The Galgame Martial Saint

Gu Chengming closed the book, his expression subtle.

To be honest, after reading the biography of this Sixth Realm senior, his evaluation of the 《Unfettered Freedom Art》 had undergone an unprecedented, cliff-like downgrade, sliding directly from the “lifelong masterpiece of a Sixth Realm great cultivator” to the “Manual of the Little Terror.”

But then again, terror or not, a Sixth Realm was still a Sixth Realm.

To be able to tie explosive talismans to a flying sword to make a senior sister cry, post recruitment notices for the Hehuan Sect to draw aggro for a senior brother, and provoke several peak masters into a brawl on the first day of joining the sect… and not only avoid being expelled but also live to the Sixth Realm.

Such a person either had talent so heaven-defying that their peers couldn’t do a thing about them, or the path they walked was simply beyond the comprehension of ordinary people.

Gu Chengming felt it was likely a combination of both.

He tucked the 《Unfettered Freedom Art》 into his storage pouch, and the moment the technique entered, his sea of consciousness became lively.

【The Qingxin Art spoke up with great interest: If this senior were a character in a storybook, he would definitely be the type that readers love and hate in equal measure. Does Chengming really want to learn this technique? I feel like it would be a lot of fun.】

—I should first study whether this technique is just another prank from that little terror senior.

Gu Chengming thought helplessly.

【Hundred Bones Resonating suddenly interjected: So, is a sword cultivator’s slaughter superior, or is a body cultivator’s defense invincible?】

—Speechless. I can’t be bothered with you; typical meathead thinking.

Gu Chengming set the matter of the technique aside for now and turned to look at Ren Wencai.

Ren Wencai was holding the spiritual wood box, gazing lovingly at the cat-fruit inside through the lid.

After its previous glorious display of self-combat, the cat-fruit had completely given up resistance, lying spread-eagled like a puddle of orange rice cake, not even bothering to maintain the intimidating glow on its spiritual surface.

Its tail was slightly curled, and its hind legs twitched occasionally—it was probably still kicking its own chin in its dreams.

“Master, let’s go.”

“Hmm? Oh, right. Let’s go, let’s go.”

Ren Wencai reluctantly tucked the box away close to his body, and the two retraced their steps.

Returning to the grotto camp, Ren Wencai didn’t delay and immediately began preparing for seclusion.

That cat-fruit was of extremely high quality, but refining it was not something that could be done overnight.

He first nourished his meridians with cold marrow liquid, then stabilized his divine sense with soul-nourishing incense. Afterward, Gu Chengming picked out several high-quality dharma swords from the Burial Sword Tomb to help Ren Wencai set up a simple spirit-gathering array in the depths of the grotto.

Once everything was ready, the old man sat cross-legged in the center of the array.

“Chengming, while I am in seclusion, I’ll leave the matters outside to you.”

“Don’t worry, Master.”

Ren Wencai nodded, closed his eyes, and began refining the cat-fruit.

The process was much smoother than expected.

When the cat-fruit was “alive,” it was jumping all over the place, capable of liquefying and escaping, making it a target that a peak Fourth Realm old cultivator could barely touch despite chasing it until he was drenched in sweat. But once it accepted its fate, it became extremely docile during refinement. That pure spiritual qi was like a trickling stream, slowly seeping into Ren Wencai’s meridians, gently and steadily washing away the bottleneck that had stuck him for decades.

Gu Chengming stood guard outside the grotto, his expression calm as he felt the increasingly violent spiritual pressure fluctuations within.

The spiritual pressure inside the grotto was like the tide, rising wave after wave.

Finally, on the morning of the third day of seclusion, a muffled sound of a barrier breaking echoed from the depths of the grotto.

Heaven and earth’s spiritual qi surged toward the grotto like a hundred rivers returning to the sea.

A moment later, everything returned to peace.

The stone door was slowly pushed open from the inside, and Ren Wencai walked out.

…The Fifth Realm.

The aura on the old man was like a different person compared to three days ago. The spiritual energy that was originally thick but slightly aged had now become pure and condensed, with a very faint white light flowing around him like a light veil.

However, his face did not have the wild joy one would expect after breaking through a major realm; instead, it was quite complex.

He stood at the entrance of the grotto, first looking up at the deep dome of Tianque, then down at his own hands, turning them over and over to examine them for a long time, as if repeatedly confirming that this wasn’t a dream.

After a long while, the old man let out a long breath of turbid air.

“The Fifth Realm…”

His voice was a bit raspy, and his eyes were slightly red.

He turned to look at Gu Chengming, his lips moving a few times, but in the end, he only said three words.

“Thank you, Chengming.”

Gu Chengming smiled and stepped forward to straighten his master’s slightly messy collar.

Some things didn’t need to be said; it was enough for master and disciple to understand each other. He tucked in the old man’s collar and patted his shoulder.

Once the news spread, Shen Qianqiu was the first to arrive.

This Wenjian Sect master’s injuries hadn’t yet healed, but his spirit was excellent. He strode over from afar, his laughter reaching them before he did.

“Good! Wencai, well done!”

Shen Qianqiu reached Ren Wencai and patted his shoulder heavily. The force was so great that the old cultivator who had just advanced to the Fifth Realm actually staggered half a step.

“Sect Master Senior Brother, take it easy. I just broke through; my foundation isn’t stable yet.”

“Complaining to me even at the Fifth Realm?” Shen Qianqiu laughed and scolded him, his tone then softening. “Wencai, you’ve suffered all these years… I always knew about the knot in your heart regarding that previous disciple.”

Ren Wencai fell silent for a moment, then shook his head.

“It’s all in the past, Senior Brother.”

After a pause, he looked at Gu Chengming, who was organizing dharma tools not far away, and revealed a relieved smile.

“Besides, if not for that old matter, I wouldn’t have taken Chengming as a disciple. Such is the karma and fate of the world. As sword cultivators, we should look toward the path ahead.”

Shen Qianqiu followed his gaze to Gu Chengming and nodded, saying no more.

…

After the final matters in Tianque were handled, the Daqian group began preparing to evacuate the secret realm.

The Longevity Heaven-Devouring Dao-Trapping Array was a product that the Longevity Sect had spent hundreds of years setting up based on the Tianque Dao Throne nodes. The array foundation had long since grown into the underlying spatial structure of Tianque. Trying to dismantle and take it away was equivalent to carving a piece of meat out of Tianque’s foundation.

In theory, it was possible, but in practice, it was roughly equal to tearing down a house to move the bricks.

Gu Chengming had no choice but to seal it on the spot. Anyway, with the “World Peace” rule suppressed on top, the Longevity Sect wouldn’t even think about restarting this array even if they entered Tianque again in the future.

But there was another thing he could take away.

The Burial Sword Tomb.

As the Daqian group gathered at the Tianque exit, preparing to leave the secret realm in turn, Gu Chengming shifted his thoughts.

Deep in the sky above, that iron-gray mountain mass that had been hidden in the clouds for a long time slowly descended, piercing through the clouds and coming to a steady halt directly above him.

Everyone present looked up in unison.

The mountain’s shadow completely covered a radius of dozens of yards. Although the sword intent stored within the mountain was restrained, the visual pressure of the mountain mass itself was enough to make one’s scalp tingle.

Chu Heng’s expression froze on the spot.

Tao Yong and Qin Huaiyuan maintained their upward-looking posture, their mouths hanging open for a long time, unable to close.

Zhou Hui, who hadn’t participated in the final battle and knew nothing of the inside story, looked at Xu Huayi and whispered, “Senior Sister, that’s… a mountain, right?”

Xu Huayi gave a calm “Mm.”

Her inner thoughts were a different story entirely.

—Honestly, seeing the dumbfounded looks on these people after coming out of Tianque, Xu Huayi felt that the “shock from the heavens” she had endured alone during this time was finally compensated.

Back then, she had shouldered it all by herself. She didn’t even have a chance to share the news that “Do you know he refined an entire mountain?” with anyone. That feeling of it being too ridiculous even after repeating it three times to the air in her mind could finally be shared with others.

—I just wanted to see you all make this face.

Xu Huayi nodded in satisfaction in her heart.

As for Lu Mingzhang from the Honglu Temple, this smiling tiger who was usually known for his poise now had a very interesting expression. The folding fan in his hand was stuck in an awkward half-open position, neither able to be closed nor fully spread.

…

After leaving the Tianque Secret Realm, Ren Wencai and Shen Qianqiu did not travel together on the return flying boat.

Although Shen Qianqiu had recovered some of his cultivation, he still needed to return to the sect for quiet recuperation. Ren Wencai had just broken through to the Fifth Realm, and his foundation also needed consolidation. After bidding farewell, the two departed for the Wenjian Sect on their swords.

Before leaving, Ren Wencai rambled on with several more instructions, from “Be careful when you go out” to “Don’t always solve problems with your fists, use your sword occasionally,” until he was finally dragged away by Shen Qianqiu.

“Enough, Wencai. The kid is already a vice commander under a Fifth Realm superior; do you still think he’s three years old? Let’s go, let’s go.”

Ren Wencai was dragged quite a distance away, still turning back to shout to Gu Chengming, “Remember to come back to the Wenjian Sect soon!”

Gu Chengming stood in place and watched the two sword lights disappear into the horizon, shaking his head, though his heart was warm.

On the flying boat, the remaining people were all from the various Daqian offices.

The atmosphere was eerily quiet.

Everyone found a place to sit; some closed their eyes to rest, while others spoke in low voices. But no matter what they were doing, their gazes would occasionally drift toward the sky above the deck, covered by the iron-gray mountain mass.

That mountain just hung there grandly above the flying boat, moving in sync with it like an exceptionally solid dark cloud—other people’s clouds blocked the sun, but this one blocked the sky.

The techniques in his sea of consciousness weren’t idle either.

【Hundred Bones Resonating looked down at the outside world with a posture of looking down on everything and announced loudly: Emperor Gu! This mountain shall be our Emperor’s Traveling Palace in the future! On the day we sweep across the six directions, we shall use this mountain as a foundation to build a Ninefold Heavenly Palace!】

【Hundred Bones Resonating favorability +10】

【Constitution +1】

—Emperor Bai, please calm down. I haven’t even figured out where to put this mountain yet.

【The Qingxin Art was quite interested and said leisurely: Storybooks say “A sword immortal carries a green mountain through the sky.” I used to think it was an exaggerated writing style, but now it seems the author was just being realistic.】

【The Zhou Rites Heavenly Rectifying Art commented: Carrying a mountain along, while having a suspicion of inappropriate majesty, is not unjustifiable since this mountain was rightfully obtained. I only hope Chengming finds a proper way to settle it in the future and doesn’t become too ostentatious.】

—You’re all right, but the problem is I can’t shrink this thing.

Gu Chengming sighed in his heart.

The volume of the Burial Sword Tomb was right there. He had tried repeatedly; refining it was one thing, but shrinking it was truly impossible. The storage pouch couldn’t hold it, the array couldn’t seal it, and there was nowhere to throw it.

So far, the only feasible plan was to let it continue hanging high in the sky.

Fortunately, when this thing flew high enough, people on the ground couldn’t see it.

The bad news was that “high enough” meant very high.

As the flying boat approached the capital’s territory, Zhou Qingmu finally spoke.

“I’ll go report this first.” She stood up and patted the dust off her clothes, her tone carrying a hint of helplessness.

Gu Chengming was a bit puzzled. “Report?”

Did the Night Guard Division need to report after returning from a mission?

Zhou Qingmu glanced at him with a complex expression, then slowly raised her hand and pointed above his head.

“It’s not about anything else, mainly this thing over your head.”

“Bringing such a large mountain into the capital… if I don’t report it…” She paused, as if weighing a less hurtful way to put it.

“I don’t know how many more petitions those people from the Honglu Temple will file against you.”

As soon as these words were spoken, in a corner on the other side of the flying boat, Lu Mingzhang naturally shifted his gaze toward the sea of clouds outside the window. He held his teacup with a face that said “the shape of these clouds is truly interesting,” as if the previous sentence had nothing to do with him, the Honglu Temple he belonged to, or any of the censors in the world who filed petitions.

…

After the flying boat arrived at the capital, everyone went their separate ways to report to their respective departments.

The gains and losses of the Tianque Secret Realm, the Longevity Sect’s conspiracy, Jiang Yun’s betrayal, and the ownership of the Dao Throne phenomenon—every single matter had to be organized into a report and sent up.

Zhou Qingmu personally went to the palace city with the documents. Gu Chengming returned to the Night Guard Division to hand in his orders.

The reporting process was smoother than expected. Most of the details of this trip to the Tianque Secret Realm involved secrets, and only the high-level officials needed a detailed report. Since Zhou Qingmu had given a heads-up beforehand, what should be said, what shouldn’t be said, and what could be said but needed a different wording were all perfectly arranged.

Gu Chengming was happy to save himself the trouble.

But some news couldn’t be stopped.

Not because the secrecy work was poor, but because some things were simply too big—so big that even if you sewed up the mouths of all the people who knew, the celestial phenomena themselves would announce it for you.

Like that mountain above the capital.

Although it flew extremely high, so high that mortals couldn’t see it with the naked eye, how many experts were there in the cultivation world? Any cultivator above the Fourth Realm only had to send out a wisp of divine sense toward the sky to discover that directly above the capital, an iron-gray mountain peak emitting a majestic sword intent had appeared at some unknown time.

This couldn’t be hidden in the cultivation world.

What could be hidden were the details—like who this mountain belonged to, where it came from, and what it could do.

Fortunately, the Imperial Observatory was very experienced in this regard.

…

Imperial Observatory, Star-Gazing Tower.

The reporting documents were delivered to the Imperial Observatory very quickly.

When Song Zhixing received the file containing the complete report of the Tianque Secret Realm, he was performing the routine calibration of the armillary sphere’s spiritual power parameters on the Star-Gazing Tower.

He opened the file and scanned through it, his expression calm as he skimmed the first few pages about the internal structure of the secret realm, the distribution of Dao Thrones, and the Longevity Sect’s layout.

When he turned to the seventh page, his movements stopped.

“Refining the Burial Sword Tomb…” Song Zhixing read these words twice to confirm he wasn’t seeing things, then continued reading.

“Obtained control over the Longevity Heaven-Devouring Dao-Trapping Array…”

“Killed a Fourth Realm elder of the Longevity Sect with a single punch…”

“Severed the Dao Throne inheritance link and rescued a Fifth Realm great cultivator…”

“Transformed the Dao Throne into the ‘World Peace’ rule, eternally etched into heaven and earth…”

Song Zhixing closed the file, crossed his hands, and rested them on the desk.

He was silent for a long time.

Seeing his teacher like this, Chen Mo, who was beside him, wanted to say something but was afraid of saying the wrong thing. He struggled for a long time, his mouth opening and closing like a stranded fish.

Finally, he couldn’t help himself. “Master… should the Hidden Dragon Ranking be changed again?”

Hearing this, Song Zhixing slowly turned his head and looked at his disciple with an extremely complex gaze.

—This unfortunate child, can you stop obsessing over your Hidden Dragon Ranking?

This is already a matter for the Heaven Ranking!

He took a deep breath, suppressed his surging emotions, and instructed in his steadiest tone:

“Let those who should know, know. Let those who shouldn’t know, only know the general idea. Keep it brief and leave some room.”

“Go draft a new explanation for the ranking changes. In the battle record column, just write ‘performed excellently in the Tianque Secret Realm, assisting Daqian cultivators in resolving the crisis.’ Don’t mention the Dao Throne, don’t mention the Burial Sword Tomb, and don’t mention that mountain.”

Chen Mo quickly complied and turned to leave.

“Wait.” Song Zhixing called him back. “Take this file to the Director for his perusal first.” His tone changed subtly.

“The old gentleman asked me a few days ago, saying that the celestial phenomena have changed recently and the dragon qi has been fluctuating, telling me to keep a close eye. This report… he should be interested in it.”

Chen Mo took his orders and left.

…

In the deepest part of the Imperial Observatory, there was a small building.

The building wasn’t tall, only three stories, with gray tiles and white walls, hidden behind several old pagoda trees that were withered but not dead.

There was no plaque in front of the building and no lock on the door. Pushing the door open revealed a study filled with bamboo slips and old scrolls.

The light inside was dim, a candle flickering on the windowsill, illuminating half of a desk and an old, weathered armchair.

An old man sat in the chair, his gray Daoist robe washed until it was pale, his white hair combed meticulously, his face gaunt, and his eyes slightly closed. Sitting there, he looked like he was dozing, yet also like he was in meditation.

This was the Director of the Imperial Observatory—the man who stood on equal footing with the Daqian Master.

He controlled the celestial phenomena, understood the calendar, and judged the destiny.

He had sat in this armchair for a very, very long time—so long that even Song Zhixing wasn’t sure of his Director’s exact age, only knowing that when his own master’s master entered the Imperial Observatory, this old man was already here.

When Chen Mo delivered the file, the old man was holding a bamboo slip, reading something unknown.

“Lord Director.” Chen Mo bowed and placed the file on the edge of the desk.

The old man didn’t open his eyes, just gave an “Mm,” and his gaunt hand reached out, slowly taking the file.

Chen Mo waited for a moment, and seeing no further instructions, he bowed and withdrew.

The door closed, and silence returned to the room.

The old man then opened his eyes and flipped through the file, page by page, for a long time.

After finishing, he set the file back on the table, picked up the teacup that had already gone cold, and took a sip.

“Burial Sword Tomb… World Peace…” The old man murmured a sentence, then set the teacup down. “It truly matches what I saw back then.”

After a pause, he added another line. “But isn’t the timing a bit early?”

Confusion flickered on his face for a moment but was quickly withdrawn, completely unaware that he might have substituted the wrong person.

—Never mind, it’s been thousands of years; errors are normal. A few years early or late is also normal.

Outside the window, the branches of the old pagoda tree swayed in the wind, and a few withered leaves spiraled down onto the windowsill.

The old man reached out to brush away the withered leaves and said softly to the empty room, “Those who are meant to see will naturally see. As for those who aren’t… it’s fine to let them stay confused for a few more days.”

He glanced at the sky outside the window. Although nothing could be seen from this angle, he clearly saw something that others couldn’t.

“That mountain in the sky… it looks like someone has raised a standard for him.”

With that, the old man sat back in the armchair and closed his eyes as if nothing had happened.

Dead silence returned to the study, with only the candle occasionally making a faint pop.

…

Evening, Jishan Neighborhood.

The cassia tree in the small courtyard had bloomed for the second time, and a faint sweet fragrance floated in the air.

When Gu Chengming pushed open the courtyard gate, the scene before him was almost no different from the day he left.

Yu Wenqiu was huddled in that cool corner that never saw the sun, lying on a bamboo chair with a thin blanket over her knees, holding a storybook in her hands. Crouched at her feet was that orange cat, so fat it was about to overflow from its own outline.

The cat reacted first.

The fat orange cat gave a “meow,” its round head turning toward the gate, its vertical pupils reflecting Gu Chengming’s figure. It watched for two seconds, then buried its head back into its paws, turned over, and continued to sleep.

—Fine, the orange cat’s welcoming ceremony is as perfunctory as ever.

Yu Wenqiu was half a beat slower than the cat.

She revealed half her face from above the storybook. Seeing it was Gu Chengming, her eyes curved into a smile.

“You’re back?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“There’s porridge warming in the pot; help yourself.”

Having said that, she pulled her face back behind the storybook and turned a page.

Gu Chengming looked at her and smiled helplessly.

He walked into the kitchen. There was indeed porridge warming in the pot—white porridge—with a side dish of pickles and two warm white buns. A bowl was inverted over the dish, clearly to keep it from getting cold.

He carried the bowl to the courtyard, sat on a stone stool, and began to eat amidst the fragrance of cassia flowers.

The porridge was cooked until it was thick, the rice grains almost completely dissolved. One sip warmed his stomach.

Gu Chengming only then realized that he hadn’t had a proper meal in a long time.

In the Tianque Secret Realm, the only things he could put in his mouth were pills and dry rations. Now, with a bowl of white porridge in his stomach, the aura of the mortal world rushed over him.

Yu Wenqiu put down the storybook at this time, sat up from the lounger, yawned, and stretched.

“So, was Tianque fun?”

“I wouldn’t call it fun.” Gu Chengming took a sip of porridge. “But I did gain quite a bit.”

“What gains?” Yu Wenqiu leaned toward him curiously.

Gu Chengming thought for a moment and said, “I picked up a few things.”

Yu Wenqiu gave an “Oh” and didn’t press further.

She was always like this, never prying into what she shouldn’t, knowing that she would naturally find out when it was time to know.

The two chatted idly about the sights in Tianque.

Yu Wenqiu popped a piece of candied fruit into her mouth from time to time, and the orange cat shifted its nest back and forth at her feet—it seemed unsatisfied with the shade under the stone table and moved to the base of the cassia tree. After moving, it let out a cat-sigh and slumped into a furry round pancake.

The fragrance of cassia flowers filled the courtyard as the night deepened.

Yu Wenqiu stood up, preparing to return to her room to rest. As she walked under the veranda, she suddenly remembered something and casually activated her Heavenly Eye.

Her divine sense extended upward.

It swept past the roof, past the alleys of Jishan Neighborhood, past the pavilions and palaces of the capital, and continued to rise—high in the sky, a massive iron-gray mountain was quietly floating above the capital.

The mountain was as straight as if it had been carved, its peak covered in sharp spires, and its entire body was permeated with a heavy sword intent. Under the moonlight, its silhouette looked like someone had splashed a blob of thick ink on the curtain of the sky.

Yu Wenqiu’s gaze lingered on that mountain for three breaths.

Then, she slowly withdrew her divine sense.

Her gaze fell on Gu Chengming, who was clearing the dishes in the courtyard.

“Little Gu.”

“Hmm?”

“That ‘few things’ you said you picked up… is it that mountain?”

The bowl in Gu Chengming’s hand paused.

He turned his head and looked at Yu Wenqiu’s face, which was written all over with “I already knew you’d bring back something new every time, but isn’t this a bit too ridiculous this time?” and chose to be honest.