Chapter 26: The Deadly Fog and Ghostly Wind, Transformed Into My Long Sword

Clearly, compared to the Method of Motion, the Method of Stillness also had its advantages. If one's cultivation technique was oriented towards enhancing one's own vitality rather than combat, the Method of Stillness was certainly the better choice.

However, Da Chen's martial arts leaned toward conflict and also emphasized martial skills. Therefore, it did not cherish this kind of martial arts philosophy, and An Jing had never received such training in the past; he only knew of it.

As for the unification of motion and stillness, the harmony of yin and yang—a method to advance Inner Breath—he had never even heard of it.

"After a breakthrough with the Method of Motion, the body's meridians will be a bit stronger, but control will be somewhat lacking."

The Sword Spirit said, "Whereas with the Method of Stillness, initial control will be quite precise and Inner Breath powerful, but the body will receive less strengthening."

"The deficiencies of both can be compensated for with postnatal training. If one has both motion and stillness, one can save that amount of time... It's quite difficult; ordinary people can't do it, but you have Innate Wisdom, a powerful soul, a robust body and exquisite skills. I think it's worth a try."

At this point, the Sword Spirit couldn't help but wonder, "Strange, have the teachings of Embracing the Void changed? It's a basic requirement for inner sect disciples of great sects to enter the Dao by harmonizing yin and yang."

——It's probably because both Hanbei and Western Mountain are backwater places.

An Jing thought to himself, then followed the Sword Spirit's instruction: "First meditate to enter a state of tranquility, and then practice martial arts in the sea of the heart. At the moment when heart and body become one, deliver that strike simultaneously in both the heart and the real world."

"In that instant, the innate qi shifts from extreme stillness to extreme motion, possessing both the fullest strength and the most delicate control. This can save a lot of time spent on polishing skills, advancing toward 'Essence Qi as Vast as River' at the fastest speed."

"If your foundation is solid enough and the strike you deliver is thoroughly in line with your true heart, you might even directly advance to Essence Qi as Vast as River!"

Essence Qi was an ancient term for Inner Breath, often used in old texts. Clearly, the Sword Spirit was using ancient terminology. Although It usually employed the vocabulary of Embracing the Void, It reverted to Its era's language when serious: "Now, start the Tranquil Sword Manual. Otherwise, as an Innate Wisdom Bearer entering mediation, you'll only recall fragments of your past life's memories."

So, An Jing started the Tranquil Sword Manual.

He visualized the Rusty Sword, honing it with his anger and persistence.

In this process, just like the Sword Spirit had said, he began to recall many memories from past lives—An Jing even remembered where he had placed the air conditioner remote. No wonder he couldn't find it for so long; it turned out he had left it behind the vase at the Martial Arts Field.

Wait a minute, what's an air conditioner remote?

Shaking his head, he set the memories aside and completely entered into a state of tranquility.

He sank into the sea of his heart.

A hazy chaos, all light vanished, turning into utter darkness.

In the pitch-black sea of the heart, An Jing saw a path.

A path leading to dreams.

At this moment, he was supposed to be practicing martial arts, honing his most proficient swordsmanship.

This was the weapon he practiced most frequently when he was in the Northern Border. His father did not think the sword was the perfect weapon; he had him learn it only because it would not hinder An Jing's future studies for the imperial examination.

But An Jing liked the sword himself.

——Because a sword has two edges, a tip and a hilt, capable of killing from left, right, front, or back.

Yet for some reason, An Jing, who should not have been wasting time, put down the sword.

He seemed to sense a familiar presence.

The young man stepped onto the path.

As he walked, faces began to emerge on either side of the road, one after another.

Zhang Ying, Ye Xiuyuan, Zhan Feng, many more familiar faces... one by one, they appeared before him, smiling at him.

An Jing silently observed them as he looked at each of their faces in turn.

He walked forward.

The sunlight grew dim, the faces vanished, and An Jing heard faint and illusionary screams and cries, along with wails from deep within the heart.

"No, help! Mother, save me—"

In the shadows of the trees, one could faintly see a child's heart-wrenching scream as he struggled, scraping his fingers across the uneven floor, his fingernails chipped away, but still, he was dragged away by two silent worshippers, disappearing at the end of the corridor.

An Jing paused for a while as he looked at the calluses on the child's hands from practicing archery. Some memories resonated in his mind, related to hunters, future dreams, and heroes.

They dissipated.

He walked forward.

The shadows grew denser; even the lingering cries vanished. An Jing didn't hear any more screams, only a low groan and an annoyed voice.

"He dared to bite me?"

In the Shadow River flowing like water, because of a child's silent resistance, he was split in two. All his innards, flesh, and fat poured out in a gush, and blood filled half the corridor.

An Jing stared at the somewhat frail figure faintly remembering the tone of that little teacher, hearing the sighs, resentment, and the resigned acceptance. He was already full of regret, but there were greater regrets in the world.

They dissipated.

He walked forward.

The road became lonelier and more desolate, cut off from the world; An Jing turned his head and saw that the road behind him had turned into complete darkness.

In the darkness, a river of blood surged, with blood-red flowers floating upon it.

In the river's deepest part, a tall child was tied to a chair, staring in terror at something approaching him, approaching his eyes, and then there was only darkness, a scream unheard.

"Why me?! Why is it me?!"

"Am I not good enough? I can be like you all!"

You're not good enough. You're too human; you still cry, you still worry about friends you left behind. You're different from them.

He just wanted to taste what alcohol was like; he wanted to drink a toast of brotherhood, to eat meat and be merry with his brothers. He thought he had found his brothers, but the timing was wrong, the place was wrong.

It faded away.

The river flowed on, the strong stench of blood hitting An Jing's face, as the dark blood river surged, and he saw skulls rolling past before his eyes.

There was no hatred, no bloodstains, just familiar faces rolling by before him, then disappearing into the blood.

An Jing silently met their gazes until these faces also dissipated into the dust of the world.

The wind rose up, wailing, whispering, the mournful wind stirring the fog of sorrow and hatred.

Countless hatreds, countless regrets.

As the river receded, the riverbed was filled with white bones; shadows flowed, revealing withered old trees and skulls hanging like leaves behind them. Flowers bloomed—pairs of hands soaked in blood and reaching out for help.

The road came to an end.

The dream was about to end.

It rained.

Blood spattered the earth, soaking An Jing entirely.

An Jing had a dream.

In his dream, he saw all the death and evil that happened around him.

All that he had ignored, looked aside from, remained silent about.

He who was silent for the entire dream smiled.

"Thank you."

He smiled genuinely, as blood flowed down his face, crossing his cheek: "Thank you for being willing to see me one last time, to tell me all this."

"But this is not everything."

"Tell me everything."

"I want to see more, I want to remember it all."

"I swear."

"I..."

"Will never forget!"

Clang!

A sword's cry.

The withered trees trembled, and waves rose on the blood river!

The ghostly wind, dead trees, fog of death, even the waves on the blood river, all seemed to compound layer upon layer, ready to transform into countless unstoppable edges, flying towards An Jing.

"Sword!"

With a loud shout, An Jing reached out his hand, grasping the wind and fog, and blades formed spontaneously from the air!

In reality, An Jing's eyes snapped open.

Awakening from the great dream within his heart, he stood up, with all his muscles and bones resounding in unison, and plumes of white vapor rising from his head.

And from his hand, strands and wisps of scarlet qi permeated, originating from the shape of his empty grasp, condensing into a nebulous, illusory sword of Blood Fiend!

An Jing stepped forward, his clothes flaring, water mist exploding around him, forming a circle; without hesitation, he swung his sword forward!

The wind howled, the qi turned into a white rainbow!

A visible sword qi slid forward, cutting through the dust and debris ahead, slashing a crack into the ground!

Inner Breath leaving the body, surging like a river...

This was the realm of Inner Breath as Vast as River!