Volume Three: Blossoms Bloom Together, One Tree Cannot Bear the Weight Chapter Three: On Vital Force

Lan Sheng stood alone before the window. Though his expression was cold and severe, his gaze, cast toward the distant mountains, was vacant and unfocused. The window was open, and the chill wind of late February lifted the empty left sleeve of his robe. He had been awake for more than ten days now, and each day he followed the same routine: upon waking, he would stand at this window, staring out at the distant peaks, sometimes for the entire day. He ate only occasionally, and the meals brought by his attendant were often returned untouched. The trials of these days had etched lines of weariness and sorrow onto his once youthful and innocent face.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Zhuo Hua entered.

He glanced at the untouched food on the table but said nothing. Quietly, he walked to Lan Sheng’s side and joined him in gazing out the window.

Sensing someone beside him, Lan Sheng withdrew his gaze and turned to see who had come. Upon recognizing Zhuo Hua, he mechanically attempted to bow in greeting, but as his right hand rose into the air, his whole body froze, unable to complete the gesture. After some time, he managed to force out a few words: “I did not know you had arrived, Master Zhuo. Forgive me for not welcoming you properly.”

Zhuo Hua watched him kindly throughout, then reached out to support Lan Sheng and asked calmly, “Lan Sheng, what is it you look at each day from this window?”

Lan Sheng replied woodenly, “Nothing in particular.”

Zhuo Hua’s lips curved into a slight smile, and he gently pointed toward the unbroken chain of mountains in the distance. “Lan Sheng, do you see those mountains over there?”

Lan Sheng nodded dully, saying nothing.

Zhuo Hua continued, “Such beautiful rivers and mountains are about to be seized by the Anli tribe. Does your heart ache for them?”

Lan Sheng sighed, “What does it matter to me? I already know that the Kingdom of Changshan has fallen. The royal Lan family of Changshan, from infants in swaddling clothes to elders with white hair, all perished at the hands of the Three Sharks of Lingbo, none survived. And I...”

He turned to glance at his empty left sleeve, let out a bitter laugh, and said, “And I am already a cripple, unable to care for myself.”

Zhuo Hua said gravely, “Lan Sheng, you are not a cripple.”

Lan Sheng’s face was streaked with tears as he hung his head and sobbed, “How am I not? Forget avenging my family and clan; now I need others just to survive. If I am not a cripple, who is?”

The last sentence was a hoarse cry torn from his chest.

Zhuo Hua continued, his tone stern, “Lan Sheng, I will say it again! You are not a cripple.”

Lan Sheng was startled by the force of Zhuo Hua’s words. He looked up, confusion written all over his face.

Zhuo Hua placed both hands on Lan Sheng’s shoulders and said, “That’s right! Lan Sheng, you have lost your loved ones and your homeland. I have felt that same grief myself. I witnessed the annihilation of the Xuanhuang Void, saw my clan die one by one before my eyes, and watched those dearest to me sacrifice their lives so I could survive. Yet, compared to me, you are still fortunate. Because you still have us, the entire Cloud Palace, and the seven clans of the Immortal Lineage. Your vendetta is ours as well; your revenge must be pursued by all the people of this world together. Do you understand?”

His words rekindled the flame of hope in Lan Sheng’s eyes. The confusion faded, and he asked Zhuo Hua, “Then, Master Zhuo, with my left hand lost and my cultivation in ruins, can I still train? Can I still avenge my kin?”

Zhuo Hua did not answer, but instead posed a question of his own: “Lan Sheng, tell me—what is the foundation of cultivation for our Xuanhuang clan?”

Lan Sheng thought for a moment. “It is the Spirit Bead.”

Zhuo Hua shook his head. “The Spirit Bead is necessary for cultivation, yes, but many ingenious schools thrive without it, flying and crossing tribulations, dominating the world.”

Lan Sheng pondered again. “Then it must be pure bloodlines and strong bodies.”

Zhuo Hua shook his head once more. “Pure bloodlines only help one adapt faster to a school’s teachings. Strength of body merely allows one to progress a bit quicker than others. Neither is the true foundation of cultivation.”

Lan Sheng shook his head. “I really cannot guess, Master Zhuo. Please enlighten me.”

Zhuo Hua tapped the window and gestured toward the mountains outside. “What do you see?”

Lan Sheng replied, “Mountains, clouds, trees, birds.”

Zhuo Hua smiled. “These things are so ordinary, people often overlook them.”

Lan Sheng slapped the window frame and shouted, “It’s qi!”

Zhuo Hua smiled with satisfaction. “Exactly, it is qi. Xuanhuang cultivation uses qi as the vehicle of cosmic movement, while the Anli tribe relies on blades and brute strength.”

Hearing this, Lan Sheng’s interest was piqued. He looked eagerly at Zhuo Hua, awaiting his next words.

Zhuo Hua moved to the table, poured himself a cup of water, and beckoned Lan Sheng over. He pushed the food box toward him, inviting him to eat while listening.

After taking a sip of water, Zhuo Hua continued, “When the ancient master created the Void, he left us two contradictory things: one is the ethereal ‘emptiness’, the other is the solid ‘substance’. ‘Substance’ is easy to understand—mountains, stones, flowing water, fierce beasts, birds, and humans, anything that can be perceived and touched belongs to ‘substance’.”

Lan Sheng thought aloud, “‘Substance’ is just things, what we can see and touch.”

Zhuo Hua nodded in agreement.

Lan Sheng asked, “What, then, is ‘emptiness’?”

Zhuo Hua answered with a smile, “At first, the sages of Xuanhuang believed ‘emptiness’ was qi, the breath we take into our bodies. The sages discovered that this qi was wondrous—it could be stirred into wind, or gathered and ridden to fly.”

Lan Sheng continued, “That’s why our Xuanhuang clan uses the golden sunlight to activate the Spirit Bead and generate true qi within. Then we refine strands of weak true qi into pure force. The higher one’s cultivation, the purer the force, and the greater its power.”

Zhuo Hua said, “You’re right. Cultivators often impoverish themselves or even commit crimes for the sake of refining purer force, because progress becomes increasingly difficult. Moreover, in the last War of the Gods, even the eighth- and ninth-tier Xuanhuang masters, when striking their fiercest force against Anli masters of the same rank, could barely inflict real harm. The Anli tribe is born with powerful bodies; their cultivation emphasizes tempering sinews and bones, and their tools are brutal and fierce. Our clan specializes in attacking from afar, while they favor close combat. Thus, in battles between equals, our Xuanhuang clan often suffers. In the past, we could only rely on superior numbers to drive them back.”

Lan Sheng said in dismay, “By that logic, no matter how hard we strive, we can never wipe out the Anli tribe? And this time, our numbers are sure to be fewer.”

Zhuo Hua tapped the table lightly with his fingers. “That is why, to survive, we must change our way of cultivation.”

Lan Sheng’s gloom gave way to hope. “So, Master Zhuo, you’ve found a way to defeat them?”

Zhuo Hua merely smiled, not answering. He picked up a cup, holding it in his palm. This translucent cup of pale jade was adorned with natural landscape patterns; before the blue mountains, a faint, winding river seemed to leap out, the design and the cup forming a seamless whole, a thing of exquisite beauty.

Lan Sheng was entranced by this exquisite cup. Suddenly, Zhuo Hua’s hand shifted from palm to claw, and a powerful suction caused a whirlwind to swirl through the room. Within a few breaths, the jade cup in Zhuo Hua’s hand fractured, its shards collapsing inward as though compressed by unseen force.

Lan Sheng could scarcely believe his eyes. He pointed at the shattered cup, dumbstruck.

If Zhuo Hua had simply struck the cup with force and broken it in midair, Lan Sheng would not have found it so astonishing, for he himself could have done that. But this cup had been crushed, pressed flat where it stood.

Zhuo Hua shook the fragments before Lan Sheng. “What are you thinking?”

Lan Sheng suddenly knelt, clutching Zhuo Hua’s sleeve. “Master Zhuo, I do not know how you did this, but I wish to learn. Teach me, please.”

Zhuo Hua smiled, and a cold gleam flashed from the White Horse Star on his right hand. As Zhuo Hua turned his wrist, the exquisite jade cup slowly returned to its pristine, flawless form.