Chapter Sixty-One – Mo Xing’s Inquiry

Confucian cultivators were known for their concern with saving face. Considering Mu Zhanting’s status as the Imperial Son of Chen State, and especially with the ill-tempered Dragon Lord backing him, no one dared to be the first to criticize him openly.

As a result, after Mu Zhanting’s undefeated streak in the literary competition, his ego inflated beyond measure. His literary thoughts flowed uncontrollably, driving everyone except Mo Xingzhen, the disciple from Daoshengtian of Zi State, to leave the hall under the pretense of getting some air.

Mo Xingzhen, true to his status as a direct disciple of Daoshengtian, remained composed in the hall while others fled. He even managed to smile at Mu Zhanting, this peculiar literary prodigy.

“Brother Mu,” Mo Xingzhen said, “my Daoshengtian also combines Confucianism and Taoism. While our poetry skills may not match those of Cloud Consort’s maternal clan from Shen State, we usually maintain a respectable literary reputation. Today, however, I’ve truly broadened my horizons.”

Mu Zhanting, feeling as if the literary star above his head was illuminating all directions, responded airily, “Brother Mo, you’re also a Confucian cultivator? I thought you looked like a man of deep wisdom and foresight. Since we have this rare opportunity, why don’t we engage in a friendly competition—”

“Hold on,” Mo Xingzhen interjected, deftly changing the subject. “Brother Mu, your talent is indeed impressive. However, as the saying goes, ‘Small works entertain, great works harm.’ In my opinion, you’ve already proven yourself the literary champion of this hall. Perhaps it’s time to turn our attention to the Crimson Emperor’s Campaign Scroll, which awaits those destined to comprehend it.”

At the mention of cultivation and improvement, Mu Zhanting’s literary fervor abruptly halted. Intrigued, he asked, “Brother Mo, as a disciple of Daoshengtian, you’re knowledgeable about worldly affairs. What can you tell me about the Crimson Emperor’s Campaign Scroll?”

At that moment, a cultivator outside the hall was desperately trying to catch Mo Xingzhen’s attention. Mo Xingzhen subtly nodded in acknowledgment before continuing, “I assume Brother Mu is familiar with the legendary figures who expanded our human cultivators’ territory a thousand years ago: the Daoist Sovereign Suihan of Zi State, the Crimson Emperor of Yin State, the old Dragon Lord and Dragon Lady of Chen State, the Buddhist Repentance Lord of Mao State, and even the demonic cultivation master Senlo of Si State, who fell to the Buddhist Repentance Lord before ascending. They’re collectively known as the Six State-Conquering Sovereigns.”

Mu Zhanting, having heard this history countless times since becoming the Imperial Son, replied, “I know. Among the Six State-Conquering Sovereigns, the Crimson Emperor single-handedly destroyed the Demon Kingdom, the greatest enemy at the time. That’s why people claim he was the strongest among the six.”

“Correct,” Mo Xingzhen confirmed. “The Crimson Emperor’s Campaign Scroll has its history. It’s a long scroll depicting the Crimson Emperor’s northern campaign against the Demon Kingdom. Those fortunate enough to view it may gain insights into the Crimson Emperor’s legacy techniques.” He added, “The Consort’s use of this scroll is intended to provide an opportunity for her nephew, the Imperial Son of Shen State.”

The Crimson Emperor’s legacy techniques! This was exactly why Mu Zhanting had come. Puzzled, he asked, “Brother Mo, since you know so much, why didn’t you participate in the literary and martial competitions yourself?”

Mo Xingzhen smiled, his eyes reflecting a natural nobility. “My master is the Mystic Ruler of Daoshengtian,” he stated simply, his tone level but exuding absolute confidence.

His master’s identity as the Mystic Ruler of Daoshengtian meant that the glories of past generations were inconsequential to him. The name of the Mystic Ruler was legendary in itself.

Mu Zhanting had once asked the Dragon Lord who stood at the pinnacle of the cultivation world. The usually hot-tempered Dragon Lord had answered definitively that while those at the peak of the Nascent Soul realm faced the Five Decays of mortality, the Mystic Ruler was the only one to overcome them. He merely awaited the heavenly tribulation to ascend.

Lost in thought, Mu Zhanting was startled by a trembling voice from outside the hall:

“Imperial Son of Chen State, the final match of the martial competition is about to begin. We’ve heard of your renowned martial prowess, and someone has issued you a challenge. Perhaps… you’d like to set aside your brush and take a look at this challenge letter?”

Two challenge letters were presented: one from Yun Nian and another from Nan Yan. Mu Zhanting fell into deep contemplation.

Mo Xingzhen, who had been waiting for these challenge letters, feigned friendliness and pulled Mu Zhanting up. “Sitting for too long is bad for one’s energy. Physical activity is our duty as cultivators. Why don’t you show me how you excel in both literary and martial arts, Brother Mu?”

Meanwhile, the martial competition had reached its climax, with only two contestants remaining in the arena.

“This nun is incredibly powerful, able to face off against an Imperial Son-level opponent!”

“The fight hasn’t even started yet. I don’t think the Imperial Son of Shen State has shown his full strength.”

Nan Yan wasn’t surprised to see her final opponent was Yun Nian. Seeing him bow formally, she returned the gesture. “The Imperial Son is too polite,” she said.

Yun Nian, holding a jade brush, spoke, “Fellow Daoist, your Buddhist techniques are profound. In my limited experience, I’ve never seen such fierce and lethal Buddhist methods among our peers. May I ask which great master from Choushan Buddhist Sea you studied under?”

Nan Yan, of course, couldn’t reveal that she practiced an unorthodox reversed cultivation method. Instead, she explained, “My master and I met early in life. He wished to tread all worldly paths and experience all mortal sufferings, hence his dharma name ‘Chiku’ (Enduring Hardship).”

“Treading all worldly paths, experiencing all mortal sufferings…” Yun Nian pondered the words, filled with respect. “I see. He must be a highly accomplished senior. If there’s a chance, I’d certainly like to pay my respects.”

Nan Yan knew that this literary and martial competition was arranged by Cloud Consort to give Yun Nian an opportunity. Now that her brother had ruined the literary competition, she felt uneasy about not letting Yun Nian win the martial one. So she suggested, “Fellow Daoist Yun, my cultivation focuses on demon-slaying secret techniques, including the Pure Awakening Finger, the Sin-Cleansing Seal, and the Thousand-Armed Bodhisattva Form. Since we’re both tired and need to save energy for comprehending the Crimson Emperor’s Campaign Scroll later, why don’t we each use one move? Whoever takes fewer steps back wins. How does that sound?”

It being the Consort’s Millennium Celebration, Yun Nian didn’t want a brutal fight like the previous rounds, so he readily agreed.

Nan Yan couldn’t afford to be careless. Although her reversed cultivation method made her nearly invincible among peers, the prevailing theory in the cultivation world suggested a cycle of mutual restraint: Buddhism suppresses Demons, Demons suppress Taoism, Taoism suppresses Confucianism, and Confucianism, in turn, suppresses Buddhism.

Buddhists sought resonance between gods and humans, aiming for good karma in the afterlife’s cycle of rebirth. Confucian cultivators, however, believed in human triumph over heaven, which could potentially shatter the Buddhist belief in post-mortem bliss. This philosophical difference translated into a form of suppression in magical combat.

As Nan Yan prepared to strike, Yun Nian raised his brush. A trace of ink flowed from its tip, forming the character of “ice.” As soon as the character appeared, a chill spread over dozens of zhang, freezing the ground to Nan Yan’s feet.

Simultaneously, Yun Nian began to recite what he had written:

“Icy winds sweep cold dust, a single breath seals the vast desert.”

Within a radius of several dozen zhang, a bone-chilling cold made movement difficult. Nan Yan’s Pure Awakening Finger technique suddenly erupted, a Buddhist lotus blooming from her fingertip. As the lotus petals unfurled, the surrounding ice shattered piece by piece, then rushed toward Yun Nian with overwhelming force.

Having observed Nan Yan’s technique, Yun Nian didn’t dare underestimate the Pure Awakening Finger. He quickly wrote another line:

“Rain forms in the azure clouds, pouring waves wash over the billows.”

As Yun Nian’s words fell, Nan Yan was momentarily stunned. The ice she had just shattered suddenly transformed into waves rushing towards her. This rapid change, building on the momentum of the previous two lines, doubled in power. Caught off guard, she was swept back twenty paces.

This was a technique unique to Confucian cultivators. Their spells could transform endlessly with their recitations, and what seemed like two moves was one continuous attack.

As Nan Yan regained her footing, a thunderous explosion erupted from behind the waves. When the mist cleared, Yun Nian was visible, pushed back with a long skid mark at his feet, his face showing shock.

“Fellow Daoist Zhengyuan, you’re already worthy of being counted among those who have mastered the Mountain and Sea Forbidden Techniques,” Yun Nian said sincerely, collecting himself.

However, despite his words, Nan Yan had retreated twenty steps while Yun Nian only ten, making him the victor. Nan Yan smiled, graciously admitting defeat. As she prepared to leave the arena, the protective barrier suddenly dissolved, and someone rocketed onto the stage like a flaming meteor, landing in front of her.

Yun Nian stared at the newcomer in confusion. “Fellow Daoist Mu?”

Mu Zhanting took out a medicinal pill from his spatial ring and tossed it to Yun Nian. “Fellow Daoist Yun, I don’t dislike you. Although my sister can be pigheaded, since she lost, I must avenge her. I accept your challenge.”

Nan Yan: “…”

She transmitted a message to her brother: “What are you doing? Didn’t you just say he’s only an eighteen-year-old kid?”

Mu Zhanting replied: “I’m not trying to bully him. I just think his techniques look cool and want to learn them.”

Nan Yan felt a sense of foreboding: “What do you want to learn?”

Mu Zhanting: “Why didn’t I think of this before? You can recite poetry while fighting!”

Nan Yan’s mind went blank. She looked sadly at Yun Nian before being led off the arena by nearby cultivators.

As she sat down, someone else took a seat beside her. “Are you the sister that Fellow Daoist Mu keeps mentioning?” the newcomer asked.

Nan Yan barely sensed the person’s approach. Realizing who it was, she said, “This humble nun Zhengyuan greets Fellow Daoist Mo.”

Mo Xingzhen replied, “I’m already familiar with Brother Mu, so there’s no need for such formalities. Why don’t you call me Senior Brother from now on?”

Nan Yan, not yet ready to be too close to someone from Daoshengtian, shifted away slightly. “I wouldn’t dare,” she said.

Her evasion seemed to pique Mo Xingzhen’s interest further. Feigning familiarity, he asked, “Junior Sister Zhengyuan, why are you called Zhengyuan? Who gave you such an interesting dharma name?”

Nan Yan moved away a bit more. “My master gave it to me when I was young.”

Mo Xingzhen leaned closer. “Were you round as a child?”

Nan Yan: “At nine years old, I weighed over 120 jin.”

Mo Xingzhen couldn’t help but examine her now-slender figure. After a moment, he said, “You know, I was just thinking that I have a senior brother who loves chubby, round things. If he saw what you looked like as a child, he’d probably adore you… Though he’d probably like you even more now.”

… Are all Daoshengtian disciples this direct?

Nan Yan: “Benefactor, I’ve already taken monastic vows.”

Mo Xingzhen: “Don’t worry, Junior Sister. It’s just our sect’s style. I’m merely making conversation. Our master always teaches us, disciples, not to wait until the flower is gone to break the branch. Besides, even if you’ve taken vows, you can always return to secular life. That senior brother of mine truly surpasses me in every way, except for one thing.”

Nan Yan: “What’s that?”

Mo Xingzhen: “He’s already dead.”

— Benefactor, that was quite a long setup for a cold joke.

The air seemed to freeze. After a moment, as Nan Yan was debating whether to force a laugh, the battle between Mu Zhanting and Yun Nian began in the arena.

As soon as Mu Zhanting stepped onto the battlefield, his entire demeanor changed. Though Yun Nian had long admired him, this was his first time facing such a fierce opponent who seemed to have walked out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood. He raised his guard to the utmost.

The pill Mu Zhanting had given was a seventh-grade pill that could instantly restore depleted spiritual energy. Now at full strength, Yun Nian waved his jade brush, mist and water spreading around him.

“Weaving rain in Jiangnan East, celestial jade—” Yun Nian had barely written half his line when he heard his opponent begin a loud recitation.

Mu Zhanting raised a whirling flame in each hand, the fire expanding as if it could devour the sky and extinguish the sun. But what he recited left Yun Nian’s mind blank:

“The sun shines high above, both hands red and hot.”

Yun Nian: “…”

Mu Zhanting clapped his hands together, and the flames coalesced into a bell-shaped prison five zhang tall, making Mu Zhanting look small in comparison. But now inspired, Mu Zhanting’s poetic thoughts began to overflow again:

“Grip tight left and right looks just like a bell.”

Yun Nian was too shocked to speak, forgetting what he was supposed to recite next. He could only watch as a fiery bell flew towards him, instantly engulfing the misty pavilion he had just conjured.

In an instant, the battle was decided. The entire arena fell silent.

A Confucian cultivator who had just escaped from the literary competition whispered from below, “I told you, this guy is a born nightmare for Confucian cultivators.”

As a dazed Yun Nian was led away, Mu Zhanting stood with his hands behind his back, a look of profound realization in his eyes.

“After years of cultivation, I finally understand today that the Confucian path is truly my destined great Dao.”

He finished speaking, sighing deeply, lost in self-admiration. At that moment, Nan Yan, unable to bear it any longer, stomped onto the stage.

“This humble nun will cut off your path today!” she declared.