Martial Cultivator

More than half a month passed, and the Divine Capital gradually entered summer. Because the young Lord Warden Commander had disappeared without a trace, the Divine Capital was now noticeably calmer.

Although some still debated His Highness the Crown Prince’s decision and submitted petitions in large numbers, this time the Crown Prince was resolute. Not only were the petitions repeatedly rejected, but even those who threatened the Crown Prince with their resignation were all approved instead. As a result, officials leaving the Divine Capital have increased sharply these days.

All of this signaled that after the Great Liang Emperor’s departure, the Great Liang Dynasty would no longer revert to how it was under the Emperor Lingzong. Instead, it would continue following the Great Liang Emperor’s will, moving forward steadily.

In the Historical Pavilion, the youngest historian in the more than two hundred years of the Great Liang Dynasty was still just a youth. Yet his expression was remarkably steady, carrying the aura of the ancient Grand Historian. Today, this newly appointed Grand Historian wore wide official robes as he entered the archives, sat by the window, and slowly unfurled a scroll. Dipping his brush in ink, he began to record recent events.

His expression was calm, his brush slow and deliberate, full of solemnity. As a historian, he fully understood the responsibility on his shoulders, something his father had taught him since childhood. So, he was especially earnest, determined that every word and sentence be grounded in truth.

After half an hour, the young Grand Historian had written most of the recent events. The last thing to record was the major incident on the day of the grand court session.

The young Grand Historian held his breath and concentrated, moving his brush slowly but steadily. He wrote the events clearly, but when it came time to write the final summary, the young historian hesitated.

Historical records must be impartial; historians must strive to be impartial, so future generations can see the truest past in those words, free of bias or emotion.

The young Grand Historian stopped writing and looked out the window. His eyes were full of complicated emotions. His life had been saved by Chen Chao, but was he really going to write a sentence in the record that seemed ordinary but was actually biased?

He murmured to himself, looking out, “Father, if you were here, you wouldn’t be so conflicted, right?”

That self-talk would have no reply. The young Grand Historian shook his head, snapped back to reality, gripped his brush, and lightly wrote:

“His Highness the Crown Prince, during the grand court session, issued an order granting Lord Warden Commander Chen Chao unprecedented authority, making Chen Chao evidently the most powerful official in the more than two hundred years since the founding of Great Liang...”

“The vast majority of powerful officials in history have been notorious for their infamy...”

”This dynasty...”

He stared at those two characters, hesitated for a long time, then took a deep breath and finally wrote a few words:

“Should be different.”

......

......

Chen Chao had been in seclusion for nearly a month. Outside the bamboo building, his three disciples were all anxious. Song Lian appeared steadier; he occasionally entered the bamboo building to check and knew Chen Chao was still alive, though his aura grew weaker. When he checked a few days ago, Chen Chao had already fallen to below the Spirit Platform Realm. If this continued, Chen Chao would soon be no different from an ordinary person.

But precisely because of this, Song Lian’s worry lessened somewhat. After all, falling one or two realms was somewhat normal; falling all the way to ordinary people was more like deliberately dispersing one’s cultivation and recultivating.

Such a thing was generally a secret technique of the Three Schools’ cultivators. Though no one knew how Chen Chao had achieved this, Song Lian was no longer surprised.

As long as he was alive, it was enough.

......

......

Inside the bamboo building, Chen Chao had been introspecting his body for a month. At this point, the young martial artist maintained the operation of one hundred and eight furnaces within his body, just barely completing the first stage - that of gathering all his aura inside himself. The hundred and eight furnaces had absorbed all the aura in his body. At this moment, Chen Chao, in some sense, was no different from an ordinary commoner.

The young martial artist floating on the dry “riverbed” looked around at the furnaces and let out a long breath. He sat cross-legged, relaxed his mind, and focused on connecting his spirit with the hundred and eight furnaces.

As he sensed the changes in the aura inside the furnaces, Chen Chao soon encountered difficulties. Although the auras spread throughout his meridians, the amount varied in each area, and so did the true fire each furnace needed.

Within half a day, more than thirty furnaces had accidents after Chen Chao began refining them. The aura inside churned, as if about to burst through the clouds. Chen Chao even felt in that instant as if his body was about to explode.

After he managed to stabilize those thirty-plus furnaces, he quickly found dozens of furnaces dead silent, showing no progress.

Chen Chao frowned and adjusted the true fire needed there.

By the time he completely solved these issues, nearly half a month had passed in the outside world.

Though cultivators secluding themselves was common, sometimes lasting half a year or more, for a martial artist like Chen Chao, over a month was a long time.

However, Chen Chao could not perceive the passage of time. The young martial artist was fully immersed in sensing changes inside his body.

The legacy of the great daoist sage, the mysterious white mist, the scattered sword qi, and the martial insights from three generations of the strongest Great Liang martial artists - all of these to Chen Chao were like a bag. When he saw something good, he stuffed it into the bag, but the more he put in, the more chaotic it became. Some things even got crushed by others.

When taken out again, they were no longer what they had originally been.

There were only two solutions to resolve this issue: The first was to take everything out and carefully arrange them neatly.

But clearly, this method was not suitable now.

The other was to completely smash everything, fuse it into one, and transform it into something new.

Rebuilding was a difficult task.

In fact, Chen Chao had faced many choices in recent days.

For example, following the white mist’s secret method to cultivate a path of martial arts that had been cut off but previously proven effective.

Or choosing to accept the legacy of that great daoist sage and become a daoist cultivator.

......

But none of these were what Chen Chao wanted. He did not want this. He knew the current martial path was a dead end, but still wanted to continue forward on it.

If there was no path ahead, then he would forge one himself. The so-called dead end in martial arts would be reopened by me.

No need for former paths.

Today’s path, with me, will be the strongest path.