The phantom atop the Heroic Tomb stood with his hands behind his back, his gray robe whipping in the wind. Not a trace of aura escaped him, yet the entire forest of steles seemed to bow beneath his gaze.
As Zhang Chu watched him, a record nearly worn away by time surfaced in his mind.
It had been a tattered manuscript written in ancient seal script, hidden in the deepest reaches of the Daoist Sect's Ten Thousand Scriptures Pavilion!
The manuscript held only a few lines, yet no one who had read them could forget them.
"Formless Emperor roamed heaven and earth ten thousand years ago. He belonged to no sect, had no master, and took no disciples."
"With his strength alone, he subdued the myriad races."
"He was the first to bring 'strength' to its pinnacle."
"His whereabouts afterward were unknown. He left only eight words: 'Without self, without form; I met no worthy foe.'"
Zhang Chu's breathing faltered for a beat.
At the Daoist Sect Ancestral Court, records of the Formless Emperor were pitifully scarce.
But every surviving line carried the weight of a thousand jun.
It was said he came from humble beginnings, born without parents and raised by beasts in the wilderness.
When he first appeared before the world, he was only a ragged boy with a sharpened wooden stick in his hand. Yet he had beaten a demon lair that had stood for a thousand years into rubble.
After that, he roamed the world, and no one could stop him!
When people asked where he came from, he answered with two words: "Without form."
When they asked who had taught him, he replied, "Without self."
When they asked what he sought, he raised his head, looked toward the heavens, and said one thing.
"I want