Chapter 68: Remnant Scroll of the Formless Art
Within the world of the painting, a self-formed stele stood. The stone stele was battered and broken, yet one could still faintly make out four large characters — “The Great Dao Is Formless.”
Wu Zheng and Wei Dao stood before the inscription, a trace of regret in their hearts.
Wei Dao felt a measure of frustration. “I say, Old Wu, we truly are the unluckiest pair around.”
“All this time wandering through, we found either empty chambers or places others had already visited. Now we finally come upon this place…”
He glanced toward the spot where Lin Qinglong had sat in meditation, and seemingly fearing some indescribable thing, he instinctively lowered his voice.
“We finally come upon this place, and there is nothing here at all…”
Wei Dao had actually considered trailing those three rogue cultivators to see if there might be an opportunity to ambush them.
But…
This old companion beside him — Wu Zheng — was someone he had grown up with since childhood. He knew all too well what kind of person this was.
Wu Zheng was far too soft-hearted. Forget about robbing rogue cultivators — he would not even compete with others for treasure.
The only words one could ever hear from his mouth were things like “Suffering a loss is a blessing” and “Let us all be harmonious.”
That was likely the reason he had cultivated in the Eastern Abyss Sect for so many years and still had not been able to break through to the late stage of Qi Refining.
On the path of immortal cultivation, if one does not compete and fight, what is there to cultivate?
It was not as though he possessed a Innate Dao Body or was the reincarnation of an Immortal Lord…
“It is nothing, nothing. A blessing in disguise — who knows if misfortune may not be a blessing after all.”
“Old Wei, did we not kill a talisman puppet and obtain a mid-grade spirit stone along the way?”
Just as expected.
Wei Dao waved his hand in boredom, too lazy to bother explaining.
He secretly resolved that he would absolutely never come out chasing after opportunities with this old fool again.
Before the cold, self-formed stele, a bare skeleton sat with its skull bowed low.
Wei Dao sighed softly and bowed three times.
“Let us go…”
The two departed one after the other, retracing their steps. There was no one around.
Seeing his dear friend so dejected, Wu Zheng felt a pang of guilt.
Beyond that, a strange feeling also rose from deep within him.
Wei Dao walked ahead, muttering to himself. “This trip has been utterly wretched.”
“I say, Old Wu, if you want to walk a few more steps on this path of immortal cultivation and live a few more years, you had better train your courage.”
“If you do not compete and fight, how will you ever obtain spiritual resources? You yield this, you let that go…”
“Then wouldn’t the Great Dao be cultivated entirely by others?”
Wu Zheng followed slowly behind, his fingers absently caressing a dark jade thumb ring.
His gaze remained fixed upon his old friend’s back, as though he were hesitating about something.
“Old Wei…”
“Hmm?”
“Tell me… are you stronger, or am I stronger?”
“Are you losing your mind? Why ask such a thing?”
Wei Dao did not even turn his head. “If we are speaking of spiritual energy and cultivation, then naturally you are a notch above.”
“Though you are merely an outer disciple, the Eastern Abyss Sect can at least allow you to cultivate in peace.”
“If you were out there as a rogue cultivator with that temperament of yours, I doubt you would last three days.”
Wu Zheng looked at his old friend’s back, and the inexplicable strange feeling within him grew ever stronger.
Wei Dao stroked his chin and said with a jest, “But if we are speaking of combat and killing, of Dao arts and techniques, then naturally I am the one who excels.”
He turned around, about to say something more.
But then he saw an ordinary short blade that had already sunk into his chest.
He had been completely unguarded.
“…”
Pfft.
The blade was gripped tightly in the hand of this “old friend.”
“You…”
The taste of blood rolled in Wei Dao’s throat. His eyes widened as he stared at Wu Zheng in disbelief.
This good-natured man who did not even dare to kill a chicken now held a look of cold indifference toward life in his eyes.
For the first time in forty years.
“You were lying.”
Wu Zheng caught the collapsing body and looked down into Wei Dao’s wide, staring eyes.
He pulled the short blade free. Blood splattered onto his right hand.
A streak of crimson slowly vanished into the dark jade thumb ring.
Since when had he become like this?
Whenever he found himself alone with sect disciples or spirit beasts weaker than himself, this uncontrollable killing intent would well up within him…
His hands released their grip, and Wei Dao’s already-cold corpse fell to the ground. His eyes remained wide open.
He died with his eyes unshut.
Suddenly, Wu Zheng began to weep.
He wailed loudly, beating his breast and stamping his feet.
But not because he regretted killing his old friend… “Old Wei… how is it that you were… so weak…”
He wept alone, half-mad, for a long while.
He rose to his feet and took Wei Dao’s cosmos pouch.
He even dug a grave beside the spot where Lin Qinglong had sat in meditation and laid Wei Dao to rest with proper care.
“…”
Wu Zheng had never once reflected on why he had become this way.
Only occasionally, when he recalled the fellow disciples and spirit beasts who had died by his hand, he would ask himself.
“Should the weak simply die?”
…
At a certain instant, the spiritual essence within the painting wavered, present then gone.
Everyone within the world felt the colors of this realm begin to fade, like ink dropping into water.
In a moment of daze, they were expelled from the world of the painting.
Song Yan raised his eyes and swept his gaze across the scene. Only five people remained.
Though he had long been prepared for this, his heart still turned cold.
“Oh? There are still five fellow Daoists alive?”
Che Ning still wore his bronze mask, his tone somewhat mocking. “Truly a cause for celebration.”
The cultivators all regarded “Che Ning” warily, but he paid no heed to the others’ gazes. The spiritual light flickered in his hands, and the enormous painting on the wall suddenly contracted and shrank.
At last it became a scroll, which Che Ning collected into his hand.
“Hahahaha, there is no need for concern, everyone. I only want these two pieces of calligraphy. Che Ning keeps his word.”
“Now that all matters are concluded…”
“We shall meet again.”
He gave Wu Zheng a meaningful glance, then departed first.
Song Yan also noticed that the Daoist surnamed Wei who had been with Wu Zheng had not emerged from the world of the painting.
He simply did not know what had happened inside.
Perhaps thinking of Shan Zifeng, Song Yan suddenly bowed his head in thought.
To make a cultivator vanish silently from this world…
It did not seem all that difficult after all.
The other cultivators departed as well.
Walking out of the cave dwelling, they found that the waterfall had at some point resumed its flow.
Song Yan, along with the Rong and Wu couple, first returned to Spirit Creek Market. They found a quiet spot, wishing to divide the cosmos pouches of those three rogue cultivators.
Those three rogue cultivators had apparently also encountered a talisman puppet before this. A total of three mid-grade spirit stones were found in their cosmos pouches.
For cultivators at the mid-stage of Qi Refining, such things were very difficult to obtain unless one was exploring a secret realm for treasure.
It was meaningless for an ordinary mid-stage Qi Refining cultivator to keep several mid-grade spirit stones in their cosmos pouch.
There was nothing particularly remarkable in the cosmos pouches of the red-robed female cultivator and the youth.
In the red-robed female cultivator’s cosmos pouch, there was a human-skin mask of fair craftsmanship.
No one knew where it had come from.
Perhaps because the mask was made for a male, the red-robed female cultivator had never used it.
Song Yan pondered for a moment, said a word to the couple, then placed it into his own cosmos pouch.
Such a thing was somewhat useful, but held no real material value.
The Rong and Wu couple naturally would not quibble over such matters.
If they were to haggle with Song Yan over every last detail, that would be rather dull.
What truly made everyone stop was the discovery of a Dao manual in the Confucian-robed cultivator’s cosmos pouch.
“Remnant Scroll of the Formless Art.”
“…”
“Remnant Scroll of the Formless Art…”
Rong Xiaofeng recalled carefully, and seemed to remember something.
“Elder Lin Qinglong gave himself a title along the tunnel of that tomb, and it was…”
Song Yan nodded and said, “The Formless Wanderer.”
Wu Huaguo’s eyes widened, and her breathing quickened.
“…”
The room fell into silence.
Song Yan himself had no use for such things. He had no clan to support. Even if it were given to him, he would simply find a place to sell it.
He was simply waiting.
Waiting for the two across from him to name their price.