The Past of Qingyuan Sect, A Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix

"Brother Li, if you don’t want it, just give it to me. Throwing it away is such a waste."

Murong Xiao quickly bent down to pick up the illustrated book, dusting it off carefully. When he looked up, he was met with Li Mo’s suspicious gaze.

"Brother Murong, you’ve become a stranger to me."

"So, you came here specifically to buy this thing from the start?"

Murong Xiao chuckled awkwardly.

"I’ve been studying Buddhist martial arts recently."

"And then?"

Li Mo was confused.

The Golden Bell Shield was indeed a Buddhist martial art, requiring the study of Buddhist principles to master.

But is that why you came to buy this... adult material?

Murong Xiao straightened his expression and explained solemnly:

"The Buddhist scriptures say, 'Form is emptiness, emptiness is form.' With a pure heart, even a beauty is but a withered skeleton."

"How can one resist temptation without first facing it? If I don’t descend into hell, who will?"

"Therefore, I’ve decided to challenge my weaknesses head-on!"

"......"

Li Mo fell into deep thought.

Is that how "form is emptiness" is supposed to be interpreted?

Is this how one purifies the six senses?

Yet, it somehow made sense, and he couldn’t find a rebuttal.

Unable to argue further, Li Mo nodded.

"Fine. Just remember to return it after you’re done."

"Got it! Farewell, Brother Li."

Murong Xiao happily tucked the book away.

Just as he was about to leave and "challenge his weaknesses," Li Mo called out again:

"Oh, and Brother Murong, your interpretation of Buddhist teachings… keep it to yourself. Don’t go spreading it around."

"Huh? Why?"

"I’m afraid if word reaches the Buddhist monks, they might challenge you—on the subject of breaking the precept against killing."

......

Main Peak Ancestral Hall.

The ancestral hall stood at the heart of the mountain, heavily guarded. Ying Bing followed a few elders, traversing a long path before finally arriving.

Along the way, she sensed several waves of spiritual perception sweeping over her.

The Qingyuan Sect’s strength was far greater than just its visible elders.

Soon, they reached a massive gate, where an elderly man sat dozing.

"Martial Uncle."

Shangguan Wencang bowed respectfully.

"Oh, Wenyuan! It’s been so long. Finally come to visit this old man, have you?"

The elder blinked awake, his cloudy eyes flickering.

"Martial Uncle, I’m Wencang."

Shangguan Wencang smiled wryly.

"Ah, Wencang… my memory isn’t what it used to be."

The elder patted the back of his head.

"And you’re here for…?"

"To bring our true disciple, Ying Bing, to pay respects to our ancestors."

Shangguan Wencang produced the sect leader’s token.

"True disciple…"

The elder’s gaze swept past the elders, landing on Ying Bing, who stood quietly. A glimmer of light flashed in his aged eyes.

"Good… very good…"

He praised repeatedly before accepting the token, fitting it together with his own.

The combined tokens were inserted into the center of the gate. With a deep rumble, the ancient door—adorned with mystical bird patterns—slowly creaked open.

Ying Bing’s eyes narrowed as she looked inside.

Even in her past life, she had never set foot here.

Before her, bronze pillars supported a domed ceiling, its design eerily similar to what she had seen in the Blood Phoenix Secret Realm. Enshrined within were avian statues, each exuding an aura of ancient grandeur.

They all perched upon a shattered bronze divine tree.

So lifelike were they that, for a moment, it seemed as if they might take flight at any second.

Whoosh—

Candles ignited spontaneously, illuminating the divine tree.

"This is the Great Shang’s Heavenly Fate Artifact…"

"Or rather, a fragment of it."

Shangguan Wencang clasped his hands behind his back, gazing at the radiant bronze tree.

"You are destined to inherit my position one day. It’s time you learned the truth."

"These avian forms are the martial intents left behind by the Great Shang’s imperial experts—their wills imprinted upon the tree."

"You must be wondering why this relic is here."

Shangguan Wencang’s eyes gleamed.

After a pause, he continued:

"Our Qingyuan Sect’s founder was both a meritorious subject of the Great Yu’s Martial Emperor… and the last surviving royalty of the Great Shang."

"After aiding the Martial Emperor in unifying the Nine Heavens and Ten Lands, she refused all rewards and returned to the Purple Sun Prefecture—the former capital of the Great Shang—to guard the ancestral spirits."

"Beneath the Qingyuan Sect lies…"

"The Great Shang Imperial Mausoleum."

As Shangguan Wencang spoke, Ying Bing’s brows furrowed slightly.

Many of the Qingyuan Sect’s nine peaks were descendants of the Great Shang’s fallen nobility.

Her gaze returned to the divine tree.

It was a paradox—decay and splendor, ruin and perfection—all coexisting in one artifact.

She noticed an empty space at the top of the tree, where a hundred birds should have gathered in reverence.

Shangguan Wencang anticipated her question.

"That was meant for our founder’s imprint. But she left for the imperial city and never returned."

"Thus, the Golden Crow’s form remains absent."

"These imprints are profound and esoteric. Your path is long, but take your time to comprehend them."

In his entire life, Shangguan Wencang had only mastered one—the Mangque Devours the Dragon form.

To gather the forms of a hundred avians and condense the Phoenix Divinity—this was the founder’s path.

He had once thought it an impossible dream.

Until Ying Bing appeared.

After paying respects to the divine tree, Ying Bing stepped forward alone.

"Little Bing, the tree’s majesty is overwhelming. You shouldn’t approach it directly—"

Xue Jing’s warning was cut short by Shangguan Wencang’s sharp glance.

"Sect Leader, these imprints bear the wills of the Great Shang’s imperial experts. Their pride is unyielding!"

Xue Jing fretted.

Each will belonged to a supreme expert, their arrogance untouchable.

If Ying Bing approached so recklessly, she might suffer backlash—

"Wait and observe."

Shangguan Wencang remained composed.

Ying Bing stood before the tree, her black hair and robes fluttering like a snow lotus in the wind.

Yet her cold, unwavering gaze seemed to tower above the divine tree itself.

Thump—thump—

A heartbeat-like resonance pulsed from the shattered tree.

A cyan luan perched atop the branches suddenly stirred.

With a graceful sweep of its wings, it descended, leaving an arc of profound mystery in its wake—as if transcending time itself.

It landed before Ying Bing and bowed.

"The Cyan Luan…"

Ying Bing immersed herself in comprehension, refining her martial intent.

One by one, the avian imprints awakened, descending to pay homage.

Hum—

An overwhelming aura enveloped her, as if she were a true phoenix receiving tribute.

Ethereal melodies echoed, lingering like an immortal’s chant.

Xue Jing’s eyes widened in disbelief.

The other elders wore similar expressions.

They were… stunned.