Cao Tianzhou had been cut off from the world for three whole years. A pure martial cultivator, he had always immersed himself in cultivation. If not for the great calamity that struck him, he might not even have known how many noble families there were in the realm.
Such a man, naturally, did not know Gu Fangchen.
Yet now, he was nearing the end of his oil, his lamp almost spent. Even if Gu Fangchen had not come, he could have lasted no more than half a year.
And even in that half a year, he might not have survived.
The evil spirits imprisoned within the Demon-Suppressing Prison no longer dared provoke him. Yet all of his will, all of his thoughts, had already condensed into a single blade born from hatred and wrath.
For these years, he had survived only by devouring the flesh and blood of those evil spirits. His body had long lost any trace of vitality, replaced entirely by the malice and resentment of those he consumed.
He was little more than a walking corpse.
There was no difference between his state and death; even he did not know how much longer he could endure.
Gu Fangchen's arrival, to him, was almost a kind of liberation.
Cao Tianzhou lifted his head. His skull-like face was bathed in faint light; only his eyes still burned, sharp and cold as blade edges, a ghostly blue, more terrifying than the specters lurking beneath the Yellow Springs.
Within those eyes was pure intent, the Dao of the Blade itself.
"The Blade Sect's" Cao Tianzhou had once reached the peak of the Fourth Grade.
Though his physical cultivation had stagnated during his long imprisonment, his hatred had become the perfect whetstone. That hatred had sharpened his blade intent to the Third Grade.
A blade is a weapon of slaughter by nature. Hatred is its purest essence.
Every path of killing and conquest is founded upon one word, "hate."
Only when hatred reaches its absolute peak can one produce the most terrifying power and realm.
From that perspective, even the Martial Courage Realm was much the same.
When your hatred rises high enough that you are absolutely certain you can kill your enemy, only then does true courage take root in your heart.
When Gu Fangchen saw those eyes, a genuine tremor coursed through his heart.
He suddenly recalled what Old Ding had told him when teaching him the way of martial arts.
"The first thing I taught you," Ding Xingfeng had said, "was the essence of martial cultivation."
"The essence of the martial path is never to let go, it is to take up. Not only to take up, but to seize everything within your grasp and hold it fast."
"If there is one word that governs the will that drives you, it is hate."
"A man whose heart is calm as still water can never walk the martial path. If your heart does not stir, how can your blood surge? How can your fists crush your enemy? That is why warriors are often strange of temperament, some arrogant, some mad, some proud, some obsessed. Those who seem righteous and refined on the surface, every last one hides the most twisted heart of all."
Crude words, yet they made sense.
Gu Fangchen found the reasoning sound.
Gu Yuye, too, was a martial cultivator, elegant in bearing, a general and scholar both, yet beneath the surface, he was among the most deranged figures in all of Mirror in the Dust.
Later, Ding Xingfeng had gone on to explain what "hate" truly meant.
"Hatred is not only toward life itself. When you fight another, every movement, every breath, must be filled with hate."
"When you raise your hand, hate the earth for having no ring, for if it had one, you would seize it and uproot the whole world."
"When you strike down, hate the heavens for having no handle, for if there were one, you would drag down the vast sky itself, gods and Buddhas alike falling with it!"
Now, as Gu Fangchen saw the light in Cao Tianzhou's eyes, he finally grasped, vaguely yet undeniably, what Ding Xingfeng had meant by the essence of the martial path.
Before, he had looked at martial arts from a gamer's perspective. To him, they were only a collection of "skills."
Clicking a mouse to activate a skill, how could that ever stir emotion?
Thus, he had been nothing more than a blockhead in Ding Xingfeng's eyes.
In drills or sparring, Gu Fangchen could analyze and explain every move with textbook precision.
But when it came to truly fighting himself, he possessed only the form, not the intent.
Even that form had come from his Night Warden talent.
But now, for the first time, he could feel intent, true intent, stirring in his heart.
Still, it remained veiled, like clouds shrouding the moon, something just out of reach.
Cao Tianzhou tossed his blade upward, his voice hoarse but steady.
"Dugu Yue, kill him. My blade will be yours."
Clang!
Gu Fangchen caught the weapon, eyes lighting up.
Though it appeared plain and rusted, as if it might snap at any moment, this blade, in the game, was a divine artifact.
Its name: Slayer's Blade.
When Cao Tianzhou's final wish was fulfilled, his blade intent would infuse it, granting two effects.
The first was simple, bonus damage against humanoid foes, +250% attack power. Even when kept in inventory, it still added +50%.
However, carrying it required constant will checks. Should one's will fall below a certain threshold, the wielder would go mad and attack indiscriminately.
A "cursed blade," in truth.
But in Mirror in the Dust, more than ninety percent of bosses were humanoid. That made this weapon invaluable, especially since it worked even from the backpack.
Free stats were always the best kind of profit!
The second effect was even more practical, lifesteal.
Each attack restored 3% of damage dealt as health.
Stack that with any attack-speed boosting technique, and it became absurdly powerful.
If you could heal fast enough, even weak attacks could grind an enemy to death.
In Mirror in the Dust, boss fights were notoriously difficult. Any increase in survivability was precious; sometimes, you died because you lacked just a sliver of health. Being able to recover even a little could save hours of progress, and sanity.
Two effects: one for offense, one for recovery. Both god-tier.
Yet the quest line that led to this item was deeply hidden. Within the entire game, only a single line hinted at Cao Tianzhou's tale. Dugu Yue's connection was buried even deeper, discovered only much later.
And the one who uncovered it, was none other than Gu Fangchen himself.
He stepped back two paces. The small dragon on his shoulder gave a chirp, then fell vertically, reverting to its true form, a sword of ancient wood and stone.
The Tower of Civil and Martial Trials contained within it a millennium of Righteous Qi of the Vast Heavens, enough to contend with blades forged through dragon veins.
Almost First Grade, but not quite true First Grade.
Lumingyuan above was not incompetent; he had simply channeled most of his spiritual power into maintaining the grand formation.
Otherwise, with his cultivation at the peak of Second Grade, strong enough to act as Acting Dean, he would not have been so helpless.
Yet he had refused to release his sword while still trying to clash head-on with the ancestral matriarch, only to be beaten into the ground. His defenses shattered completely.
Gu Fangchen stored the Slayer's Blade into his Heaven's Pocket Ring, caught the sacred sword, and was immediately crushed to one knee by the immense pressure descending from above.
Puh!
Blood spewed from his lips. His face paled; he forced himself to sit cross-legged, channeling spiritual power to resist.
But how could a Fifth Grade withstand the full force of the Demon-Suppressing Grand Formation?
Even the Sky-Piercing Sword of the Seventy-Two Peaks had bowed, what chance did he have?
Gu Fangchen looked up. Xu Fu was concentrating on her spell, sweat dripping down her face.
The Celestial Water Mirror blazed at full power, threads of light weaving around her in protection.
Even contending with the Sixth Division Star Lord was no easy feat.
The National Preceptor, channeling through Xue Xiang from afar, was equally strained, unable to spare attention for him.
Crack... crack... crack...
Above, the woman in the blue-green dress turned her gaze upon Gu Fangchen once more. Her sword fingers dropped gently toward the formation below.
At her touch, fractures spidered across the grand array, groaning under the weight.
In an instant, Gu Fangchen's skin split open, blood streaming freely until he was a man made entirely of red.
Then came the collapse of flesh itself.
The formation that sought to crush and kill him was also the only thing shielding him.
Better to be ground by the formation than pierced through by the ancestral matriarch's sword, at least that way, the prison earned its merit.
The Sky-Piercing Sword of the Seventy-Two Peaks, as the main suppressive focus of the array, shattered into countless fragments.
Mountains and rivers dissolved into mist, swirling around Gu Fangchen with mournful dragon cries.
"Ha ha ha ha ha! Gu Fangchen, die!"
Above, Lu Mingyuan roared with manic laughter, his bloodstained face twisted with glee.
All trace of a scholar's dignity had vanished.
To see Gu Fangchen die before him, that would please him more than his own triumph in youth.
But Gu Fangchen did not panic or despair as Lu Mingyuan had hoped.
Instead, through blood-drenched eyes, he smiled, and formed a hand seal.
"Demon Refinement Method!"
Lines of gold shimmered faintly across his disintegrating body. One hundred and eight Demon-Suppressing Nails emerged, threading through flesh like nests of crimson veins, covering him entirely.
It was daytime, the Awaiting Hour Flight effect was active.
Daytime: Your blood burns bright; your physical strength greatly increases.
The sun within his chest furnace flared, melting and reforging flesh in endless cycles, growing ever hotter, ever brighter, until it was like a true sun.
But it was still not enough.
His body was too weak; the balance broke again, and disintegration resumed.
He shifted his consciousness outward, entering Spirit Projection to control the puppet-body directly.
Yet even his spirit was crushed by the array. His soul flickered, pieces flaying off, revealing the golden wheel within, the threads of karma binding it almost visible.
Still, his expression remained calm. He squinted slightly and said,
"Princess Prajna, if you don't help me now, no one in this world will ever find the 'Lotus Concealed in the Womb.'"
No answer came.
Gu Fangchen waited, ten seconds.
Then behind him appeared a vast, pale divine image, its form ever-shifting. From every angle, every gaze, one saw a different visage, twenty-one in total, the twenty forms of the Mother of Deliverance.
Twenty-one faces, twenty-one bodies, twenty-one voices, merged into one. From its mouth thundered a voice like heaven's wrath:
"Gu Fangchen! Do you truly think I cannot deal with you? You dare offend me and still expect me to save you?"
Her cold laughter echoed.
"What if I simply watch you die? If you beg me now, perhaps I might yet spare you."
Gu Fangchen shrugged.
"You can let me die if you like. I didn't force you, just thought I'd shout, see if anyone answered."
"Who knew you'd be the one to come out..."
"You-!"
Princess Prajna trembled with fury, her divine form flashing green. Yet no matter how she ground her teeth, she could not bring herself to watch him perish.
His words were infuriating, but he was right.
If he died, her plans would be ruined.
Why else had she followed him here?
Still... perhaps she could at least enjoy watching him suffer.
"Hmph. Since your mouth is so stubborn, I'll just watch and see how long you last."
She crossed her arms, deciding to stand aside.
Gu Fangchen ignored her, formed another seal, and shouted:
"Rise!"
The fragments of wood and stone around him quivered, rising into the air.
"Shatter!"
They exploded into dust, merging with the mist of mountains circling him.
Gu Fangchen inhaled deeply, his face grave.
"Collapse!"
This time, it was not the sword that broke, but his own body.
His flesh dissolved entirely, leaving only the Twin Wheels of Sun and Moon and the skeletal frame held together by one hundred and eight Demon-Suppressing Nails.
Before, this would have killed him outright.
The soul and the body are not separate, below the Sixth Grade of the Divine Path, the soul depends on the body. If the body dies, the soul disperses.
But upon entering the Realized Intent Realm, that bond weakens.
A momentary death of the body is survivable, so long as the soul endures.
At Fifth Grade, the Freedom Realm, one can survive even longer without a body. With the right possession technique, one may even seize another's flesh.
But compatibility is everything. Too low, and the vessel rots away, forcing endless replacements, a troublesome fate.
Gu Fangchen was not committing suicide.
He was fusing the Sky-Piercing Sword of the Seventy-Two Peaks and the local dragon vein into his puppet body as refining material!
If he couldn't discard them, he'd make them his own!
Using the immense pain and pressure of the Demon-Suppressing Grand Formation to reshape his body through the Demon Refinement Method, breaking into its Third Layer, Fourth Grade!
But the pain... was beyond human endurance.
Normally, the puppet bore the suffering, what had it to do with the master?
Now, being both master and puppet, he had to bear it himself.
"Condense!"
Gu Fangchen clenched his teeth and roared.
After one second, both body and soul began to collapse, torn apart in pain.
Princess Prajna had meant to watch him suffer, but when she saw him actually flaying himself alive, she paled.
She reached out at once, pressing her hand to the back of his spirit.
Gu Fangchen turned his head with a bloody grin.
"Heh... what did I tell you, Your Highness? You still have to beg me not to die."
It was the same line he had once thrown at her the first time they met.
He had known, ever since returning from Qingjian, that Princess Prajna would never truly disappear, only linger nearby, too proud to show herself.
For if she revealed herself, it would mean yielding completely.
Still, when the moment came, she could not stand by.
The pain beyond the Third Layer of the Demon Refinement Method was something even an attendant of Xiyin's level could no longer share.
But who in all the world could transfer pain more efficiently than the Holy Maiden of the Tara Sect?
This time, Princess Prajna said nothing.
Her gaze turned unfocused for a breath.
At that moment, Gu Fangchen, turning to speak to her with blood running down his face, looked uncannily like someone from her dreams.
Before, his appearance, tainted by the original body's demonic aura, had seemed unkempt, corrupted. Now, that darkness was nearly gone.
Not just his features, but his bearing... his tone...
Princess Prajna caught herself and froze.
What was she thinking?
How could this man possibly be the one from her dreams?
Five hundred years had passed. Garuda had long turned to dust. How could the one she sought suddenly stand before her?
Her divine image lowered its many eyes; countless hands bloomed like petals, folding around Gu Fangchen.
The sound of celestial lament filled the air, the pain now transferred entirely onto her.
Gu Fangchen exhaled in relief, then began the next stage of refinement.
...
By the riverside of Jiangling,
waves rolled and crashed. Crowds shouted in alarm as several pleasure barges were escorted to shore by cultivators.
The noble ladies and wives of great families were pale with terror, hurried toward safety.
Evil spirits ran rampant, clashing with the cultivators in combat.
Fortunately, the Demon-Suppressing Grand Formation had been activated in time; few of the spirits escaped. The crowd soon calmed.
But discussions of the dragon vein phenomenon continued to stir.
"Could it be that the birth of a Heaven's Mandate Child has caused this?"
"Why did the Tower of Civil and Martial Trials suddenly crack? And those evil spirits, did they come from the Demon-Suppressing Prison below? Could it be that the prison lies right beneath the tower itself?"
"Look at the phenomena above, surely a great scholar has taken action! We'll be fine!"
Suddenly, someone pointed toward the shore.
"Look, an army!"
"Ah! Could it be the rebels, taking advantage of the chaos?"
"No, that's the Xuanhuang Army's banner!"
A soldier of the Xuanhuang Army shouted aloud,
"Citizens, do not panic! The rebels have been annihilated, all now serve under the command of the Northern Garrison Prince!"
Half the crowd sighed in relief, thinking their fears were unfounded.
The other half felt their hearts tighten.
What did it mean, "serve under the Northern Garrison Prince"?
Emperor Yong'an was not known for mercy. Rebels usually met only one fate, death.
Anyone daring to covet the Mandate of Heaven would never be spared.
Yet now, the Northern Garrison Prince had taken the rebels under his banner... What did that signify?
The Xuanhuang Army, however, advanced in force, banners thick as clouds. None dared to question further.
Then the Northern Garrison Prince himself, Gu Yuye, stepped forth from the ranks.
He wore black armor overlaid with a golden radiance, shimmering like scales of light.
The onlookers froze in shock.
To wear such armor, it bordered on treason!
But upon closer look, the armor was still black, the golden hue came from divine light gathering upon it.
And the source of that radiance was all that of the heavens themselves.
Everyone looked up, and saw that the golden light on Gu Yuye's armor was the very same brilliance streaming down from the rift in the sky above the Tower of Civil and Martial Trials.
There was no need for further explanation.
The crowd exchanged glances in horror; not one person dared utter a word.
For a long moment, silence blanketed the riverbanks.
Then the head of the Dugu Clan, Dugu Xia, strode forward with a genial smile and clasped his hands in greeting.
"Congratulations, Your Highness, on your triumphant victory and safe return."
Gu Yuye smiled faintly.
"All for the sake of protecting this nation's mountains and rivers. It was nothing worth mentioning."
Dugu Xia hastened to add, "How could that be? When our realm stands on the brink of ruin, Your Highness turns the tide, how many hearts in the world are now set at ease because of you!"
He turned his head to address the other patriarchs standing behind him.
"Wouldn't you agree, gentlemen?"
That question left no room for misinterpretation.
The faces of the southern family heads shifted between blue and purple. After a few seconds of hesitation, one of them stepped forward, clasped his hands, and said,
"Patriarch Dugu's words are absolutely right. That is exactly what we think."
Once one had spoken, the others quickly followed, all voicing agreement.
Only one man quietly slipped out his message stone, stepped back two paces, and turned to flee.
But he had barely taken two steps before Gu Yuye's gaze snapped toward him.
A cold snort. A single finger extended.
A flash of gold.
Thud.
The man's body dropped to the ground, a hole through his chest.
The remaining patriarchs fell to their knees, trembling violently.
Only one person still stood, on the deck of a pleasure barge moored by the riverbank, watching Gu Yuye.
...
Gu Yuye had reached the river in almost no time at all.
He had two purposes here. The first, to witness Gu Fangchen's death with his own eyes. The second, to do what he had long planned to do.
He raised his head and looked at the woman before him, her long ink-black skirt swaying above the rippling water, a crimson shawl draped over her shoulders, beauty as bright as spring sunlight reflected on a still pond.
He extended his hand toward her.
"Cai Yong," he said softly, "this prince will give you one last chance."