Chapter 38: A Question to Ask
"Why did so many demonic beasts suddenly go berserk all at once..."
"But this actually helps me delay them, preventing them from rescuing Shen Yanzhou too soon."
Amidst the thick canopy of trees, Shen Tian stood concealed within.
He wore a bamboo rain hat and had already changed his appearance and build.
His face was sallow, his frame burly and thick-set, making him look like an ordinary woodcutter entering the mountains for firewood.
The sound of distant battle drew his attention.
He remained cautious and did not approach.
Although it was deep night, the flowing brilliance of talismans still lit up the darkness splendidly.
From afar, he could vaguely make out that they were people from the Bureau of Immortal Inspection and the Chilin Guards.
This was not the main route leading to the Forest of No Return, so he decided to take a detour.
In no time, Shen Tian was leaping among the dense treetops like a nimble monkey, light and swift, leaving behind only a faint grayish trail of flowing light.
If Shen Yanzhou or Wu Ruyue had been here, they would surely have recognized it — this was Shen Tian’s signature movement technique, “Dim Moon Flowing Light Step.”
…
Deep within the canyon.
The rain had stopped.
A few fragmented stars could still be faintly seen flickering across the firmament, casting a dim and distant glow.
Shen Yanzhou stood before a pool of icy water that pierced to the bone.
The miasma here was denser, drifting like strips of fog around him.
Piles of enormous demonic beast skeletons surrounded the area, and the pool itself shimmered with a ghostly hue, its depths invisible.
Even when he attempted to probe it with his spiritual sense, he could still feel that bone-piercing chill that seemed to seep into his very soul.
The pool water had long been tainted by the aura of a great demon and was no longer ordinary water.
Even the primordial spirit of a Daoist cultivator would not dare to enter it lightly.
"Having come all the way here, what’s there left to hesitate about?"
Shen Yanzhou chuckled softly — it sounded both like self-comfort and a declaration of resolve.
As he took out the Stone Tablet of Trial from his robes, the dark, bottomless pool before him began to ripple slightly.
Soon after, as though it were boiling, thick mist rose and swirled upward.
Clang!!!
In the next instant, a pair of eyes gleaming with dark-golden light suddenly lit up from the depths of the pool like two golden lanterns lifted in the darkness.
An invisible pressure spread outward, fierce as a storm, sharp as thunder.
The surrounding air seemed to freeze.
The demonic beasts lurking nearby fell utterly silent, trembling in fear.
This was the oppressive aura of a supreme great demon.
The pool began to churn noiselessly, as though it had come alive.
A massive shadow, its form nearly discernible, moved slowly in the depths before gradually rising — it was a colossal head, deer-like with long whiskers and a pair of horns upon its brow.
The rippling waters surged only because of its immense size.
Its scorching, heavy breath rolled forth like molten lava flowing across skin, enough to melt anything.
Those dark-golden pupils broke the surface, staring down with a judging gaze at the frail human before it.
Shen Yanzhou held his breath, forcing himself to remain calm.
This was his first time facing a great demon of this world directly — a being that, in some sense, stood close to the Third Rank.
Among the Daoist path, Third Rank cultivators were called True Persons of Divine Transformation, while in the Martial Path, the Diamond Realm of the Third Rank was already considered a Land-bound Immortal, capable of cutting down thousands with a single sword.
"Are you the young one who obtained my master’s Stone Tablet of Trial?"
The colossal head of the Flood Dragon lowered slightly, its gaze falling upon the tablet in Shen Yanzhou’s hand.
Its voice carried wisdom and age, almost gentle — like that of an elderly scholar.
"I pay respects to Senior Soul-devouring Flood Serpent," Shen Yanzhou said with a bow.
The Flood Dragon was mildly surprised, a trace of astonishment in its eyes.
Shen Yanzhou had spoken its lineage outright — clearly, he had come prepared.
"Since you possess the tablet left behind by my master, then come with me."
The Soul-devouring Flood Serpent did not ask further.
It nodded slightly, and an invisible breeze enveloped Shen Yanzhou, gently lifting him toward the pool below.
During the descent, Shen Yanzhou offered no resistance.
A translucent shell-like barrier surrounded him, isolating the freezing waters entirely.
Gurgle…
He could hear the sound of flowing water.
Darkness enveloped his sight as his body continued to sink, falling deeper and deeper — distance becoming impossible to gauge.
After an unknown span of time, a faint glow appeared before him.
When his feet touched solid ground again, he found himself standing before an underwater palace.
The Flood Serpent’s enormous body remained partly submerged in the waters.
It seemed this place was connected to a vast underground river.
Strange luminescence glimmered from hanging stalactites — pearls as bright as the moon — illuminating the surroundings.
"Since you have come to seek my master’s inheritance, I presume you already know the rules."
"I shall wait here for one day. If you do not emerge within a day, you will remain here forever."
The Soul-devouring Flood Serpent’s words were brief and calm, yet Shen Yanzhou could clearly feel the indifference and coldness within its gaze — an imitation, no doubt, of its master’s tone when he had lived.
Shen Yanzhou nodded, placing the Stone Tablet of Trial into the recessed groove at the entrance of the palace.
It fit perfectly.
Having long known the story, he was well aware of the entire process.
Soon, the long-sealed gate of the underground palace began to open.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Shen Yanzhou stepped inside.
"An interesting one…"
The Flood Serpent muttered softly, watching his departing figure before its massive head slowly sank back into the dark river.
…
The underground palace was vast and bright.
Large, smooth pearls hung from the beams and pillars, radiating a gentle light.
Though no one had set foot here for countless years, it remained spotless — as if sustained by an invisible formation.
Shen Yanzhou sensed a faint breeze.
He glanced around briefly but did not wander, for he knew well that nothing of value was left here.
This place had once been the training hall used by a Late Martial God to instruct disciples.
The weapon racks on both sides were rusted and decayed, abandoned for ages.
As for finding hidden treasures here — that was utterly impossible.
According to the Autobiography left behind in the Late Martial God’s own cave abode, his disciples had once fallen out with each other and raided this very place, taking nearly everything — even the floor tiles.
The only thing left behind was the Martial God’s trial ground.
Returning to focus, Shen Yanzhou strode toward the center of the palace.
The corridor ahead widened as it extended inward.
On both sides, bells and drums gave a faint tremor, producing sounds like distant morning chimes — solemn and awe-inspiring.
Faintly, a statue of a valiant man stood ahead, holding a long sword behind his back and stepping upon a tortoise and serpent.
Shen Yanzhou paused briefly before bypassing the statue, arriving at a doorway resembling a meditation chamber.
The chamber was plain, its door not fully closed — a narrow gap about half a palm wide remained.
One could vaguely see inside — a single meditation cushion, a simple bookshelf, and a stone table with matching stools.
Shen Yanzhou arrived before it without the slightest hesitation and directly pushed the door open.
“What is Martial Heart?”
At the instant he pushed open the stone door of the meditation chamber, a solemn and commanding voice echoed in his ears.
It was as if it struck directly at his soul, making his mind reel, leaving him dazed and unable to think.
His thoughts instantly froze; all notions and ideas came to a halt.
This was the second trial — the questioning of Martial Heart.
To face one’s own heart directly — there was no room for clever tricks or evasive sophistry.
On the way here, Shen Yanzhou had pondered this question countless times.
Many drafts had already formed in his mind.
He had repeatedly reinforced his conviction, embedding those thoughts deep into his subconscious.
He was an ordinary man who had never truly come into contact with the Martial Path.
Long, flowery rhetoric was impossible for him.
The only Secret Art he possessed now was the Selfless Sword Heart.
And this second trial’s response would determine his final evaluation before the incarnation of the Late Martial God’s lingering will.
Therefore…
His answer was: “My heart is the Martial Heart.”
Shen Yanzhou’s answer was simple — apart from these few words, he said nothing else and offered no explanation.
Pure and direct.
The doctrine of “mind as truth” — the so-called Martial Heart — was, in essence, his own will.
To strengthen oneself, to seize power, to live freely, to bed the most beautiful women under heaven… all these, every thought and every desire, were forms of Martial Heart.
The grand voice that had questioned him now fell silent.
Before the meditation chamber, all became still and solemn.
Shen Yanzhou had already prepared a backup plan.
If he failed the trial, he could still rely on Wu Ruyue to find a way into the Late Martial God’s cave abode.
Thus, his emotions were calm, without the slightest ripple — he wasn’t at all afraid of failing the test.
“A path of the heart, facing one’s true self.”
“Not bad.”
“Enter.”
Moments later, that solemn, heavy voice resounded again.
Compared to before, it now carried a hint of vitality.
Upon hearing this, Shen Yanzhou knew he had passed the second trial.
As a Martial God, even a mere incarnation of will could discern his current cultivation method at a glance.
The art of the Heart Sword naturally corresponded to the path of the mind.
He stepped inside.
Within the meditation chamber, everything appeared simple.
Above the lone cushion, hazy light fell like divine rain, illuminating the silence with sacred brilliance.
Soon, a blurred figure appeared there.
It was an elderly man who looked kind and aged.
His visage bore a few resemblances to the tall, heroic statue outside, though his face was lined and weathered by time.
Wearing a loose gray robe, he stood there with hands behind his back — yet his very presence seemed to overshadow the eight wildernesses and dominate the heavens.
“I greet Senior.”
Shen Yanzhou behaved with utmost respect and courtesy.
The Martial God — one who had truly stepped onto the ultimate peak of the Martial Path — was a being recorded only in the annals of history.
It had been countless years since such a person last appeared upon this land.
To ascend as Martial God was to shatter the First Rank and step into the realm beyond the mortal grades — the legendary Transcendent Rank.
Even after sitting in death for ages, a mere fragment of his will could, with a flick of the finger, alter the fate of a dynasty.
“The dragon battles in the wild; its blood turns dark-golden.”
“What an audacious destiny that defies the heavens.”
The Late Martial God wore a gentle smile as he studied the young man before him, yet suddenly froze as though in surprise.
His gaze then grew solemn, examining him once more in detail.
Shen Yanzhou blinked slightly at those words.
Dark-golden blood? Was he referring to the original body?
A fate defying the heavens?
Could it be that this old man had seen through his transmigrator identity?
He kept his composure and feigned ignorance.
“I do not understand what Senior means.”
The Late Martial God chuckled.
“It seems you are unaware. Interesting. One day, you will naturally come to understand.”
“…”
Shen Yanzhou almost forgot that this old fellow had a penchant for amusement — he always enjoyed speaking in riddles, never giving a straight answer.
It was likely that his words referred to the original body.
If he truly had seen through Shen Yanzhou’s transmigration, he wouldn’t be reacting this mildly.
Could it be that the original body possessed some hidden identity?
Shen Yanzhou recalled the relevant parts from the original story — after the affair of the false and true heir ended, the original body perished, leaving no further mention of his origins.
“Perhaps only Yu Chenyu would know the truth of his identity…”
Drawing his thoughts back, Shen Yanzhou chose not to dwell on it further.
“Please, Senior, proceed with the questioning.”
He cupped his fists respectfully once more.
The Late Martial God’s expression remained gentle, though his eyes gleamed with intrigue.
“How shall I question you? Your ambition is not small. Yet the path you cultivate deviates from mine. My inheritance is not suited for you.”
His words were concise.
The path he cultivated pursued Martial Dao Communion with the Divine — the world as the furnace, all laws as the kindling, tempering one’s body into the grand elixir.
As for this so-called path of the mind — he had never believed in such things.
He believed only in his fists and his strength.
“So, Senior means you are unwilling to grant me your inheritance?”
Shen Yanzhou’s tone remained calm.
This so-called “fated affinity” or “seeing eye-to-eye” was entirely dependent on the old man’s whims.
Thus, he had little confidence in this third trial — manipulating an old ghost from tens of thousands of years ago was no easy feat.
It wasn’t like a game’s event with fixed logic or rules.
In the original story, this old man had merely been a background character — his history, temperament, and preferences were never mentioned.
Hence, Shen Yanzhou had no way to deduce his personality or curry favor.
In the novel, Wu Ruyue had only received the inheritance because she possessed a trace of the Martial God’s true essence within her.
This old man, realizing that no one was worthy to inherit his legacy — and recalling that his former disciples had slaughtered each other over a certain “item” he left behind — eventually chose Wu Ruyue as his successor.
“It is not that I am unwilling to teach you,” said the Late Martial God, “but your body’s condition makes you unsuitable for my inheritance.”
“The incomplete Martial God’s Secret Scripture that I created demands exceptional innate talent and bone foundation.”
“In every era, prodigies are as numerous as the stars across the river, yet those qualified to cultivate it can be counted on one hand.”
“But you — your vital essence is weak, your bone foundation broken, your meridians crippled. Years of indulgence have drained your vitality and thinned your blood essence…”
“Even a random adult man on the street would be physically superior to you.”
“If this old man is not mistaken, you must have suffered some kind of curse in your early years, which depleted your life source. Cultivation in this lifetime will be as difficult as ascending to the heavens.”
“If you could somehow obtain the legendary Grand Rebirth Pill of the Great Luo Golden Immortals, there might be a slim chance of remolding your body.”
“But tell me — even if I were to pass my inheritance to you, would you not remain a useless husband, capable of nothing?”
The Late Martial God’s gaze swept over Shen Yanzhou, instantly seeing through everything about him.
His tone was cheerful, yet he spoke without the slightest hint of tact or restraint.