My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting-Chapter 161 – Three Transformations into Three Paintings—The Righteous Way, the Demonic Way, and the Way of Freedom - Part 2
Chapter 161 – Three Transformations into Three Paintings—The Righteous Way, the Demonic Way, and the Way of Freedom - Part 2
When Li Yuan awoke the next morning, he felt as though every ounce of fatigue had vanished. The storm of emotions had subsided, leaving his body and mind completely restored and brimming with energy.
He returned to his secret chamber and took out his life chronicle from the jade box. What once appeared as a chaotic tangle of lines now revealed, in his eyes, three distinct and complete paths. Each path, in turn, reflected one of his visualization aids.
The synthesis of these paths and vision stirred within Li Yuan an impulse to create new martial arts moves. After a moment’s contemplation, he stood with his long blade in hand, his blood energy swirling around his heart and surging through his entire body.
His physique did not enlarge, no monstrous horns sprouted from his head, nor did his stature increase. Yet his muscles became denser and stronger, as if they were no longer merely flesh but had transformed into something far harder and nearly indestructible.
With a mere thought, Li Yuan swung his blade. In that motion, he felt immense power flow into the blade, as if an indomitable spirit had been awakened. His heart swelled with heroic fervor. Before his decisive stroke could fall, however, a violent gust filled the secret chamber. The meditation cushion was swept into the air, its straw scattering chaotically in the wind.
Li Yuan paused and let the stroke drop short. For if he had unleashed that blow, the entire chamber would have been destroyed. The cushion landed with a dull thud in the darkness.
Muttering to himself, he said, “This must be the style corresponding to The Thousand-Mile Hero...unyielding as a mountain, steady yet imbued with a wild, unbounded force. I shall call it the Ruling Blade.”
Turning his attention to his life chronicle again, Li Yuan visualized the second focal path. This time, his shadow blood surged differently, swirling around his heart with an altered rhythm and speed. His emotions shifted from heroic zeal to a mood of sorrow, gloomy detachment, and eerie indifference.
Following this new impulse, his form seemed to drift away; the afterimage of his blade left a faint trace as he reappeared in another part of the chamber. Streaks of light from his blade painted the air, and the space itself took on a cold, scaly sheen like fish scales shimmering in the dim light. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the scaly pattern vanished, leaving the steel walls, floor, and ceiling marred by fine, slicing cuts as if inflicted by a thousand razor-sharp slashes.
Li Yuan sheathed his blade and pondered before quietly murmuring, “This is the style of the Southern Mountains’ Ghostly Rain...mysterious and ever-changing, swift beyond compare, and unbelievably sharp. Yet its power is as fleeting as a ghostly downpour, unable to match the sheer, wild force of the Ruling Blade. I shall name it the Phantom Blade.”
He then focused on the remaining focal path. This time, as he channeled it, his shadow blood flowed around his heart along an entirely different path. There was no heroic fervor nor melancholic gloom now...only a serene calm, an unburdened freedom, and a graceful detachment.
“Let the white deer wander among the green cliffs; if you must travel, mount up and explore the famed mountains.”
Li Yuan closed his eyes in deep contemplation. Suddenly, he opened them and stepped forward. First one step, then two, then three. His hand gripped the handle of his long blade once more, and deep within, he sensed an urge akin to City Toppler.
But it was not simply the act of demolishing a city that he sought. For if that were the case, his long blade would have vibrated and emitted a piercing shriek as it cut through the air. Instead, everything remained perfectly calm, as if nothing at all was happening.
Li Yuan felt that all the swirling shadow blood inside him had stilled, settling into a dormant state—much like a wandering swordsman who had forsaken worldly fame and cares, drifting peacefully amidst mountains and rivers. In that moment, he forgot about toppling cities, for this move transcended such crude acts.
What lay beyond? It was the heavens.
Slowly, Li Yuan raised his hand. In that gentle motion, he sensed his shadow blood reawaken...transitioning from stillness to motion, from dormancy to vibrant life. Drawing his blade only a few inches, nothing around him changed, as if an unremarkable swordsman were merely unsheathing his blade.
Then he paused and patted the hilt back into place. Though he did not unleash the blow, he already understood the latent power and transformation that this strike would unleash—a strike that, by channeling every ounce of his strength into a single, decisive cut, could sever everything, leaving no possibility for retreat. Such a strike was destined to be fatal, yet its use would leave him profoundly weakened.
“This move shall be known as the Heavenly Blade,” he declared softly. After a moment’s thought, Li Yuan mused further, “No, that title does not quite capture its essence. Let it be known instead as the Final Blade.”
And so, the life chronicle, visualization aids, and the three corresponding martial styles were all forged. But a pressing question remained.
Where lay the path to break through beyond the fifth rank?
“If one cannot discern the path forward, then the answer must be to perfect what is already known.” Li Yuan sat cross-legged and pondered deeply. From early morning until dusk, he meditated and experimented repeatedly, yet he could not find a way to integrate them.
He recognized the flaw. These three techniques, each born of a different state of mind and method of channeling shadow blood, remained distinct and incompatible. The Ruling Blade wielded tremendous power but moved slowly; the Phantom Blade was lightning-fast yet lacked force; the Final Blade delivered an explosive burst but left one vulnerable afterwards.
“How can they be fused?” he wondered, lost in thought.
Seeking someone to guide him was unrealistic.
His own creation proved that envisioned life chronicles were indeed real. Yet in Gemhill County, no one had ever heard of them. Even more astonishing, neither Senior Li nor Zhou Jia had known of their existence. That was despite the fact these two were taught directly by the previous head of the school. What did that imply?
It meant that the visualization aids of the Fallen Moon School had long been lost; by then, later generations had completely forgotten they had even existed. Their value was self-evident. They had already become the kind of treasure that all major factions kept hidden.
At that moment, Li Yuan felt as if he was standing beside the ancient progenitor who had first created the life chronicle. Both of them, sword drawn and gazing around uncertainly at a crossroads, unsure of what the future held.
"Then, let’s give it a try," he resolved.
Li Yuan abruptly rose and glanced at the update to his status window.
NEW! Expert Ruling Blade - Rank 6 (1/80)
NEW! Expert Phantom Blade - Rank 6 (1/80)
NEW! Expert Final Blade- Rank 6 (1/80)
This time, instead of starting at the Basic level of (1/10), all three skills had jumped straight to an enlightened, Expert level. The reason was simple. Li Yuan had derived these skills from his own personally created life chronicle, bypassing the early, preliminary phases.
Without any hesitation, he allocated 717 stat points into them, maxing out each skill at the Master level.
Countless insights and deep memories surged from the depths of his soul, reshaping both his muscles and his body. Moments later, when Li Yuan reopened his eyes, he felt as if his very nature had been cleansed.
He had mastered his cultivation technique, and in turn, the technique refined him.
Checking his status once more, Li Yuan noted that his overall combat power which had once hovered at 635~1,135 now read 1,140~1,640. This newfound strength imbued him with a sense of calm and detachment.
He recalled that the strength he set for the Blood Blade Patriarch was 455 and the strength he revealed for Mister Wood was 905. That meant he still had quite a bit of buffer room when it came to opponents.
“A common man bears no guilt, but to possess treasure is to court misfortune. Moreover, true progress can only come through adversity. With that in mind, let’s divide this true life chronicle into three parts then.”
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Half a month later.
Under the gentle warmth of spring, several thatched cottages sprung up along the banks of Silver Creek outside Gemhill County.
That place had been utterly desolate, far from even a small village, and the thatched cottages there appeared worthless; no one would choose to live there, not even a vagrant. And yet, those cottages were brand new. Who in their right mind would so casually build thatched houses by a river?
In fact, not a single person in all three counties thought those cottages shabby or insignificant. On the contrary, they were filled with hope and reverence...simply because those were the cottages established by the Blood Blade Patriarch.
"Careful, careful, hang the plaque properly."
"Just a bit more to the left... There, perfect."
At the entrance of the cottage, two disciples were busy hanging a plaque bearing two large words—Martial Lodge. This was the pilot site Li Yuan had envisioned for uniting the three counties. Although originally meant as a test ground, it came to be regarded by many as an authority that surpassed the three major forces of the counties.
Instructors from the Blood Blade Sect, Frost Sword Sect, and Orange Blossom Sect had all been dispatched there, and they now taught their arts without any division. Disciples from one sect could learn techniques from another—no longer identified as Blood Blade, Frost Sword, or Orange Blossom Sect disciples, but simply as members of the Martial Lodge.
Yet, if given the choice, none of the Martial Lodge students wished to join any of those three sects, for what they truly desired was to be taught by the Blood Blade Patriarch himself, the head of the Martial Lodge.
All new students would begin by training in the Patriarch’s Nameless Secret Technique. Those who reached the ninth rank could join the Patriarch’s outer circle; at the eighth rank, the inner circle; and at the seventh rank, they would have become direct heirs, receiving personal instruction from the Patriarch.
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Time flew, and before long—from late April until early June—the thatched cottages of the Martial Lodge were filled with students.
The first to master Li Yuan’s secret technique up to the ninth rank was Yang Teng of the Orange Blossom Sect.
Soon after came a second, Zhao Chunxin.
The third was Pang Han, the martial enthusiast who had once been inseparable from Pang Yuanhua. Her role in bolstering the Frost Sword Sect had ended, and now that the Frost Sword Sect had appointed a venerable elder as its leader, she had come to the Martial Lodge in search of even stronger cultivation.
The fourth was a disciple from a minor sect, once nicknamed Swift Blade in the martial world. Determined to start anew, and thanks to his natural talent, he had quickly advanced to the ninth rank in the Blood Blade Patriarch’s secret technique.
The fifth was Liu Xiaoyu from the Orange Blossom Sect.
The sixth, seventh, and eighth... More and more people began to master Li Yuan’s martial cultivation technique. Although reaching the ninth rank was an ordeal, and advancing to the eighth required a complete transformation of one’s shadow blood, this pathway offered access to the sixth rank—an opportunity that few could resist.
However, many cultivation techniques were different. Advancing to the ninth or even eighth rank in one didn’t guarantee one could reach the seventh in another. Yet with this chance before them, everyone was willing to take the gamble.
