Extreme Spirit Chaos Technique

"Let’s go."

Mu Chen pursed his lips, not saying much. Was he being difficult? Not at all. Anyone would be annoyed after getting beaten up by the same person for a solid month, especially when that person then acted as if nothing had happened.

Feng Chaoming, of course, knew what Mu Chen was thinking. He just laughed heartily, raised his right arm, and swiped his fist through the air. A huge spatial tunnel appeared before him. He had actually gone looking for Nameless fifteen days ago, but as luck would have it, Nameless wasn’t in the mountain. Because of the delay, the spatial tunnel hadn’t been completed, so now he had no choice but to personally escort Mu Chen back to the Eternal Holy Domain.

Looking up at the familiar pitch-black rift, Mu Chen stepped inside. After a few paces forward, he vanished completely into the darkness. Only then did Feng Chaoming follow. He had subtly positioned himself behind Mu Chen, a gesture Mu Chen hadn’t noticed...

Even for a Saint, Feng Chaoming had to perform four large-scale Spatial Transmissions to get Mu Chen to the Eternal Holy Domain. Looking at the familiar Dazzling Stars before him, Mu Chen felt a wave of emotion, even though he’d only been gone for half a month. This place, after all, held his indelible, painful memories.

"These consecutive large-scale Spatial Transmissions are no joke. This old bag of bones will need a good long rest on the way back." Saying this, Feng Chaoming took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from his brow, and turned. "I won’t be going up with you. You should know the way from here."

Mu Chen nodded. He could see that Feng Chaoming had expended a massive amount of energy. He recalled that it had also taken the Nine-Ring Saint, Dilaka, quite some effort to transport him to the Eternal Holy Domain that one time.

Seeing Mu Chen’s affirmation, Feng Chaoming turned and stepped back into the Spatial Rift. Although his aura was still somewhat unsettled, the exhaustion on his face was replaced by another emotion: deep anticipation.

The rift sealed shut. Mu Chen raced toward the Eternal Holy Domain with swift steps. He had already returned to his dorm once after leaving the Inner Holy Tomb Mountain. Just as he’d expected, Chu Aoqing and Mu Junwu had long since returned to the Eternal Holy Domain, leaving only a note on his desk telling him to come straight back here.

The moment he saw the note, Mu Chen had gone to Xuan Moqing’s room as well. But to his slight disappointment, Mo Qing hadn’t returned in the past fifteen days. To be honest, after their intimate encounter, Mo Qing had left a deep impression on his heart. It was impossible not to miss her.

’For my promise! I must get stronger!’

His expression hardened. He buried his longing for Mo Qing and Mu Bingling deep in his heart. In one year, he had to fulfill a promise! And that promise required power! At that moment, Mu Chen still didn’t know that Qin Wu’s wedding had been postponed; he considered this his most urgent and important task.

However, while Mu Chen was rushing toward the Eternal Holy Domain, Feng Chaoming’s figure appeared in a golden space. Here, all sorts of golden longswords floated in midair. Familiar memories flashed before his eyes, one after another. He clenched his real right fist tightly, the sting of his nails digging into his palm confirming that this was not a dream!

"Since you’ve come, why not come in for a chat?"

Suddenly, as Feng Chaoming was lost in thought, an aged voice filled the entire golden space. Though it tried to remain hidden, the shock and turbulence in the speaker’s emotions were unmistakable. Who else could this voice belong to but Dilaka?

"Tch!" Feng Chaoming curled his lip and muttered, ’Almost a hundred years have passed, and this old guy’s senses are only getting sharper. He had already reached the level of a Ninth-Ring Martial Saint a century ago. I wonder what realm he’s at now.’

As he spoke, Feng Chaoming’s figure vanished with a WHOOSH into a green barrier. The barrier was like silk, or like a visible breeze. In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

...

Outside the golden space of the Immortal Extinction Sword, Dilaka stood atop the Sword Hilt with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression impassive as he gazed into the distance. It wasn’t until a green, silken wisp, like a gentle breeze, appeared before him that his calm facade finally broke, showing a flicker of emotion. The hands behind his back clenched into tight fists.

The instant Dilaka spotted him, Feng Chaoming, emerging from the green breeze, also saw Dilaka standing upon the Immortal Extinction Sword. His expression instantly became incredibly complex, a deep-seated shame hidden within.

"Dilaka..." The green silk gently dissipated, revealing Feng Chaoming within. He now sported a head of white hair. This wasn’t a recent change; back on Holy Beast Mountain, he’d felt it was too strange for a man over two hundred years old to still have black hair, so he had used a Disguise to alter it. However, the gruesome scar that cut across his left cheek and through his left eye could not be hidden.

"Have you finally decided to see me?"

Dilaka’s voice was hoarse, his eyes turning red. Seeing the horrifying scar on Feng Chaoming’s face, Dilaka’s heart ached. He would never forget that day, or what the man before him had endured for his sake.

"Look at that expression on your face! For all these years, I’ve avoided you precisely because I was afraid you’d make a face like that, you big idiot! It’s so annoying to see!"

Feng Chaoming spoke with disdain, but he couldn’t hide the glint of tears in the corners of his eyes. He forcefully swallowed the tears that threatened to fall, flashed forward, and slapped a hand on Dilaka’s shoulder. He said harshly, "Act like a man, for crying out loud! Look at those eyes, that expression! How old are you? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself!"

As he spoke, the turbid tears in his own eyes could no longer be held back. He ended up crying before Dilaka even did.

"Senior Brother! It’s been eighty years! A full eighty years! You’ve finally come to see me!"

Dilaka’s suppressed shame and guilt erupted. Tears streamed uncontrollably from his eyes as memories locked away in his chest burst forth like a spring.

That year, he was nine, and Feng Chaoming was eleven. They met for the first time at the Sword Body Sect.

"Are you here to become a disciple?"

"Mhm..."

"You’re a boy. You can’t be this shy."

"Mhm..."

"Oh, for goodness’ sake. How are you going to pass the entrance assessment like this? Forget it, just team up with me later. I’ll help you out."

"Mhm!"

"Is ’mhm’ all you know how to say?"

"..."

That year, they both passed the disciple assessment. Dilaka was completely unscathed. Feng Chaoming, however, suffered seven broken ribs, a fractured right arm, and countless wounds all over his body. All for him...

That year, he was fifteen, and Feng Chaoming was seventeen. They took the Core Disciple assessment for the first time, and on this occasion, both passed without a scratch.

"Congratulations, you two, on successfully passing the Core Disciple assessment. However, as Core Disciples of our Sword Body Sect, you must specialize your Cultivation. Will you be a Sword Cultivator or a Body Cultivator? Please make your choice now!"

"Sword Cultivator!"

"And you?"

"Body Cultivator..."

He remembered that he hadn’t hesitated in the slightest. But he’d failed to notice that just as he shouted "Sword Cultivator," Feng Chaoming had swallowed the second half of the same word, changing his answer to "Body Cultivator."

"Why? Senior Brother, you’ve been practicing Sword Cultivation for the past six years! If you switch to Body Cultivation, what was all your training for?! What about all the hardships you’ve endured?!"

Afterward, he had furiously questioned Feng Chaoming, but he would never forget the look on his senior brother’s face or the words he had said.

"Junior Brother, what is the greatest weakness of Sword Cultivation?"

The furious Dilaka hadn’t even processed the question before he answered subconsciously. For a Sword Cultivator, this knowledge was branded into his very soul.

"Of course, it’s the weakness of the physical body. No matter how strong your Sword Intent, it’s ultimately a Martial Dao that relies on a weapon. The offense is powerful, but the defense is incredibly weak."

"Exactly. So, if we were both Sword Cultivators, we wouldn’t complement each other. If we faced a great crisis, we would both surely perish. But if I’m a Body Cultivator and you’re a Sword Cultivator, our sword and body can unite as one. We’d be unstoppable, haha."

"But Senior Brother, your sword skills are much better than mine! If anyone should switch to Body Cultivation, it should be me!"

"Nonsense. With your build and your personality, could you really handle Body Cultivation?"

"I..."

Looking at Feng Chaoming’s excited expression and complex gaze back then, he didn’t understand. He thought everything was just as Feng Chaoming had said. He didn’t know that in the days and battles to come, he would finally understand why Feng Chaoming had made that choice. It was because he wanted to protect him. He had given up his beloved Sword Cultivation... for him.

That year, he was twenty-five, and Feng Chaoming was twenty-seven. He achieved Great Success in his Sword Cultivation, and his Martial Arts Realm had even reached the Venerable Realm Second Ring. Feng Chaoming’s Martial Arts Realm was identical to his, but his achievements in Body Cultivation paled in comparison. Watching the junior brother he had always protected gradually grow stronger, Feng Chaoming offered nothing but smiles and encouragement. But this became a shackle on Dilaka’s heart, breeding a sense of guilt toward his senior brother.

Day by day, as Feng Chaoming suffered more and more injuries to protect him, the guilt in his heart grew deeper. But every time he wanted to talk to Feng Chaoming about it, he would always be brushed off with the same words.

"I’m a Body Cultivator. Getting injured is the most effective way to forge the body. This is all just training for me. As long as I don’t die, I’m making progress."

And just like that, that single sentence deceived him for over a hundred years. Even after they both entered Holy Tomb Mountain, became Elders of Holy Tomb Mountain, and finally became Saint Mountain Guardians, nothing changed.

Until that day. While they were on that one mission, an unprecedented crisis struck. He was met with a fierce counterattack while clearing out an assassination den of Dark Attribute Martial Artists. Normally, no matter how strong the counterattack, it should have been an easy task for them.

After wiping out the group of Dark Attribute assassins, the two were quite pleased. After all, completing this mission meant they could permanently station themselves at Holy Tomb Mountain. However, at that very moment, a Saint Realm Poison Cauldron Master suddenly appeared and unleashed an extremely terrifying poison Combat Skill, its target none other than the Sword Cultivator, Dilaka!