Chapter 161 – Three Transformations into Three Paintings—The Righteous Way, the Demonic Way, and the Way of Freedom - Part 2
When Li Yuan awoke the next morning, he felt as though every ounce of fatigue had vanished. The storm of emotions had subsided, leaving his body and mind completely restored and brimming with energy.
He returned to his secret chamber and took out his life chronicle from the jade box. What once appeared as a chaotic tangle of lines now revealed, in his eyes, three distinct and complete paths. Each path, in turn, reflected one of his visualization aids.
The synthesis of these paths and vision stirred within Li Yuan an impulse to create new martial arts moves. After a moment’s contemplation, he stood with his long blade in hand, his blood energy swirling around his heart and surging through his entire body.
His physique did not enlarge, no monstrous horns sprouted from his head, nor did his stature increase. Yet his muscles became denser and stronger, as if they were no longer merely flesh but had transformed into something far harder and nearly indestructible.
With a mere thought, Li Yuan swung his blade. In that motion, he felt immense power flow into the blade, as if an indomitable spirit had been awakened. His heart swelled with heroic fervor. Before his decisive stroke could fall, however, a violent gust filled the secret chamber. The meditation cushion was swept into the air, its straw scattering chaotically in the wind.
Li Yuan paused and let the stroke drop short. For if he had unleashed that blow, the entire chamber would have been destroyed. The cushion landed with a dull thud in the darkness.
Muttering to himself, he said, “This must be the style corresponding to The Thousand-Mile Hero...unyielding as a mountain, steady yet imbued with a wild, unbounded force. I shall call it the Ruling Blade.”
Turning his attention to his life chronicle again, Li Yuan visualized the second focal path. This time, his shadow blood surged differently, swirling around his heart with an altered rhythm and speed. His emotions shifted from heroic zeal to a mood of sorrow, gloomy detachment, and eerie indifference.
Following this new impulse, his form seemed to drift away; the afterimage of his blade left a faint trace as he reappeared in another part of the chamber. Streaks of light from his blade painted the air, and the space itself took on a cold, scaly sheen like fish scales shimmering in the dim light. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the scaly pattern vanished, leaving the steel walls, floor, and ceiling marred by fine, slicing cuts as if inflicted by a thousand razor-sharp slashes.
Li Yuan sheathed his blade and pondered before quietly murmuring, “This is the style of the Southern Mountains’ Ghostly Rain...mysterious and ever-changing, swift beyond compare, and unbelievably sharp. Yet its power is as fleeting as a ghostly downpour, unable to match the sheer, wild force of the Ruling Blade. I shall name it the Phantom Blade.”
He then focused on the remaining focal path. This time, as he channeled it, his shadow blood flowed around his heart along an entirely different path. There was no heroic fervor nor melancholic gloom now...only a serene calm, an unburdened freedom, and a graceful detachment.
“Let the white deer wander among the green cliffs; if you must travel, mount up and explore the famed mountains.”