The square was deathly silent.
After several breaths, Ye Fan slowly raised his hand, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and calmly looked at Li Yun, whose face was ashen. His voice, though tinged with fatigue, was crystal clear:
"Fellow Daoist Li, you flatter me."
Li Yun opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, he only swallowed hard, then lowered his head dejectedly and remained silent.
He knew he had lost.
Not only did they lose the competition, but they also lost face for the Yaoguang Holy Land.
Despite using all his strength from the Four Extremes Battle Dao Palace, he was defeated head-on by the opponent's strongest attack. After this battle, he will become a laughing stock for many people.
The area below the platform was completely silent.
Only the wind howled, sweeping across the battle platform, blowing through tattered clothes, and raising fine dust.
A few breaths later, gasps of astonishment rose and fell.
" The Dao Palace Secret Realm, Reversing the Four Extremes,"
" The Sacred Body, is this the power of the Desolate Ancient Sacred Body?"
"They won! The Dao Palace has defied the Four Extremes! They really won!" someone murmured to themselves, as if they couldn't believe their eyes.
" The Sacred Body Ye Fan, terrifying indeed!" Many others gasped, their gazes towards the tall, handsome young man in the arena filled with shock and awe.
The murmurs began softly, gradually escalating into a noisy uproar.
Incredulity was written on everyone's face. It's not unheard of for someone to overcome a major obstacle, but it usually happens when a genius defeats a mediocre person.
Li Yun, a top ten true disciple of the Yaoguang Holy Land, at the peak of the first level of the Four Extremes Realm, with one foot already in the second level, was actually defeated by Ye Fan of the Dao Palace Secret Realm with a single punch?
This is unreasonable.
Black Emperor was stunned for a moment, then burst into deafening laughter and cheers. "Woof ha ha ha! We won! Did you see that? Dao Palace beat the Four Extremes, and still crushed them! Who else? I'm asking, who else?!" It stood up on its hind legs, paws on its hips, its head held higher than the sky, its arrogant aura almost piercing the clouds.
The people of Yaoguang Holy Land all looked ashen-faced, as if they had lost their parents.
The elders' faces were ashen, their eyes flashing with cold light, but they dared not make any move due to the situation and Li Qingshan on the high platform.
On the high platform, Li Qingshan withdrew his gaze, a barely perceptible smile curving his lips. He thought to himself, "With the initial understanding of Yin-Yang, the enhancement of combat, and the foundation of primordial energy, this strike has already touched the threshold of combining 'technique' and 'Tao.' As expected of Heavenly Emperor Ye, though the road ahead is still long, this first step has been taken very steadily."
Ye Fan himself slowly adjusted his breathing, feeling the blood and qi in his body that had been greatly depleted but were still surging. He looked up at the azure sky above the square, his eyes deep.
The Four Extremes Secret Realm is indeed a watershed moment.
Today's battle was a narrow victory, and only I know how difficult it was.
The road ahead holds even greater challenges and formidable adversaries.
But so what?
The path of the Sacred Body should be like this: rising from the ashes of war and Nirvana amidst blood and fire!
His fighting spirit did not subside with the victory; on the contrary, it became even more solid and sharp, like refined steel that had been tempered.
Three days later, on the night of the full moon.
At the summit of Clumsy Peak, all is silent.
There are no magnificent palaces or celestial temples here, no ethereal mists swirling around; only a few simple thatched huts stand quietly, their roofs gleaming grayish-white in the moonlight.
A blue stone lies in front of the hut, its surface as smooth as a mirror. It has been polished by countless generations of Clumsy Peak disciples, imbued with the warmth of time and the marks of perseverance.
Li Qingshan stood alone beneath the ancient pine tree.
That pine tree must have lived for countless years; its old bark was cracked like dragon scales, and its branches were gnarled and twisted like cast iron, casting mottled shadows in the cold moonlight.
The moonlight, like quicksilver spilling onto the ground, poured down on the mountaintop without reservation, coating the grass, trees, rocks, and thatched huts with a hazy silver edge.
The mountain peaks were so quiet you could hear your own heartbeat; the occasional cry of a night bird in the distance only added to the stillness.
A night breeze rustled the grass and pine needles, the sounds subtle yet clear, as if nature were whispering in your ear.
He stood with his eyes closed, his figure blending into the night and the shadows of the mountains.
The divine sense spread out silently, like a spring drizzle, fine and gentle, yet penetrating every crevice, slowly seeping into every inch of the mountain's texture.
At first, all I perceived were ordinary scenes:
The rocks are cold and hard, with tiny, vein-like fissures winding and extending inside, marks left by millions of years of wind and rain erosion and the movement of the earth's veins.
Deep in the soil, earthworms slowly wriggle, turning over tiny soil particles.
The roots of plants stretch tenaciously in the darkness, like the capillaries of the earth, drawing moisture and energy from the ground.
A beetle curled up on the underside of a broad leaf, its shell slightly cool, its wings occasionally trembling.
Higher up in the branches, in a bird's nest, a fledgling breathes steadily, its downy feathers rising and falling gently with its heartbeat.
These perceptions are clear yet ordinary; they are scenes that any cultivator with even a slightly stronger spiritual sense could "see."
But as Li Qingshan's mind settled completely, and his breathing harmonized with the rhythm of the mountain wind, something deeper and more essential slowly emerged like an undercurrent.
That was not sound, not an image, not even an energy fluctuation in the ordinary sense.
It's a kind of "rhythm," a kind of "beat," a kind of "state."
Upon closer inspection, the seemingly chaotic patterns and cracks on the surface of the rocks reveal a subtle, ineffable trajectory in their direction, depth, and twists. They appear as the faintest marks left by the laws of nature on matter, seemingly random yet inevitably so.
The annual rings of ancient trees, one ring within another, with each ring varying in width, not only record droughts and floods, but also seem to contain a certain cyclical principle of the passage of time and the flourishing and withering of life, like the imprint of the breath of heaven and earth.
The night breeze swept across the mountaintop, gracefully bypassing the protruding rocks, gently brushing the swaying treetops, swirling between the crevices of the thatched hut, and finally dissipating without a trace of coolness.
If the trajectory of this entire process could be drawn, it would resemble a naturally formed talisman, full of vitality and rhythm, with every stroke Union with the Dao principles.
This is the unique "natural" Daoist charm that Clumsy Peak has accumulated over thousands of years, experiencing rises and falls, and finally settling down: uncompetitive, unassuming, calm, and unpretentious.
It is as heavy and silent as the earth, bearing all living things, and its true nature remains unchanged despite the vicissitudes of time.
It is like a deep pool, still and profound, with a calm and undisturbed surface, but containing immeasurable power and mystery within.
It is more like the night wind and vegetation on this mountaintop, moving with the four seasons and changing with the times, everything is so natural and untouched by artifice.
Li Qingshan, possessing the Innate Sacred Body Dao Embryo, naturally possessed an almost instinctive sensitivity to the Great Dao of Heaven and Earth and the rhythms of nature. At this moment, his mind was clear and tranquil, and he quietly resonated with the Dao rhythm of Clumsy Peak, which had been accumulated over countless years.
A faint, ethereal glow emanated from his skin, a natural phenomenon that arose when his body resonated with the heavens and earth.
The pores on my body seemed to open and close in rhythm, silently absorbing the moonlight and the purest essence of heaven and earth from the mountains.
Centered on him, the airflow within the entire Clumsy Peak seemed to become unusually slow and viscous, and the floating dust seemed to sink into an invisible swamp, slowly settling down.
This is a subtle and unusual phenomenon where the Dao Realm manifests itself.
Gradually, he "saw" it.
That is the reflection of the Dao heart, the contemplation of the divine consciousness.
The originally static patterns on the rocks came to life in his mind, like living water, slowly flowing along a predetermined and mysterious path. There seemed to be some unseen connection and resonance between the patterns.
The annual rings of the ancient tree began to "rotate," and the meaning of the cycle of time contained within them manifested in the divine consciousness, rippling outwards in circles, with the illusion of the changing seasons and the alternation of flourishing and decay flashing within the ripples.
The trajectory of the night wind became incredibly clear. Every turn, every acceleration or deceleration seemed to leave invisible traces in the Void. These traces intertwined, collided, and dissipated, forming a dynamic, vibrant, and ever-changing natural map of the Dao.
These trajectories, rhythms, and images, at first glance, appear chaotic, like pearls scattered on the ground. But Li Qingshan immersed himself in them, using the wisdom of his Dao Embryo and the profoundness of his Sacred Body to begin to sort them out, summarize them, and trace their origins.
His goal is the secret of the "all" character among the Nine Secrets.
Li Qingshan knew that the "All" secret was not a specific killing technique or cultivation method.
It is a more fundamental and mysterious "principle," a "key" that can touch the origin of life and unleash hidden power.
It concerns "state of being," "opportunity," and the " Ultimate Sublimation " that elevates everything about oneself—vital energy, spiritual power, consciousness, and Dao Realm —to a level far exceeding the ordinary in an instant.
At this moment, the entire peak of Zhuofeng is a wordless heavenly book, and the flowing natural Daoist rhyme contains the true meaning of the secret word "Ji".
Li Qingshan's mind became completely calm, like a spotless mirror reflecting the subtle changes in everything on the mountaintop.
His consciousness began to differentiate, transforming into millions of "threads" finer than a strand of hair and softer than moonlight, each thread carrying his unique perception of the Dao.
Countless threads of divine consciousness gently and precisely wrapped themselves around the myriad natural trajectories that emerged in the sea of the mind.
He began to actively "unravel the mystery".
Following the "flowing" trajectory of the mountain rocks, tracing back upstream, we attempt to find its original "source": what caused that first engraving? What is its connection to the earth's veins? Does it resonate with the principles of the universe at its inception?
Following the ripples of the ancient tree's rings, we trace back inwards, imagining the scene when the first ring took shape. What kind of sunlight and rain, what kind of soil scent, shaped this initial mark of life?
The "talismanic" strokes that capture the trajectory of the night wind—tracing their beginnings and endings—reveal from which valley does the wind originate? From which peak does it turn? And to which Void does it ultimately return? What force drives this invisible "writing"?
This requires a profound understanding of nature and all things, and even more so, a sufficiently high level of one's own Dao Realm, so as not to be misled by appearances and to directly point to the origin.
Li Qingshan's cultivation and realm Dao-Slaying King played a crucial role at this moment.
His perspective is transcendent and profound, as if he were standing upstream in the long river of time, overlooking the natural evolution of Clumsy Peak over hundreds of millions of years.
Time slipped away silently.
The moon's shadow shifted quietly, moving from the eastern mountains to the zenith, and then slowly tilting westward.
The dewdrops condensing on the tips of the pine needles grew heavier and heavier until they could no longer bear it. With a soft "plop," they dripped onto the bluestone below, shattering into several crystalline pieces. After briefly shimmering in the moonlight, they seeped into the stone's texture, leaving no trace.
The thatched roof of the hut was soaked by the night dew, turning a darker color and leaving wet streaks.
The chirping of insects in the distance had ceased sometime ago, and the night birds had returned to their nests to sleep. Only the purest sounds of the wind and the occasional rustling of falling leaves remained in the world.
Li Qingshan's figure seemed to have transformed into a stone sculpture, becoming part of the scenery of Clumsy Peak tonight, just like the ancient pine, the bluestone, and the thatched hut.
Only his slightly heaving chest, in harmony with the mountain breeze, and the almost imperceptible warm glow between his brows, proved that he was undergoing a silent and profound spiritual journey and enlightenment.
Deep within his consciousness, a silent "storm" was subsiding, and a grand "reunification" was being completed.
The myriad natural trajectories that were originally scattered like stars and intricate like a net began to undergo wondrous changes under the guidance of the threads of divine consciousness and the reflection of the clear mirror of the Dao heart.
They are no longer isolated entities.
The textures of the rocks resonated with the annual rings of the ancient trees, and the trajectory of the night wind connected with the swaying arc of the grass.
Different "lines" begin to intersect, overlap, and merge, as if an invisible hand is weaving a vast and intricate pattern with heaven and earth as the canvas and the principles of Tao as the thread.
This pattern is like a living thing, constantly wriggling, changing, and adjusting, sometimes like a swirling nebula, sometimes like a flowing river, and sometimes like the growth of grass and trees.
But amidst all that change, an unchanging core, a constant rhythm, began to emerge and grow ever clearer and stronger.
Ultimately, all paths converge into one.
All the shimmering, flowing, swirling, and intertwined lines and points of light, like rivers flowing into the sea, converge, collapse, and condense towards the center of the sea of consciousness.
The light gradually dimmed, and the pattern gradually simplified.
An ancient and simple rune, yet seemingly containing the infinite mysteries of the universe, quietly floated before Li Qingshan's mind.
It is drawn with only a few strokes, the strokes are simple and direct, without any superfluous embellishment.
But every stroke seems to carry the weight of mountains, reflect the vicissitudes of time, and pulsate with the life force of a living being.
It is not as sharp and aggressive as the art of killing, nor is it like the cultivation technique that circulates throughout the body.
It remains silent, yet it exudes a unique Daoist charm that resonates with heaven and earth and inspires inner potential.
This is the true meaning of the secret inheritance of "Ji"!
It was the immortal Dao Seed left behind by the Clumsy Peak Zhuofeng who used astonishing means to integrate the supreme secret technique into the natural operation of the mountain!
Li Qingshan's mind was completely absorbed in the rune.
There are no written explanations, no visual demonstrations, only the purest transmission of Daoist principles and resonance with the soul.
The meaning of the first stroke flows through the heart; it is a "touch," the initial ripple that awakens dormant vital energy, like the spring thunder awakening the earth and bringing it back to life.
The meaning of the second stroke is self-evident: it is "to activate," a bridge connecting the five internal Divine Treasures and the spirit, mobilizing the power of the life source, like a river surging and converging into the sea.
The profound meaning of the third stroke emerged in my mind. "Resonance," the key to a brief harmony between one's own world and the external world, like the resonance of musical strings, its sound spreading in all directions.
The true meaning of the fourth stroke is the final perfection, which is "sublimation". It is a moment of ultimate leap achieved on the basis of the previous steps, like a Nirvana rising from the ashes.
Enlightenment comes naturally, like water flowing into a channel.
There were no earth-shattering phenomena, no enlightening clamor.
It was as if I had simply pushed open a door that was already slightly ajar, and seen the scenery that had always been there.
Everything was so familiar, yet so new.
As the first faint rays of dawn appear on the eastern horizon, the night is about to fade and the morning light is about to pierce the darkness.
Li Qingshan slowly opened his eyes.
A scene of clarity and tranquility, like a gemstone washed by moonlight and mountain spring water, deep and transparent.
With a glance, one can seem to see the most essential form of all things: the texture of grass blades, the condensation of dewdrops, the alternation of light and shadow, all naturally revealed within.
It's done.