan Lake?”
“Yes. At that time, he transformed into the Evil Demon King, infiltrated enemy territory, and fought fiercely with several Grand Masters. He even encountered an ambush, but who could escape unscathed when caught in karma? In the end, he emerged victorious.”
“What a place filled with heroic deeds of our predecessors! Help me take a photo; I want to keep it as a memento.”
“You weren’t anxious just now? How come you suddenly seem so relaxed?”
“Hehe, the Human Emperor has descendants assisting him, and it’s said that many legendary masters stand by his side. There’s no need to worry about the demon clan or the Luo Religion. Quick, take a photo of me and Bayan Valley. In the past, the Mad Dao was invincible; today, the renowned sword strikes without restraint!”
Hearing their words, Meng Qi couldn’t help but smile slightly. Is this how others saw “me”?
The Bayan Valley I remember is completely different from what they described.
They only care about my strength and achievements, while I, beyond those, still see that pale-faced, clever, sickly white-robed girl…
Because this is my experience.
Because I can never forget.
His mood suddenly relaxed, and a smile lingered on Meng Qi’s lips as he slowly left Bayan Valley, like a carefree tourist wandering across the land, returning to one memory-laden place after another, seeking his true self.
Walking alone for thousands of miles, delivering news to Shaolin—relying on strength, creating a sensation with my feats, but most unforgettable was the fearless, passionate spirit.
Rushing through the moonlit night, carrying the wounded—relying on strength, gaining rewards, but most deeply felt was the exhilaration of revenge and gratitude.
Within Shaolin Temple, though my power was weak, what I could never forget were my master and my young apprentice brother…
Each memory, peeling away the external, revealing the inner self, Meng Qi gradually became calm, like the quiet full moon hanging in the night sky.
Without martial cultivation, what kind of person would I be?
Standing at the cliff’s edge, watching the blue sea crash against the rocks, creating white foam, Meng Qi suddenly exhaled, making a decision in his heart.
Only at this moment did he seem to finally understand the meaning of “letting go,” a phrase often spoken by his master Xuan Bei—the so-called “breaking of the dharma and the self.”
So then, let’s try it!
Without martial cultivation, would I no longer be myself?
Taking a step forward, he walked onto the ocean, stepping on the waves, advancing with each stride. When dawn broke, he arrived at a misty fairy island and called out loudly, “Yu Xu Su Meng seeks an audience with the Primordial Fairy.”
After a brief pause, a voice came from deep within the mist, belonging to Bi Jingxuan, the Primordial Fairy: “What does Master Su seek?”
Meng Qi bowed and said, “I have a request for the Fairy, and if I am fortunate enough to survive, I will surely repay you.”
“What is it?” Bi Jingxuan neither agreed nor refused.
“Please use the Primordial Golden Dipper to strip me of all my cultivation.” Meng Qi said solemnly.
“You’re insane?” Bi Jingxuan blurted out, then fell silent, seemingly guessing something. After a long pause, she asked, “Are you really going to do this?”
Meng Qi smiled and said, “Without removing the ‘self,’ how can one see the ‘true self’?”
“There are always various dangers on the path of martial cultivation. If I don’t face this, I will have to face something else eventually.”
Bi Jingxuan said nothing more. From deep within the mist, the Primordial Golden Dipper flew out. Golden light descended, forming the Yellow River Formation. With a turn and a swirl, a wave surged, immobilizing Meng Qi’s upper dantian.
Meng Qi did not activate the Supreme Infinite Primordial Auspicious Cloud to resist. He felt his Dao power rapidly being stripped away. The painstakingly cultivated dharma body gradually separated from the merged laws, reverting to ordinary flesh and blood. The familiar martial cultivation he had relied upon, which had become like an extension of his limbs, vanished entirely. Only the Karma Fruit remained within him—yet without power, how could he even wield it?
What would it feel like without martial cultivation?
Empty and frightening, a strange fear, with no sense of security at all.
The Primordial Golden Dipper flew back. Suddenly, Meng Qi’s lips twitched. Without martial cultivation, the experience was indeed unpleasant.
It was simply awkward!
His garments were woven from the essence of the Dao, while other belongings were stored within the Absolute Blade. Now, devoid of power, he could neither retrieve fresh attire nor sustain his present form.
Thus, before the Three Peaks Isle appeared a streaker…
Bi Jingxuan seemed unprepared for this situation as well. After a moment of shock, she threw out a set of ordinary male disciple’s clothing.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage