In the dead of night, out in the desolate mountains and wilderness, Qin Ming's hair stood on end. He had actually reeled three bared-teeth, hideously grimacing old men out of the yin pool.
Compared to what he had expected, the disparity was staggering!
A beauty baleful substance? The legendary dragon-shaped heterogeneous substance? Neither existed here at all.
"Mad gods?!"
Looking at their appearance, one could hardly help drawing the connection. Dressed in tattered rags, their eyes were dull and dead gray, completely unfocused, and two of them had half-rotted faces.
Qin Ming had seen that memory crystal. Could these be the three who had vanished into the black whirlwind?
However, that recording had been rather blurry; only the fourth mad god, who had staggered along on foot, had been clearly discernible.
"Does this yin pool a thousand li away connect to Ancient Kunling?" Qin Ming guessed that the three ancient corpses before him were likely those very three gods.
"Could it really be him?" He stared at one of the bodies, his heart pounding like a drum.
Talk of mad gods leaving Yujing was temporarily cast to the back of his mind.
Two had half-rotted faces, but the elder in the middle possessed flesh and blood fresh as new—except that his entire body was covered in dense, crisscrossing cracks, as though he had been pieced back together.
All three were emaciated to the extreme. Thus, when their long hair had splayed across the pitch-black water, Qin Ming had mistaken them for tall, slender women.
With a grave expression, he carefully blew a puff of breath, parting the hair that half-covered the central elder's face.
In an instant, he froze entirely. That face was indeed familiar!
At the same time, he felt a wave of yin qi creeping back toward him.
Qin Ming took two steps back instinctively, feeling as though someone was breathing yin qi right onto him.
A barren wilderness, biting, bone-chilling cold, night fishing three ancient corpses and facing them alone—what kind of experience was this?
Yet Qin Ming paid no heed to his surroundings. As if forgetting where he stood, he stared only at the corpse in the middle.
"Patriarch?" He could hardly believe it. To actually meet an "old acquaintance" here!
Back when he had fallen into the Fourth Peril, he had discovered the silk book method on the walls of that temple. When resonating with the scripture, he had seen this very patriarch!
The silk book method had a fatal flaw: practiced to the end, the body would explode.
Not even the method's creators could escape this fate. Dead, vanished—one could truly say it was costly on patriarchs.
One among them, knowing his days were numbered, had ventured into perilous domains, entered temples, and roamed across the night mist world to resolve this hidden hazard.
"Did he end up going to Yujing? To meet such a desolate end..." Qin Ming sighed.
Mainly, this patriarch was skin and bones. Compared to the past, he was so frail a gust of wind could blow him away. Moreover, his body was now covered in fractures—clearly, he had exploded before.
Thinking it over, the Fourth Peril was situated in Kunling, so his ultimate journey to Yujing was not entirely surprising.
Still, no one in the present era had ever been heard to enter. That he could find a way and reach that legendary land of myth could only be described as astoundingly defiant of the heavens.
Qin Ming felt a weight in his heart. Even figures at this level met no good end upon going to Yujing.
In the end, had the patriarch escaped, or met with mishap along the way?
Knowing the identity of the person before him, Qin Ming became all the more cautious. He did not dare touch them, fearing he might trigger any residual divine power or immortal dao substances in their bodies.
"Could he... not have passed away yet?" he wondered.
Could they be in a state of suspended animation, having sealed their mental domains and physical bodies, which was why no divine might radiated outward?
Otherwise, such beings would be impossible to approach. Even the aura leaking from a corpse would turn this desolate mountain into a land of death!
"Patriarch, you died a miserable death. Alas, you don't know, the silk book lineage has fallen completely. Even our scriptures have been broken off. I'm the last surviving seedling. Seeing you in such a state truly fills one with sorrow," Qin Ming said.
He sat cross-legged by the yin pool and circulated the principles of the silk book scripture, an inexplicable dao rhyme gracing his body.
Unfortunately, no matter what he showed, the patriarch did not budge.
"Patriarch, forgive my offense!" Qin Ming decided to loot the corpse. If anything remained on a figure of this caliber, it was bound to be priceless.
He even eyed their ragged garments, wondering whether they were woven from rare and precious materials.
If the patriarch had a spirit, surely he wouldn't blame Qin Ming for wanting to strip them clean? After all, buried underground, it would only return to dust.
Qin Ming searched cautiously. But as he reached toward the patriarch, his whole body suddenly seized.
His hand was caught in the grip of a withered, bony old hand, cold as biting ice.
The patriarch had risen from the dead!
A chill washed over Qin Ming from head to toe, icy drafts whistling into his body.
"Patriarch, I'm one of our own! I'll burn paper money for you later!"
Whoosh! The emaciated patriarch snapped open his eyes. It was as if lightning shot straight into the clouds, tearing apart the pitch-black firmament!
Qin Ming was shaken to the core. Fortunately, the patriarch was lying flat on his back, facing away from him. Otherwise, that beam of light alone would have pierced right through him.
Everywhere the elder's gaze touched, the night mist scattered, and the night sky seemed to explode!
Yet in the blink of an eye, his eyes turned turbid and dim once more, reverting to a dead gray. His condition was clearly abnormal.
Still, he released his grip, no longer holding fast.
"Patriarch..." Qin Ming called softly. This far exceeded his expectations. A corpse reviving was a minor thing; madness was what truly terrified. If the old man recognized no one and erupted in uncontrolled fury, this place would inevitably become a barren realm of death.
"The scriptures broken off... that comes as no surprise. There is good reason for its decline, because... it truly cannot be mastered!" This patriarch, part ghost and part man, actually spoke.
However, his voice was raspy, as if he hadn't spoken in years. Moreover, it was faint, requiring close, careful listening.
Even he said it could not be mastered, his tone steeped in dejection, leaving Qin Ming with complicated feelings.
This was a patriarch! If even he was discouraged and held no hope for the silk book method, what was a latecomer supposed to do?
"I am not reconciled!" The patriarch's voice grew louder, golden light welling in his eyes like a blazing sun capable of scorching one's mental will.
"Patriarch, don't get excited!" Qin Ming rarely experienced this; his very consciousness felt as if it were about to catch fire. Now he understood what the immortal path disciples had felt when facing him.
The patriarch's beard and hair were snowy white, his frame skin and bones. He quickly calmed down, holding back the residual heavenly light within his body.
Qin Ming said, "Patriarch, I'm not reconciled either! Please pass on the complete scripture to me. One day, I will carry it forward and blaze a new path upon this foundation!"
He was direct and spoke no falsehoods, fearing the old patriarch's mind was unstable and their time for communication was short.
"When reaching the end, you will explode. You still dare practice this method?" the old man asked.
"I will. I have confidence I can resolve the hidden flaw, but for now, I cannot find the complete scriptural teachings."
The old patriarch sighed. "It seems everyone who practiced this method has died. Truly tragic. The subsequent chapters can no longer be found."
He was decisive. Though his arm was stiff, he raised it swiftly and tapped Qin Ming between the eyebrows, transmitting a scripture into his consciousness.
Qin Ming was momentarily dazed, then bowed. "Patriarch, this only covers the first four realms. I already obtained this in the temple. Please pass down the subsequent methods!"
The old patriarch was quite surprised. The youth before him had managed to break into the temple and emerge unscathed—that was truly extraordinary!
"Practicing to the Fifth Realm kills people. Even my direct disciples couldn't survive it. We only crossed the tribulation by relying on heavenly treasures. But upon reaching perfection in the Sixth Realm, collapse is inevitable. As for higher levels, all of them must have been wrong. Alas!" He shook his head.
Yet in his era, the Sixth Realm was already the limit of every path!
"Please pass down the method, Patriarch. I will verify it myself and correct it along the way, because at present, I can no longer switch to another path," Qin Ming said resolutely.
The old patriarch reached out with his withered hand and placed it on the youth's shoulder. What manner of person was he? One of the progenitors of the silk book method, having studied this scripture his entire life. He naturally understood the youth's condition immediately.
He was rather shocked, because the youth's mastery of the silk book method was formidable—even stronger than what they themselves had achieved at this level back then!
This bordered on preposterous!
Upon careful examination, he confirmed that Qin Ming was in the middle stage of the Second Realm, and definitely surpassed their own simulations and deductions at this realm back in the day!
"Good! I'll pass it to you!" The old patriarch acted decisively without dragging his feet. With a single tap of his finger, he transmitted the entire silk book method to him in one go.
Dense golden script flooded Qin Ming's mind. The complete text was now his, imprinted upon his consciousness like stars breaking through the dark, illuminating his spiritual field with brilliant light.
He was overjoyed. He had truly never expected that night fishing at the yin pool in the deep of night would yield such a tremendous harvest.
"Beyond lies a dead end. Decide for yourself... how to proceed!" The old patriarch poured cold water on his excitement.
Then the elder added, "For now, you are walking this path very well. I will not interfere, nor will I offer you any advice. Go at your own pace."
Qin Ming nodded, then asked about his condition with concern.
"I will die soon," the old patriarch said calmly.
At the perfection of the Sixth Realm, because his body was on the verge of exploding at any moment, he could not venture into the deepest depths of the night mist world to explore. Instead, he chose nearby Kunling and ultimately journeyed to legendary Yujing in search of a solution.
Qin Ming asked, "Patriarch, did you enter Yujing? What is it like there?"
The old patriarch shook his head. "I went in the wrong era. The way ahead was sealed off, the road broken."
As he drew near, he saw heaven and earth blurred and inverted, the rules turned upside down, with a looming city hanging overhead, facing downward.
It seemed close, yet he knew they were separated not only by mountains and seas, but also by the chaotic dispersion of the power of "boundaries." Yujing was ethereal and elusive.
As for the clutch of mad gods, whether they had fled from Yujing or had never entered in the first place, their minds were shattered and their flesh half-rotted as they wandered nearby.
The sight had once led the old patriarch to believe that those mad gods were refugees, roving and wandering there.
He said calmly, "I subdued them."
"Ah!" Qin Ming was astonished. A patriarch plagued by physical collapse could subdue mad gods?
The old patriarch said, "Our method is extraordinarily strong. It yields to no path, and we do not flinch before godkin creatures—it's just that we tend to explode."
At the perfection of the Sixth Realm, in the night mist world pioneered back then, he had belonged to the very pinnacle of the pyramid. He indeed possessed such confidence.
"Why did you come back out? Could you no longer sustain your current state?" Qin Ming asked.
The old patriarch said, "In the Sixth Realm, I had already exploded twice. That was a total collapse and shattering from flesh to spirit. I barely pulled through. As the saying goes, 'Things cannot happen a third time.' Now, I truly face obliteration."
Qin Ming asked, "Didn't you say only twice?"
The old patriarch pointed to the cracks across his body. From inside out, none could heal, and his spiritual consciousness was the same—like pieced-together porcelain.
"Outside the inverted Yujing, I clashed with more than just mad gods."
He explained that once, a deity radiant as a blazing sun, riding atop a golden-haired divine hou, had stepped through the void. His power was utterly terrifying.
The old patriarch suspected that both god and hou had come out of Yujing.
"Upon his arrival, he sought to make me his drudge. I could bear it no longer and fought him with everything I had."
In the end, the old patriarch slew both the deity and the divine hou. Yet he too lost control, his body and consciousness exploding for the third time.
Qin Ming looked at the dense, crisscrossing cracks on the elder's body and drew in a sharp breath. Just how strong was this patriarch? To slay a god in a mortal body!
In an instant, he gained a completely new appreciation of the silk book scripture.
Though this legacy was exceedingly dangerous, its latter stages practically a dead end, once mastered, it was powerful enough that a trailblazing patriarch of the night mist world did not fear godkin creatures.
Of course, patriarchs differed from one another. The old man before him was perhaps the most formidable among all who had ever practiced the silk book method!
After that battle, though the old patriarch had pieced his consciousness and body back together, he became like a walking corpse. He sealed his spiritual field, falling even below the state of the mad gods.
Even he did not know what happened afterward, or how he had reached the outside world.
Qin Ming had always been curious about the identities of the creators of the method.
"Just as you have guessed, we came from the ancestral courts of great sects such as the Six Imperials, Rulai, Yuqing, and Qingtian." He was quite forthright and told him directly.
The current patriarchs of the Newborn path were not the earliest originators.
However, the old patriarch did not say which sect he hailed from.
He looked around at their surroundings and said, "So it is the ghost path's yin pool. Back then, I submerged myself right here to enter. After twists and turns, nearing Yujing, instinct drove me to finally emerge from this very place."
"These two gods..." Qin Ming looked at the two motionless mad gods whose eyes remained shut, looking like corpses.
The old patriarch said calmly, "They may be considered dead; their consciousness shattered long ago. Later, I will take them with me, buried deep within the earth, to vanish forever from the mortal world."
"Patriarch!" Qin Ming looked at him. Tonight he had met such a towering figure, yet the elder had little time left and was on the brink of fading away forever.
"I should have died long ago. Of our group back then, some died, some were crippled, and another ventured into the deepest depths of the night mist world. By now, only I should be left."
The old patriarch sighed softly. Having lived for far too long, even when moved with emotion, his demeanor remained placid.
"Back then, we swore an oath to blaze the most glorious path and leave behind the most formidable scriptures. In the end, it was only ruin and decay, my old friends all withered away."
Then he pondered, "After sinking into stupor, whenever my fractured consciousness briefly awakened, I reflected on the various scriptures of old. Even today, some still shine brilliantly, uncontaminated by the dust of time."
When creating the method, their group had perused vast numbers of ancient texts.
"Thinking it over carefully, those glowing characters—even when drawn from different scriptures—share an inherent connection, an underlying affinity. As the saying goes, 'The Great Dao is simple.' I extracted their true forms from each, and will transmit them to you now. I believe they will aid your silk book method," the old patriarch said.
He raised his hand, but suddenly paused.
"No matter. The glowing characters in each scripture are few—the shortest merely a few hundred words, the longer barely over a thousand. They originate from different classical texts, four scriptures in total. Practice them with care; perhaps what you attain will differ from my comprehension. What suits oneself best is finest!"
The old patriarch imparted the four scriptures, totaling barely over two thousand words. As they settled into Qin Ming's consciousness, it was as if sun, moon, and stars appeared together, rotating slowly and casting off dazzling brilliance.
Chapter 265