novelraw Chapter 11 : Chapter 11
Chapter 11 : Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Lang Qingyun had no master.
He had stumbled forward on the path of cultivation entirely by himself.
Even so, he knew that something about his condition was abnormal.
In orthodox cultivation methods, the tempering of the heart began from the very start.
Before one even cultivated any spiritual power, one had to refine one’s temperament.
The saying went, “Three years chopping firewood, three years carrying water, and another three years farming one’s own fields.”
Though it was often spoken jokingly, it illustrated a truth: many orthodox sects truly trained their newly admitted disciples in this way.
Even for those who had not undergone such deliberate tempering, orthodox cultivation techniques themselves inherently possessed the effect of harmonizing and regulating the mind.
Thus, among orthodox cultivators, there were very few who, like him, could not restrain their killing intent.
Lang Qingyun did not even know what exactly he had cultivated.
Within his chest lay a Dao Seed. It was because of this Dao Seed that he had embarked upon the path of cultivation.
Yet now, he no longer wished to follow the Great Dao it pointed out for him.
However, the more he defied its guidance, the harder it became for him to control his killing intent.
Lang Qingyun had not cultivated for long, nor did he know much about the cultivation world.
But he understood clearly that cultivators and demons could not coexist, and that the enmity between orthodox cultivators and Demonic Cultivators was irreconcilable.
“You are nervous because you fear that I will take you for a Demonic Cultivator and eliminate you,” Shuang Wenlü said.
“Demonic Cultivators indulge their wild hearts and unrestrained desires, letting the mind’s monkey and the will’s horse run rampant. You are not a Demonic Cultivator.”
Upon hearing this, Lang Qingyun felt his heart settle—only for it to tighten again immediately.
Shuang Wenlü continued, “You are still tense because the foundation of demonic cultivation is no secret. Only someone who has cultivated for a short time and has no master would be uncertain whether he has mistakenly walked a Demonic Path. You have not cultivated for long, yet you were able to exchange moves with the Six Bandits of Bima Mountain without falling into a disadvantage. You fear that the secret you carry will be exposed and bring disaster upon you.”
Under Shuang Wenlü’s gaze, Lang Qingyun felt like a transparent glass bottle, its contents laid bare for all to see.
He stiffened for a moment before slowly exhaling.
He could not conceal his thoughts from this man.
He also knew that he did not possess the ability to break apart the formation of the Six Bandits of Bima Mountain using nothing but a pair of chopsticks.
Since that was the case, what else could he do?
He could only hope that this man—whom he had met over the borrowing of a cloak—harbored no ill intent.
Yet as Lang Qingyun looked at Shuang Wenlü, he suddenly understood why Bai Yi had been forced into such terror before, drenched in sweat and unable to move.
He was now experiencing that same feeling firsthand.
That dreadful, inescapable pressure increased with every passing moment, nearly suffocating him. And yet, he was still able to speak.
“You are right about everything,” Lang Qingyun said, his back finally relaxing against the chair. “I have neither a master nor experience.”
Three months ago, I was still an ordinary man, worrying every day about survival and money.
I had a large family to support.
“Later, I unexpectedly obtained the opportunity to enter the Dao—a Dao Seed.
“If you came for it, perhaps you know what it truly is?”
“How many people have you asked that question?” Shuang Wenlü replied.
“Four. They all died afterward,” Lang Qingyun said.
When he had first obtained the Dao Seed, he had been even less adept at concealment than he was now. Four people, in different ways, had detected the flaw in him.
“None of them could clearly explain what a ‘Dao Seed’ was. But they all seemed to think it was something exceedingly precious. They all wanted to kill me and seize the ‘Dao Seed."
Lang Qingyun smiled faintly.
Yet there was no joy or pride in that smile—only bitterness and irony.
“The Dao Seed guided me onto the path of cultivation. It taught me to be unwavering in single-minded focus, and I thought that was right. It taught me not to be troubled by emotion, and I found no fault in that either.”
“So I reduced contact with my family.”
“But for the Dao Seed’s requirements, that was still not enough.”
“Cultivation should have no fetters. The more one cannot let go of something, the more one must sever it.”
Lang Qingyun had already said a great deal, yet he did not stop.
Shuang Wenlü did not move.
The pressure he exerted upon Lang Qingyun continued to increase.
And astonishingly, Lang Qingyun’s capacity to endure it also continued to grow.
The further he spoke, the colder and more terrifying his once warm and sincere eyes became.
“I have six younger sisters and three younger brothers,” Lang Qingyun said, his face growing increasingly rigid and cold as he spoke of his family.
“Originally, I also had an older sister.”
“We were all abandoned children she picked up. She supported us by selling her smiles.”
“Later, she died.”
“I became the eldest. But no matter how hard I tried, I could not support so many people. The poll tax in the town was too high. Unless we abandoned a few of them, we would all starve to death.”
“So we moved outside the town. There was no poll tax outside the town—but there were yao creatures and ghosts.”
“At that time, I was very grateful for the Dao Seed. Because of it, we no longer had to fear the yao creatures beyond the town.”
Lang Qingyun suddenly smiled, his expression cold as frost.
“I cultivate so that my family may live. How could I possibly obey it and kill my kin to prove the Dao?”
The four dreadful words were spoken with such murderous intensity that there was no trace left of the warm-hearted and kind young man he had once appeared to be.
“The more I refuse to kill, the more it demands that I do so. I do not even dare to fully unleash my cultivation.”
“I refuse to follow its path of cultivation, so…”
“I will absolutely not die either!”
There was no warmth left in Lang Qingyun’s eyes.
His killing intent had condensed to its peak.
The cultivation he now revealed far surpassed what he had displayed when fighting the Six Bandits of Bima Mountain—it was far more terrifying.
The short sword hidden within his back basket moved so swiftly that it became a nearly invisible streak of white light.
Yet that razor-sharp streak of white light abruptly halted, solidifying once more into a sword.
It stopped directly before Shuang Wenlü, its tip pressed against his fingertip, unable to advance even an inch.
Lang Qingyun froze in place.
An even sharper sword intent surged from that fingertip, passing through his blade, his arm, and cleaving straight into his chest—severing the killing intent he could not control.
Lang Qingyun remained rigid for a moment before realizing that he was still alive.
That sword intent was far sharper than any he could comprehend—sharp enough to sever all attachments—yet it contained not a trace of killing intent. It had pierced through his chest, and yet left him entirely unharmed.
Could such sword intent truly exist without killing intent?
Lang Qingyun collapsed back into his chair, still gripping the short sword. His expression was blank, stripped of its former cold ferocity.
The frigid aura and killing intent within his chest had been completely cut away by that single sword intent.
For the first time in a long while, he felt an unfamiliar lightness.
“I…” he murmured.
“Listen,” Shuang Wenlü said.”
“Listen to what?” Lang Qingyun asked instinctively. But then he heard it.”
So many sounds—footsteps, the pouring of tea, laughter and conversation. All the sounds he had previously ignored now surged vividly into his heart.
Cultivation required unwavering focus—but what should one be unwavering toward? Cultivation required severing fetters—but what were fetters?
The Dao Seed said he should be steadfast in cultivation. The Dao Seed said his family were fetters to be severed.
Amid the lively and chaotic symphony of sounds, Lang Qingyun heard the voices of several scholars debating on the first floor of the teahouse.
The broken bridge in the lake had been under construction for eight years, yet it had never been completed.
The roots of the old banyan tree were too broad, too deep, too powerful.
If it was not cut down, it would soon destroy the bridge’s foundation.
They were debating whether the old banyan tree should be felled to build the road.
One argued that the ancient tree had taken countless years to grow into its present form and was exceedingly rare.
Another argued that without the bridge, countless people wasted time every day detouring around the lake, their precious hours squandered upon the road.
They argued back and forth, offering endless reasoning, yet neither could persuade the other. Their voices grew increasingly heated.
Lang Qingyun listened in a dazed silence.
“…Is it people cultivating the Dao…” a scholar said.
“…or is the Dao cultivating people?” Shuang Wenlü finished.
Lang Qingyun shuddered as if a snowball had dropped down the back of his collar in midwinter.
Shuang Wenlü had already risen to his feet.
“Wait, you—” Lang Qingyun hurried after him.
Though Shuang Wenlü’s steps appeared leisurely, Lang Qingyun could not catch up no matter how hard he tried.
He could only trail three paces behind him.
He followed Shuang Wenlü down the teahouse stairs, across the stone bridge, and to its end.
There was no road ahead.
Yet Shuang Wenlü continued forward, walking straight into the old banyan tree.
Without hesitation, Lang Qingyun followed and collided into it as well.
His vision blurred. White petals filled the sky—it was a rain of pear blossoms.
Lang Qingyun paused in astonishment.
They had already exited the Mystic Realm, returning to the great pear tree beneath which they had first entered.
The other three had already emerged.
Only Cai Suhong remained inside.
Not long after, Cai Suhong stepped out from the pear tree as well.
Within the Mystic Realm, Cai Suhong had worried for a long time about how she would explain everything to the others once they came out.
Before entering, she had confidently described the conditions inside the Mystic Realm—only to discover upon entry that the scene bore no relation whatsoever to what she had said.
“Why did you not tell me earlier?” Cai Suhong complained.
“If you had, I would not have told them that I had been inside before.”
The System silently took the blame.
But once they emerged, Cai Suhong found that she did not need to explain anything at all.
The three had already formed their own conclusions.
“The scenes within the Mystic Realm seemed to belong to a far more distant era.”
“Perhaps this Mystic Realm shifts between different periods in this location.”
“The desolate ruins Boss Cai described from her earlier visit should have occurred later than what we witnessed this time. They are likely the remnants of the very city we saw.”
“That must be the case, that must be the case,” Cai Suhong echoed repeatedly.
Not having to explain anything was truly delightful.
As they spoke of their experiences, each had found a spiritual object and then felt the world spin, emerging from the Mystic Realm without knowing how.
After that, they were unable to reenter.
The first had discovered a spiritual herb in a field of chives.
The second found that the stone his family used to press down their pickled vegetable jar was in fact a piece of spiritual iron.
The third could only smile wryly; he had seen a core of lightning-struck wood within the Mystic Realm—but that very core had been skewered onto a child’s candied hawthorn skewer.
“I do not believe this Mystic Realm formed naturally. Perhaps it was a jest left behind by some senior,” one of them said.”
“I feel the same,” another replied.”
Listening to their discussion, Cai Suhong felt quite satisfied.
“Although they took my entire stockpile,” she said to the System, “this feeling of being the only one who knows the truth is rather wonderful.”
The System: …Heh.
They discussed their gains in order to divide them.
Though each person kept what he had obtained, Cai Suhong, as the discoverer of the Mystic Realm, was entitled to an additional share.
No one asked what Shuang Wenlü or Lang Qingyun had gained.
Without their assistance, the matter of the Six Bandits of Bima Mountain could not have been resolved.
After everything was settled, this temporary gathering dispersed.
Before parting, one of them suddenly said, “I plan to leave Suizhou soon.”
He looked at the others, his expression solemn.
“The Six Bandits of Bima Mountain were not here solely for this Mystic Realm.”
“I was not originally here for the Mystic Realm either. I came because a rumor has been circulating in the Black Market recently—”
“A rare treasure is about to appear in Suizhou.”