Chapter 63: The Great Divine Secret

After some hesitation, Feng Ke’er finally decided to give it a try. It was just a mouthful of blood from her heart, after all! Biting her tongue, she spat a spray of blood onto the Azure Blade in her hand—heaven and earth bear witness, she truly hadn’t switched the materials. It was these cultivators who said: the tongue connects to the heart meridian, so blood from the tip of the tongue is considered heart’s blood.

A miracle occurred: as soon as her blood touched the sword, the Azure Blade underwent a fundamental transformation. The hilt and blade became a translucent green, shining with a metallic luster. Even the oilcloth wrapping the sword suddenly transformed into a black, snakeskin scabbard.

The blade remained hollow, and the whole sword was remarkably light.

What kind of material was this? Feng Ke’er tapped the sword with her finger in curiosity. A clear, resonant sound rang out—the Azure Blade’s cry.

Instantly, all was silent around her.

Feng Ke’er immediately realized what had happened and excitedly released her spiritual sense. Now, her sense could probe over fifty miles. As expected, wherever her perception reached, the fire ants lay prostrate on the ground, trembling in clusters!

How domineering! Truly a treasure! Feng Ke’er gently caressed the sword, grinning widely in delight.

The Azure Blade was highly flexible, belonging to the soft sword category. To avoid drawing attention, Feng Ke’er decided to use it as a belt, wrapping it around herself.

And indeed, once sheathed, the sword was barely two fingers wide and more than three feet long, its design simple and elegant. Worn at her waist, it looked just like an ordinary black snakeskin belt. Although the Azure Cloud Sect strictly regulated disciples’ attire, belts were not included. The love of beauty is universal, and many outer disciples in the Qi Refining stage would embellish their belts to showcase their superior taste. Compared to them, a black snakeskin belt was nothing special and hardly eye-catching.

Feng Ke’er was quite satisfied with this understated luxury.

But now that she had such a fine belt, should she not change into new clothes? Previously, without the protection of fire ant armor, her training in the Ant Forest had ruined many garments. Apart from the robe given by Uncle Qin, she had only the one she wore now, which was in the best condition. Unfortunately, even this one had a gaping hole in one sleeve.

Why did she not wear the robe from Uncle Qin? Mainly because Feng Ke’er didn’t trust him. Her intuition and various signs suggested that Uncle Qin was likely to side with outsiders. Even though Feng Ke’er had repeatedly examined the robe with her spiritual sense, for safety’s sake, she dared not use it. Her cultivation was inferior to his; if he’d tampered with the clothing, she wouldn’t be able to detect it.

But now, Feng Ke’er was no longer afraid. She, too, was a Foundation Establishment cultivator, just like Uncle Qin.

With a thought, she took the robe from her storage pouch and examined it again. This time, she truly found something amiss: a trace of spiritual sense lingered on the robe! No doubt, it was left by that Qin fellow.

In the cultivation world, this was a common way for cultivators to keep tabs on others. Fortunately, Feng Ke’er was cautious and had never worn it. While in the storage pouch, the trace of spiritual sense was rendered useless.

What was that supposed to mean? Concern or ulterior motive? Feng Ke’er unceremoniously wiped away the trace, angrily tossing the robe back into her storage pouch. Wearing it would only annoy her. She preferred breezy sleeves; besides, with the fire ant armor outside, the robe was merely a base layer. No matter how torn, it wouldn’t leave her exposed.

After the personal guidance from the Master of Heaven, Feng Ke’er was no longer entangled in matters of her previous life. As Feng San said, the past was past. What mattered most was moving forward. In this life, Feng Ke’er would be herself!

Therefore, not only would she continue cultivating, but she would do so even more diligently. Otherwise, should the mess of her past life come knocking, what could she use to resist?

She had been in this world long enough to realize that here, reason was measured by strength. Whoever had the biggest fist had the right to speak. Only by becoming strong enough could she announce to the cultivation world that the affairs of Saintess Feng Lixi had nothing to do with her, Feng Ke’er. Otherwise, as before, if people called her Feng Ke’er, the current Saintess of the Feng clan, she would have to accept it and pay the price. No longer would she be Feng Liqi.

Those people’s noses were extraordinarily keen. For example, Feng Lixi’s secret admirer, Feng Jiu, had already heard the rumors and come looking for her. She suspected that Hua Taiyi would arrive soon as well, and others would surely follow. Heaven had truly left her little time. If she didn’t want to shoulder the blame for her previous life, she had to cultivate harder from now on.

The Master of Heaven had personally appeared to act as her “elder”—what was there to fear! Feng Ke’er sat cross-legged on the ground and began reading the Heavenly Tome.

This time, she could read one more entry of the Great God Pan Gu’s cultivation diary.

In the diary, Pan Gu tore away a strand of primal energy that had always covered his eyes, thus establishing his foundation. For the first time in his life, he saw the world he inhabited: chaos everywhere. Primal energies large and small, long and short, trailed their tails as they darted and played within it. Pan Gu felt inferior: he looked nothing like them. He had no tail; they had no limbs. In the midst of chaos, only he possessed a clumsy body and peculiar hands and feet.

As he was feeling dejected, two strands of primal energy approached. One was named Shun, the other Hu. Seeing Pan Gu, they were exceedingly excited and revealed his origins.

It turned out Pan Gu was the child of their friend Emperor Jiang. Feng Ke’er understood: the primal energies reproduced asexually, much like paramecia—cell division.

Emperor Jiang was also a large strand of energy, but he looked different from the others—he was born without seven orifices. With no brows or eyes, he couldn’t see, and thus couldn’t roam the world like the other energies. Without a mouth or tongue, he couldn’t speak, so he spent his days in quiet solitude. Over time, his body grew exceedingly round and plump. If one didn’t look closely, one might not even notice he had a tail.

The other energies mocked him as a monster and refused to play with him. Only Shun and Hu befriended him.

Still, Emperor Jiang was troubled. Shun and Hu offered a solution: “You lack the seven orifices. Let us help you open them!”

“And once you have seven orifices, you’ll be able to see. We’ll accompany you everywhere. With more exercise, you’ll surely slim down.”

“Then you’ll become just like us.”

And so forth.

Emperor Jiang was moved. Shun and Hu each plucked a sharp tooth from their mouths, using them to open the orifices for Emperor Jiang.

Emperor Jiang endured the agonizing pain, full of hope for the outcome.

At last, the seven orifices were opened. Emperor Jiang could see, hear, and speak. Yet, he was gravely injured in the process and became critically ill.

Shun and Hu grieved deeply.

Before his death, Emperor Jiang thanked his friends. Now that he could see, speak, and hear, he was content to die without regret.

Thus, Emperor Jiang died. But unlike other energies, he did not dissolve into nothingness, instead remaining like a deflated pouch for a thousand years.

Then, after many millennia, the empty pouch gradually swelled again.

After millions more years, all the energies witnessed Pan Gu emerging from the pouch. Immediately after, Emperor Jiang’s empty shell vanished.

This was an unprecedented event. Shun and Hu concluded that Pan Gu was indeed Emperor Jiang’s child. Back then, their well-intentioned but reckless plan had led to their friend’s demise. Though Emperor Jiang had clarified at the end that he bore no grudge, Shun and Hu had never forgiven themselves. Unexpectedly, after so many years, as their own energy was nearly depleted and they faced extinction, their friend had a successor.

Overjoyed, Shun and Hu gifted Pan Gu the two sharp teeth they had used to open Emperor Jiang’s orifices. After years of refinement, the two teeth had fused into a single axe. Additionally, Hu gave Pan Gu something else: a lotus petal.

Within chaos grew a blue lotus. It would absorb a strand of energy each day and emit a wisp of chaotic air the next. (The lotus’s routine was so regular that the energies used its cycle to define a day: the time from the lotus consuming a strand to emitting chaotic air.) The place where the lotus grew was the densest chaos, and energies avoided it for fear of death.

One hundred thousand years ago, the lotus, which had never bloomed, suddenly produced a blue bud.

It was a momentous and strange event. Regardless of size, the lotus consumed only one strand of energy per day. The unlucky one might not be oneself. So the energies, disregarding danger, gathered in crowds to watch.

Despite Shun’s warnings, Hu joined the excitement. That lotus petal was what he risked his life to gnaw off the bud.

After so many years, the petal had become a white stone. Besides scribbling on it, Hu had no idea what use it had.

Energies were essence of chaos, coming naked and departing into chaos, never carrying anything. Thus, in his final moments, Hu could only give Pan Gu this as a token of remembrance. As always, its commemorative value outweighed its utility.

Pan Gu accepted it with melancholy. Then Shun and Hu faded into nothingness.

Pan Gu had developed a habit of doodling while in Emperor Jiang’s belly, and over the ages created his own set of symbols. Previously, he had nothing to record them with, so they remained unwritten. Now, with this stone formed from the petal, Pan Gu resolved to record major events like today using his symbols.

To his surprise, it worked beautifully. The small stone could hold countless symbols.

Enthused, Pan Gu, having nothing else to do, filled in records of his earlier battles with other energies.

Just then, the surrounding energies panicked, scattering in terror: “The flower is about to bloom!”

Pan Gu knew they meant the bud produced by the blue lotus.

After one hundred thousand years, the flower was finally about to open? Curious, he decided to investigate.

He traveled for an unknown time, until dazzling multicolored light burst forth from the chaos ahead. The radiance was powerful—nearby energies, regardless of size, perished on contact. Fortunately, though the light was dazzling, it did not harm Pan Gu. Squinting, he saw within the murk a blue lotus shrouded in multicolored auspicious light, tall and elegant.

Pan Gu was instantly captivated.

The diary was filled with annotations. Through these, Feng Ke’er learned that this blue lotus was the legendary Primal Chaos Blue Lotus. And the jade pendant at her neck was precisely the stone Hu had given to Pan Gu. Jade, no matter how fine, is ultimately stone.

What she couldn’t understand was that all the annotations referred to it as the “Inheritance Jade Slip,” with no mention of the “Heavenly Tome.” Likewise, Feng San’s message made no reference to the Heavenly Tome. She was puzzled: was there more to this than met the eye?

Never mind—next time she met the Master of Heaven, she would ask him directly.

Without further thought, Feng Ke’er dripped a bit of blood onto the Phoenix Jade Token, to see what new techniques she could learn this time.

(To be continued)

Heavenly Tome 63—Chapter Sixty-Three: Great God’s Secrets updated!