A stone idol descended from the sky and stood before Fu Yi.
Fu Yi's face twisted with worry. His mind felt stuffed with chaotic information, and his heart clenched. He bowed his head, not daring to look at the idol.
To meet a heavenly god's gaze was a grave offense. To receive it fully was to risk being overwhelmed by the torrent of Heavenly Dao information, the Dao heart shattered.
The idol was not the true body of Heaven's Will — only a portion of its will and power, descended into stone. It was not so strong.
In true might, Fu Yi exceeded the idol.
But the Heavenly Dao's oppression was crushing. It quenched all resistance in him.
"And this god's reputation is poor," Fu Yi thought. "Men often say Heaven's will toys with them. Heaven's will is unknowable."
The idol's triangular head turned with a creak, tilting to study him. "You summoned me. For what?"
Fu Yi bowed and explained. "Supreme God — Xu Ying has slipped away again. I await your decree."
The idol was crudely carved, its face like a child's drawing. Its mouth worked, and it laughed: "The Primal World has no natural energy at all. It yields no spiritual herbs, offers no way to refine qi. His cultivation is sealed by the Heavenly Dao, his secret realms locked. Within and without, he cannot cultivate. Do not fret."
Suddenly, light blazed in the sky. A ring of radiance descended around the idol, spinning swiftly.
Within it were countless images — records of Xu Ying, hoodwinked, lingering in the manor.
The idol swiped through the images, sending them flowing backward through time.
It pointed, freezing the scene at the moment Su Yan left seclusion and the three-legged fire-bird arrived.
The wormlike brows over the idol's eyes twitched. It rewound the images: the fire-bird flew into Su Yan's brow and vanished.
It stared at the thunder-mark on Su Yan's forehead, its face growing grim. "Fu Yi, boy, you've done well. Xu Ying has a problem. The thunder-mark in his brow — it may be the key to breaking the demon-suppression runes. My Heavenly Dao seal may not hold."
A pale silkworm emerged from the idol's shoulder. The idol reached up and tore the sky open — revealing the high, distant world of the Heavenly Dao!
Within stood an ancient mulberry tree, stars circling it.
The idol plucked a leaf and fed it to the silkworm. The creature devoured it joyfully, then swelled round and began to spin silk — weaving a picture in the air: the very moment the thunder-mark blazed on Su Yan's brow.
The mark was rendered in exquisite detail. Even the inner structure Fu Yi had never seen was traced out in the silkworm's silk!
Fu Yi studied it closely, finding more detail — wind and clouds churning within the thunder-pattern, sketching wondrous shapes.
He leaned in for a better look. Suddenly his heart lurched: his calamity stirred. His tribulation was about to strike!
Alarmed, he looked up — the sky had turned. Black clouds rolled in, thunder surging!
His tribulation had been triggered by one extra glance at the thunder-mark!
The idol waved a hand, scattering the clouds. Fu Yi's dread slowly faded. He wiped cold sweat from his brow.
He had been chosen to watch Xu Ying. For this, his masters had granted him a tribulation-avoiding talisman. For millennia, he had never been troubled by tribulation.
Yet a careful look at the thunder-mark had roused his tribulation — even the talisman was useless!
The idol's brows knitted again. It rolled the silk into a scroll and handed it to Fu Yi. "His thunder-mark hides the secret of commanding tribulation. Take this scroll to the Supreme God of Heavenly Authority. He will devise a way."
Fu Yi accepted the scroll and tucked it away solemnly.
The Heavenly Gods of the Cycle descended to the mortal world through the idols of the Temple of the Gods — and among them was the Supreme God of Heavenly Authority.
The idol resumed swiping through the images. It saw Zhai Wuxian's appearance — his martial Dao, plucking a branch and planting a pear, returning the tree to a twig. Then the scene reached Zhai Wuxian carrying Su Yan away, racing tens of thousands of li, and ripping open the ancient battlefield's seal with a single fist.
"So! The Primal World holds a place like this!"
Even the idol had not expected it. Astonished, it watched the images blur — disturbed by the ancient killing mist of the underworld's invasion.
"I am Heaven's Will," the idol said. "I record all that passes in the Ten Thousand Worlds, great and small. Nothing escapes my ears! There is an ancient battlefield here, and an underworld invasion — why did I not know of it?"
It was baffled. Heaven's Will knows all things — that is the authority the Heavenly Dao grants.
Yet this ancient battlefield it did not know. Did this battlefield exceed the Heavenly Dao's authority?
The idol steadied itself. "Go find the Supreme God of Heavenly Authority," it told Fu Yi. "I will go see this place myself!"
Fu Yi bowed. When he looked up, the idol had become a streak of light and vanished.
Before long, the idol entered the ancient battlefield.
Even as a heavenly god, it could not help but shudder.
Crack.
It stepped on a bone — a bone etched with bright runes. The idol picked it up and studied the marks. A chill ran through it.
"Heavenly Dao runes! Then the one who owned this bone was..."
It shuddered and flung the bone away.
It pressed deeper. The killing mist was thick, and the underworld's wind stirred, churning the mist — and where the two met, demon-spirits were born.
The idol cared little for these. Its will was a blade; the demon-spirits were cut down before they could approach.
"The underworld is unconscionable, gnawing at everything. Then again, the underworld's court is not under the Heavenly Dao's governance. The underworld hides many undying old monsters."
The idol narrowed its eyes.
To gods like these, the underworld was a mystery. Heavenly gods had never been able to meddle in its affairs.
"Those above seem helpless against it, so they leave it be. What is the underworld hiding?"
It went deeper. The ancient battlefield was half-devoured by the underworld. Ahead, a pure land stood like an island, radiating mighty martial essence — holding the battlefield steady, resisting the invasion.
The idol laughed at the sight. "And here I thought it was some mighty power. Just a few martial brawlers! You gave me a fright!"
It hesitated no longer. A dreadful Heavenly Dao wave surged toward the martial pure land. *These thick-necked brawlers, brains no bigger than an almond — once my will of Heaven touches them, they'll soon slaughter each other...*
The thought had barely formed when a fist came through the space of the ancient battlefield, folding it layer upon layer — and arrived before him in the next instant!
Boom!
The idol's head burst. Heaven's Will scattered.
The idol toppled. Its shattered head-stones hopped about carefully, gathered together, and pieced themselves back into a head.
The idol crawled along the ground, silent, putting distance between itself and the martial pure land. *These brawlers have forged their brains into muscle — no brains at all. Heaven's Will cannot touch them. I'll wait here for Xu Ying to come out...*
Su Yan followed Zhai Wuxian through the far shore of martial arts. Suddenly the Martial Immortal turned and threw a punch, murder in his eyes, aura raging.
The blow shook Su Yan's spirit — he felt that even in his full prime, he would be killed in a single strike!
"Heretics and demons, scheming to invade the far shore, trying to move me with their pathetic evil thoughts."
Zhai Wuxian lowered his fist, calm. "I burst their head."
Su Yan frowned and looked back, puzzled: "That moment — it felt like Heavenly Dao noise. Did a heavenly god come here?"
He laughed at himself and shook his head: "If it were a heavenly god, could Zhai Wuxian have burst his head so easily? Some ghost-god of the underworld, playing tricks."
They went on. This had been an ancient battlefield, still steeped in the killing intent of the ancient strongmen who fought here. Sword-qi and saber-qi rang in the air!
Su Yan's martial spirit touched that intent and nearly shattered. He swiftly gathered his essence, qi, and spirit, guarded the Grand Unity, and drove his Transcendent True Qi against the killing intent.
Zhai Wuxian showed approval and led him on.
The deeper they went, the stronger the killing intent — and it honed Su Yan's essence, qi, and spirit.
Then, with his martial spirit, Su Yan saw his own Xiyi Domain!
In the martial spirit's sight, the domain was clearer, more real than ever!
He saw the Black Iron Gate again — but now it was sealed by the Heavenly Dao, covered in Heavenly Dao runes, impassable.
He followed Zhai Wuxian, his spirit growing stronger with every step against the intent. Presently they passed a stone wall.
The wall was carved with a martial fist-art — its steps for commanding essence, qi, spirit, will, blood, and body. Su Yan had never studied martial arts systematically. One glance, and he was lost in it, stopping short.
Zhai Wuxian stopped too, not hurrying him. "This is the fist-art left by the first martial legend to set foot here, setting forth his martial spirit. It is called the Eight Forms of the War God. Look if you will."
Without realizing it, Su Yan seemed to see an indomitable War God push martial arts to an impossible extreme — the road ahead endless, without a final summit.
In this world, he had stood at the peak. No enemies, no rivals. He could advance no further.
He would not die of old age. He would not waste away in bitterness.
He raged, unbowed, and struck at the heavens.
Until one day, his fists shattered a ten-thousand-zhang mountain and broke through the firmament, opening the long-sealed ancient battlefield.
Men watched him fly into another world and thought he had ascended by the martial path, become an immortal.
But when he arrived, he found this land was just another mortal realm, no fairyland.
At least here he had rivals. The ancient battlefield's killing mist tempered his martial path, helping him forge a martial golden core and a martial golden body. At last he carved a pure land of martial arts from this world.
Su Yan's qi and blood surged. Before he knew it, he was following the Eight Forms of the War God on the wall, driving his qi and blood, stilling his spirit, throwing punches and kicks.
His blood was like mercury, his qi a rainbow. His strikes grew mightier — a simple punch whipped up wind that carried dozens of zhang, a sweeping kick threw phantoms, splitting rock!
Zhai Wuxian showed surprise. He had meant only for Su Yan to look, not to learn the Eight Forms.
But Su Yan learned fast — faster than he had expected.
A figure descended from the sky and landed beside Zhai Wuxian: a brisk woman. She stared at Su Yan, startled: "He's learning the Eight Forms of the War God?! Martial Immortal — who is he?"
Zhai Wuxian said, "A fine seedling I found wandering the mortal world. His name is Xu Ying."
The woman watched as Su Yan's essence, qi, spirit, will, blood, and body slowly fused into one, his martial spirit growing ever stronger, driving his qi, blood, and body with it. She grew uneasy.
The Eight Forms of the War God was the legacy of the far shore's first founder. It carried the strongest martial spirit of all — far beyond these later arrivals.
Its moves were simple, yet the hardest to learn and master. Its martial spirit was an achievement few who reached the extreme of the martial path could approach!
To hold what was made is easy; to make what was never made is hard. In his age, no one knew whether a road lay beyond martial arts, or where cultivation ended. No one could be his rival.
With the strength of his Dao heart alone, he had shattered the ancient seal.
His spirit, Dao heart, qi and blood, and body were fused as one!
He had built the far shore of martial arts with his own hands!
Another powerful figure flew in, his essence, qi, and spirit like bedrock, unmovable — but the sight of Su Yan practicing the Eight Forms set that rocklike spirit grinding like a millstone.
"Martial Immortal, where did this one come from?" the towering figure marveled. "His talent and comprehension are no less than yours!"
Zhai Wuxian smiled faintly: "Picked him up passing through Great Xia."
Another man approached, his qi and blood blinding — like ten thousand suns. It was only the pressure of his presence.
"Someone of such outstanding talent and comprehension — that easy to find? I'd like to pick one up myself." The man reined in his aura, laughing.
Zhai Wuxian laughed too. "Master Yuan, was I not picked up by you?"
Master Yuandao laughed heartily. It was he who had found Zhai Wuxian, guided him to the far shore, and watched him break through again and again.
"You reached in two hundred years what took me a thousand." Master Yuandao swelled with pride. "Your talent and comprehension far exceed mine. But this boy you picked up — he may exceed even you."
Another man approached: "Martial arts need not only talent and comprehension, but a valiant Dao heart... hold on. He still hasn't broken through the thousandth stage of Transcendence?"
At this, all eyes turned to Su Yan. Each brow furrowed.
They could see it: Su Yan had not truly crossed the thousandth stage. By the rules, he had no place in the far shore.
Zhai Wuxian frowned too. All along, he had hoped the martial legacies left along the road would aid Su Yan, helping him break through the gate.
But Su Yan had not.
"He comprehended the Eight Forms of the War God — a peerless art. By all rights he should have shattered the gate. Why is there still no movement?" He was baffled.
Su Yan finished absorbing the Eight Forms and stopped. The surging qi and blood, the churning spirit, slowly settled.
Only then did he notice the crowd around him. Their faces were kind, their auras gentle, their bearing graceful — plainly men of learning and refinement.