Standing atop the mountain peak, Song Jixin's vision stretched boundlessly. After years confined within the narrow alleys of Niping Lane, where all he saw were clay walls, the young man now cherished this very feeling—ascending heights to behold distant vistas, the vast landscape sprawling beneath his feet like an endless tapestry.
Song Changjing adjusted his costly yet timeworn fox fur coat. The prince was unusually loquacious today, extending a hand to point toward a towering mountain in the west. "That mountain is called Piyun Mountain. It may one day be decreed by the Great Li dynasty as one of the ten sacred mountains beyond the Five Peaks. According to ancestral customs, a revered Mountain God, worthy of inscription in the clan's genealogy, will emerge—immortalized in a golden deity statue, solemn and dignified, receiving offerings from mortals. This deity will help the Great Li suppress the local flow of spiritual energy, preventing its dispersal beyond our borders, lest it benefit neighboring realms. Only those who stand atop Piyun Mountain can glimpse the Dragon Head Mountain beneath us. Protected by a powerful formation, the Dragon Head Mountain remains invisible to ordinary mortal eyes. Such is fate's design. According to confidential archives of the government office, a few have historically ascended the Dragon Head Mountain and succeeded in stepping beyond this realm."
Song Jixin inquired, "Did those people all rise to prominence? Did they become esteemed figures within Great Li or the Eastern Baoping Continent?"
Song Changjing chuckled. "Two of them fared well within Great Li, separated by only thirty years—one a scholar, the other a warrior—later celebrated as the twin pillars of Great Li. The scholar was posthumously honored as Wen Zheng, while the warrior's descendants secured hereditary noble status as Upper Pillar Lords. Though I harbor a poor impression of their progeny, I must begrudgingly acknowledge their family's devotion to Great Li's sacred rites. Had they not joined forces to avert calamity, the Song clan would have perished in that dark hour."
Feeling the mountain breeze caress him with an almost transcendental lightness, Song Jixin asked, "What of the others?"
Song Changjing exhaled gently, his spirit invigorated as he suppressed the restless surge within his dantian, as if forcibly restraining a rising sun. At this moment, he was certain that once he stepped beyond that grand gate, he would ascend to the Tenth Realm—the pinnacle of martial cultivation. No Qi practitioner below the Upper Five Realms could hope to contend with such a master; they would be utterly crushed without exception. Composing himself, Song Changjing offered the young man a harsh truth: "They are all dead. I personally slew one while still a Seventh Realm warrior. He was a formidable sword cultivator at his peak. Our chase spanned seven or eight hundred miles, finally ending at a place called White Fox Pass on the southern border of Great Li. After shattering his magical implements and his signature flying sword, I twisted his neck. There was no choice—those who refuse to serve Great Li meet this fate. The Song family does treat Qi practitioners well, but only on the condition that they pledge loyalty, even if only superficially."
During the latter half of that duel, Song Changjing advanced to the Eighth Realm.
Song Jixin showed little interest in his uncle's legendary exploits but asked curiously, "Did another dynasty offer a greater price that tempted them to betray Great Li?"
Song Changjing laughed, "That sword cultivator was an exception. Generally, that was the case. Great Li is remote, its people fierce and martial-minded. Martial geniuses abound, making them commonplace and unvalued. Conversely, refined Qi practitioners are rare and treasured. Every Great Li emperor has coveted them as one might venerate a bodhisattva. Even the current sovereign—your imperial elder brother—is no different. Once, that sword cultivator arrogantly entered the palace, sword in hand, nostrils flared—a most insufferable attitude. He had recently acquired a potent protective treasure and was at the peak of his influence. Upon seeing me, he didn't even bother to greet."
Song Jixin asked, "And then?"
With a disdainful glance, Song Changjing replied, "He died."
Song Jixin was incredulous. "You killed a master cultivator, a pillar of the nation, just because he didn't greet you?"
Song Changjing replied calmly, "Some people cannot be indulged."
Song Jixin's suspicion deepened, unable to fathom how such a defiant and self-centered prince survived to this day.
Song Changjing smiled, "Perhaps you don't know: throughout the entire Eastern Baoping Continent, only one dynasty mandates that Qi practitioners—regardless of birth or patronage—serve the emperor by fighting on the frontier battlefields for three years. Those who fail to earn sufficient merits must remain on the frontier, enduring hardship until they accumulate enough to return home in honor."
Song Jixin was puzzled. "But didn't you say Great Li esteems Qi practitioners? Why such a rule? Isn't the dynasty afraid of losing these talents on the battlefield?"
Song Changjing laughed heartily. "That unwritten law was enacted after I took command of the military."
Song Jixin suddenly understood. "So that sword cultivator refused the frontier, disgraced you, and others followed suit, undermining military and civilian morale? You chose the lesser evil?"
Song Changjing shook his head. "He actually enlisted young and earned enough merits in just one year. His reputation in Great Li was excellent."
Song Jixin, frustrated, demanded, "Then why? Was it jealousy, breaking the Song taboo, or treason?"
Song Changjing's answer was simple: "Although cultivators and warriors walk different paths—the former more refined, what the embroidered tiger calls 'golden branches and jade leaves'—the difference is great. Warriors reach their peak at the Tenth Realm, while Qi practitioners can climb to the Upper Five Realms. The best Qi practitioners are like standing here atop the mountain; warriors like me can only reach Piyun Mountain's summit. Of course, masters at the pinnacle of martial arts can contend with cultivators of the Eleventh and Twelfth Realms, but in the eyes of ordinary people, warriors are brutish, forever inferior to cultivators. That palace meeting was his provocation—he deliberately glanced at me with a crooked eye and a smirk. I simply intended to teach him a lesson."
Song Jixin was stunned. "If you wanted to teach him a lesson, couldn't you have spared his life?"
Song Changjing dismissed the topic of the deceased. "Do you want to know about the man I fought to the death?"
Song Jixin swallowed instinctively but remained silent.
Though three carriages went ahead, the battle behind was fierce—loud and earth-shaking. At one point, Song Changjing descended from the sky, leaving a large crater yards away from the carriage. Later, he landed a punch that sent a robust man, as fierce as a terrestrial dragon, crashing into a small hill, raising a spectacular cloud of dust. It was inhuman. That was the young man's sole impression.
The fight was not ethereal but brutal, an exchange of injuries and lives—a contest of sheer ruthlessness.
Song Changjing suddenly ruffled the boy's hair, his voice uncharacteristically warm. "Your elder brother harbors grand ambitions. Even when the Emperor of Great Sui only had his eyes on Great Li, your brother already set his sights on the southernmost Laolong City of Eastern Baoping Continent. Are you curious why, though I am a legitimate prince of Great Li and a military commander with unmatched prestige, I still maintain a brotherly respect with your father?"
Song Jixin grinned slyly, "Uncle, if you're willing to say, then say it."
Song Changjing withdrew his hand and said gravely, "Because my sole desire is to witness the glory beyond the pinnacle of martial arts. Only upon reaching that realm will my life be fulfilled."
At that moment, the boy's heart surged like a raging torrent. His voice trembled, "If I devote myself wholeheartedly, could I achieve the heights you have reached?"
Song Changjing shook his head with a smile. "If you train as a warrior, the Eighth Realm is your ceiling. You'd be better off as a Qi practitioner; your potential would be far greater."
Song Jixin was discontent. "Why am I limited to the Eighth Realm?"
Song Changjing smiled teasingly. "Limited?"
Song Jixin flushed slightly.
Song Changjing paid no mind to his nephew's youthful arrogance, squinting at the distant horizon as he spoke slowly: "Qi practitioners rely on fate—whether fortune favors them is crucial. Today you encounter an opportunity here, tomorrow find a treasured artifact, the day after meet a hidden immortal, or the next day perceive some mystical vista—anything can boost cultivation. For us martial artists, it's different. No shortcuts exist; progress is made step by arduous step—tedious but unyielding."
Song Jixin's feelings were complex, tinged with disappointment.
Song Changjing turned away, heading for the carriage. Glancing at the young lady's silhouette, he hesitated briefly before joining her to gaze upward at the grand gate.
Muttering to himself, he said, "The true dragon's essence condenses into pearls. Among earthly dragons, these pearls are treasured, akin to a cultivator's primordial spirit."
The maid Zhigui did not turn but showed a trace of nervousness.
Song Changjing smiled, "To achieve the prosperity inscribed on the gallery plaque—'Wind Rises, Water Flows'—Great Li paid a price no outsider can fathom. Why must water flow? So that dragons may travel the rivers unimpeded. As for me, I care little for these matters; it is your young master's ruthless father's will. Once you leave this small grotto, your spirit shall no longer be caged. Yet do not forget this old warrior's words: to truly raise your gaze, you must first stand on the mountain."
Song Jixin's eyes glinted with fierce determination, shadows of the past dissolving with the sunrise.