"You have not reached the limits of the Divine Repository, An Jing."
Yet at that mont, Subdue Evil’s voice resounded, calm and certain: "Although you have indeed surpassed those before you and it will be difficult for anyone to co after you, you still have a certain distance from the theoretical strongest of the Divine Repository."
"Not to ntion the ’Spirit Path’ you lack in your Immortal Industry... An Jing, your foundation is sufficient to bear the Five Emperor Technique, yet you only practiced the Taibai Luminous Godly Ban of the White Emperor. If at this mont you achieved Great Success with the Five Emperor Technique, transcending the mundane in Material Image, Spiritual Fiend, Chrono-Light, Space Void, and Nature, then you too could break through the current predicant."
"You can beco more complete... but this does not an you only have one path with the Five Emperor Technique you can choose from... Think, An Jing, if you can co up with it, not only would you be the first in Embracing the Void of past and present, you would be the first in the history of the entire Dao Courtyard!"
"I’m thinking, I’m thinking..."
An Jing pondered.
The Martial Artist hesitated, mused, recalled...
In his heart, there was a vague answer, a vague mold.
It was... an idea from his previous life as a child, quite naive.
"Why do people die?"
The young him, asked his master at the ti, utterly puzzled, unable to comprehend this question: "As long as one keeps holding their breath, continues to breathe, maintains their breath..."
"How would one die?"
At that ti, his previous life’s master was taken aback for a mont, then laughed: "I didn’t see it, Jing Xuan, are you going to fight King Yan?"
"But, your idea is indeed correct."
"In the end, for us Martial Artists wanting to prolong life and longevity, it’s essentially about holding onto this ’breath’!"
A breath.
Even though in his previous life he was gravely ill, should’ve long perished, he still held onto that breath, living past the doctor’s predicted limits, living until the mont he was satisfied to die.
That’s it, exactly so.
This seemingly simple ’breath’, in reality, involves sorting out the ridians around the body, operating the viscera muscles, coordinating, mastering every detail of the entire body, holding the energies, activating the Divine Marrow.
Constantly battling. Battling illness, fighting against weakness.
Fighting death, fighting fatigue.
Fighting ’one’s very life’.
Just like now.
So, the answer is already obvious.
The way to solve the problem is to fight!
At this mont, An Jing’s will is continuously splitting, shattering, sinking.
He did not retract his soul back into the Cave Heaven—although within the Cave Heaven there lies the seed of his soul, if An Jing’s soul spirit were to shatter, the Cave Heaven would resurrect the soul spirit based on the seed, but that would be a genuine severe blow to his life, making it impossible to recover in full strength for at least a year.
But An Jing doesn’t care now.
His soul rges with his body and is constantly shattering—actively, by the Martial Artist, by An Jing himself, being crushed, sliced, discarded.
He fell into the ocean.
Then...
Began the battle with the ocean.
The surging, turbulent Sea of Divine Powers, like endless starlight, destroying and annihilating everything. Even a divine weapon forged from Taibai Divine Steel would be obliterated in such fierce flas.
However, within this fierce fla, a thread of soul and a particle of dust remain resiliently existent.
It trembles.
It moves.
It flows.
Force Unloading.
Force Dispelling.
Force Borrowing.
Even if it is just a particle of dust. Precisely because it is only a particle of dust.
Because dust is dust, the vast boundless Sea of Divine Powers cannot exert all its power on this one particle of dust, even if one drop of dew among them is thousands and thousands of tis more expansive and magnificent than the particle of dust.
Therefore, the dust can tear off a small piece from the droplet, integrating it into itself, making itself larger and stronger.
The dust is fighting—it crashes into a thunderbolt. This thunderbolt pierces through the dust, yet the dust also seizes part of the thunder’s energy. The Heavenly Venerable Seal that emitted the thunder swiftly detected this, but in the next mont, with that bit of thunder light, the dust swiftly tore off a large chunk of energy, then vanished without a trace.
The dust is fighting—it dives into a fla, which was a mistake, for that fla burns relentlessly, vowing not to stop until all is consud. The dust indeed snatched a wisp of fla but was also ignited by the fla. Yet, the dust chose not to extinguish it, but used it as a tool, a weapon, carrying this wisp of fla to charge into a phantom of Divine Wood.
The dust is fighting—with the fla and thunder, it rushes into the phantom of Divine Wood, which is a root derived from the void, capable of absorbing, plundering all energy from the Great Void, and anchoring all transmissions and escape skills. But now, it is ignited, the Divine Wood writhes in pain, struggles, the fla contending against it, and taking advantage of this, the dust steals a considerable part of the energy from both the Divine Wood and the fla, then continues onto its next battle.
Existence is battle; thought is battle.
Breathing is battle; action is also battle.
Whether it’s plundering or attacking, defending or maintaining, every mont of existence’s energy needs to be seized from the Outer World, by battling the universe, void, others, in order to obtain the spoils of war necessary for one’s survival.
The essence of the Martial Artist.
[Martial]
Is such a thing, used for resistance, used for combat!
Dust constantly battles, constantly grows,
This is the Martial Artist.
Unfamiliar Divine Skill? It doesn’t matter.
Reviews
All reviews (0)