The sun hung high, its golden rays reflecting off Feiyan Lake like scattered scales of gold. Standing at the lakeshore, Meng Qi watched the carriage recede into the distance and Gao Lan’s tall, proud figure vanish, his heart filled with emotion and sighs.
Today’s Mad Emperor was truly the genuine article—both mad and imperial. Back then, he was a young man in a simple green robe; now, in his prime, he wore imperial robes with pride.
After a long while, Meng Qi muttered inwardly, “Brother, I originally intended to give you the Kai Tian Seal, the Four Symbols Seal, and others for you to comprehend as a token of gratitude… But since you insisted on keeping your composure, showing off and then running off, we’ll just have to talk about it later. After all, you already have the Human Emperor’s Golden Book.”
Smiling and shaking his head, he turned and walked into the woods by the lake, returning to his seat inside a hollow tree. He gripped the faint golden light in his left hand and pressed it to his forehead. His ancestral cavity opened, and his consciousness surged in.
With a thunderous crash, countless images flashed before Meng Qi’s eyes. An emperor with an ordinary face but natural majesty stood in the shimmering, illusory river of time, sword in hand, glancing back.
One stream after another converged, and figures leaped forth—one with countless appearances and attires, and others identical to the emperor, existing in both past and future.
Blades of swordlight erupted, and countless brilliant starlines emerged in the void, appearing both black and white, constantly shifting and flowing.
The emperor’s swordlight circled his body, subtly shifting and changing, the heavens and earth transforming with him. They coalesced into the Three Primordials and Five Classics, lifting him slowly upward, pulling him free from the river of time. He dragged countless causes and figures into himself, then stepped into boundless chaos, approaching the ultimate state of “Only I Exist.”
The light and shadow faded, and Meng Qi quietly reflected on what he had just seen.
This was Gao Lan’s comprehension of the Human Emperor’s Golden Book. It was incomplete and not in its original form, lacking many key aspects. It would be impossible to cultivate any martial arts based on this alone. However, as a reference, especially for creating his own technique—“All That Was, Dissolves into Nothingness”—with the Dao Yi Seal, it was more than sufficient.
“Tracing back the past, reaching into the future—this is the martial path the Human Emperor used to reach the other shore…” Meng Qi suddenly realized. This must be the content from the last or second-to-last page of the Human Emperor’s Golden Book!
As this thought struck him, a strange doubt arose. Other Shore existences like Yuanshi, Lingbao, Daode, Amitabha, and Bodhi had survived one, even several aeons. Yet the Human Emperor had only been active for several thousand years at the end of the ancient era and the beginning of the middle ancient period before passing on his throne and entering nirvana.
Had he fought the Demon Emperor to mutual ruin, both ending in nirvana?
This matter was temporarily irrelevant to him. Meng Qi pushed aside his doubts and brought out the Mirror of This Life. Since it had a master now, it had shrunk, now no larger than a palm—smooth and flawless, much like the serene lake surface. Inside, countless golden specks floated up and down, like all the memories of this lifetime.
Suddenly, Meng Qi’s eyes transformed—his left eye turned pitch black, while his right became pure white. His ancestral aperture opened, manifesting an ethereal, colorless illusion of the Dao Yi Glazed Lamp. A solitary flame blazed within it, radiating boundless radiance, akin to the Primordial Origin giving birth to an intricate and infinite web of karma.
Billions of black-and-white rays fell upon the Mirror of This Life. The golden specks immediately rose, filling half the sky, displaying all of Meng Qi’s experiences in this life.
The image of him stepping into the Fengshen World with a determination to survive against all odds; the cold and calculating strategist who defeated the Impermanence Sect; the figure who beheaded the master of the Bureau of Injustice; the one who seized the Seven Kill Stele; the one who explored the Nine Heavens with Gu Xiaosang; the one who drank freely and sang wildly with Gao Lan… the sight of watching Jiang Zhiwei sever her own “self” and vanish at the end of the mountain path; the moment of sudden reunion under flickering lanterns; the scene of his master pleading for mercy on his behalf; the one who fought for survival in the vast desert with Gu Changqing and his junior apprentice; the image of him as a young Shaolin monk…
The scenes kept flowing backward until Meng Qi saw himself on Earth—struggling through life, studying in a foreign land, enduring the gaokao, carefree childhood, babbling infancy, and finally, the unborn child within the womb.
At this point, the golden specks gathered and fell back into the mirror, everything returning to normal.
“Does my experience on Earth count as this life?” Meng Qi mused. He had never seen Su Zi’s childhood, yet he considered his Earthly experiences as a previous life. It seemed that “this life” should be defined by whether one of the three souls of the Yuan Spirit had been replaced—not by the physical body.
In that case, because his previous judgment of “this life” had been incorrect, certain matters would need slight adjustments, especially avoiding mistakes in self-created martial arts techniques targeting the wrong “self.”
Next, Meng Qi retrieved a shard of the Mirror of Next Life. It resembled glazed glass, riddled with cracks and exuding an unfathomable, uncertain aura.
The light of the Dao Yi Glazed Lamp illuminated the fragment of the Mirror of Next Life. The dull surface of the mirror emitted a faint glow, and countless tiny shards, divided by cracks, displayed different images. As it was merely a fragment, it did not reflect the next life, but rather an uncertain future.
The images depicted a familiar monk seated beneath an ancient lamp alongside the Buddha, a terrifying man roaring “Bring the blade!”, a grief-stricken figure wailing to the heavens, a white-robed swordsman impaled by a crimson spear, a deranged Daoist priest, and countless others.
Each of these figures turned their heads, and without exception, all bore Meng Qi’s face.
At that moment, the monk under the ancient lamp curled his lips into a half-smile.
The terrifying man, the sorrowful figure, the white-robed swordsman, and the mad Daoist priest—all wore the same meaningful smile!
They were one and the same—their different futures all belonged to the same person! Meng Qi’s heart was shaken. No matter what the future, was there only one destined outcome? Would he be merged by that being? Would he be welcoming his return?
“The celestial cycle numbers fifty, yet one remains hidden—a final thread of fate.” Meng Qi closed his eyes, quickly calming his heart, and began combining the Mirror of This Life, the Mirror of Next Life, and the Dao Yi Seal to seek a way to sever the past.
These “harvests” accumulated, sparking and fermenting together.
There were still ten months left. Whether he could develop the technique was uncertain. All he could do was hope for good news from the Immortal Trace regarding the acquisition of the Cycle Talisman.
……
On the river, a boat glided through the night, its black canopy facing the fine rain. Meng Qi sat quietly in the cabin, his mind flashing with inspiration, sometimes colliding, sometimes scattering.
After reaching near the Xijian Pavilion, a new idea suddenly struck him, so he hired a boat for the final stretch.
At daybreak, Meng Qi let out a long sigh.
Still unsuccessful.
Forging a martial art technique on par with the “Six Annihilations of the Overlord” was no easy task. Without the Dao Yi Seal and other techniques, he might never have achieved it in his lifetime.
Leaving the boat, Meng Qi flew toward the Xijian Pavilion without hiding his aura. Soon, he arrived before its mountain gate, where Jiang Zhiwei had already sensed his approach and was waiting at the entrance.
Dressed in a bright yet gentle yellow robe, Jiang Zhiwei stood on the mountain path, outshining the flowers blooming across the hills.
In April, the flowers in the human world had already withered, while the peach blossoms in the mountain temple had just begun to bloom.
Such beauty might soon vanish forever… Meng Qi sighed inwardly. Speaking of living through death was easy, but in reality, it was a one-in-ten chance. Next year at this time, there might already be a lonely grave, and he would no longer see such beauty.
Feeling this, his heart was heavy with complex emotions, and for a moment, he could not speak. Silently, he walked forward along the mountain path. Jiang Zhiwei seemed to sense something and remained silent as well, walking beside him, hand in hand, ascending the peak along the winding path.
At that moment, the sun rose in the east, the sea of clouds turned crimson, and golden rays shone brilliantly, brimming with radiant vitality. Meng Qi felt reborn, his heart calm, and he smiled slightly. He transmitted his voice, “I’ve found the Huangquan Reincarnation Body, completed the Zhenwu Chain Mission, and received the final reward. Can you guess what it is?”
Jiang Zhiwei thought for a moment, then smiled—a smile more magnificent than the rising sun, more dazzling than the morning glow. “Since you’re letting me guess, it must be something I’m very interested in—perhaps one of the Seven Swords of Heaven Severing, or even the Grand Compendium?”
“You truly know me, Zhiwei. It’s the Six Realms version.” Meng Qi smiled and transmitted his reply. He took out a pale green “seed” and handed it to Jiang Zhiwei.
Jiang Zhiwei pursed her lips slightly. “You did most of the Chain Mission. I feel undeserving, but over the years, I’ve grown used to being shameless in front of you.”
Over the years… yes, so many years… Meng Qi’s gaze suddenly blurred.
This visit to the Xijian Pavilion was both to deliver the Grand Compendium of the Seven Swords of Heaven Severing and to say goodbye.
After today, perhaps they would never meet again on the road.
Jiang Zhiwei pressed the seed to her forehead and absorbed its contents. Finally, her eyes shimmered with light, and she returned the seed to Meng Qi.
“This is the Seven Swords of Heaven Severing…” Her voice was slightly dreamy.
Meng Qi smiled at her, his gaze gentle and calm. “I still need to deliver the Grand Compendium to Yushu. I’ll take my leave first.”
Jiang Zhiwei nodded and watched him turn away.
After walking a few steps, Meng Qi suddenly heard Jiang Zhiwei’s voice in his ear: “No matter what difficulties arise, I will draw my sword to aid you.”
She could tell Meng Qi had something on his mind, but since he refused to speak of it, she wouldn’t ask directly.
After a pause, Jiang Zhiwei added, “You will never walk alone.”
Meng Qi closed his eyes, his pace unchanged. He raised his hand slightly and chuckled, “I’m shameless too. If I ever really need help, I’ll definitely ask.”
Some things could only be faced alone.
Jiang Zhiwei stood motionless on the mountaintop, watching Meng Qi’s green-robed figure slowly disappear at the end of the mountain path, the flowers in full bloom, their fragrance intense.
That day, on that mountain, so many years ago.
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