The Yellow Clay Altar

Xingtian emerged into the world, shaking all realms, slaying the Sword Lord, and shattering the undying myth of the Half-Ancestors. Chiyou and Xingtian, the two most renowned war gods since antiquity, had now come together. Both the World of Immortality and the Cultivation World felt immense pressure.

Xiao Chen's gains were immense. He did not lack cultivation methods but only a true understanding of ultimate principles. Xingtian, being a martial artist himself, had imparted martial insights that greatly inspired him. The profound techniques of the six Heavenly Steles and the Martial Imprint became ever clearer in his mind; faintly, he felt he was touching the edge of the Dao.

Returning east to the Nine Provinces, he went back to Ancestral Dragon Village by the Yellow River and began to comprehend and cultivate the secret arts.

His retreat was not like some who sealed themselves in closed chambers, but rather he hid among the countryside, integrating into the life of ordinary mortals. At his level of cultivation, improvement no longer came from pure bitter practice; the key was a single word—enlightenment.

At dawn, Xiao Chen stood facing the rising sun. He absorbed not only the sun's essence but, more importantly, the vibrant, upward-rising artistic conception.

"Hah…"

Xiao Chen took a deep breath, then forcefully exhaled a stream of primal qi that swirled around his body, tempering his physique. The eastern morning glow, as if beckoned, descended in a visible form of seven-colored rainbow radiance.

It was like a spiritual fountain irrigating his body, continuously washing through his flesh, muscles, and veins, then flowing through his bones. This was true marrow-cleansing; over time, it was equivalent to constantly causing the body to transform.

In truth, this was a rebirth and a change of bone structure. Every time a cultivator raised their realm, they were altering their physique, achieving a sublimation of the self.

The spiritual qi of the Nine Provinces was thin; among external essences, only the sunlight was abundant. But that was enough for him. He only needed a small amount of external essence to enter his body. At present, his real task was to stimulate the potential within himself. The power of the human body was fully self-sufficient; once excavated, it would cause even the power of heaven and earth to pale.

From the outside in, he guided with divine arts; from the inside out, he based it on his martial body. The two interconnected and merged in one place.

In the end, Xiao Chen chose the path of cultivating both divine arts and martial body. He did not want to abandon the Eight Aspect Worlds, which held boundless potential, nor was he willing to leave the treasure house of the Martial Imprint untouched. Cultivating both was painful, even conflicting, but he had endured it. From the initial danger of his body shattering to the present slow fusion, he had passed through countless perils.

A gentle breeze brushed by. Xiao Chen stood on the dusty village road at the entrance, facing the direction of the Yellow River. The willows and ancient locust trees swayed beside him. Body and mind united, he melted into heaven and earth, as if he had become a part of this dirt road.

Scenes of battle emerged in his mind; it was as if he were once again experiencing great life-and-death struggles. He used mental combat in place of physical combat, spontaneously evolving all kinds of life-and-death states to comprehend those artistic conceptions.

Slowly, all images faded. Only he remained in heaven and earth, the sole being. His essence, qi, and spirit unified, intermingling with the world. His consciousness gradually peeled away from his body, slowly rising, imprinting itself upon the boundless void.

Was that the so-called Dao? He was approaching, gently touching, about to merge with it.

A few mountain birds flew down from the ancient locust tree and landed on Xiao Chen. The birds could no longer sense his aura; they took him for part of nature.

Xiao Chen stood frozen like a fossil, his divine consciousness still and wave-less, his body as deep and unmoving as an abyss, as if he had existed since time immemorial.

Divine consciousness transformed from the void into substance, slowly returning from the infinite void. The myriad things of heaven and earth gradually manifested.

The great earth seemed to be a vast living entity. Xiao Chen's rippling divine consciousness sensed the pulse of the land. His sea of mind expanded, as if spreading across the infinite earth. In a brief instant, he seemed to traverse the Nine Provinces and enter the boundless primeval age. This was the dual expansion and extension of space and time.

Then his divine consciousness surged upward, flying toward the celestial heart of the universe, about to engrave itself upon the eternal point in the vast cosmos. Infinite void, infinite darkness—his spiritual imprint once again transformed from substance to emptiness, as if evolving the virtual and real forms of the universe.

The red sun set in the west; evening clouds dyed the small village. Xiao Chen awakened from that mysterious state and walked toward his home. The villagers were very simple people; knowing he was practicing, they did not disturb him.

Although only a few days of cultivation had passed, Xiao Chen felt that his divine consciousness had become much more condensed. After several great battles, it was time for "sedimentation." This kind of semi-secluded training suited his body and mind.

"Ya-ya…" Keke appeared, having been gone for a few days. The little one looked sly and sneaky, its big eyes flickering as if it had a guilty conscience.

"What's wrong? What about those two little girls?" Xiao Chen asked.

Keke hesitated, then finally opened Paradise Lost. Inside, Linglong and Tutu were shouting angrily: "Let us out, you little beast!"

Xiao Chen couldn't help but laugh. A few days earlier, the two girls had been chasing Keke, but instead they had been imprisoned.

"Let them go." After all, they were the Xuanyuan Emperor's daughters, and Xiao Chen did not want to displease that great emperor.

"Ya-ya ya-ya…" Keke shook its head, gesturing vigorously, looking very earnest. It had classified the two girls as demons—too terrifying for it.

In the distance, figures appeared. Three shadows flew in like shooting stars—one man and two women descending on flying swords. The man seemed to be the leader; one woman carried his sword, the other an ancient zither.

A bright-eyed girl glanced around the village and said, "This should be the place."

Another girl said doubtfully, "Is this the legendary ancient village?"

The young man was not handsome; he was ordinary in appearance, but had an extraordinary bearing, calm and composed. He was that kind of man—common features but a special charm—unforgettable after one meeting. He saw Xiao Chen not far away and smiled slightly. To the two girls, he said, "That's right, it's here."

Xiao Chen watched them quietly, saying nothing.

"I didn't expect you to be in this village too. Is this a coincidence?" The young man with ordinary features but an uncommon temperament laughed. "I know you are Xiao Chen, who killed Deng Yu, a man of equal fame to me. Please don't be hostile. I haven't come for you this time—I only want to cultivate in this village."

The two girls looked at Xiao Chen in surprise; clearly, they had heard of his deeds.

"Just to cultivate? Why choose this village?" Xiao Chen gazed fixedly at them.

"Why are you cultivating here too?" the young man countered without answering.

"Because I was born here."

The young man looked surprised. "This is your birthplace… As a cultivator, don't you know this village is a bit unusual? It has been a village since the age of primal chaos—ancient and long-standing. But truly, it is very hard to find."

"I had no idea. Is there anything special about it?" Since the other showed no killing intent, Xiao Chen naturally did not reveal any hostility.

"Nothing. I just happened to learn of it and wanted to see it."

"Boom!"

The earth trembled violently. A disheveled old madman walked out from inside the village—it was Shanwaishan. He swept his large sleeve, raising a fierce wind that immediately sent the three young cultivators flying into the sky.

The three were shocked. The young man asked with uncertainty, "Are you the guardian of this village?" He clearly had not told the truth earlier, and only now showed fear.

"Get lost! Don't scheme against this village, or I will kill without mercy!" Although Shanwaishan usually acted like an old madman, at this moment he was unusually solemn, his killing intent bared.

"Hmph!" One of the girls in the air snorted coldly. Her jade-like fingers plucked lightly, and zither sounds burst forth like heavenly blades tearing through the sky, ripping down sharp, silvery rays.

"Scram!"

Shanwaishan let out a great roar like a thunderclap, a violent gale sweeping toward the sky. The zither-playing girl was blown several miles away. However, such sonic waves did not spread through the village; they seemed concentrated in one direction, all striking the girl.

The young man muttered to the other woman, "Let's go!" They flew away.

Xiao Chen walked over suspiciously and asked, "This is a primeval ancient village. What secret does it hold?"

Shanwaishan shook his head. "It's related to the Ancestral Dragon and the Nine Provinces seal. Specifically… I don't know either. Come with me. A few days ago, I dug something out from your village, but I don't know what it is."

A yellow clay altar sat in the dilapidated yard where Shanwaishan lived. It looked utterly plain, with nothing special about it—as if it were the crudest, half-finished product haphazardly piled together by the lowest craftsman. It was no more than one meter high and one and a half meters in diameter, pitted and rough.

Shanwaishan said, "With my power, I could not damage it in the slightest." Believing it belonged to this village and being unable to discern any special qualities, he gave the ordinary-looking yellow clay altar to Xiao Chen.

Over the following days, Xiao Chen cultivated while fiddling with the yellow clay altar. When two centenarians from the village saw it, they were astonished.

"When we were young, the generations before us were still around. They said our village had a yellow clay altar. How did it reappear?"

The two old men touched the altar with trembling hands, their expressions shifting between doubt and astonishment. "It matches the descriptions handed down."

Xiao Chen was quite surprised. "Is there any legend about it?"

"They say this yellow clay altar is very eerie, but no one knows the details. Xiao Chenzi, you'd better throw it away."

How could Xiao Chen discard it? In the end, he sat directly on the yellow clay altar to cultivate.

At first, he did not sense anything unusual. But one day, when he merged with heaven and earth, approaching the union of heaven and man, he suddenly heard vague, ethereal sounds.

They were like the Buddhist true words: Om, Ma, Ni, Pad, Me, Hum.

Oṃ—the sound of the heavenly path; Ma—the sound of the asura path; Ni—the sound of the human path; Pad—the sound of the animal path; Me—the sound of the hungry ghost path; Hum—the sound of the hell path. It was said that the Buddha and Jieyin each controlled three syllables, able to display them to their ultimate state. If these six true words were united, they could oppose the Six Paths of Reincarnation!

Xiao Chen listened carefully. He felt that these differed greatly from Buddhist sounds. They seemed to be more primordial, archaic syllables from an age of desolation. Although they were only a few ancient syllables, they were not only difficult to capture but even harder to imitate.

What was this yellow clay altar? Xiao Chen was shocked. He felt as if he were sitting atop an abyss of demons.