Xu Fengnian suddenly slapped his forehead, withdrawing his hands to channel the formidable momentum he had secretly learned from the Great Snow Terrace of Hui Mountain. He leaped backward, not caring whether the herdsmen could understand the dialect of Guse Prefecture, and ordered the young and strong among them to retreat first. Xu Fengnian himself first scooped up a young nomadic child and carried him under one arm, then grabbed another youth. Bending his knees slightly, he launched himself like an arrow against the cliffside, bouncing several times before landing atop the mountain. He set the children down and leaped down into the valley bottom, snatching up two more young children. Like a hare springing or a falcon diving, his figure was fleeting and swift.
The herdsmen, abandoning their precious sheep, horses, and tents—their very livelihoods—raced away in terror. Xu Fengnian did not pause for breath, leaping and bounding more than a dozen times, finally delivering over twenty children to the mountain peak. The thunderous hooves of the stampeding bison sounded like springtime thunder, shaking the valley walls, sending sand and dust cascading into the air. Around the bend, the vanguard of the herd surged forward like a tidal wave.
Xu Fengnian ignored the young men who had deliberately lingered behind, and as he landed from one leap, he spotted a slender figure bending down to help a child who had fallen, holding another child’s hand. As Xu Fengnian approached, catching a glimpse of her profile from the corner of his eye, he hesitated slightly in surprise but had no time to dwell on it. He scooped up the two children and bounded back toward the summit. After setting them down, he leapt once more into the valley below.
Still, over eighty herdsmen remained in the gorge, scrambling to escape. The young girl, whose beauty had even made a prince like Xu Fengnian marvel in astonishment, stood still, her expression one of heartfelt gratitude, her eyes filled with calm acceptance of life and death. Xu Fengnian, however, had no such luxury of fearlessness. Facing the roaring tide of bison, he gathered his energy once more, letting the two currents of qi rise and fall, then ascended once more to the Kunlun.
The ground trembled violently. The herdsmen’s legs turned to jelly, for the valley floor was already uneven, and with the shaking earth, it became even more treacherous. Several elderly people stumbled and fell, struggling to rise before fleeing again.
Xu Fengnian rose with mighty force, like thunder breaking the calm sky, answering thunder with thunder. His internal energy surged through his body like a flood, meeting the flood of bison with a flood of his own.
He let out a powerful exhale, his eyes suddenly snapping open. With both hands, he swept outward in gentle arcs, keeping the dust and debris from coming within ten feet of him. Behind him, the stunned girl saw the young man in the long robe, his figure elegant and transcendent, as the frenzied, bloodshot-eyed bison charged forward, only to crash into an invisible wall of force ten steps away. The leading row of bison reared up, their front legs twisting backward, crushed by the endless tide of bison behind them. The force built and built until the frontmost animals exploded, blood spraying everywhere. Yet even so, the dense, dark mass of the bison herd was halted, unable to advance even a single step.
One after another, the massive beasts weighing two or three thousand jin slammed into the invisible barrier. Corpses piled high, reaching three zhang in an instant, forming a crimson wall of blood and gore, thick and blinding, a horrifying sight.
The bison were naturally docile, but once they stampeded into the gorge, their hooves pounding the earth, they grew fierce and bloodthirsty. Especially when obstructed, their rage intensified, and the saying “to get stuck in a dead end like a bull” became a grim reality.
Xu Fengnian pressed both hands downward, and forty bison corpses plummeted.
His feet slid backward two steps along the ground.
With the obstruction gone, the bison trampled the corpses and surged forward.
Xu Fengnian’s sleeves flared. He slid his left foot outward, spread his arms, and suddenly thrust forward. A great gust of wind and sand erupted before him. The valley walls, pulled by his energy, tore loose large boulders the size of Fight, which shot into the herd like arrows. It slowed the bison momentarily, but Xu Fengnian knew this was only a temporary reprieve, like throwing a cup of water on a cartload of firewood. The earlier barrier and the current obstruction had merely compressed the herd’s momentum. The real danger would come when the full force of the stampede rebounded. If he had reached the realm of the Fingers of the Sky, he might have been able to collapse the cliffs and block the gorge. But as it was, still short of the Realm of the Indestructible, even a typical Realm of the Indestructible body would struggle to withstand the relentless waves of impact.
Xu Fengnian took a few steps back, quickly adjusting his breath, not even pausing to spit out the blood trickling from his lips. He inhaled once and exhaled six times, his long robe moving without wind as he ascended once more to Kunlun.
One step at a time, he would hold the line.
Again and again, the Great Yellow Courtyard circulated its energy.
After a dozen cycles, he had already slid back six or seven zhang. In the midst of his frustration, Xu Fengnian’s killing intent flared. He used the rolling stone technique to unleash a storm of sword qi, slicing a dozen bison into pieces. The cost was that he could no longer suppress the blood spilling from his mouth. His heart pounded, and he knew he could not afford to act recklessly. He felt a bitter rage, his eyes turning red, the vermilion mark between his eyebrows slowly shifting from pale purple to deep violet. He no longer saw, no longer heard, and in this deathly stillness, he entered a state beyond words—a realm between life and death. Confucians faced death with integrity, Daoists embraced stillness to achieve great deeds, and Buddhists sacrificed themselves to ferry others across.
Xu Fengnian, channeling the Kunlun force he had learned from the scholar Xuan Yuan Jingcheng of Great Snow Terrace, embodied the righteous spirit of “though a thousand men oppose me, I shall go forth.” At first, he had acted out of a wish to save the herdsmen and plant a karmic seed of kindness. But as time passed, he was free of all attachments, entering the world yet unknowingly attaining a transcendent state. In the Great Yellow Courtyard, golden lotuses bloomed, from bud to full blossom, achieving a momentary purity and immortality.
Xu Fengnian unknowingly opened the Great Hollow acupoint.
His right hand naturally went behind his back as he closed his eyes and focused. He recalled his first days on Wudang Mountain, hearing how the Grand Abbot Wang Chonglou had once split the Canglan River. Gathering his energy to its peak, Xu Fengnian gently traced a line with his left hand and murmured, “Sever the River.”
A rift split the ground a zhang ahead, cutting through the cliffside.
Six or seven bison fell into the chasm, their bodies soon filling the gap as others leaped over them, continuing their charge, blood spraying everywhere.
You charge, I sever.
Xu Fengnian glided backward, severing again and again.
A truly tragic and majestic scene unfolded.
Though Xu Fengnian appeared graceful and unruffled, exuding an air of leisure and charm, blood now flowed from all seven of his orifices. Though the Great Yellow Courtyard was wondrous and enduring, even its profound energy had limits. Especially when used so recklessly, pushing his cultivation to its peak with such forceful techniques, it was only a matter of time before his energy ran dry. Like a fish darting among mossy stones, he moved without blade or sword, yet with a clear and resolute intent to clash head-on with the flood of bison. Intuition told him he might grasp the sixth page of the saber manual through timing and terrain. But the thought had barely formed when it was extinguished—he had collided with a soft body he could not avoid. It was the young herdsman girl who had not fled in haste but had waited for Xu Fengnian to retreat a few steps before running after him.
Xu Fengnian had no idea how many cycles of energy he had completed. Li Chungan had once said that at the peak of sword intent, one’s spirit could roam eight extremes, and a single flick of the wrist could send qi rippling eight hundred li in an instant. Xu Fengnian did not dare to compare himself, but his own surging energy must have reached a hundred li in an instant. He chuckled bitterly, not even turning his head, grabbing her soft shoulders and tossing her backward. He stopped, sheathed his sword, and gathered his strength like a bow drawn to its limit, knowing that pushing too far could snap the string. If that happened, it would not be a simple matter of losing a level or two—it could destroy all the painstakingly cultivated foundations of the Great Yellow Courtyard. Unlike the wild grasses of the plains, the golden lotus of the Great Yellow Courtyard could not bloom anew after withering. Once lost, it would be like climbing a mountain—nearly impossible.
He did not know how far the herdsmen had fled, whether they had escaped the gorge.
Gritting his teeth, Xu Fengnian thought, “Damn it, I’ll hold on a little longer. If I can’t, I’ll have to retreat. Dying here is one thing, but I can’t bear to leave it unfinished.”
Dying was not his greatest fear—he feared the bitterness of failure more.
The thunderous bison charged ever closer, nearly upon him. Xu Fengnian completed another full cycle of energy, clearly seeing the terrifying eyes of the lead bison.
The bison lowered their heads, ready to impale him with their horns.
Xu Fengnian’s robe shrank, then swelled again, even more violently than before. He cupped his hands before his chest, forming a circle.
From a small circle, roundness begat roundness, until the great circle encompassed heaven and earth.
Dust swirled in the gorge like a circular mirror.
Xu Fengnian moved backward, inch by inch.
The bison herd, too, advanced inch by inch, defying belief.
He had promised himself just a little longer, yet he had already held on far beyond that.
Atop the mountain, an old monk in a simple saffron robe, feet floating, holding a bamboo staff, flew like a celestial being. Seeing the scene below, he was moved and sighed softly, “When one forgets oneself, one does not fear death. That is the courage of a common man. But to know one’s limits and still act—that reveals one’s true nature. A little selfishness does not hide a good heart.”
The old monk dove into the gorge like a hawk, grasping Xu Fengnian with one hand, his foot tapping the air in a series of invisible steps, gliding toward the girl. He whispered, “Your Highness, let this old monk who has made grave mistakes block the bison while you save the girl.”
As Xu Fengnian instinctively wrapped his arm around the girl’s waist, the monk softly intoned, “Rise,” and the two floated toward the mountain peak.
The monk finally touched the ground, turned, and drove his staff into the earth with a thunderous boom.
Were it not for his saffron robe, one might mistake him for a kind old village elder. But now, with the wrath of a King Kong, he faced the tide of bison and let out a deep, rumbling roar.
It was like thunder rolling for miles.
The Northern Desolate’s new martial ranking revered this Buddhist saint above all, saying: “The Dragon Tree Sage of Liangchan Temple preaches fearlessly, his voice like the Buddha’s, his lion’s roar subduing all beings.”
The bison halted instantly, the gorge falling into silence.
Blood flowed like a river.
The monk bowed his head in shame, clasping his hands.
Xu Fengnian, exhausted, stumbled and collapsed onto the ground. The girl knelt behind him, tears streaming, gently supporting his falling body. Xu Fengnian had no energy to consider whether the monk had set a trap or not, nor did he care about the girl behind him. He simply looked at his blood-stained robe and chuckled bitterly, “Spitting blood like this can’t go on forever.”
Then he fainted.
The monk retrieved his bamboo staff and ascended the mountain, checking Xu Fengnian’s pulse with relief. From his satchel, he took out a white bowl, sliced his wrist, and filled it with golden-yellow blood—unlike any ordinary blood—and handed it to the girl.
The monk’s blood was golden, as described only in obscure Buddhist scriptures.
He had truly reached the Realm of the Indestructible of the Buddha.
The girl, with a heart full of understanding, cradled Xu Fengnian and fed him the golden blood, worth more than a city.
The monk rose again, Falling back to the valley, reciting the Diamond Sutra all the way. After exiting the gorge, he soared to the mountaintop, patted the horse, and led it forward, softly saying, “Congratulations, Your Highness, on entering the At the Beginning of the Great Journey Realm of the Indestructible.”
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage