The structure of this ancient dwelling was simple indeed: a small courtyard fronting a single main chamber. Step out of the room, you found yourself in the courtyard; leave the courtyard, and you were in the room.

The chamber within was even more spartan, naught but four bare walls. A single glance encompassed all there was to behold.

Thus, Yuan Yong naturally espied the shrine upon the wall, and with it, the mirror. Though he perceived no inherent trickery, he advanced without hesitation, reaching out to seize it.

From first to last, Jiang Wang, hidden within the mirror-world, remained utterly silent.

This granted him a peculiar sensation, as if seeing the world anew – his body undeniably upon this mountain, yet simultaneously outside of it. In a daze, he had already severed the threads of causality, transcended the five elements.

He could, of course, effortlessly vanquish this interloping Yuan Yong. He could unleash Samadhi True Fire to incinerate Yuan Yong and his underlings, leaving naught but ash.

But what then?

Based on his nascent understanding of the Heavenly Will, he surmised that such proactive intervention would likely incite a furious reaction from the Demon World’s Heavenly Will. The entire chain – Yuan Yong, the Water Curtain Hall, the Flower Fruit Society, the Mo Yun Yuan clan – would lash out like a whip’s snap.

A small ripple, if left unchecked, could swell into a monstrous wave.

He recalled the downfall of Zhang Linchuan; did it not begin with a single thought in a desolate forest?

The overturned carriage served as a harsh lesson, the ensuing events a stark teacher.

In truth, whether the Crimson Makeup Mirror lay in Chai A Si’s grasp or Yuan Yong’s held no significant import. If Chai A Si himself proved incapable, Jiang Wang could do naught. Even a Heaven-Forging Blade cannot carve rotten wood. While striving not to overtly influence the Demon World’s affairs, how far could he truly push Chai A Si?

At most, he could swap one deceiver for another.

This Yuan Yong, known as “Scar Grandpa,” was likely no easy mark. Yet, given Yuan Yong’s preconceived notion of Chai A Si having encountered a fortuitous chance, Jiang Wang felt confident he could still exert some sway.

Yuan Yong, with his established position, would undoubtedly ascend faster than Chai A Si.

Observing the world outside from within the mirror, these two realms felt distinct, separated. In this moment, Jiang Wang felt a sense of “Heaven’s impartiality,” as if perched on an absolute peak, observing the struggles of sentient beings below.

He suddenly comprehended the attitude of Seven Kills True Person, Lu Shuanghe, back at that small river in Fengxi Town.

At that time, Lu Shuanghe had calmly observed Yi Shengfeng and him clash.

It was a form of detachment akin to the Heavenly Dao.

That was Lu Shuanghe’s “Kill,” the path of the contemporary True Person, renowned for his unparalleled killing prowess.

Just as now, he silently awaited the unfolding of events.

He was even mentally preparing the words to deceive Yuan Yong. Yuan Yong, having spent years navigating the complex currents of the market and martial world, possessed a keen vigilance. A more subtle approach was needed, perhaps even leveraging the Six Desires Bodhisattva – a crooked path for a righteous cause.

But at that very instant…

Chai A Si, in the courtyard, suddenly grasped his sword and rose.

“Yuan the Great Dung, you stop right there for this old man!”

Gazing at Chai A Si, face flushed, roaring to steel his resolve, and charging headlong towards Yuan Yong, that formidable existence whom he could only grovel before…

The Ancient God尊者 in the mirror-world felt a strange urge to cover his face.

Where in the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths was such a fight fought?

Where was the sneak attack that began with a shouted challenge and a clumsy sword swing?

He had fantasized about being consort, about becoming a city lord, about achieving greatness, and he had proven quite capable in those imaginings. Yet, when taught swordsmanship, he retained naught of it!

Chai A Si, usually so accustomed to enduring, for the first time tightly gripped his rebar-sword and charged towards a fearsome being he could only kneel and lick the boots of.

His eyes were bloodshot, and he remembered nothing else.

He had been bullied, bullied for far too many years.

In this roaring charge, he suddenly understood the plight of his grandfather, who had died in front of the carriage that year…

He would endure no longer!

If they were truly of the demon race, blessed by destiny and noble…

Why was he born only to endure, to willingly exist as an ant, to be whipped and driven?

He gripped his rebar-sword, his gaze fixed on Yuan Yong’s throat.

Just then, a voice resonated in his mind—

“Sword One, Sword Four, Sword Three,” the voice of the venerable Senior尊.

Jiang Wu An, in the end, was not Lu Shuanghe.

Their paths had diverged long ago, back in Fengxi Town.

The Innate Dao Pulse Chongxuan Zun, at a very young age,

Had already determined his path differed from that of the Tai Xu Sect’s ancestors.

And that young Jiang Wang, though he had no understanding of the path, nor even of cultivation, had also made his own choice.

When a small demon, accustomed to enduring, for the first time grasped his rebar-sword, as the great Ancient God尊者, it was only natural to grant him due courage.

Hearing such a scolding voice, Yuan Yong almost believed he had misheard. Had Si Er not meant to shout “Big Brother” but merely stumbled over his words?

But Chai A Si’s charge was undeniably real. A cold glint indeed flashed on that broken piece of rebar. Yuan Yong twisted his body back, a grin spreading across his face.

He, of course, did not fear this disorganized desperation. Chai A Si’s reaction only served to prove the mirror’s significance. Heaven had bestowed this treasure; not to seize it would be to court blame!

Compared to a life-or-death struggle, this dog demon was still too green.

He even adopted a rudimentary fist stance, then lightly leaped outwards, his muscles instantly coiling. His entire burly frame, like a trebuchet’s rope drawn to its limit, buzzed with tension!

Explosive power erupted into the air. The Ten-Step Charging Fist!

But just as Yuan Yong unleashed his fist, Chai A Si before him suddenly underwent a transformation.

His entire body, hurtling forward, instantly settled into a stance—one that felt intensely familiar, like a practiced sword move.

Observing his sword form, the variations seemed infinite. Examining its sword intent, it was sharp and irresistible. And in those bloodshot eyes, beyond the anger, the timidity and cowardice were nowhere to be seen, replaced by a profound confidence. As if he could certainly cleave Yuan Yong with his blade.

Where did this little demon find such confidence?

Yuan Yong’s fist strike faltered. In the face of that suddenly unleashed, razor-sharp killing aura, he abruptly twisted his body.

Choosing to first avoid the edge. Having spent years in combat, he was unwilling to capsize in this ditch. He decided to observe Chai A Si further.

But almost simultaneously with his turn, Chai A Si had already stepped forward and inwards, executing a precisely timed horizontal slash at his neck! It was as if Yuan Yong had deliberately thrown his neck onto the blade!

Years of killing experience came into play. In this moment of extreme peril, Yuan Yong’s Dao Yuan surged, allowing him to twist further, even counterattack, leaping high and smashing a punch forward!

Yet, Chai A Si had already leaped before him, perfectly timing an upward strike!

The rust-stained rebar-sword penetrated Yuan Yong’s chin, driving deep into his skull.

In that instant—

Chai A Si was no more than three feet off the ground, his body still in a bowed stance, maintaining the upward sword-strike. The burly Yuan Yong, arms splayed in the air, like a colossal winged eagle, was impaled upon the rebar-sword, falling powerlessly.

Not until the hot, fresh blood sprayed upon his face did Chai A Si, as if waking from a dream, panic and release his grip.

Yuan Yong’s corpse, still impaled on the rebar-sword, plummeted to the ground, finally kneeling and collapsing forward, impacting the earth like a hammer blow. The sword tip thus pierced through the top of his head. Amidst the scarlet and white, a stubborn, sharp edge glinted.

“Hoo… hoo… hoo!”

Chai A Si gasped for air, a strange, unfamiliar sensation filling him.

Killing was this simple a thing!

The renowned Incense Master of the Water Curtain Hall, a fearsome existence who had dominated Flower Street, had fallen before him, unable to withstand even three sword strikes!

The Ancient God’s voice resonated in his mind again, interrupting his thoughts—

“To learn this seat’s swordsmanship, you must first remember: never let go of your sword. Chai A Si, are you worthy?”

“Sorry, sorry, Senior尊, it won’t happen again,” Chai A Si, jolted from his post-killing daze, his first reaction one of apology, quickly stepped forward, grabbed Yuan Yong’s head, and yanked out the rust-stained rebar-sword.

Blood still dripped from the sword. It was as if he gained some power from it as he solemnly declared:

“Senior尊, I will never let go of my sword again. You chose me; I will not let you choose wrongly!”

“Don’t be busy brown-nosing; first, fix the problem in your eyes,” the voice from the mirror said.

Only then did Chai A Si remember that Yuan Yong had not come alone. Yuan Yong was not like him, with no family or anyone who cared. Yuan Yong had a pack of small demons beneath him, and behind him, the Flower Fruit Society.

Thinking of this, his legs almost turned to jelly again. “How should I… do it?” he asked the venerable god in the mirror, pitifully.

The voice in the mirror simply said, “This seat has already given you the answer, but you had best ask yourself.”

The answer?

Chai A Si’s mind was a jumble for a moment, then he suddenly recalled that single sentence—”Fix the problem in your eyes.”

The problem in his eyes?

Yuan Yong’s two followers standing guard outside!

Just now, in the courtyard, he had shouted and swung his sword. There should have been a reaction from outside, right?

Unless the noise had been erased by the Ancient God尊者.

The might of the Ancient God, immeasurable. The greatness of the Ancient God, eternal and boundless!

This was a test from the Ancient God; he needed to prove his ability!

Chai A Si took a deep breath.

He hung the rebar-sword on his waistband, dragged Yuan Yong’s corpse into the room, and temporarily concealed it with the bed board.

He then cleaned the bloodstains from the ground.

Finally, fetching water and cloth, he carefully washed his face. He took off his blood-stained clothes and changed into another set.

After confirming that nothing seemed amiss, he turned towards the door, pulled open the courtyard gate: “Two big brothers, Scar Grandpa called you all in.”

The two small demons who had been chatting outside the door stopped their conversation, a little disappointed.

They didn’t suspect anything amiss, merely pushing Chai A Si aside as they stepped into the courtyard.

Standing in the courtyard, one could almost see clearly into the room, but the two small demons still didn’t see Yuan Yong’s figure. They couldn’t help but walk towards the room. “Scar Grandpa! You called us, Scar Grandpa?”

The more impatient of the two small demons walked forward, lifted the bed board, and suddenly saw Yuan Yong’s corpse. In that instant of shock—

The courtyard door slammed shut.

The two small demons suddenly turned around and saw the timid, useless Chai A Si bolting the courtyard door with one hand, drawing the rebar-sword from his waist, and coming towards them…

The scenery of the snowy land was a boundless expanse of white. From a high vantage point, one could see the clouds stretching to meet the sky.

The cold of the Heaven Monument Snow Ridge seeped into one’s very soul. But Zhao Wu Yan was long accustomed to it.

She needed this cold. This cold, in suppressing her extraordinary power, in blocking the known “past obstacles,” allowed her to maintain the heightened sensitivity of her divine thoughts, to ponder the world’s truths, to explore the true meaning of the Dao, to truly penetrate what she had learned.

As one of the world’s four great academies, Longmen Academy most valued spiritual talent and was a gathering place for geniuses.

She, Zhao Wu Yan, as a senior disciple of Longmen Academy, had studied a hundred schools since childhood, mastered the classics, and was a genius among geniuses, an absolute figure in the world.

Others were trapped by the separation of heaven and man, even until their hair turned white and they exhausted their books, burning the midnight oil to cultivate, still knew not where the path lay.

She, however, was troubled by an excess of paths, capable of plucking any within reach, but unsure of which to choose.

She had once sought answers in the chanting of Zen, once sat in quiet contemplation of the Dao, once sought the path in military treatises, once questioned her heart in legal codes. The mechanisms of the Mohists, the teachings of the various Confucian schools – she learned them all like an unfathomable ocean, the flow seemingly endless.

Unexpectedly, the known became an obstacle, trapping her for several years.

She traveled from south to north, then from east to west. She read ten thousand volumes of books, journeyed ten thousand li, witnessed countless sceneries, experienced the myriad human emotions, yet there was always a deficiency, never completeness. The journey’s end point was the present world’s northwest, and she chose this place, choosing the path of a lifetime.

But an unexpected event occurred at the Heaven Monument Snow Ridge, within the Dao field of Frost Immortal Monarch Xu Qiu Ci. She witnessed a world-shattering change, the scene of the Winter Emperor’s birth.

By chance, this Winter Emperor, said to possess past wisdom from reincarnation and who had re-proven and derived his Dao, bestowed upon her a pointer: “Self-open the abyss flow.”

From then on, enlightenment dawned, and she saw the path stretching far into the distance once more.

The so-called “miscellaneous hundred schools, self-open the abyss flow” was a grand vision with a distant prospect, not something achievable in a single step.

She was already aware of this, willing to set aside the within-reach Divine Arrival, and in this solitary place, her youth turning to white hair, pursue that path whose existence was uncertain.

Let the winds of the world rise and clouds surge, let the bystander be swept away by the great waves, let the proud geniuses achieve fame.

The Marquis of Wu An, the Marquis Champion, invincible in battle, the foremost figure of the contemporary era, Li Yi…

Ten years, twenty years, thirty years. Perhaps there would be a result, perhaps…

Not.

She sat here, with such awareness, drying her hair. The path of seeking the Dao was a lonely and long journey, just like this Heaven Monument Snow Ridge, an eternal, cold silence.

She had originally intended to sit here alone, contemplating life and death.

But Zi Shu, who had been close to her since childhood, insisted on accompanying her here for a year. She allowed it. It was fitting to personally teach Zi Shu cultivation, to assess her potential over half a lifetime. Should her own pursuit of the Dao fail, at least the academy would have a successor.

As for Xu Xiang Gan…

That was the one who had been caught several times, and who still wouldn’t leave…

Every time she thought of making a move to get rid of him, that fellow would look over pitifully, saying something like, “Senior Sister Zhao promised me an opportunity. Gentlemen value their promises. How can we, as scholars…”

She never heard him finish.

Hitting him lightly was useless, hitting him hard was difficult to explain and unnecessary, so she simply tolerated it.

But today was strange. This person, walking through the deep snow in the strong wind, one foot sinking deeper than the other, still carrying a live fish, was red-eyed.

He seemed to have suffered some grievance, secretly wiping away tears.

His high forehead shone in the wind and snow, his state truly pitiable. Browser search: Essence Book Pavilion… The entire web’s Essence Book Pavilion…

Heaven help her, she could least bear to see others shed tears. What in life was not to be faced? Birth, old age, sickness, and death were merely natural principles; weeping and sobbing, what a weak thing!

Moreover, this fellow hadn’t gone to attend True Lord Fu’s lecture today, so what could have happened?

“Zi Shu.” Zhao Wu Yan, sitting in the snow-rock cave, finally called out: “Go see your Senior Brother Xu, see what’s wrong with him.”

Zi Shu said “Oh,” put down the snow fox she was happily playing with, and skipped towards the mountain. She had piled up many small animals from snow, a snow fox, a snow rabbit, a snow tiger, each one lifelike, lined up in a long queue inside the snow-rock cave.

Zhao Wu Yan continued her cultivation, silently reciting the words of the great Legalist master Han Shen Tu in her heart, ruminating on the classic debates within, feeling the great master’s understanding of the world’s rules, his comprehension of “law.”

But it wasn’t long before she heard a “woo woo woo” sobbing sound. Zi Shu, in floods of tears, cried as she and Xu Xiang Gan came one after another towards the mountain.

Xu Xiang Gan still advised as he walked, “Senior Sister, don’t cry, don’t cry. If you cry, I can’t help you, woo woo woo…”

The two people climbing the mountain under the wind and snow, just like this, walked sadly upwards. The sounds of crying echoed one after another.

Zhao Wu Yan, sitting in the snow-rock cave, wore a wooden expression.

No, I told you to go inquire about the situation. How did you two end up crying together? What exactly did True Lord Fu say? What actually happened, to be this sad?

Could it be that I’ve gone down the wrong path, that I’ve already gone mad with cultivation?

Could it be that I’ve contracted an incurable disease?