The Galgame Martial Saint

Inside the Hat Trial Court.

Daoist Don’t Know could be said to have lost all face at this moment.

Seven high hats were stacked steadily on his head, flashing with large characters from bottom to top: 【Petty Thievery】, 【Bullying Juniors】, 【Lustful Intent】, and so on. What was with that third one? I’ve been celibate for many years; where did this romantic debt come from?

“This entry is questionable, but given the subject’s poor attitude, deduct favorability first,” the girl in green said coldly, holding a bamboo slip.

“Wait—” “Crack!”

The woman with the wine flask on the right cracked the copper-headed belt in her hand. She tilted her head and smiled quite pleasantly. “Old gentleman, if you have a positive attitude toward admitting your guilt, we can go through the back door and deduct two fewer hats.”

“What guilt should I admit?! I don’t even know who you—” Before he could finish his sentence, the copper-headed belt whistled down.

“Hiss—!”

Daoist Don’t Know bared his teeth and sucked in a breath of cold air.

The pain was secondary; the key was that after the lash, a sense of guilt—“I am guilty, I should be punished”—unconsciously emerged from the bottom of his heart, as if he were truly beyond redemption.

However, this also allowed the current leader of the Myriad Thief Sect to finally realize what was happening.

—Such a realistic illusion; what truly impressive methods!

The old Daoist calculated rapidly in his mind. Regardless of anything else, he would slip away first to show his respect.

Daoist Don’t Know held his breath and focused his mind, his Myriad Thief Spiritual Eye suddenly lighting up. Just as the girl in green picked up the ninth hat, which had the four characters 【Indecent Elder】 written on it, and prepared to toss it onto his head—

The spiritual energy around Daoist Don’t Know surged like a river bursting its banks.

“Shatter.”

His words carried the weight of law.

The space of the Hat Trial Court disintegrated like a mirror. Along with the final sound of collapse, the phantoms and the stack of high hats on his head dissipated into countless shards of light.

His vision returned to reality, and the dilapidated scene of the alchemy side room came into view. The low table was overturned, the iron teapot had rolled into the corner, and the floor was covered with scraps of pill formulas torn apart by the shockwave.

Daoist Don’t Know’s feet had just touched the ground, and he hadn’t even had time to catch his breath.

A white light exploded before his eyes, like a blazing sun falling to the earth!

The fist had already arrived.

It was a pillar of white-gold light without any reservation, carrying a majestic force far exceeding what a Third Realm cultivator should have. Wrapped in a domineering aura that could overturn the heavens and seas, it slammed straight toward his face.

“Emperor Bai, help me!”

—This brat was actually camping outside and waiting for the right moment!

Daoist Don’t Know cursed a vulgarity in his heart that was quite unbecoming of his status, but his body reacted faster than his brain.

Dashing was already a luxury. Although those hundreds of layers of Entanglement Sword Intent had mostly dissipated when he broke the illusion, the residual sluggishness was still like maggots on a bone. Coupled with having just escaped the Hat Trial Court, his mind hadn’t fully returned to its place.

The old Daoist gritted his teeth, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and fully activated his protective true essence.

“Boom—!”

The white-gold fist force slammed solidly into his arms.

The walls of the side room exploded under the shockwave, with gravel flying and dust filling the air.

Daoist Don’t Know’s body was pushed back four or five yards by the violent force, his feet plowing two knee-deep furrows into the bluestone floor. Finally, his back slammed heavily into the outer wall of the alchemy room, forcefully creating a human-shaped indentation in the load-bearing wall.

“Cough…”

Embedded in the wall, Daoist Don’t Know let out a cough and looked at Gu Chengming, who stood retracting his fist in the dust.

Damn, that was close.

The old Daoist quickly replayed the series of moves in his mind.

First, trap the opponent with the Tenfold Sword Array, with each sword adding Entanglement Sword Intent to create a slow, then use the Unborn Lotus to skip the stacking process and instantly maximize the slow. Immediately after, use the Unfettered Freedom Art to release the aura of the Myriad Thief Immortal to create a psychological flaw.

Take advantage of the opponent’s dazed state to throw a punch comparable to the Fifth Realm, and use this opportunity to activate an illusion. After the opponent spends mental energy to break out of the illusion, another punch comparable to the Fifth Realm is waiting outside.

If any other Fifth Realm middle-stage cultivator had taken this set of moves? By this time next year, the grass on their grave would be two feet high.

Daoist Don’t Know thought to himself that it was fortunate he was at the late-stage Fifth Realm; otherwise, he truly would have fallen at the hands of a Third Realm junior tonight and become a laughingstock in the cultivation world.

The leader of the dignified Myriad Thief Sect was not only dragged into an illusion to be given shame hats but also took a punch upon coming out.

If this matter spread back to the sect, the coffin lids of his ancestors likely wouldn’t be able to stay down.

“Alright, alright, stop fighting!”

Daoist Don’t Know struggled to pull himself out of the wall’s indentation, patted the dust off his Daoist robe, and waved his hands repeatedly at Gu Chengming, his voice rising. “I am not an enemy!”

Gu Chengming remained motionless, his right hand still steadily on his sword hilt. Although his strength was nearly exhausted, his attitude was very clear.

—If there isn’t an explanation, this matter won’t end easily.

Daoist Don’t Know let out a sigh.

Fine, this matter was indeed his own fault. If he were in the same position and encountered an old fellow of unknown origin lurking in the sect pretending to be a manager, who started by stealing a dharma treasure and then smiled and said “let me borrow it,” he would be the one with a mental problem if he didn’t attack.

“My name is… well, it’s Don’t Know.”

He cleared his throat, fearing that he hadn’t made his Daoist title clear and that this brat would throw another punch if he disagreed. After saying it, he added, “Daoist Don’t Know, the current leader of the Myriad Thief Sect. Nuo Tao, whom you met in the northern border, is my direct disciple.”

Gu Chengming’s brow twitched slightly. Noticing this change, Daoist Don’t Know thought there was a chance and quickly added more.

“I had a constant sense of the trials in the Myriad Thief Immortal’s secret realm. No outsider knows about the process of you and the girl Nuo Tao passing the trials or the fact that you obtained the Founding Grand-Patriarch’s creation. This should prove my identity.”

Pausing, he added candidly, “Just now, you used that aura to trick me; I should have expected it. But at that time, I was dazed by your series of moves, and my mind didn’t turn back in time, so I fell for it.”

He spoke these words openly and honestly, even frankly admitting the reason he suffered a setback, showing quite a bit of the casualness of a jianghu senior admitting defeat.

Gu Chengming stopped, somewhat skeptical.

To be honest, the other party’s words were quite convincing. After all, that entire set of moves just now had almost exhausted all of Gu Chengming’s trump cards, yet the old man before him seemed to have been unaffected. This meant that if the other party truly wanted to fight, he wouldn’t be able to gain any advantage right now.

Gu Chengming quickly organized this information in his mind and finally slowly released his right hand from the sword hilt.

“…Senior.” He folded his hands and respectfully performed a Daoist bow. “Junior was quite offensive just now; I hope Senior can be magnanimous.”

Daoist Don’t Know looked at the polite young man before him and couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions.

When you were chasing me, slashing and hammering, and frantically giving me shame hats just now, why didn’t I see you being so respectful of your elders?

Despite his internal complaints, he waved his hand on the surface, putting on the magnanimous air of an elder. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Young people are full of vigor and don’t know their own strength; I completely understand.”

As he spoke, he looked down at his grey robe, which had several large gashes from the sword qi, and patted off the dust all over his body.

The old Daoist suppressed his frustration and squeezed out a kind smile again.

…

With the smoke cleared, the two found a relatively flat corner in the half-collapsed side room to sit.

Gu Chengming sat cross-legged, silently circulating his technique to recover his parched spiritual energy, while his mind rapidly organized information about the person before him.

Daoist Don’t Know, the current leader of the Myriad Thief Sect, Nuo Tao’s master, and the direct descendant of the Myriad Thief Immortal.

Although in the secret realm, the Founding Grand-Patriarch had appraised this person as an “old record,” showing quite a bit of criticism toward the trials left by his descendant, the value of being a direct descendant was clear. As the indirect successor of the heaven dao throne “Sky-Connecting Branch,” he was the strongest person in the thief cultivator lineage today, and his strength was beyond doubt.

Regarding his cultivation alone, the battle just now was the best proof; he was a genuine late-stage Fifth Realm. The Myriad Thief Spiritual Eye, Cognitive Barrier, and his divine ability to steal objects from a distance also indirectly confirmed Daoist Don’t Know’s level. Even among late-stage Fifth Realm cultivators, he was definitely a top-tier figure.

And based on the information the other party provided…

“So,” Gu Chengming was the first to break the silence, “Senior infiltrated the Yunyue Sect to investigate the Dao Plague?”

Daoist Don’t Know nodded slightly.

“I noticed that the karma lines in the direction of the Cuiping Mountains were in a mess. I traced them all the way and finally locked onto the Yunyue Sect.”

He extended his index finger and made a light stroke in the void, his fingertip drawing a few faintly visible threads of flowing light. “Karma lines are the eyes of us thief cultivators. Ordinary cultivators rely on spiritual sense to find their way; I rely on karma. Where the entanglement of karma is irrational, there is a secret hidden.”

“The karma lines here suddenly underwent a mutation, which clearly means something unusual has happened.”

Hearing this, Gu Chengming immediately associated it with what he had seen and heard while investigating the seal in the Hunyuan Sect. He asked, “Then in the past six months, what clues has Senior traced?”

Daoist Don’t Know’s expression was somewhat strange. He didn’t answer directly but instead asked, “Little friend, do you know what the essence of the Dao Plague actually is?”

Gu Chengming thought for a moment. “Ancient evil qi seeping out of the seal? It can erode a cultivator’s dao heart and lives by devouring true essence?”

Daoist Don’t Know shook his head. He stood up and walked to the half-collapsed wall of the side room, reaching into the ruins to feel around for a moment.

He forcefully pried out a blue-grey brick. On the back of the brick were several very ancient patterns, long-aged with blurred edges.

“The patterns on this existed before the Yunyue Sect was even founded.” He handed the brick to Gu Chengming. “These things are everywhere in the foundation of the entire Cuiping Mountains. I’ve been digging in the ground under the alchemy room every day for the past six months, piecing together the patterns I found… The full picture I pieced together isn’t an array at all, but an organ.”

“Deep in the ground of the entire Cuiping Mountains, a part of the body of something is buried.”

“I followed the clues along those veins all the way down and finally found the core of that thing in the deepest part of the Cuiping Mountains. It’s a void.”

Gu Chengming’s brow furrowed.

“The edges of the void are expanding outward. For every inch it expands, those ‘veins’ deep in the Cuiping Mountains grow an inch. The Dao Plague seeping from the seal isn’t at all because the seal is old and broken; it’s because those veins have forcibly pushed the seal open during their growth.”

Daoist Don’t Know retracted his casualness. “The seals set by ancient experts were never intended to deal with the Dao Plague.”

“That thing is used to plug that void.”

Gu Chengming closed his eyes for a moment before he managed to straighten out the logic chain in his mind.

A “void” existed deep in the Cuiping Mountains, and its edges were expanding outward in the form of organic “veins.” This force of wild growth had shattered the seal, thereby releasing the “Dao Plague” that the world had mistaken for the root cause.

So the Dao Plague wasn’t the cause of the disease at all; at most, it was a complication. The real lesion was that void that was still developing.

“…That void, what exactly is it?” Gu Chengming asked.

Daoist Don’t Know let out a sigh and explained further, “Have you heard of an ‘unborn Dao Throne’?”

Gu Chengming shook his head.

“Dao Thrones also have a distinction between life and death.” Daoist Don’t Know chose his words carefully. “When the Founding Grand-Patriarch attained the ‘Sky-Connecting Branch,’ that Dao Throne was considered ‘alive.’ When a Sixth Realm expert falls, their Dao Throne is either passed to a descendant, dissipates into the world, or falls into a slumber—these are all the life cycles of a ‘born Dao Throne.’”

“However, there are still some Dao Thrones hidden in the Heavenly Dao that have never been attained by anyone.”

“They were never born, never possessed a true name, and were never recognized by the world. They just hang in the heavens and earth like unhatched seeds, waiting for a specific version update—that is, a certain opportunity—to prompt their birth.”

“Such existences are called ‘unborn Dao Thrones.’”

The old Daoist pointed his finger at the bluestone under his feet. “That void under the Cuiping Mountains is precisely the… placenta of an unborn Dao Throne being nurtured.”

Gu Chengming realized why the mappers of the Imperial Observatory would encounter cognitive disruption when observing the Yunyue Sect.

An unborn Dao Throne was a concept that simply didn’t exist within the cognitive framework. Therefore, no matter how clear the images the mappers saw were, they were destined to be “unparsable.”

So the shadow displacement was not accidental either. In that area, the “about to be born but not yet born” state of the unborn Dao Throne was like a giant interference source, frantically twisting the surrounding physical laws and karmic logic.

The underlying rule that “the shadow must follow the body” had already failed there.

As for the sect-protecting array closing inward, it wasn’t at all to prevent the things inside from running out; it was to prevent the external world rules from being further eroded and assimilated.

Thinking of this, Gu Chengming also roughly guessed the purpose of Daoist Don’t Know’s visit.

“So Senior has graced us with your presence—” Gu Chengming looked up at Daoist Don’t Know, “surely not entirely for this mere Dao Plague.”

In Gu Chengming’s impression, the Myriad Thief Sect had always been a neutral-leaning-righteous sect, at most “robbing the rich to help the poor,” and its members all had many minor flaws, definitely not being purely good people.

When he first met Nuo Tao, her hands were somewhat unclean, and now meeting her master, the first meeting was equally unpleasant.

You say the Myriad Thief Sect would come to proactively handle a thankless task like the Dao Plague? Gu Chengming had his doubts.

Daoist Don’t Know didn’t deny it. “The Dao Plague indeed needs to be cured; otherwise, the thousands of people in the two sects of the Cuiping Mountains will all have to answer for it here. But I indeed didn’t come out of the mountains initially for the sake of medical charity.”

“An unborn Dao Throne has no owner and no true name.” At this point, he suddenly raised his eyelids.

“My intuition tells me—this Dao Throne is worth stealing!”

The old Daoist didn’t lie completely, but he definitely held something back. Gu Chengming believed that he would solve the Dao Plague along the way. The excellent tradition of the Myriad Thief Sect had always been to set a goal for the main quest and then pick up something on the side for the sub-quests.

Back in the northern border, his top follower Nuo Tao was the same way. On the surface, she used the excuse of sect training, but in the shadows, she had “borrowed” all twelve dharma treasures of the Wanjin Pavilion.

When the upper beam is crooked, the lower beam is skewed; the style of the Myriad Thief Sect was indeed consistent.

Therefore, Daoist Don’t Know’s goal was likely this unborn Dao Throne.

“Steal heavenly secrets, steal karma.”

This was the ancestral teaching of the Myriad Thief Immortal’s lineage.

For a thief cultivator, a Dao Throne that hadn’t even been registered by the heavens and earth was simply the best ownerless object in the world.

Gu Chengming even had reason to suspect that when the Myriad Thief Immortal set the rule “Take what you can’t use and let me use it too,” it was to reserve a flexible moral high ground for his descendants.

What did “can’t use” mean? It hasn’t even been born yet; of course it can’t be used.

Since you can’t use it, how can me taking it in advance be called stealing? This is called an advance.

—What a flawless set of bandit logic.

Gu Chengming suppressed his internal complaints. “Then how does Senior intend to handle the source of the Dao Plague?”

Hearing this, Daoist Don’t Know couldn’t help but grin.

As long as he was willing to talk about serious business. He was most afraid that this brat would be stubborn and insist on asking “Do you want to hog the Dao Throne for yourself?” Although the answer was yes, saying it too clearly would inevitably make his greed look less elegant.

“The void is growing, and the seal is shattering. To pull out the root of the disease, one must go deep into the lowest level of the Cuiping Mountains and strike the core of the void.”

The old Daoist began to count on his fingers. “I tried to sneak in once before, but after coming out, I forgot everything—I couldn’t even figure out how many hours I spent inside.”

“This unborn Dao Throne’s interference with the rules is too absurd; I’m not certain I can retreat safely.” Speaking of this, the old Daoist’s gaze unnaturally drifted toward the storage pouch at Gu Chengming’s waist.

More accurately, it lingered on the position of the Unborn Lotus.

“Therefore, I developed a worldly desire for your dharma treasure.” He was very frank, even explaining his motive for the crime clearly.

“The divine ability of your dharma treasure lies in skipping the process and reaching the predetermined outcome. If I can confirm that the outcome of ‘arriving at the core of the void’ is safe, I can use the Unborn Lotus to directly skip that section of broken rules, avoiding the risk of my cognition being eroded.”

“This is the only way I can think of for now.”

“What Senior said just now was ‘I’ arrive at the core,” Gu Chengming reminded him, “not ‘we.’”

The smile on Daoist Don’t Know’s face stiffened.

“Ah, a slip of the tongue, a slip of the tongue. I’m old and my mouth is clumsy.” He covered it up with a laugh.

Gu Chengming didn’t expose his clumsy acting.

The two knew very well that this was definitely not a slip of the tongue; the old fellow’s plan from the start was to solo the dungeon. Trick him out of the Unborn Lotus, reach the core, and claim the Dao Throne before it was born.

As for the Dao Plague?

As long as the Dao Throne was stolen or stabilized, the void would naturally stop expanding. When the radish is pulled out, the mud comes with it; the seal crisis would be solved without a fight. Solving the Dao Plague was purely a bonus that came with the Dao Throne.

It couldn’t be said that he didn’t want to save people, but in the eyes of the Myriad Thief Sect leader, the priority of the Dao Throne always came first.

【The Zhou Rites Heavenly Rectifying Art popped up a line of cold, solemn ink: Although this person’s words are sincere, he acts with personal gain first and public justice second; he is ultimately not on the right path.】

【The Cangxian Wine Sword Art let out a wine burp, and golden characters slowly emerged: He’s a thief cultivator; do you expect him to take the imperial examination and become a saint? As long as the result is good, it doesn’t matter if the methods are a bit ugly.】

It was rare for the two techniques not to clash when evaluating the same person. Although their perspectives were poles apart, they could be considered to have reached a consensus in a roundabout way.

Gu Chengming filed away all this intelligence.

Regardless of what Daoist Don’t Know was planning, at least on the dungeon goal of “solving the Dao Plague,” the two sides were allies. Furthermore, the other party had the stats of a late-stage Fifth Realm big shot and had been lurking underground for six months; his progress on the walkthrough far exceeded his own.

Cooperation was possible.

“Senior,” Gu Chengming cleared his thoughts and spoke in a deep voice.

“The matter of borrowing the Unborn Lotus can naturally be discussed when the time is right. But before that—”

He looked straight into Daoist Don’t Know’s eyes.

“Regarding the trouble inside the Yunyue Sect, I need Senior to lend a hand.”

Daoist Don’t Know blinked.

Then, he beamed with joy, smiling exactly like a dishonest merchant who had just closed a big deal.

“That’s easy to say, easy to say.”

He brushed the dust off his Daoist robe and sat down cross-legged again. That casual laziness unique to an alchemy room manager returned to him perfectly.

“However, little friend,” the old Daoist drawled.

“Hmm?”

Daoist Don’t Know suddenly leaned forward and lowered his voice.

“You and the girl Nuo Tao… how far have you two actually developed?”

Gu Chengming remained unfazed and responded smoothly, “Miss Nuo is a capable helper I met in the northern border; we look out for each other. It’s just the friendship of master and pet… cough, fellow Daoists.”

“Then why has that girl Nuo Tao been sitting there happily hugging that Dragon-Seeking Token you gave her all day since she came back from the northern border?”

“Senior.” Gu Chengming’s tone forcibly interrupted the spell. “The disaster of the Dao Plague is imminent; shouldn’t we discuss this matter first?”

Daoist Don’t Know smacked his lips and sullenly swallowed the second half of his gossip.

…

In the following days, Gu Chengming meditated and cultivated in the refined house during the day and met with Daoist Don’t Know at night to exchange intelligence.

With a two-pronged approach, several old matters that were previously shrouded in mystery finally showed some clues.

First, in the formulas for refining pills in the Yunyue Sect over the past year, something had been added without anyone noticing. Daoist Don’t Know found something in the alchemy storehouse—it wasn’t any kind of proper spirit grass at all, but mineral powder pried from the spiritual veins in the deepest part of the Cuiping Mountains. When compared with the crystals on the surface of the underground “veins,” they matched perfectly.

In other words, the spirit pills and medicines that the Yunyue Sect disciples swallowed every day were all mixed with the “evil seed” of the Dao Plague.

And the one who had signed off on allowing these evil objects into the storehouse was precisely Sect Master Qin Ruoxu.

Second, there was the matter of the sect master’s whereabouts.

There wasn’t much talk about the sect master at the Myriad Wonders Gathering, but the scattered bits and pieces of information pieced together pointed to a chilling truth: in the past three months, Qin Ruoxu had gone missing at least seven times. The shortest was two days, and the longest was half a month. He neither informed Vice Sect Master Liu Yezhou nor left any notice of leaving the sect.

Liu Yezhou had also become suspicious and investigated, but he ultimately returned in failure.

Gu Chengming carefully checked these scenes against the fate hexes previously deduced by Ji Yixi. If the sect master himself was a link in this disaster, then all the abnormalities on the board would have an explanation.

“Qin Ruoxu has a secret.”

At a certain moment when the night was dark and the wind was high, Gu Chengming shared his thoughts with the old Daoist.

The old fellow was holding his iron teapot and sipping cold tea. After listening with half-closed eyes, he nodded unhurriedly.

“More than just a secret.” He casually put down the teapot. “I’ve been watching him for three months. Every time he leaves the sect, he goes straight to the depths of the Cuiping Mountains, drilling all the way down along those intricate underground veins, and finally disappears completely from my perception.”

“And every time he returns in one piece, the karma lines on his body become a few shades lighter.”

Gu Chengming’s long brows furrowed slightly.

“With every trip, a layer of karma is shaved off. A dignified Fifth Realm late-stage sect expert should have hundreds or thousands of karmic retributions entangled on his body. But look at the current Qin Ruoxu—”

Daoist Don’t Know extended two withered fingers and made a light pinching motion in the air.

“He’s as thin as a paper effigy.”

Just then, word also came from the Hunyuan Sect at the northern foothills of the Cuiping Mountains.

Hua Daiyi used a sound transmission jade slip to inform Gu Chengming that after he left, the task of repairing the seal in the Hunyuan Sect was still proceeding step by step. The three makeshift restrictive array plates were still stable, and the fierce outward flow of the Dao Plague was barely suppressed within the stable limits.

However, the commotion deep within the spiritual veins was becoming more frequent.

Muffled sounds of earth tremors came from the bottom of the seal’s core from time to time, with the intervals becoming shorter. Sect Master Song Heng had already issued a decree to set up two more layers of warning array plates around the seal, to send a transmission immediately at the slightest sign of trouble.

Hua Daiyi also added a sentence at the end of the jade slip:

“Little Gu, you must move faster. I estimate that the Dao Plague is about to erupt in the next few days.”

Everything was accelerating its pace in the undercurrents.

Gu Chengming and Daoist Don’t Know consulted and decided not to wait any longer, but to immediately pack up and set off to explore the bottom of the Cuiping Mountains.

Daoist Don’t Know handed over the entire geomantic map of the underground veins he had spent half a year creating. The resting places along the way, the boundaries of the dangerous areas where the laws of heaven and earth were in disorder, and several dead zones he had encountered when venturing alone were all clearly marked.

Gu Chengming calculated the remaining amount of the Unborn Lotus. He had consumed some while working with Daoist Don’t Know earlier, but fortunately, over seventy percent remained, which would be sufficient if used sparingly.

【The Red Dust Phantom Step thought through your preparations several times, seeking only to ensure nothing went wrong.】

Before dawn on the third day, the waning moon was about to set.

The two slipped out from the alchemy side room and entered the underground abyss of the Cuiping Mountains through a secret tunnel that Daoist Don’t Know had opened earlier.

Behind them, the Yunyue Sect was still brightly lit, with the entire sect in their dreams.

…

The world underground was far broader than Gu Chengming had expected.

At first, that section of the tunnel still showed the shape of human excavation. Daoist Don’t Know had spent a full half-year using the cleverness of a “thief cultivator” to silently carve out a narrow path in the hard rock layer. The narrow path was cramped, only allowing one person to squeeze through sideways. The stone walls still bore the faint gold marks scanned by the Myriad Thief Spiritual Eye, like everlasting lamps.

The two hunched their backs and walked for about half an hour before the end of the narrow path connected to a naturally formed dry cave river.

The riverbed was cracked and parched, yet the old marks of water erosion on the stone walls were not fake; spirit liquid had indeed flowed here. Daoist Don’t Know said that the spirit liquid had been sucked dry decades ago, all going into the stomachs of those underground “veins.”

The two followed the dry riverbed all the way into the depths.

The further down they descended, the more eye-catching the veins clinging to the rock walls became.

At first, they were only scattered dark red textures, looking like natural ore sand in the stubborn rocks. But as they went deeper, the textures became denser and coarser, and the color changed from dark red to deep purple, finally turning into a ghostly light that was almost like splashed ink.

Upon reaching a certain depth, those patterns actually began to jump, expanding and contracting rhythmically, slow and long, pulsing exactly like a living creature’s pulse.

Daoist Don’t Know led the way in front, a faint light flickering deep in his pupils. As the golden light flowed, he carefully screened the aura within three feet ahead.

“Don’t touch the stone walls,” he warned without looking back. “These veins all have eyes; touching them will affect the whole body.”

Gu Chengming nodded in response, moving through this narrow gap as if walking on thin ice, forcibly keeping at least half a foot away from the rock walls.

The two were quite tacit in using sound transmission to communicate. It wasn’t because they were bored; in such an eerie environment, a pool of dead water would instead make one’s mind tense. Saying a few words could stabilize their dao hearts.

“Senior,” Gu Chengming spoke first, “is Miss Nuo Tao doing well lately?”

Hearing this, Daoist Don’t Know let out a muffled laugh.

“Why don’t you guess what that girl is busy with right now?”

“Junior is dull; I can’t guess.”

“She’s in secluded meditation,” Daoist Don’t Know said with a bit of grandfatherly satisfaction. “She says she wants to firmly establish her foundation in the Third Realm, so that the next time you meet, she can give a certain person a ‘heavenly creation.’”

“As for which young talent this ‘certain person’ is, I won’t expose him to his face.”

Gu Chengming remained unfazed and smoothly shifted the conversation.

“Regarding the ‘unborn Dao Throne’ Senior mentioned earlier, Junior still has some unclear points in my heart.”

Daoist Don’t Know took out a small wine gourd he carried with him; that iron teapot was truly cumbersome, so he had replaced it with this light object. He tilted his head back and took a sip, gesturing for him to continue asking.

“If this Dao Throne is to be born, what exactly is it missing?”

“You’ve asked the right question.” Daoist Don’t Know retracted his playful manner and looked solemn. “For a Dao Throne to be born, in my view, it lacks two things. The first is a ‘divine status,’ and the second is a ‘name.’”

“Divine status is not hard to understand; it is a vacancy on this great board of the Heavenly Dao. You can treat this Heavenly Dao as a vast, boundless chess game, and the Dao Throne is a placement point on the chessboard. Some positions already have chess pieces; those are the born Dao Thrones. Some positions are still vacant; those are the unborn Dao Thrones.”

“As for the ‘name,’ it is the process of bestowing that vacancy with supreme true meaning.” He raised his withered knuckles and pointed at the sky above.

“When the Myriad Thief Immortal attained the ‘Sky-Connecting Branch’ Dao Throne years ago, he took the comprehension of the ‘Steal’ character technique he had spent his entire life on and filled that vacancy completely. His dao transformed into the true meaning of the Dao Throne, and only then did the Dao Throne have a name and thus ‘be born.’”

“So, the foundation of a Dao Throne is not brute force, but a certain law and true meaning between heaven and earth?”

“That is exactly the case.” Daoist Don’t Know nodded in agreement. “Why are those experts at the Sixth Realm and above honored as ‘avatars of the Great Dao’? It’s because they used their own ‘dao’ to forcibly establish a rule in this world, and the Heavenly Dao pinched its nose and recognized it, only then bestowing a matching Dao Throne.”

“But an unborn Dao Throne is an anomaly. It has never received a bestowing a name from anyone; that vacancy is clean and pure.”

“Following the usual path, an unborn Dao Throne will wait indefinitely until the lineage of some expert in the world happens to fit into that vacancy, only then can the tribulation of ‘bestowing a name’ be triggered.”

“But the one pressed under the Cuiping Mountains—” Daoist Don’t Know’s expression suddenly became unpredictable.

“Some nameless ghost thing is overstepping its bounds and bestowing a name for it.”

“It is not some cultivator, nor is it the Heavenly Dao. It is some other evil thing that is desperately pouring true meaning into that vacancy.”

He glanced sideways at Gu Chengming. “This is where I find it troublesome. Logically… this power to bestow a name on a Dao Throne only lies in the hands of the attainer themselves. To be able to bypass this iron rule and forcibly pour in true meaning—I have lived for all these years, and this is truly the first time I’ve witnessed it.”

The two trudged another section of the path in silence. The pulsing of the surrounding veins became visibly agitated, suddenly changing from one pulse per breath to one pulse every half-breath, throbbing intensely, as if rushing to attend some great play.

Suddenly, Daoist Don’t Know stopped.

“We’ve arrived.”

He pointed far ahead.

“Beyond this place is the dangerous domain where the laws of heaven and earth are broken.”

Gu Chengming stepped over that invisible boundary, and the first abnormality he noticed was the weight on his body.

The rule of “falling” in this world had been rewritten.

The footwork of Daoist Don’t Know leading the way ahead also became cautious. He no longer showed the casual stroll he had earlier; every step he took had to rely on the light of the Myriad Thief Spiritual Eye to verify it before he dared to set his foot down.

“Follow me closely,” he lowered his voice. “There’s no telling what filthy things might pop up in a moment.”

Before he finished speaking, a protruding stone the size of a baby’s fist on the stone wall ahead unexpectedly exploded into stone powder.

Daoist Don’t Know’s withered right hand was still awkwardly suspended in mid-air; he had merely wanted to reach out his finger to test the depth of that stone.

Before his fingertip even touched the edge, the stone actually shattered into dust on its own.

“…”

Daoist Don’t Know sullenly retracted his hand, the expression on his old face being quite spectacular.

“Karmic retribution, reversing cause and effect.” He lowered his voice to explain. “This natural law that ‘shattering only occurs upon contact’ has been sped up; my hand hasn’t touched it yet, but the evil result of ‘shattering’ has already occurred first.”

Gu Chengming’s brow furrowed deeply. “To what extent has this karma been disordered?”

“What we see now is just dead matter. If we go further in—” He shook his head like a rattle. “When I explored to this depth last time, I personally saw an underground river dry up completely before the water even flowed. ‘Flowing’ is the cause, and ‘drying up’ is the effect, yet the effect actually ran ahead.”

“I didn’t dare to venture into the deeper lair. It was because I realized that I had actually begun to forget the way back.”

The two continued to push forward despite the weirdness.

This chaotic phenomenon of broken laws was growing with a visible momentum.

The passage of time also began to act up.

Sometimes, taking ten steps would consume the time of an incense stick, and sometimes taking one step would result in half an hour passing.

Gu Chengming had originally relied on the number of cycles of spiritual energy in his dantian to calculate the time spent, but now even this natal measure could not be trusted.

The conversation between the two also completely stopped. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to speak, but rather that this eerie world was eroding the spirit of living beings.

With every half-word spoken, one had to spend a bit more mental effort to weigh it—is the truth I spoke still the original meaning when it reaches his ears? Could it be that after being stirred by this disordered karma, it has become another kind of death warrant?

The air became increasingly heavy and oppressive, and the veins clinging to the rock walls became more flourishing, transforming from scattered blood vessels into a sky-covering net. The black-purple demon patterns flickered with a ghostly light, the halo synchronized with the pulse, brightening and darkening in a ghostly manner.

And that hair-raising feeling of “something is watching” had become more obvious since they stepped into this lawless land.

The sound of their footsteps spread out, and it took a full few seconds before an echo rippled from the distant rock walls. The ceiling was deep in a pitch-black silence of unknown height, with only the ghostly light of the surrounding veins barely providing a few points of faint light.

Every stone wall of the cave, every piece of broken rock, even what they stepped on and what hung over their heads, were all tightly wrapped in dense black-purple textures. The demon patterns lit up and pulsed, thousands of threads all stepping on the same beat.

The entire boundless cave was a heart pulsing powerfully.

Daoist Don’t Know halted his steps at the cave entrance, pushing the Myriad Thief Spiritual Eye to its peak.

The golden light of the pupil technique exploded in his eye sockets like a blazing sun, relentlessly penetrating the heavy mist inside the cave.

“Inside here—”

Suddenly, it was as if a giant stone was stuck in his throat, and that dazzling golden light gave a violent, terrified shudder. In the next moment, the Myriad Thief Spiritual Eye caught sight of a thing that made the pupil technique itself tremble with fear.

“Wait a moment—”

He squeezed out three words.

Immediately after, the veins of the entire cave lit up simultaneously.

Thousands of veins, in the same instant, retreated from their ghostly black-purple and erupted with a pale halo that stung the soul.

The vast cave was instantly swallowed by a boundless white day.

And in this blind, blazing white, a form that transcended mortal cognition suddenly manifested before Gu Chengming’s eyes.

He saw it clearly. The stone walls of this cave originally had a ghostly inward curve, and the veins all over the mountain were arranged layer by layer along the curve, spreading from the center toward all directions. And the glowing core was suspended right in the center of the deepest part of the cave, transformed into a solid, pearl-like pale light source.

The veins were blood vessels, and the light source was a pupil.

The two of them were currently standing openly right in the center of a giant, sky-reaching eye.

—And this eye opened.

…

This so-called “Domain of Observation” descended silently.

There was no mountain-moving or sea-toppling gale, no heaven-swallowing or earth-shattering spiritual explosion, nor any pain from weapons hitting the body.

It was just that the “natural laws” around them had changed.

No, it wasn’t that the natural laws had changed.

It was that the subtle cognition of “being watched” had completely come to life.

That bit of scratching-the-surface peeping from before had suddenly exploded a thousand or ten thousand times at the moment the cave lit up. It transformed from a hidden, secretive peek into a blatant, undisguised, dead stare that left no place to hide in heaven or on earth.

The first to be hit was naturally Daoist Don’t Know.

His Myriad Thief Spiritual Eye was pushed to its peak—the domineering golden light was unscrupulously scanning the cave’s mysteries, attempting to penetrate the stone walls, peel away the veins, cross the false appearances, and drag out the underlying source of the Heavenly Dao.

Then, he got his wish and saw it.

That giant eye—or rather, the unknown expert who used this entire cave as a shell—was staring at him without blinking.

Two gazes collided violently in this void.

The Myriad Thief Spiritual Eye claimed to be able to see through all creations of the universe.

And that Domain of Observation was also scrutinizing all phenomena in the world.

When two “laws of peeping” met on a narrow path, they did not set off an earth-shaking slaughter.

Instead, they were like two ancient mirrors, reflecting each other.

That existence saw Daoist Don’t Know looking at it, and Daoist Don’t Know also saw that existence seeing him looking at it.

Recursion, infinite recursion.

Like two ancient mirrors standing opposite each other, a corridor with no end was created between the mirror surfaces. Every reflection was scrutinizing the next, and every one was being stared at by the previous, endless and cyclical.

Daoist Don’t Know’s spiritual sense raced in this corridor, sinking deeper and deeper.

His Myriad Thief Spiritual Eye flickered desperately, attempting to find a foothold in this bottomless pit. Unfortunately, every layer was a dead-end mirror image, and every layer was staring dead at him.

The old man’s body froze in place, the golden light deep in his pupils like a candle in the wind, flickering between light and dark.

Gu Chengming immediately noticed the abnormality. “Senior!”

No one answered.

The old fellow’s gaze was fixed straight ahead; he was looking at a false object that Gu Chengming could not see.

Gu Chengming gripped the Unborn Lotus, about to reach out to pull the man, when a woman’s voice rang out in the void without any warning.

“You finally couldn’t hold back and ran here.”

This voice echoed simultaneously from the rock walls on all sides, the gravel under his feet, the ceiling above, and even from deep within Gu Chengming’s own sea of consciousness.

The voice was gentle and composed, with a faint smile, acting exactly like a mistress of the house entertaining guests in her own main seat.

“This scene is indeed not a bit different from the script of the old world line.”

The stinging white light in the cave retracted slightly, transforming into a cold moonlight like frost and snow.

Gu Chengming stabilized his form and did not rashly explore. Instead, he quickly looked around, trying to find the owner of this voice.

But he could not find the source. This voice seemed to be this world itself, permeating every corner.

—Old world line?!

Hearing this term, Gu Chengming couldn’t help but be stunned.

…

At this point, a long-standing karmic result must be clarified.

Regarding the true form of that voice.

—Her name is the Great Record.

Everyone is likely familiar with this name.

It was precisely the Great Record cultivated by the Great Qian princess Ji Yixi. However, the heaven-and-earth difference between them must be clarified here.

Ji Yixi’s Great Record was born from the current destiny line, and its power was only in “observation,” passively reflecting the variables of thousands of destiny lines. The Great Record lurking beneath the earth of the Cuiping Mountains was completely different.

—She came from another destiny line.

—An old world line that had long since been reduced to ashes in the long river of time, with not even a scrap remaining.

In that world, there was also a cultivation world, orthodox lineages, Dao Thrones, and the Heavenly Dao. The Great Record there was similarly a technique that engraved thousands of variables.

Then, disaster struck.

It wasn’t a decline in Daoist laws or the exhaustion of spiritual energy. It was a complete annihilation.

Great experts fell, lineages collapsed, Dao Thrones shattered, and the Heavenly Dao vanished. Every karmic line snapped, the laws of heaven and earth disintegrated, and even the rule that “this world once existed” was teetering on the edge of nothingness.

Everything was reduced to nothing in that calamity.

Only one remained.

The Great Record.

She was not gold, stone, flesh, or blood, nor was she mountains, rivers, grass, or trees, nor was she spiritual energy or true essence.

She was “leaving a mark” itself.

A book can be burned in a fire, but the fact that “this book was once read” will not dissipate with the ashes; it will transform into an ownerless imprint in the underlying laws of the universe, eternally suspended there.

The Great Record was that imprint.

The myriad phenomena of a destiny line from beginning to end, every moment of light and shadow, every ripple from the birth of heaven and earth to the silence of all laws.

She survived the destruction, not because of her supreme status, but because the form of her existence happened to be outside the domain that the law of “destruction” could touch. A supreme expert could shatter the void, slash the soul, and erase karma, but they could not cut off a “mark.”

A mark does not occupy space, does not consume spiritual essence, and does not follow karma.

She simply “was.” Like a formless and shapeless dream, the Great Record rose from the ashes, crossed the boundless void, and finally, tens of thousands of years ago, quietly parasitized a remote corner of the current destiny line.

Deep in the Cuiping Mountains, she had dreamed for ten thousand years since then.

Until one day she woke up from her slumber. Perhaps it was the tide of spiritual energy in the earth veins that woke her, perhaps it was the thoughts of mortal cultivators seeking the Dao that seeped into the abyss, or perhaps it was just fate.

After waking up, only one thought remained in her mind.

The Great Record could observe all things—the past, present, and future of myriad phenomena, the countless divergences of thousands of destiny lines all entered her eyes—but there was only one thing she could never observe.

That was herself.

An observer cannot observe themselves, just as an eye cannot see an eye; this was the only paradox of the Great Record’s existence to this day.

However, in the instant the old world collapsed, in the final thought of all laws returning to void, she vaguely captured a few fragments.

When the pillars of the laws of heaven and earth collapsed, all things attached to them shed their disguises and revealed their essence.

The cultivators’ dao hearts separated from their bodies, Dao Thrones peeled off from the Heavenly Dao, and even the Heavenly Dao itself exposed its mottled base colors. As the writer of that world, the Great Record’s true form was also reflected in the collapsing light.

She was just a hair’s breadth away from seeing herself clearly.

She only lacked a “vessel” that could carry her original information, a “bright mirror” that could reflect her true face from outside her body.

If there had been that bright mirror back then, she would have been able to see her true face when all laws were destroyed.

She would have been able to solve the greatest doubt in her heart—

“What am I?”

This small obsession became the sole driver of her next ten thousand years; she wanted to forge that mirror.

An entity that could carry her true form, a creation stripped from her origin, existing independently, and available for observation.

That unborn Dao Throne under the Cuiping Mountains was the bright mirror she had spent ten thousand years nurturing. The Dao Throne was her reflection, her extension, and the measure she used to scrutinize herself.

When the Dao Throne reached maturity, the Great Record would be able to use it to clearly look at herself.

At this moment, the Great Record was observing the two intruders with great interest.

One was already stuck in the mud—the descendant of the Myriad Thief Sect, the successor of the Myriad Thief Spiritual Eye, a thief cultivator expert at the late-stage Fifth Realm.

Using “observation” to suppress “observation,” making that Myriad Thief Spiritual Eye fall into an endless self-reflection, was like tailoring a suit. In the old world, the Great Record had also seen members of the Myriad Thief Sect, and there were also thief cultivators who coveted Dao Thrones; the outcome was the same—cognitive lock, a self-made prison.

But Gu Chengming was clearly a variable.

And he was an anomaly never before seen in thousands of destiny lines, which made the Great Record feel a bit curious.

Truly interesting… but it was only limited to being interesting.

A mere Third Realm cultivator, no matter how brilliant his talent, could not make any waves before the Great Record, because the Great Record was not a cultivator.

She had no flesh or bone, no meridians, and no sea of qi. She didn’t need to circulate spiritual energy and didn’t rely on external spirit artifacts.

She was a void “principle.”

Swords cannot cut a principle, true fire cannot burn an old scroll, and you cannot even harm her in the slightest—

Because the premise of “being wounded” is having a physical entity that can be destroyed.

And she had none. She was just a remnant dream of the old world line residing in the Cuiping Mountain abyss, using the earth veins as tentacles, the cave as eyes, and the Dao Plague as food; these were just her “projections,” not her “true form.”

Her true form was formless and traceless, everywhere and yet nowhere to be found.

Therefore, no matter how strong this junior named Gu Chengming’s trump cards were, no matter what kind of earth-shattering sword qi he could produce, he could not cause the slightest hindrance to the Great Record.

The Great Record was firm in this belief, just as she was firm in her thousands of calculations and plans over the past ten thousand years.

Everything was on the chessboard.

Now.

It was time to deal with this second intruder.

…

At the same time, the scene before Gu Chengming’s eyes had completely changed under the influence of the Great Record.

At this moment, he was standing in the middle of a long corridor. He hadn’t moved his feet, and his gaze slowly swept over the doors on both sides.

The nearest wooden door had a warm yellow light leaking from the crack. He stepped forward and pushed the door open.

Behind the door was the quiet small courtyard on the back mountain of the Wenjian Sect.

The autumn sun was warm, the cinnamon trees were swaying, and the fragrance of tea curled from the stone table. Yu Wenqiu was sitting under the tree, flipping through a leisure book. Hearing the sound of the door hinge, she looked up, her eyes curving into a beautiful arc.

“You’re back? Why so early today?”

Her smile was gentle and peaceful, exactly the same as in his memory.

Gu Chengming stared at her for two breaths, then raised his hand to close the door.

He turned and walked to the heavy stone door opposite, pushing it open.

A violent wind carrying heavy snow hit his face; behind the door was the freezing winter of the northern border. Nuo Tao was squatting by a snow pit, rubbing her bright red small hands. Seeing him appear, those large eyes instantly lit up, and she jumped up.

“Gu, my man! You finally came! I was almost frozen into a popsicle—”

Her twin tails waved in the wind and snow as she ran straight toward him.

Gu Chengming remained unfazed and closed the door again.

The high eaves of Floating Islet City, with Fu Xiaoxiao leaning on his shoulder, her sleeping face tranquil.

The solemn entrance of the Night Guard Division, where Zhou Qingmu held a blue and white porcelain cup and exchanged pleasantries with a smile: “Commander Gu, you’ve worked hard.”

At the Tianting Sect, Xu Huayi was surrounding the desk and painting, her face full of surprise when she looked back.

At the Hehuan Sect, Su Qiuzhi was running on tiptoe to pat off the cinnamon flowers that had fallen on his head.

Behind every door was a world without any undercurrents.

“Interesting, isn’t it?”

That voice echoed in the corridor again, with the composure of someone appraising a masterpiece.

“These are all ‘possibilities’ on your karmic destiny line. Every path leads to a perfect ending—no need to face the Dao Plague, no need to investigate the mastermind, and the mess of the Cuiping Mountain abyss has nothing to do with you.”

“You only need to pick a door, step over the threshold, and then—”

“Stay eternally in that happy possibility.”

“Whether it’s Daoist Don’t Know, the Yunyue Sect, or the Hunyuan Sect, someone else will naturally clean up the mess. You no longer need to worry or strain yourself.”

“You’ve done enough, haven’t you?”

Gu Chengming stood in the quiet corridor and tightly closed the last door.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Me?”

A light laugh rippled around.

“I am the Recorder.”

“Recording what?”

“All phenomena, all things.”

Her voice became ethereal and long, as if reminiscing about the vast and boundless ancient times.

“I have witnessed the birth and silence of countless destiny lines. I have seen the construction and collapse of the laws of the Heavenly Dao. I have seen the brilliance and dimming of Dao Throne stars. I have seen the ascent and fall of countless experts.”

“I have recorded all of this, not missing a single word.”

The voice paused slightly.

“The corridor and doors before you are also a corner of what I have recorded. They are by no means illusions or tricks—every scene behind those doors is a variable that truly exists between heaven and earth. I merely fished them out from the river of karma and displayed them before you.”

“So, put your mind at ease. Go pick a door. The joy there is all real.”

“That was originally the destiny you deserved.”

Gu Chengming remained silent for a long while, his brow furrowing as he turned his gaze toward the depths of his sea of consciousness. That panel, which looked like a creation jade plate, was currently vibrating violently, its spiritual light dim, and the twisted handwriting looked as if it were smeared with ink. Those who were usually talkative were now stuck in an unprecedented mud.

All his techniques were being forcibly suppressed by a majestic law force, and communication was cut off.

However, in the most remote corner of the light screen—surrounded by chaos, garbled characters, and darkness—

An imprint was emitting a faint light, as steady as a mountain.

White base, with red-gold edges.

[??? : ..]

The Laboratory of Love; it was safe and sound.

Immediately after, his mind began to race through deductions.

All his techniques were affected, yet only the Laboratory of Love was untouched. All techniques suffered misfortune, and only it stood aside; this could only prove that the source of the interference was ineffective against it. And this interference came precisely from this mysterious existence before him who called herself “the Recorder.”

An existence that could cut off the spiritual thoughts of techniques, an existence that could reshape the spiritual platform space, tamper with cognition, and manipulate karmic destiny lines, an existence that claimed to “record everything,” an existence without a physical body.

Connecting these clues together pointed toward a bold answer.

The other party was not a person, not a demon cultivator, not a demon, nor was she the remnant soul of an ancient expert.

The other party was—

A cultivation technique?

At the moment this thought emerged in his heart, a particularly subtle feeling rose in Gu Chengming’s mind.

There was actually a technique that had developed its own will outside of the techniques he was courting?

“Are you still dazed?” The Great Record’s voice was full of curiosity. “You haven’t decided for a long time; what are you thinking about?”

Gu Chengming did not answer, his soul pointing straight at that white-base red-gold spiritual imprint.

Pulling a technique he had never learned into his own Laboratory of Love? This sounded simply like a fool’s dream. But in such a desperate situation, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

“Do you perhaps not intend to choose?” the female voice said softly.

Gu Chengming held his breath and focused his mind, his spiritual sense transforming into a finger and ruthlessly tapping that red-gold spiritual imprint.

…

The Great Record had originally been admiring this young man’s struggle from a high-and-mighty position.

For ten thousand years, mystery seekers, treasure hunters, and thief cultivators had all fallen into the perfection they desired under her “reflection.” She did not distinguish between good and evil; she only acted as a pusher.

But at this moment, this young man didn’t look at those doors.

The Great Record followed his spiritual sense trajectory. In her observation field, a piece of void that simply could not be parsed appeared. The place where the white-base red-gold spiritual imprint was located seemed to have peeled away from the laws of heaven and earth, leaving her unable to peep in the slightest.

Before she could even finish her deduction, Gu Chengming’s spiritual sense had already tapped down.

In the next instant, in the Great Record’s observation field that encompassed all ages, a spiritual light curtain that had never been seen before was forcibly squeezed in, carrying a sense of absurdity that transcended the Great Dao of this world.

【Great Record of Love】

【Current Favorability: 0/Unknown】

【Status: ?】

“?”

Before the Great Record could react—

The profound corridor filled with countless possibilities around them exploded, the world changed, and in an instant, the two had been forcibly dragged into a boundless, pure white realm.

In this empty, pure white world, Gu Chengming and the Great Record suddenly locked gazes.

They stared at each other.

Gu Chengming patted the dust off his robe and looked at the figure close at hand, his originally tensed spine suddenly relaxing.

He scrutinized the other party for two breaths and grinned, thinking to himself that she was actually the long, straight black hair type of technique?

On the other side, the Great Record was completely dumbfounded.

—What does it mean to confront a technique in person?