That day, Wang Ping'an returned home in a daze, and his master scolded him for being gone so long, saying the food on the stove had gone cold.
He didn't answer, looking utterly lost.
That night, Song Kai Xiu performed a soul-calling ritual for him, but unexpectedly, from then on, Wang Ping'an seemed to have a breakthrough, with his martial arts and Taoist techniques advancing by leaps and bounds.
The youngest Ran Mountain Successor of the Three Sects, the youngest Chief, hailed as a 'Daoist of Three Centuries'—these remarkable achievements were attained within a mere ten years.
Despite being so outstanding, Wang Ping'an's life was quite ordinary; his daily routine, cultivation, martial arts practice, and social interactions all proceeded in an orderly fashion, as if he were a manipulated puppet, albeit one with a spirit, his true self deeply hidden.
No one knew he was still that mediocre youth.
His master, Song Kai Xiu, was immensely proud and content with such an excellent disciple, boasting about him to everyone he met.
Everything he encountered in that mountain cave that day was carefully hidden by this Daoist. Even his good friend, Bai Zimo, was unaware.
Wang Ping'an knew that everything he achieved was inextricably linked to that pyramid and that golden page. They had, intentionally or unintentionally, enhanced his innate talent.
However, time flew by, and slowly, even he himself began to forget this distant memory.
He grew stronger and more famous, respected by more and more fellow disciples and martial artists, yet he felt no joy.
Wang Ping'an loved to talk and laugh, but after the merriment faded, only a deeper emptiness remained.
Living a perfectly orderly life, what did it matter?
Wang Ping'an felt he owed so much.
Until that afternoon, on the boat at the dock.
He met that girl.
She was also ordinary, giving Wang Ping'an a sense of kinship—that feeling of predestination for the mediocre.
The Daoist was not lacking in talent; he simply realized that he would, like countless predecessors of his sect, live out his life blandly along a predetermined path.
And the fisherman's little sister? She lived in ordinariness, yet she yearned for the extraordinary—often the mediocre dreams that haven't yet given up on fate.
Even so, Wang Ping'an could loudly declare his love for Fu Xixi—he just didn't dare.
Seeing her was like seeing his destiny.
A simple, irrational resolve.
This was not love at first sight; this was a love the Daoist had long premeditated. Fu Xixi met all the characteristics of his dream lover: cheerful, optimistic, pure-hearted, lively, with delicate features and passionate eyes.
Besides that, the memories hidden in the corner grew clearer day by day, gradually stirring—"You found that sword hilt; remember to take it to the Taiwu Successor. Don't wander off; hurry up."
Hurry up!
Wang Ping'an opened his eyes; he was in a high-altitude tornado, the fierce wind causing excruciating pain in his eyes, and his body was covered in red and blue bruises from being struck by sand and branches, but he still clutched the sword hilt fragments tightly.
Looking up, in the distance, two giants: one with dark skin, bulging muscles, and bright red totem patterns covering his body; the other with a solemn, wondrous appearance, behind whom seven huge sword hilts revolved like a halo of light.
It was only then that Wang Ping'an truly understood what the phrase "take it to the Taiwu Successor" that he had heard as a child meant.
The Buddha's disciple is so generous; he has to pass on a message from scratch. Isn't he afraid the message will get lost?
No, not just that, did he also enlighten me along the way? Wang Ping'an pondered, did Wang Ping'an encounter the Buddha's disciple, or did the Buddha's disciple find Wang Ping'an?
Before he could ponder the question further, he suddenly felt himself plummeting rapidly; he had been thrown out of the tornado!
Wang Ping'an's three souls and seven spirits were mostly scared away. Before he could think of a last will, another tornado blew, and he ascended again, rising and falling, far and near, but still approaching the battlefield. The Daoist let out a sigh of relief.
Now the only concern was not to be turned to ash by a sudden palm strike.
Blood Maple brandished his long serpent, employing the Five Immortal Cult's ultimate technique, the Chi You Iron Whip. Empowered by Chi You's true essence, this mere Fifth-Tier Secret technique astonishingly displayed the grandeur of a First-Tier Divine skill. Moreover, now that he was manifesting the heavens and earth, with strength capable of moving oceans, the Scarlet Serpent formed by the Divine Sword Imprisoning Demon Wood in his hand churned the atmosphere, unleashing a sky-filling storm, seemingly capable of felling a hundred thousand heavenly soldiers, his aura covering the heavens and earth.
Sun Lichai channeled her energy to resist, then suddenly spotted an opening. Her left hand, like a meteor, pierced through the myriad whip shadows, enduring dozens of heavy blows in an instant, her arm clanging with the sound of metal. She retracted her palm, grasping the long serpent, and instantly, the whip shadows, like a ten-mile-wide black cloud, vanished.
What a vicious serpent! Even with its vital point squeezed, it refused to give up, extending its neck to bite the Female Superior Reverends's arm, and violent scarlet poison surged out like a raging fire. Sun Lichai's jade-white arm visibly turned dark red.
"Hmph!" Sun Lichai forcefully pulled the long serpent, and with a surge of immense power, she made Blood Maple stumble. Immediately, her right fist struck out sharply.
Yigu Nunnery's Seventh-Tier Fist Technique—Righteous Heart Lotus.
What a punch, striking Blood Maple's nose, the blossoming blood forming a perfect red lotus.
"Does this nun's fist taste good?!" Sun Lichai laughed heartily, punching relentlessly, causing lotus flowers to bloom all over Blood Maple.
At this moment, after Jiu Han's death, Blood Maple was the only remaining Xiangshu Incarnation (Xiangshu Incarnation) in the world. In the ethereal realm, the extraordinary power of the Xiangshu Reward Body (Xiangshu Retribution Body) was bestowed upon Blood Maple.
"Roar—!" The dazed Blood Maple suddenly came to his senses, utterly enraged. His physique once again soared, breaking through a thousand zhang, and his colossal body could be seen throughout the entire Jingbei region. Unfortunately, everyone was now hiding in the Pure Land, so only a few truly witnessed this battle of giants.
Sun Lichai laughed loudly, like thunder rolling across the Skyrim, "Not satisfying enough! You great benefactor are too dull; let this nun teach you what 'reason' is!"
The Female Superior Reverends, completely ignoring the intense poison attacking her left arm, raised her right leg and swept it out forcefully, tripping Blood Maple.
With such a massive body, no lightness skill could be employed. Blood Maple watched helplessly as the sky above his head slowly shrank. His enormous, unparalleled body fell to the ground like a mountain, and in an instant, the earth shook, and a roaring wave of dust erupted.
Wang Ping'an, whose body was at the mercy of the air currents, saw this scene and his face changed drastically. He had just managed to get close, and now he would be blown several miles away again.
"Ooh! This humble Daoist will definitely return!" His insignificant scream was drowned in the rolling dust.
Sun Lichai freed her hand, crushed the red serpent that had been biting her left arm, and threw the severed head to the ground.
Though the serpent appeared alive, it was actually a transformed Divine Sword. The serpent's head tumbled a few times in mid-air, then transformed into a stream of light, returning to its true form, once again becoming a venomous snake with a flickering tongue.
Blood Maple propped himself up with one hand and wielded his whip with the other, attempting to force Sun Lichai back. But she fought like a madwoman, disregarding the flesh torn from her body by the whips, screaming fiercely, forming a treasure vase mudra with her hands. First, she bent her knee and stepped onto Blood Maple's chest, then suddenly brought her fist down, striking his head.
It is said that Chi You and his eighty-one brothers all had heads of copper and foreheads of iron, but with this strike, even an iron mountain would be split open with a large hole.
Blood Maple took a brutal hit, his eyeballs nearly popping out of their sockets. Sun Lichai, having gained the upper hand, showed no mercy, her iron fists raining down like a meteor shower without pause. The earth cracked, high-pressure underground water surged up, mixed with blood, like a furious, crimson Waterfall rushing upwards.
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