The Galgame Martial Saint

Hunyuan Sect, mountain gate.

Gu Chengming’s flying sword was still a hundred yards away when Hua Daiyi’s figure appeared, standing as straight as a pine tree before the mountain path.

The old man was wearing a brand-new dark blue Daoist robe, a rare sight. Not only were the cuffs free of the usual holes burned by spiritual fire, but even the hem, which was usually wrinkled, was ironed flat and neat.

His beard, once like tangled grass, was properly trimmed, and a lustrous jade hairpin was tucked into his temple.

The disciples guarding the gate stole frequent glances, almost thinking that some great powerhouse was visiting the sect today.

“Elder Hua, you today—” “Silence. Focus on your duty.”

Hua Daiyi kept his hands behind his back, his eyes fixed intensely on the sea of clouds to the northeast. He tried to suppress the corners of his mouth, but he couldn’t quite hide his smugness.

The sound of whistling air rose as a sword light sliced through the clouds.

Gu Chengming restrained his sword intent and landed steadily on the bluestone training ground.

He was about to introduce himself according to the diplomatic etiquette taught by Ren Wencai when a gust of wind swept past him.

“You’re here! You’re finally here!”

Hua Daiyi stepped forward in three strides, swinging his arm to firmly clasp Gu Chengming’s shoulder.

“Good lad, I’ve finally been waiting for you!”

Hua Daiyi stepped back half a pace, his gaze like a torch as he looked him up and down. He nodded repeatedly, looking as if he wanted to stroke his beard and laugh out loud on the spot.

The guarding disciples watched from the side, dumbfounded.

Even when the Sect Grand Elder visited, they had never seen the usually casual and unrestrained Elder Hua show such a fervent expression.

Gu Chengming was caught a bit off guard by this enthusiasm. He had prepared various contingencies for sect diplomacy, but he hadn’t expected to be greeted with a bear hug.

However, this undisguised closeness actually put his mind at ease.

“Senior Hua, I am here to—”

“Senior what?!” Hua Daiyi waved his hand grandly. “Based on your master-disciple relationship with Wencai… forget it, just call me Martial Uncle!”

Gu Chengming followed his lead and cupped his hands gently. “Martial Uncle Hua is too kind. Before I left, Master Ren specifically told me to give you his regards.”

“That old fellow Wencai? Fine, I’ll accept his sentiment.”

Hua Daiyi’s words were pleasant, but his hands were busy. He slung his arm around Gu Chengming’s shoulder again and led him directly toward the depths of the sect.

And this path happened to include several places where the various elders of the Hunyuan Sect loved to gather.

“See that? Gu Chengming from the Wenjian Sect! The top rank of the Sect Disciple Grand Examination, the one who turned the tide in the Tianque Secret Realm!” Hua Daiyi’s voice was laced with true essence, rolling out in waves that could be heard clearly for dozens of yards.

“He is the prized disciple of my old friend Ren Wencai—but he also practices my 《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》! In the end, he’s half my successor!”

The cultivators along the way looked over, their reactions varied.

The younger disciples showed expressions of awe.

The achievements from the Sect Disciple Grand Examination had long since spread far and wide. A Third Realm cultivator defeating Longevity Sect experts and standing his ground against a Fifth Realm great cultivator was a fierce record that would make any sect wary.

Rumors were prone to exaggeration; in some versions, Gu Chengming had become a peerless god of war who crushed the Tianque Secret Realm and trampled the Longevity Sect.

Now that the man himself had appeared, his steady temperament and restrained spiritual power only added a layer of mystery.

However, to the elders, these words were a bit hard to swallow.

Seeing Gu Chengming’s perfect etiquette, several older cultivators nodded with smiles.

…

But the claim of being a “half-successor” made several of Hua Daiyi’s close friends frown.

Hua Daiyi was a drunkard who couldn’t even teach his own disciples properly. When had he managed to snag such a rising prodigy?

Yet Gu Chengming walked beside him with a calm expression, not speaking up to refute the title of “half-teacher.”

As they reached the bluestone pavilion outside the discussion hall, several elders playing chess could no longer hold back.

“Old Hua.”

A square-faced, snowy-bearded elder in a gray robe tossed a black piece back into the container, his tone neutral.

“This ‘half-teacher’ title of yours… you didn’t just force it on him to make yourself look good, did you?”

Hua Daiyi’s steps faltered. The gray-robed elder slowly stood up and looked over with his hands behind his back. His gaze swept over Gu Chengming before returning to Hua Daiyi.

“Young friend Gu’s fame has risen rapidly, and everyone has heard of his various methods. Crushing the Longevity Sect’s moles with his fists, suppressing the crowd with his sword art—every single feat was a reputation earned through life-and-death struggle.”

He paused slightly and spread his hands. “But I haven’t heard anyone mention the 《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》.”

The other elders nearby also set down their teacups, looking over with interest.

A thin elder added leisurely, “Why not let young friend Gu demonstrate it in public another day? If he can’t perform it…” He elongated his tone, his eyes full of mischief. “Old Hua, your big talk won’t be able to hold up.”

The scene fell silent.

Hua Daiyi’s face turned red.

He wasn’t naturally vain; he had been sincere when he taught the sword art, and he truly valued the status of “half-teacher.”

However, he truly didn’t know Gu Chengming’s progress.

Ren Wencai’s letter only said his “lowly disciple has just glimpsed the threshold.” Following normal talent, he hadn’t been practicing for long—how much mastery could he have?

Being provoked to his face by his old friend, Hua Daiyi pointed at the people in the pavilion, his lips trembling for a long time without managing a single strong rebuttal. Finally, he choked out, “How can a sparrow understand the ambitions of a swan!”

This response was incredibly weak. The friends in the pavilion exchanged knowing glances, their expressions becoming even more certain.

While the verbal sparring continued outside, Gu Chengming focused half of his mind within his Sea of Consciousness.

Counting it out, this was the first time he had seen the founding patriarch of a technique he practiced with his own eyes.

Hundred Bones Resonating originated from a Daqian cultivator, the Huiyuan Sword Manual was born from an ancient scroll, and the Zhou Rites Heavenly Rectifying Art and Flowing Cloud Following Moon were legacies from the river of time; their creators had long since turned to dust.

Only this 《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》 had its creator standing right beside him, currently blowing his beard and glaring in anger over a few jokes.

Gu Chengming found it quite novel and turned his gaze to the dialogue box in his Sea of Consciousness.

…

【《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》 is curiously observing the landscape and atmosphere of the Hunyuan Sect, its gaze sweeping over the upturned eaves, spiritual patterns, and passing disciples.】

【It glimpses Hua Daiyi, studies him for a moment, and comments: Hmm, he looks like a rather interesting old gentleman.】

There was nothing more, which was quite surprising.

Gu Chengming thought to himself that once a technique developed sentience, its personality became its own; it seemed there was no inherent bond with the creator.

…

For the rest of the day, Hua Daiyi took Gu Chengming on a tour of the entire Hunyuan Sect.

On the surface, it was to play the host, but in reality, no matter where they went, he couldn’t help but loudly introduce him as “my half-disciple.”

Gu Chengming handled it with composure, being neither humble nor arrogant. Meanwhile, he silently memorized about seventy to eighty percent of the spiritual vein flows and array layouts throughout the Hunyuan Sect.

By the time dusk fell and the mountain breeze turned cool, Hua Daiyi’s voice was half-hoarse, and he finally stopped talking with lingering interest.

…

At night, Hua Daiyi used the excuse of arranging a guest room to lead Gu Chengming to an annex for his stay.

This annex was exactly like Hua Daiyi’s own style—quite casual.

The courtyard was cluttered with empty wine jars and half-finished sword cases. On an old, notched sword in the corner, two strings of dried, reddish-brown spirit peppers were actually hanging.

“Sit, sit anywhere.”

Hua Daiyi pulled a jar of spirit wine from the depths of an old wooden cabinet, filled a cup for Gu Chengming, and then filled one for himself.

He picked up the white porcelain wine cup, his gaze crossing the window frame to the cold moon in the night sky. His tone was intentionally casual.

“By the way, Little Gu.”

He took a sip and cleared his throat. “That 《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》… is your cultivation going smoothly?”

Gu Chengming was sharp-witted and knew his concern. He stated honestly, “To answer Martial Uncle Hua, I have already reached the entry level.”

“You’ve entered the threshold!” Hua Daiyi’s eyes lit up instantly, and the heart that had been in his throat finally settled back into his chest.

But the joy lasted only a few breaths before he showed hesitation, his hand holding the wine cup suspended in mid-air.

The gap between entering the threshold and true mastery was like a chasm. He knew better than anyone that this sword art emphasized the seamless integration of wine qi and sword intent. To display a truly intimidating aura, one had to have a deep understanding of the “drunken” state.

He himself had spent ten years of hard work just to barely grasp the way.

Gu Chengming had only had the technique for two or three years at most.

Being able to enter the threshold of a Fourth Realm sword art in such a short time was already far beyond ordinary people, enough to make him feel deeply satisfied.

But if they were really pushed into a spar during tomorrow’s exchange meeting, a newly learned sword style might find it hard to convince the crowd.

He hesitated to speak, ultimately unwilling to add pressure to his junior, and could only swallow his worries.

“Entering the threshold is good, entering the threshold is good.”

Hua Daiyi repeated the words, patting Gu Chengming’s shoulder reassuringly. It sounded like he was comforting his junior, but it was more like he was calming his own unease.

“Cultivation must not be rushed. Polish it slowly, take it slow.”

Gu Chengming sat on the wooden chair, seeing the concern and anxiety hidden in the old man’s eyes. A warmth rose in his heart.

He truly accepted this genuine care.

…

The next day.

At the Hunyuan Sect’s Martial Peak, the sect exchange meeting was held as scheduled.

The Hunyuan Sect was a famous body-cultivation sect in the cultivation world, with a fierce style that advocated proving one’s path through strength.

Their way of treating guests was straightforward. Whenever a guest arrived, they had to exchange a few moves on the training ground first. To these body cultivators, the most honest exchange between cultivators was through fists and feet. After a hearty fight, sitting down to drink and talk was better than a thousand polite words.

This happened to suit Emperor Bai’s appetite perfectly. Along the way, she had told Gu Chengming many times things like, “Emperor Gu, our sect should be like this in the future.”

Gu Chengming was a bit helpless, thinking to himself that sparring was fine, as long as Emperor Bai didn’t accidentally kill someone.

On the training ground, several young Hunyuan Sect disciples were the first to leap onto the stage, intending to test the mettle of this guest sword cultivator.

…

The body-cultivating disciples had vibrant blood qi, and their fist winds whistled with a brutal force far exceeding cultivators of the same rank. If an ordinary Third Realm cultivator dared to take them head-on, they would likely break their bones on the spot.

However, they were facing Gu Chengming. With the daily tempering of “Hundred Bones Resonating,” Gu Chengming’s physical strength had long since transcended the logic of the Third Realm.

The first disciple closed in, a heavy punch aimed straight at his face. Gu Chengming didn’t move his feet; he merely tilted his body to avoid the main attack and raised his right arm slightly, blocking with his forearm.

“Thud!”

A dull collision sound echoed. The disciple’s face changed instantly. The sensation vibrating back through his arm was not the softness of flesh and blood, but as if he had slammed into a basalt rock cast from pig iron.

Gu Chengming was as steady as a mountain, and not even a white mark appeared on the bluestone slabs beneath his feet. He took the opportunity to flip his wrist and push out a palm, the force measured perfectly. It pushed the opponent back five paces without harming their foundation.

A second and third disciple took the stage in succession, falling in the exact same manner.

Gu Chengming didn’t show off at all. He didn’t use any spiritual power or techniques, relying solely on the most basic mortal martial arts to effortlessly neutralize the heavy attacks.

The Hunyuan Sect elders watching from the sidelines fell into a collective silence.

…

As the leaders of a body-cultivation sect, their perception of blood qi and the physical body was far superior to others.

In the brief exchange just now, the toughness of Gu Chengming’s bones, the capacity of his meridians, and even the surging sound of his blood qi all displayed a foundation far exceeding the Third Realm.

Such physical attainment was already beyond the scope of what ordinary techniques could build.

Is this even a sword cultivator?!

In the past, there were always discussions about whether a sword cultivator’s attack was more potent or a body cultivator’s body was tougher.

Old Ghost Hua’s original idea was: if I am a sword cultivator with a body even more powerful than an ordinary body cultivator, wouldn’t I be invincible?

Everyone had only laughed at him.

And now, wasn’t Gu Chengming exactly the form Old Ghost Hua had dreamed of?

The gray-robed elder’s hand holding his teacup trembled slightly. All the sour words he had prepared yesterday were now forced back into his throat by these few punches.

On the other side, Hua Daiyi had his arms crossed. He looked calm on the surface, but he could no longer keep the corners of his mouth down.

[Faker holding back a laugh.jpg]

Silence spread around the stage, and the atmosphere became a bit subtle for a moment.

The winning side didn’t boast, but the losing side found it hard to even say the usual polite words.

If this awkwardness continued, everyone present would lose face.

After a moment of silence, the tall, thin elder finally couldn’t hold back.

He coughed twice, maintaining his elder’s dignity as he nitpicked, “Young friend Gu’s physique is indeed powerful, and his fist and foot skills are truly impressive. But if I remember correctly, the Wenjian Sect is a famous school of sword cultivators. Throughout today’s sparring, you haven’t used a single sword move, let alone the 《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》 that Old Ghost Hua is so proud of.”

At this point, the thin elder glanced at Hua Daiyi, his tone inevitably becoming a bit sour. “Could it be that the wine sword art is too obscure, and young friend has only just entered the threshold and hasn’t fully understood it? If that’s the case, it would be understandable.”

Hearing this, the other elders nearby nodded in agreement, as if they had finally found some ground.

Hua Daiyi snorted coldly, flicking his sleeve and stroking his beard as he put on a profound air. “Why would he need to draw his sword against a few juniors in a casual spar? This disciple of mine has a deep foundation and many methods; basic martial arts are enough to handle the scene.”

He paused and looked over the Hunyuan Sect elders, intentionally drawing out his words. “Furthermore, the 《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》 is heavy on killing intent; once the sword is out, there is no regret. I am afraid that once he draws his sword, he won’t be able to restrain the sword intent, which would unnecessarily ruin the harmony between our two sects.”

These words were spoken with great force, leaving the Hunyuan Sect elders speechless with anger.

But only Hua Daiyi knew that his hands inside his wide sleeves were clenched tightly, and cold sweat had already broken out on his palms.

He looked calm on the outside, but his heart was in turmoil.

Chengming hasn’t shown the Cangxian Wine Sword Art yet; could it be that he’s really too unfamiliar with it to show it off?

Just as the elders on both sides were secretly competing, the flow of spiritual energy in the world quietly changed.

The mountain breeze stopped at some point, and the air became filled with a heat that made one’s blood boil. On the east side of the training ground, several spirit birds that had been preening their feathers on the branches suddenly acted as if they had met a natural enemy, letting out shrill cries and flapping their wings to flee in panic.

Thick clouds silently blotted out the sun, and low rumbles came from deep within the earth, causing even the bluestone slabs at the edge of the stage to vibrate. A few wisps of murky black qi quietly seeped out from the cracks in the stones.

An abrupt change!

A dull boom suddenly erupted from the array area on the east side of the training ground. Several spiderweb-like cracks split the bluestone ground, and a majestic and violent surge of spiritual power roared out from underground.

“The seal has loosened!” a guarding disciple cried out in alarm.

The Hunyuan Sect guarded the Cuiping Mountains, and there were several ancient malevolent forces suppressed beneath the ground.

The recent turbulence in the spiritual veins had caused the power of the great array to drop sharply, and this violent aura finally tore open a crack, instantly flooding half of the training ground.

…

The first few disciples hit were pierced by the black qi, their eyes turning blood-red as their spiritual power went completely haywire. They roared and attacked frantically, regardless of friend or foe. The scene instantly fell into chaos.

The elders moved to suppress them, but the disciples corrupted by the malevolent aura possessed immense strength. Just capturing them took up most of the elders’ energy.

Meanwhile, the crack was still expanding, and the malevolent aura continued to surge out like a fountain.

Gu Chengming did not hesitate.

He flashed out the moment the berserk disciples charged toward the crowd. The Hundred Bones Resonating in his body activated, his blood qi surging as he firmly protected several young disciples who couldn’t retreat in time.

But the concentration of the malevolent aura was still rising. Hundred Bones Resonating was focused on offense and defense; suppressing a few crazed disciples was no problem, but if he wanted to completely disperse the malevolent aura without harming their lives—

Gu Chengming’s fingers reached toward the storage pouch at his waist.

Hua Daiyi glimpsed this movement, and his heart skipped a beat.

What Gu Chengming pulled out was not a weapon, but a wine flask.

The lid was flicked open, and a rich fragrance of wine filled the air. He tilted his head back, his Adam’s apple moving as the strong wine entered his throat and turned into a scalding river. It washed through his limbs and bones with abundant wine qi, and a sense of drunkenness instantly rushed to his skull.

Then, he drew his sword.

The long sword left its sheath, and the air swirling in the training ground seemed to be cut off in mid-air.

The clear sword light and the dense wine qi intertwined on the blade, turning into a flowing halo. Gu Chengming took a step forward, and his figure suddenly staggered.

It wasn’t from exhaustion, but from true drunkenness—body drunk, mind sober.

Under the catalyst of the wine, his posture became soft and casual. His steps were crooked, like a drunkard dancing alone under the moon. But every turn that looked like a fall perfectly avoided the heavy blows of the berserk disciples.

His sword edge was not aimed at any single person. The sword tip hung low, dragging on the ground, tracing a winding and continuous trail of wine qi in the void.

Then, he flipped his wrist and swung a sword from bottom to top.

Only one strike.

A majestic sword light rose from the ground. The wine qi and sword intent complemented each other, turning into a dazzling silver-white pillar of light that pierced straight into the clouds. This sword intent didn’t take a fierce and domineering path; instead, it was like a master butcher deconstructing an ox, precisely cutting into the weak nodes where the malevolent aura intertwined with a flowing grace. It neatly sliced, dispersed, and drove away the surrounding violent power.

The sword qi whistled past. The blood-red in the berserk disciples’ eyes receded like a tide, and the black qi occupying their meridians was stripped away by the sword qi soaked in wine, turning into nothingness in mid-air.

As for the seal crack, the overflowing malevolent clouds seemed to have met a natural enemy. Under the threat of the remaining sword light, they scrambled back into the depths of the earth.

From drawing the sword to returning it to the scabbard, it took only three breaths in total.

…

Only the fragrance of wine remained, lingering for a long time.

On the training ground, one could hear a pin drop.

Everyone was as still as a wooden chicken.

The first to snap out of it were the elders who had been full of complaints just now.

The teacup in the gray-robed elder’s hand fell with a “clatter,” shattering into pieces. He didn’t even notice the scalding tea soaking his hem. He stared fixedly at Gu Chengming, who swayed slightly after sheathing his sword. His lips opened and closed several times like a stranded fish, but he couldn’t utter a single word.

The expression of the thin elder beside him was even more spectacular. Yesterday, he had arrogantly suggested “letting young friend Gu show his hand in public.” Now the boy had indeed shown it, but the weight of it was so heavy it almost shattered his dao heart.

As a Fourth Realm great cultivator, he understood the value of that sword better than anyone. The harmonious convergence of wine qi and sword qi, the microscopic control of force, plus the crystal-clear judgment under a drunken state—

And you call this just entering the threshold?!

“This…”

The thin elder swallowed with difficulty and turned to look at Hua Daiyi.

Hua Daiyi was still standing in place with his arms crossed. The old man was using all the composure of his life to maintain his air of a casual expert.

Finally, Hua Daiyi let out a long breath and squeezed out a four-word comment: “Not bad, not bad.” Then he laughed out loud. “It’s just that Little Gu’s talent is acceptable.”

This wasn’t a lie; Hua Daiyi had indeed never taught Gu Chengming specific sword moves.

But combined with the twitching corner of his eye, it was completely unconvincing. In their hearts, all the elders present cursed in unison: What kind of luck did this old drunkard have to have his ancestors’ graves smoke like this!

…

That evening.

At the Hunyuan Sect’s welcoming feast, the atmosphere was worlds apart from yesterday.

Hua Daiyi sat grandly in the main seat. He had already told the story of “my disciple leveling the malevolent aura with one sword” for the third time, and the version was constantly being updated.

The first time he heard it, it was “that sword had quite an aura.” The second time, it became “that sword shook the heavens and earth.” By the third time, it had soared to “the brilliance of that sword was not much inferior to mine in my prime.”

Several Hunyuan Sect friends sat dryly to the side, heads down as they gulped down wine, no one willing to respond.

Until night fell, at Hua Daiyi’s annex.

There was no talk of a sect feast’s pomp—no deacons to accompany them, no disciples to serve food, not even a proper table.

The courtyard’s blue bricks were covered in moss, and empty wine jars were piled haphazardly in the corners. The two sat on the stone steps like this, one flask each, drinking alone under the moon.

The night sky of the Huntian Plain was far clearer than that of the Central Plains. The star river was like a waterfall hanging upside down, and the brilliant stars filled the night curtain to the brim.

Hua Daiyi drank his own home-brewed cloudy wine, while Gu Chengming drank the osmanthus brew he had bought from the market at the foot of the mountain. The wine was not an immortal vintage, but with the stars overhead, there was no need for fine nectar.

After three rounds of wine, a drunken look appeared in the old man’s eyes, and his chatter finally opened up.

“Little Gu.”

Hua Daiyi shook the clay flask in his hand, his gaze crossing the courtyard wall to the night sky. “Do you know the history of this Hunyuan Sect?”

Gu Chengming set down his wine cup and shook his head slightly, waiting for him to continue.

“That’s a long-ago account.” Hua Daiyi spoke as if on a whim. “The predecessor of the Hunyuan Sect was originally a merger of two sects. One was called the ‘Huntian Gate,’ which specialized in domineering body techniques to achieve sagehood through the physical body. Their fists were hard enough, but unfortunately, most of them were unrefined brutes. The other sect was called the ‘Yuandian Pavilion’—” He paused and tilted his head to swallow a mouthful of strong wine.

“The Yuandian Pavilion specialized in the collection and dispersal of classics and historical research. A bunch of book-obsessed scholars who buried their heads in old papers and nitpicked over ancient inscriptions all day. In terms of fighting, they were of little use; but in terms of unraveling threads and tracing origins, their skills were top-tier in the entire cultivation world. Huntian Gate provided the blade, and Yuandian Pavilion provided the brain. ‘Hun’ took the power of the heavens, and ‘Yuan’ took the lineage of erudition. Only with the covenant of the two did today’s Hunyuan Sect come to be.”

At this point, a faint smile appeared on Hua Daiyi’s lips.

“At the founding of the sect, both the civil and military were valued equally; no one could do without the other. Think about it—brute force alone is just a mad ox to be driven; having only classics means not even having the ability to protect the books when disaster strikes. Only when two broken jades are joined can it be called a complete great sect.”

“But later—”

He opened a new jar of wine and gulped it down. He drank this mouthful very quickly, the wine dripping down his white beard.

“Later, some things changed.”

The old man’s narrative began to become blurred.

When the wine surged, his speech was fast, mixed with dry laughs that were hard to distinguish as sad or mocking. When he was sober, his words were vague, swallowing those key secrets along with the strong wine.

Gu Chengming didn’t speak to urge him, but sat peacefully, piecing together the fragments of words the old man threw out in his mind.

A secret history that had been deliberately erased by the Hunyuan Sect for decades slowly unfolded.

…

Long ago.

The Yuandian Pavilion lineage was already like a flickering candle in the sect. Within a hundred years, the body-cultivation lineage had produced several Fourth Realm great cultivators, shaking all directions, and their status rose accordingly. Meanwhile, all the Yuandian Pavilion could show for itself were three sets of dusty ancient book catalogs and a spiritual vein survey record. In the elder meetings, their voice was pitifully weak.

It was during such precarious times that the last successor of the Yuandian Pavilion—a scholar-cultivator named Shen Yuanbai—dug up an ancient secret while clearing out the remnants of the old pavilion.

According to the records, something extremely dangerous was suppressed beneath the Cuiping Mountains. Shen Yuanbai named it the “Dao Plague Source” in his notes.

It wasn’t ordinary malevolent aura or demons, but a cosmic calamity that could pollute a cultivator’s dao heart and twist the operation of techniques from the foundation.

Back then, it wasn’t just the Hunyuan Sect maintaining the seal, but a protective iron covenant jointly established by the Hunyuan Sect’s Yuandian Pavilion and the Cloud Moon Sect.

The two were connected by a “Cross-Reference Array.” The Hunyuan Sect suppressed its external form, while the Cloud Moon Sect locked its internal spirit. Only with the integration of form and spirit could the great array endure.

However, with the change of a certain sect leader, the struggle over the sect’s direction completely exploded. The body-cultivation lineage decided that the Yuandian Pavilion was wasting resources. Can researching old books break through realms? It was better to tilt all the spirit stones and pills toward the body-cultivation path to produce more powerful fighters.

Under the suppression, the Yuandian Pavilion lost its power. Its disciples scattered, and its funding was cut off. Those ancient scrolls about the Dao Plague seal, along with the life’s work of dozens of generations of the Yuandian Pavilion, were swept into the old pavilion like worn-out shoes to gather dust.

By the time Shen Yuanbai discovered the seal was about to collapse, several decades had passed since the last array repair. Once the protective iron covenant was broken and the Dao Plague leaked, the living beings around the Cuiping Mountains would be the first to suffer.

Shen Yuanbai carried his bamboo slips and forced his way into a high-level meeting, weeping blood as he begged to restart the array.

And then?

Hua Daiyi gave a self-mocking smile. “Naturally, they didn’t believe him.” The reason was very grand.

The bone slips were ancient, and their authenticity was hard to verify. The remnants of the Yuandian Pavilion didn’t discover it sooner or later, but jumped out to alarm everyone just when the sect was cutting costs—it was clearly a move with ulterior motives. The Cuiping Mountains had been peaceful for a hundred years; where was this Dao Plague? You, Shen Yuanbai, are just trying to use this as a pretext to overturn the case and restore the old system of the Yuandian Pavilion.

Several charges were pressed: forging ancient slips, spreading rumors to deceive the masses, and threatening the sect.

Shen Yuanbai was stripped of his identity and expelled from the mountain gate.

Hua Daiyi held his coarse porcelain wine bowl, his eyes staring blankly at the sky.

“In a hall full of great cultivators, I was the only one who stood up and said a word of justice for him.”

He didn’t describe the clash of blades that day in detail. But in his heart, Gu Chengming had already painted the picture: a marginal elder reeking of wine, arguing for a fellow disciple who had been condemned as a liar in front of the furious body-cultivation leadership.

The outcome was obvious.

Hua Daiyi was lucky enough to stay in the sect, but from that day on, every word he said became drunken nonsense in the ears of others.

His suggestions were no longer recorded in the sect’s files, and his warnings only drew knowing smirks from his colleagues.

“Oh, Old Hua, you’ve had too much to drink again.”

A drunkard cannot be trusted.

Everything he says is drunken talk.

…

The night wind suddenly grew stronger.

Hua Daiyi was already dead drunk, the clay bowl in his hand empty. He tilted his head back, shaking the last drop of wine into his lips.

“Later on, Yuanbai disappeared.” His tone was as calm as water, as if talking about tomorrow’s weather.

“Some say he went mad, some say he died. I searched through the mountain gullies for a long time.” “Didn’t find him.”

The bright moonlight fell like frost on his graying temples, outlining the old man’s hunched and lonely silhouette.

“I’ve always been wondering—” He shook the light, empty wine bowl. “Those disasters he dug up… were they really true?”

“I believe him. But what use is my belief?”

“The mad talk of a drunkard—” Hua Daiyi let out a long sigh, his shoulders completely slumping. “Who listens?”

Gu Chengming still didn’t respond.

In this situation, any words of comfort seemed frivolous and empty. He silently picked up the osmanthus brew bought from the market, refilled Hua Daiyi’s empty bowl, then raised his own cup and touched it lightly in the air, drinking another cup with the old man.

The moonlight was like silk, and the ruined courtyard fell into a long silence.

In this silence, Gu Chengming suddenly realized something.

Since Hua Daiyi started talking about the past, the dialogue box for 【《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》】 in his Sea of Consciousness had been hanging there brightly.

The sword art that usually loved to pontificate on worldly affairs after a drink didn’t offer a sharp critique this time.

Gu Chengming was thoughtful. Coming to the Hunyuan Sect was indeed productive; Martial Uncle Hua’s drunken confession should be the key to increasing the favorability of this wine sword art.

Looking at it this way, the true meaning of the 《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》 was not some scholar’s elegance or the grandiosity of singing with a sword. It was even less about the spirited feeling of looking at a sword by a lamp while drunk.

It was the helplessness of a man carrying a belly full of truth, yet forced to watch the world pretend to sleep while no one was willing to believe.

In that case, the sword art’s habit of pontificating on worldly affairs was easy to explain—nourishing sword qi with wine qi, the body like floating duckweed, drunk as mud.

Because only by pretending to be dead drunk did one dare to speak the sober truth. And only at the moment of speaking the truth was the sword hidden in the wine truly alive.

Gu Chengming wanted to ask Hua Daiyi a few more questions, but he turned his head to see that the old man had fallen fast asleep against a pillar, his empty wine bowl tilted on his knee, his snoring like thunder.

Gu Chengming pulled up the robe that had slipped halfway down Hua Daiyi’s shoulder. Without a word, he quietly got up and left the room.

Walking slowly along the gravel path of the annex, the mountain night wind carrying the bitter scent of vegetation blew against him, dispersing what little fatigue he had.

He was still repeatedly replaying Hua Daiyi’s words in his mind.

The tragic state of the Yuandian Pavilion’s destruction, Shen Yuanbai’s desperate plea—the many fragments intertwined in his thoughts, gradually outlining the dangerous situation beneath the surface.

If what Shen Yuanbai said was true, that seal had not been repaired for decades.

Gu Chengming’s pace slowed involuntarily, his gaze turning toward the mountain ridge on the west side of the Hunyuan Sect.

Hua Daiyi had mentioned that the old pavilion was located there, long designated as a forbidden area and usually ignored.

The night was thick. At the guarding point on the outskirts of the old pavilion, several disciples were holding lanterns and changing shifts.

Handing over tokens, verifying identities, confirming patrol routes—their movements were standard, the process seamless and without a single flaw.

But Gu Chengming stopped in place, studied them for a moment, and immediately noticed something wrong.

It wasn’t the silence of an empty night, but that these disciples themselves were too deathly still.

Gu Chengming narrowed his eyes and made no sound, continuing to patrol along the mountain path while secretly noting several sentry posts. The more he looked, the more his brow furrowed.

This was not an isolated case.

The closer the guarding disciples were to the old pavilion, the more their behavior showed an indescribable submissiveness.

Meanwhile, at the posts further away, the disciples’ expressions were much more vivid—some were napping against the wall, some were chatting in low voices, and occasionally a few muffled laughs and curses could be heard.

The contrast was too stark.

Unknowingly, Gu Chengming reached a ridge with a wide view.

Standing there, the silhouette of the old pavilion in the moonlight was as silent as a massive tomb. There were no lights around, only a faint buzzing sound that was almost swallowed by the night wind, coming intermittently from deep underground.

He slowly crouched down, his five fingers pressed flat against the cold bluestone surface. He activated the Yin Yang Creation Strategy, using red dust aura to probe deep into the spiritual veins.

The feedback he received made him frown slightly.

The Dao Plague Hua Daiyi spoke of. It wasn’t “might leak in the future,” but was already spreading in the shadows.

The abnormality of the guarding disciples near the old pavilion was precisely the result of long-term exposure to trace amounts of the Dao Plague.

Gu Chengming withdrew his palm and slowly stood up.

The night wind blew into his collar, bringing a bone-chilling cold. This matter had to be told to Hua Daiyi immediately.

But quickly, a more urgent thought arose. Since the seal that hadn’t been repaired for decades had already leaked, how much longer was left before it completely collapsed?

The answer came much faster than expected.

At the exact moment he turned to head back to the annex, the mountain rock beneath his feet shook violently without warning.

On the west side of the Hunyuan Sect, in the direction of the old pavilion, a dull roar like an ancient beast breaking its chains sounded one after another, from far to near, from dull to deafening.

Amidst the mountain-shaking tremor, the light of the array sealing the old pavilion brightened suddenly, then split into terrifying cracks.

The trace amounts of Dao Plague that had seeped through for decades were just trickles from a crack in a dam.

And now, the dam had burst.

Dense, grayish-black mist surged and erupted from beneath the old pavilion, its spreading speed alarming.

This mist surged casually, not like the violent rampage of demonic qi, nor like the foul stench of an evil cultivator’s miasma tide.

Its color was between gray and black, dim and dull, yet it carried a strangeness that made one’s skin crawl, as if it had turned all the world’s numbness into a mist spread across the mountains.

Any cultivator touched by the mist fell silent within a few breaths.

…

Amidst the mountain-shaking tremor, the array sealing the old pavilion split into terrifying cracks.

Before this, the reason the disciples guarding the old pavilion had abnormal emotions was precisely because the trace amounts of Dao Plague leaking from underground had been eroding their state of mind.

A trace of leakage could already smooth out the edges of humanity, and tonight, one layer of the sealing array had completely failed.

A large amount of dense, grayish-black mist surged out from beneath the old pavilion.

The mist spread silently, not like the violent rampage of demonic qi, nor like the foul stench of an evil cultivator’s miasma tide. Its color was between gray and black, dim and dull, yet it carried a strangeness that made one’s skin crawl.

Any cultivator touched by the mist fell silent within a few breaths.

Cultivators tainted by the Dao Plague would not go berserk or mad; they simply stopped questioning. If you ordered them east, they went east; if you ordered them west, they went west.

Because they had lost the ability to ask “why.”

Shen Yuanbai’s discovery back then was true; the seal was indeed breaking.

The entire Hunyuan Sect fell into complete chaos.

Elders and powerhouses rushed from their respective peaks. When they saw the gray mist surging from beneath the old pavilion, their faces turned ashen. The high-level members who had ignored the old pavilion’s hidden danger for decades were now jolted awake, but it was too late.

Hua Daiyi stood before the old pavilion.

The grayish-black mist rolled and roared at his feet. The cold moonlight spilled through the gaps in the clouds, making his white temples look particularly stark.

There was no anger on the old man’s face, nor any hint of the satisfaction of “I told you so,” just as it had been every time in the past few decades. Someone had mentioned an old matter that shouldn’t have been mentioned, and someone was finally being forced to face the truth they had been avoiding. And all he could do was take a sip of strong wine and remain silent.

At the same moment Hua Daiyi fell silent, the dialogue box in Gu Chengming’s Sea of Consciousness lit up.

【The dialogue box for 《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》 flashes repeatedly, as if hesitating whether to speak.】

【After a long time, it speaks.】

【《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》: …Young friend.】

【It pauses, as if weighing its words.】

【Then it asks: Those things that were treated as nonsense… they weren’t actually all nonsense, were they?】

The Cangxian Wine Sword Art did not know Hua Daiyi; it had no direct memory of its creator.

It didn’t know Hua Daiyi’s appearance, didn’t know the hardships of his life, nor did it know the name of his close friend.

Those drunken “pontifications on worldly affairs”—

Criticizing the unfair distribution of sect resources, sighing that the rights of rogue cultivators were like floating duckweed, mocking the imperial family’s nominal rule over local areas. Those complaints that the 《Zhou Rites Heavenly Rectifying Art》 judged as “rogue cultivator thinking,” those cynical remarks that sounded like drunken nonsense, those increasingly heated and outrageous rants like “to hell with the first to ascend helping the rest later”—none of them were ever drunken talk.

Gu Chengming understood in his heart and smiled slightly.

Even if the Cangxian Wine Sword Art hadn’t asked for help, Gu Chengming already knew its true thoughts.

—Miss Wine Sword Art, the Demon Lord you ordered has arrived.

…

Outside the old pavilion, the Hunyuan Sect elders were at a loss.

The Dao Plague was raging. They had no Yuandian Pavilion inheritance, nor did they know how to contact the Cloud Moon Sect to restart the protective covenant. Most fatally, they had no idea how this seal operated.

After the Yuandian Pavilion was marginalized, all the classics related to seal maintenance were thrown into the old pavilion. The old pavilion had been sealed for years, with no one organizing or reading them. Now that it had become the source of the Dao Plague leak, entering now to search was no different from seeking death.

In their desperation, several elders proposed a “pragmatic” countermeasure—

To completely blow up and seal off the old pavilion along with everything underground.

Since the Dao Plague had already leaked, rather than bothering to repair an array they didn’t know if they could fix, it was better to use thunderous methods to directly block the source.

First, trigger the sect-protecting array to forcibly suppress the Dao Plague, then lay down dozens of overlapping restrictions to cast the ground beneath the old pavilion into an iron-tight dead zone, leaving no gap.

As for the records Shen Yuanbai left behind—matters had come to this, what use were they?

Not a few people agreed with this method. The logic was sound—

Things that couldn’t be fixed should be completely buried; it was better than letting them continue to worsen.

But when Gu Chengming heard this, his brow furrowed immediately.

Violent blocking was definitely not the right way.

The Dao Plague was essentially a cosmic tumor, not a hole that could be plugged with a stray rock.

If the “Cross-Reference Array” of the seal wasn’t repaired from the source, the Dao Plague would never dissipate; instead, it would follow the spiritual veins and seep into the wider world.

The old pavilion was just the exit on the Hunyuan Sect’s side. Once blocked, the Dao Plague would surely turn around—straight toward the Cloud Moon Sect on the other side of the Cuiping Mountains.

Gu Chengming’s mind suddenly flashed with the eerie scene Ji Yixi had described: the shadows of the Cloud Moon Sect disciples were wickedly displaced; the sect-protecting array was closing from the outside in and tightening from the top down, clearly guarding against something breaking out of the ground; even the Imperial Observatory’s deductionists had developed cognitive disorders after glimpsing those images.

The anomalies over there were by no means an isolated situation.

The cracks in the seal had long been secretly devouring the Cloud Moon Sect. If the Hunyuan Sect used violent blocking here, it would be no different from pushing all the overwhelming pressure to the other side. At that time, not only would the Dao Plague not be calmed, but it would burst through from the Cloud Moon Sect’s direction with unstoppable force.

He stated this deduction clearly and concisely.

The elders’ argument came to an abrupt halt. After a dead silence, someone asked in a low voice, “Then what should be done?”

Gu Chengming stepped out from the crowd and spoke loudly, leaving only one sentence:

“Seniors, let me try.”

…

What he was going to do was decisive and clear.

Go deep beneath the old pavilion, find the seal’s core, use his own methods to temporarily slow the spread of the Dao Plague, and at the same time retrieve the original records Shen Yuanbai had sealed back then.

In those records, there was not only a detailed analysis of the seal’s principles but also the complete method for restarting the protective covenant. Without this, the protective covenant was just a piece of paper.

In the entire sect, only he could break this situation.

It wasn’t that his cultivation was the highest in the sect.

The Hunyuan Sect had a deep foundation, with Fifth Realm and even quasi-Sixth Realm powerhouses everywhere. To outsiders, in terms of combat, any elder present was not inferior to him.

However, the terror of the Dao Plague was never in its destructive power, but in its erosion.

It didn’t harm the physical body or destroy the meridians; it specifically cut the “heart” of a cultivator—twisting judgment, stripping away will, and overturning the perception of the “Dao.”

The deeper one’s cultivation, the more deeply rooted their dao foundation. Once backlashed by the Dao Plague, the outcome was even more irredeemable.

But Gu Chengming was an anomaly.

He possessed the “Peace Legacy” of the 《Zhou Rites Heavenly Rectifying Art》. When facing laws that tampered with, twisted, or overturned things, he had a natural resistance. Not to mention he had other techniques protecting him; ordinary illusions couldn’t affect him.

The Dao Plague intended to twist the state of mind, but he was exactly a tough nut it couldn’t crack.

When Hua Daiyi heard Gu Chengming volunteer, the old man instinctively raised his hand to stop him. This boy was half his disciple; how could he watch his own disciple jump into a fire pit?

But as the words were about to leave his mouth, he saw Gu Chengming’s eyes.

That gaze was clear, calm, and held a rock-like certainty, exactly like a certain person he had seen in his youth.

Hua Daiyi’s withered lips parted, but he finally swallowed his words of protest. He fell silent for two breaths, reached into his robes, pulled out a rather mottled copper key, and solemnly placed it into Gu Chengming’s palm.

“The key to the inner pavilion of the old pavilion.” The old man’s voice was raspy. “Yuanbai left it for me before he left.”

“He said if one day those records were needed, use this key to open the door.” “I’ve kept it well for decades.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the rolling gray mist in the distance.

“Today, it’s finally being put to use.”

…

On the stone steps before the old pavilion.

Gu Chengming did not move immediately. He lifted his hem, sat down on the spot, pulled a wine flask from his storage pouch, and unhurriedly filled a cup.

Ten yards away, the grayish-black mist crashed against the spiritual light barrier the elders had temporarily formed, making an ear-grating corrosive sound.

The barrier flickered, ripples oscillating violently; it clearly wouldn’t hold for much longer.

In his Sea of Consciousness, the dialogue box lit up again.

Gu Chengming thought it was going to start pontificating again. After all, a textbook example of “sect high-level incompetence leading to a great disaster” was right before them—a perfect, tailor-made subject.

However, it asked:

【《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》: Young friend, why do you want to help them?】

【They didn’t believe the truth back then. They drove away the one who spoke the truth and forced the one who argued for him to become a drunkard.】

【Now that disaster is upon them, they are in a panic. Each of them is looking at each other, not even able to clearly say what sins they committed back then.】

【Is it worth it for you to risk your life to help them?】

Gu Chengming was naturally clear about these words.

It wasn’t the 《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》 weighing whether it was worth helping the Hunyuan Sect.

It was asking—

Is the act of speaking the truth itself worth it?

If no one is willing to believe an act of justice; if the person who sticks to the truth is instead expelled, mocked, and forgotten by the world; if the person who spent half his life organizing classics to try and turn the tide ends up disappearing without even getting a single “you were right.”

In that case, what is the point of speaking the truth?

It would be better to get dead drunk.

It would be better to turn all that hot blood and truth into drunken nonsense. After speaking, others laugh, and you laugh with them. No one takes it seriously, and no one gets hurt.

This was the deepest knot in the heart of the 《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》.

Gu Chengming thought for a moment and didn’t rush to answer. Instead, he raised his cup, drained the remaining wine in one gulp, and then steadily set the empty cup on the stone steps.

“It’s not to help them.” Gu Chengming spoke with a light laugh. “It’s so that the person who spoke the truth back then didn’t speak in vain.”

Gu Chengming stood up, brushed the dust from his robes, and cast his gaze through the night at the grayish-black mist surging in the direction of the old pavilion.

“Do you know the difference between unofficial history and official history?”

【《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》 listens intently】

“The difference isn’t in which one is true and which one is false.” Gu Chengming spoke jokingly. “The difference is only in which one you are more willing to believe.”

He gripped the mottled copper key in his palm and turned toward the old pavilion.

“And what I’m going to do now is to let what I believe in win for once.”

…

Beneath the old pavilion.

The Dao Plague was like a burst dam, rushing toward him.

The grayish-black mist in the core area of the seal was so thick it had almost solidified. In this space, every breath felt like swallowing old, moldy cotton that had been rubbed and ruined.

The route of the 《Zhou Rites Heavenly Rectifying Art》 operated at full speed in his meridians.

Noble qi was like a racing river, crushing the gray mist that tried to penetrate his state of mind one by one.

But Gu Chengming knew in his heart that even with noble qi protecting him, being in such a high concentration of the Dao Plague meant the load on his spiritual veins was rising rapidly; he couldn’t delay.

The copper key entered the lock of the inner pavilion.

With a sharp “click,” the door hinges, which had been sealed for decades, made a dull grinding sound, and the inner pavilion doors slowly retreated to both sides.

The stale scent of old paper and ink mixed with dust rushed toward him. The inner pavilion was cramped, with yellowed bamboo slips and beast-skin scrolls neatly stacked on wooden shelves against the four walls. And on the sandalwood table in the center, a sealed jade box was quietly enshrined.

Beside the jade box, a letter was pressed down.

There was no signature on the envelope, only three words scribbled: “For Old Hua.”

Gu Chengming picked up the letter, his movements pausing slightly.

This was supposed to be a private letter to be delivered untouched to Hua Daiyi. But with the current emergency, the concentration of the Dao Plague could trigger another riot at any time; he had to confirm in the shortest time possible that this letter and the items in the jade box were indeed the key to breaking the situation.

The letter unfolded, the handwriting upright and elegant, carrying a scholarly air.

“Old Hua, I knew you would come. If it wasn’t you, it would be someone you brought.”

Gu Chengming’s gaze narrowed slightly as he continued reading.

“The records are all in the jade box. The repair method for the seal, the restart process for the protective covenant, the complete map of the Cross-Reference Array—I’ve organized everything. Even if the sect doesn’t believe me, even if no one comes, these things being here won’t become false. I don’t regret it.”

“I know you’ve been feeling bad for me. Thinking you failed to protect me, thinking the world is unfair, thinking that even though you stood up and spoke, nothing changed. But Old Hua, the truth doesn’t become false just because no one believes it. It’s still true. It’s true for a year, true for ten years, and it will still be true for a hundred years.”

“I’ve placed it here; someone will see it one day.”

There was no name at the signature, only one final line of words. The force of the pen was significantly heavier, piercing through the paper:

“When that time comes, you won’t have to rely on wine to dare to speak the truth anymore.”

…

Gu Chengming folded the letter back to its original state and put it into his storage pouch along with the jade box.

In that single breath.

The rock layer beneath his feet shook violently, and the concentration of the Dao Plague increased several times in an instant!

The jade box was the key array eye of the seal’s core. Shen Yuanbai had cleverly used the seal’s own barrier back then to protect these documents from erosion. Now that the jade box was removed, it was equivalent to draining the final foundation of the seal.

A large amount of grayish-black mist erupted from the cracks in the ground. Under the twisted pressure around him, even the noble qi of the 《Peace Legacy》 began to show a flickering stagnation.

Warning signs blared in his Sea of Consciousness.

【《Zhou Rites Heavenly Rectifying Art》: Chengming, you cannot stay here long. The Peace Legacy can block the erosion of the mind, but if your spiritual power is polluted by the Dao Plague, the consequences will be unthinkable.】

He had to break out before the seal completely collapsed, and he had to protect the life’s work in his storage pouch from being tainted.

Gu Chengming flipped his wrist, and his long sword left its sheath.

To carve out a path of life in the twisted fog of the Dao Plague, the physical techniques and noble qi of 《Hundred Bones Resonating》 were no longer enough. He needed a blade that could “cut through the false and empty.”

He untied the wine flask from his waist and tilted his head back to swallow the last mouthful of spirit wine.

The wine entered his throat, and the wine qi rushed into his limbs and bones like a star river hanging upside down.

On the system panel, the dialogue box for the 《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》 lit up.

But unexpectedly, it didn’t start a long-winded pontification on worldly affairs, didn’t tell obscure unofficial histories, didn’t curse the sect’s corruption, and certainly didn’t cite classics to attack the world’s situation.

【《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》: …Young friend.】

Its voice had lost the excitement and talkativeness after drinking in the past, turning into an unprecedented sobriety and quiet.

【《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》: I’ve been using wine to say those words. Saying things no one would believe, saying things that were treated as jokes. Because words spoken while drunk don’t count; even if I’m mocked, I can use ‘drunken nonsense’ as an excuse. I thought that only in this way would I not get hurt.】

Gu Chengming’s five fingers tightened, firmly locking onto the sword hilt.

【But that sentence you said just now made me suddenly realize one thing. ‘Let a truth that lost win once.’】

The grayish-black mist from all directions roared like an evil beast, and the pressure of the Dao Plague was still rising.

【As long as someone is willing to pick up those buried things, walk out, and show them to everyone—‘Look, this is true.’ Not said while drunk, not using wine for courage. But said soberly, uprightly, and honorably.】

Gu Chengming held the long sword horizontally before him, the sword edge pointing diagonally at the ground.

The wine qi in his meridians boiled and surged. However, this wine qi had none of the usual indulgence and blurriness; it turned into a pure ambition for the journey ahead—not drinking to escape reality, but to toast himself for the path he was about to face.

【《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》 raises its head. Its gaze is as clear as a sword.】

【《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》 Favorability +40】

【Current Favorability: 75】

【Status Change: Upgraded from [Friendly] to [Like]】

Sword light suddenly bloomed in the dark underground!

This time, the Cangxian Wine Sword Art completely discarded the detour of “body drunk, mind sober.” There were no staggering steps, no tentative drunken poses. It was the sobriety hidden behind the escape, and now, it was “the wine has cleared, and the sword has awakened.”

Drink all the wine in the flask, carry all the true meaning refined from the wine qi, and strike with a sober, serious, and unyielding sword!

The long sword swung down.

The blade cut through the void, bringing a sharp whistle. It wasn’t a head-on collision of brute force, but a legalistic severance almost like “parting the clouds to see the sun.” The grayish-black fog of the Dao Plague was neatly torn open from the center before the brilliant sword light. As the sword qi surged, all the coldness trying to twist the mind receded, forcibly carving out a straight, clear path leading directly to the old pavilion’s exit in the chaos.

The fragrance of wine and sword intent blended perfectly.

The clear wine fragrance washed away the drunken haze. Gu Chengming moved with his sword, his robes fluttering, his hand tightly protecting Shen Yuanbai’s records.

The sword light turned into a silver-white dragon, brutally tearing out a trail in the grayish-black underground.

He stepped over the remnants of the Dao Plague and fought his way out from the deepest part of the old pavilion.

However, the Dao Plague would not sit by and watch its prey leave.

…

Gu Chengming had just stepped onto the stone steps of the old pavilion’s second floor when a mountain-collapsing roar sounded behind him. The Dao Plague, having lost the suppression of the array eye, turned into an overwhelming grayish-black tide, carrying the scent of decay and numbness, frantically pouring toward him from all directions.

The wall of the tide formed by the Dao Plague was dozens of feet high. Countless twisted faces were faintly visible in the murky gray mist—the residual wills of those eroded by the Dao Plague over the generations. They were neither sad nor happy, their faces blurred, but they all opened their mouths in unison, issuing a silent invitation.

Don’t struggle anymore; put down the sword.

Being drunk is so good; being awake is too tiring.

Gu Chengming’s pace did not stop.

The noble qi of the 《Zhou Rites Heavenly Rectifying Art》 operated roaringly in his meridians, completely crushing the whispers trying to seep into his divine sense.

He swung a sword back, and the sword glow condensed from wine qi tore a gap in the grayish-black tide, barely winning a three-breath gap.

But the tide closed again in the blink of an eye, coming even more fiercely.

The passage of the old pavilion began to collapse in the violent tremors. The stone beams overhead snapped one after another, and rubble poured down like rain. Gu Chengming tilted his body to avoid a falling pillar, his toe kicking off a pile of rubble to propel himself up several yards, barely avoiding the gray mist surging on the ground.

By now, the spiritual power in his Sea of Qi was close to exhaustion.

In his Sea of Consciousness, 《Hundred Bones Resonating》 was the first to make a decision.

【《Hundred Bones Resonating》 took over the physical blood qi on its own, recovering and compressing the body-tempering power scattered throughout the limbs and bones, pouring it all into the legs.】

Not for a death struggle, but to escape.

Gu Chengming understood and immediately sheathed his sword, protecting the jade box and the letter tightly to his chest, all his blood qi gathered at his feet.

The grayish-black tide behind him pursued relentlessly. Those blurred faces in the thick fog were thrown off and then closed in again, like an inescapable nightmare.

The collapsing passage narrowed more and more. He was almost running through the gaps against the shattered walls, his shoulders and arms cut with several bloody gashes by the sharp broken stones. The blood had just splashed out when it was swallowed by the rolling gray mist behind him.

Ahead, the outline of the old pavilion’s door finally emerged.

A ray of cold moonlight seeped through the crack in the door, as thin as a silver thread, looking piercingly bright and hot in this grayish-black underground.

The Dao Plague seemed to realize its prey was about to escape. The grayish-black tide suddenly accelerated behind him, turning into a giant hand that blotted out the sun, its five fingers closing and coming down on his head.

Gu Chengming didn’t look back. In the final step of his sprint, he drew his sword fiercely.

This wasn’t a complete sword move, and his spiritual power was almost gone.

He merely fused the last bit of wine qi in his body with the remaining sword intent and poured it into the blade without reservation, thrusting it upward toward the giant hand of gray mist pressing down.

The moment the sword tip pierced the gray mist, the fragrance of wine exploded.

…

Using the recoil of this sword, Gu Chengming’s figure shot out of the old pavilion door like an arrow.

Outside the old pavilion.

The moment Gu Chengming rushed out of the door, the temporary restriction jointly laid by the Hunyuan Sect elders suddenly closed, firmly cutting off the counterattacking gray mist inside the door.

The night wind blew, and the moonlight poured down like water.

The edges of his robes were still stained with the residual ash of the Dao Plague, and his hair was slightly messy, but his back was still as straight as a pine. The long sword he held in his hand vibrated, its blade flowing with the clear resonance of the wine fragrance and sword intent fusion.

In his left hand, the jade box was safe and sound.

At the same time, a dialogue popped up in his Sea of Consciousness.

【《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》: Young friend.】

Gu Chengming waited for a moment. Following its usual behavior, he thought that after this greeting, the other party would use the bit of drunkenness to start a long-winded talk or criticize the deep-seated rules of the Hunyuan Sect.

However, those grand discussions did not appear in his Sea of Consciousness for a long time.

【《Cangxian Wine Sword Art》: Before, I always thought that the words of the heart spoken while sober carried too much weight. If I were mocked, I wouldn’t even have a ‘I drank too much’ excuse to back down. So I was used to first pouring three jars of strong wine into myself, waiting until I was dizzy and my tongue was soft before I dared to spill the thoughts I truly wanted to say.】

【After emptying them, I would comfort myself that it didn’t matter, as they were all drunken nonsense and shouldn’t be taken seriously.】

【But today, you showed me something else.】

【So, I want to try it too. To say a word from the heart while sober.】

【Young friend, I am glad that this body is used by you.】

【Not because of your high cultivation, not because of your peerless talent, nor because you solved the crisis for the Hunyuan Sect.】

【Only because when you let that truth, which had been buried by the yellow earth for decades, see the light of day again, you didn’t even move your brow half a bit. As if that was the most natural rule in the world.】

Gu Chengming smiled helplessly, sheathed his long sword, and walked toward Hua Daiyi.

There was no extra pleasantry between the two. Gu Chengming handed over the letter addressed “For Old Hua” and Shen Yuanbai’s jade box together.

“Mission accomplished.” His tone was steady and certain.

Hua Daiyi reached out his hands, his knuckles trembling slightly as he took the letter. This elder, who had experienced many storms, did not open the envelope in public; he only pressed it solemnly to his chest, slowly closed his eyes, and let out a long breath.

Under the moonlight, the elder’s originally hunched back straightened slightly in silence.

In the distance, the morning bell of the Hunyuan Sect happened to strike for the first time. The long chime crossed the Cuiping Mountains, startling the birds resting in the woods as they spread their wings toward the whitening horizon.

The world says that drunken words don’t count, yet they don’t know that what’s pressed at the bottom of the flask is always the bitter heart of a sober man.

—Today the wine has cleared, and the sword has awakened; the truth no longer needs the mask of madness.