Chapter Nineteen: The Four Seas Pursuit Order
Chirp, chirp!
The birdsong echoed through the mountains, painting a picture of a serene and beautiful morning in the forest.
The sun rose above the hills, casting its light upon the ancient trees, their mottled shadows dancing upon the earth in a spectacle never seen before or since.
Moran stirred gently, awakening from his restless sleep.
He had not slept well through the night, his mind uneasy, never fully surrendering to slumber.
The morning in the mountains was thick with spiritual energy, the perfect time for any cultivator to sit in meditation, breathing in and out the life force of the world.
The path of cultivation was fraught with hardship and trials; no one could expect smooth sailing.
Even the noble sons of great families, supported by their clans and abundant resources, were not exempt from rigorous training, secluded retreats, and wandering journeys.
For a penniless youth like Moran, relying solely on himself, there was no room to fall behind on this path.
Gathering his essence and spirit, he breathed deeply, condensing the absorbed energy repeatedly until achieving the finest refinement, then guiding it into his qi sea and dantian.
Inhale, absorb!
Moran completed the process with practiced ease, the routine as familiar as the back of his hand.
As he breathed, time slipped quietly away.
Half an hour passed in the blink of an eye; he had cycled through several great rounds of breathing and energy circulation.
Alas, his dantian remained as empty as ever, void of any substance.
“Sigh!” Moran lamented, disappointment etched across his face. “Another futile effort.”
Cough, cough!
From nearby came the sound of someone coughing harshly. A pale-faced man, leaning heavily on a longsword, limped toward him.
He must have been there for quite some time, rising earlier than Moran by a few moments judging from his appearance.
“Qi is the root of all things,” the man began slowly. “To hold it, you must first understand it. Air has no color or taste, yet it carries a faint fragrance, the essence that sustains all life in this world. It is the foundation upon which all existence depends.
Water is clear and elegant; gentle it flows like tinkling streams, fierce it rages like wild waves, roaring to shake the heavens. Strength and softness combined, ever-changing.
Flora and trees are warriors, still as a maiden, swift as a startled hare. Each flower holds a world, each blade of grass a cosmos. The wind stirs the floating duckweed, tearing through the myriad heavens, severing gods and demons alike.”
“Young fool, with such clumsy breathing and absorption methods, you’d be lucky to open even a barren domain.” The man limped closer, his sickly demeanor belying a desire to instruct Moran kindly.
Awakened by these words, Moran felt as if he had found a path through the turbulent sea of his struggles. He tried earnestly to sense everything around him—the sound of the wind, the flow of water, the roars of wild beasts—each sound entering his ears clearly.
Air swirled around his body, circling him endlessly.
A faint trace of spiritual energy spread over his skin. He had drawn in so much that he could barely keep up with the breathing and absorption. Panic seized him; he nearly lost control, sweating profusely.
“Stupid donkey! Stupid donkey!”
The man, seeing that Moran had immediately grasped the concept of drawing in the myriad forces of the world and converting them into spiritual energy, was amazed at the youth’s talent, far beyond normal people.
---
Yet the young man could not withstand the praise; before the man could even speak, Moran trapped himself, overwhelmed and frantic from the influx of spiritual energy, as if facing a deadly foe.
Cough, cough!
The man’s complexion grew paler with each cough. He guided Moran gently: “All things in the world are one. You are part of it—why not merge within?” Leaning on his longsword, he spoke softly.
Unfortunately, Moran could not grasp the meaning, still tormented painfully by the rushing spiritual energy.
“Sigh,” the man sighed quietly. “The art of breathing and absorption is to treat every part of your body as a nose and mouth. Each inhale and exhale, each intake and release, happens in an instant. Otherwise, how could great beings stride hundreds of feet in a single step, or sages shatter mountains with one sword?”
“They perceive all things with their bodies, using themselves as vessels. Every inch of skin becomes an instrument of breathing and absorption, completing the cycle in the blink of an eye.”
“If everyone were as foolish and clumsy as you, the world would long since have been ruled by the spirits of plants and stones. There would be no place for you or me.”
The man’s face showed displeasure, though his sickly features barely revealed it.
Moran pondered silently: what did it mean for every part of his body to be a vessel, for every inch of skin to breathe and absorb?
If not through mouth or nose, where did the qi enter, and where did it exit?
Eyes, ears!
He began to experiment with these two openings.
He sat down heavily, releasing all his defenses, letting go completely.
The man before him showed no hostile intent. Otherwise, given his mastery of breathing and absorbing spiritual energy, he would surely have killed Moran many times over by now.
A buzzing sound filled the air.
Energy was drawn into Moran’s body, swirling through his meridians, opening multiple channels of breathing and absorption. As several spiritual pathways opened at once, energy surged uncontrollably within him.
Previously, breathing only through the mouth and nose, Moran could manage. Now, with multiple streams of energy, he became overwhelmed, hastily closing the newly opened routes.
To be gifted, able to sense the world and draw in vast spiritual energies, was a joyous thing.
Yet these things were as elusive as the void—visible, but unreachable; maddening, helpless.
Worse still, when such energy accumulated beyond a limit, disaster would strike.
Moran was on the brink of such a catastrophe.
The dense spiritual energy pressed against the space around him, friction generating heat.
With a thunderous explosion, Moran was hurled like a cannonball, crashing into the distant forested mountains.
A spiritual energy explosion!
It was the first time he had encountered such a thing.
His body was battered beyond recognition; in some places, deep white bones were visible.
Eyes wide, staring at the void, he painfully struggled to rise.
But his injuries were too severe, and he soon lost consciousness.
---
“Fool! Fool!”
Such a simple thing—I only took forty-nine days to draw in such an amount of spiritual energy.
But him? He nearly lost his life in a single attempt!
The man, leaning on his longsword, coughing incessantly, limped through the forest until he found Moran.
Fortunately, he carried many herbs from the Wraith Peak, which he pulled from his pouch. After a moment of disdain for Moran’s poverty, he applied all the usable herbs, wrapping Moran up like a large bundle.
Then, supporting himself on the sword, he hoisted Moran onto his back and limped down the mountain.
Carried on the man’s back, Moran drifted in and out of consciousness. His plan from the previous night had come to nothing; he had been trapped before he could act.
Truly disgraceful.
The man, coughing as he walked, felt quite pleased inside.
With a smile, he said, “I, Xiahou Ji, also have my moments of fortune. Old man, after all these years, I never thought you still lived, and that there remained such an exceptional successor.”
Xiahou Ji staggered, carrying Moran across mountains and ridges, heading for an unknown destination.
---
“Whoosh!”
Within the jurisdiction of Dongyang County lay the Four Seas and Eight Desolations, encompassing a dozen or so villages, all summoned by a command token.
At the command, a thousand people gathered!
On a treacherous mountain peak, the heads of the Wang, Shangguan, and Ning families—the three great clans—assembled.
Wang Qishan, head of the Wang family, radiated fury, his aura dominating all present. Coldly, he bellowed:
“Today, I gather you all to discuss the matter of Wraith Peak.”
As he spoke, his disciples presented a painting. His anger deepened as he roared:
“This fellow, named Moran, hails from Divine Tomb Village. Previously, by some unknown dark arts, he slew the heirs of the three great clans of Dongyang County atop Wraith Peak. Now, on behalf of the three great families, I announce a bounty across the Four Seas for his capture or death. Whoever kills him, the Wang family will bestow a lineage pill to aid in breaking open the soul sea and opening a barren domain.”
“Once someone kills him, the three families will provide a certificate of lineage during the recruitment in Ganzhou Prefecture, allowing entry into the great sects for cultivation.” Wang Qishan declared with commanding presence.
“A pill to open barren domains and an invitation to the great sects of Ganzhou Prefecture!”
“That offer is truly tempting.”
“However, I’ve heard that Moran not only possesses a body poisoned by the world’s rarest toxins, suffering from a deadly malady, but also has the power to rival those at the initial undefeated stage, and holds his own even against those in the Myriad Phenomena realm. Is he truly within our reach to kill?”
“Heh, what’s there to fear? He’s a waste who hasn’t even opened a barren domain. Why worry about him? For the chance to enter the sects of Ganzhou Prefecture, risking everything once is worth it.”
The three great families of Dongyang County jointly issued a Four Seas bounty, shaking not only their county but the entire Ganzhou Prefecture and even the Southern Domain, all stirred by the news of this youth.
At the same time, many cultivators set out, full of confidence and determination, tracking his trail across Wraith Peak.
Yet somewhere, a pale, coughing lame man limped along the mountain stone path, leaning on a longsword, carrying a huge bundle on his back.