Qin Ming rubbed his temples. Every time he strained to recall those shattered memories, a dull ache would throb through his head, leaving him mentally exhausted.
It was easy to imagine how gravely injured he had been back then. Even after undergoing one newborn rebirth after another to steadily improve his constitution, he had still not fully recovered.
Still, he was certain it would not be long now. Through successive acquired womb metamorphoses, he would eventually resolve the last few lingering issues in his body.
"Such disjointed scenes. My life feels pieced together, almost like a lie," Qin Ming murmured, frowning.
In the ignorant haze of his early childhood, he had lived in utter poverty, dressed in tattered, heavily patched clothes. Yet when he reached thirteen or fourteen, everything changed completely.
In those fractured scenes, he had once spurred a mount into a wild gallop outside a colossal city. The beast had been towering and ferocious, its scales shimmering with a hazy twilight glow, unmistakably no ordinary anomaly.
He had also lived in a vast, opulent manor where every furnishing was exquisite and luxurious.
The prominent figures there dressed in fine brocades and adorned themselves with precious jade, their every movement governed by strict decorum. Even the hair ornaments worn by the women were extraordinary—some secured their hair with rare plumage gleaming with brilliant golden rays, while others nestled fresh peach blossoms entwined with vermilion mist amid their locks.
Within that magnificent manor, he went by the name Cui Chonghe and seemed to belong to the direct line of the family. He had watched with his own eyes as Cui Chongxuan, a youth about a year younger than him, consumed a three-colored flower and successfully fused four kinds of heavenly light force, drawing gasps of wonder from all around.
"It makes no sense," Qin Ming muttered to himself.
He had been part of the direct line and could sense that his standing had not been poor—he had lived in luxury, dining on delicacies and riding rare anomalies whenever he traveled. Why, then, had he never stepped onto the path of cultivation?
When Cui Chongxuan fused four individual forces of heavenly light, he had been met with astonished praise and showered with acclaim by the Cui clan elders, who deemed him an exceptional talent and went so far as to procure the priceless Six Imperial Scriptures for him.
"Fusing four heavenly light forces doesn't seem like that big of a deal," Qin Ming mused. Out here in this remote wilderness, relying solely on himself, he had already surpassed that milestone with ease.
There were simply too many things he could not fathom, and the fragments he could recall were still far too few.
"The year I turned fourteen must have been the turning point." Qin Ming thought of another set of broken images.
Back then, he had returned to a life of destitution. His clothes were no longer splendid, having turned plain, even threadbare, making him a boy of a village.
Until one deep night, when a youth in a feathered robe arrived with a band of men. Raging flames engulfed the entire village, killing nearly everyone there and leaving him grievously wounded.
Qin Ming dipped his finger in tea and wrote several numbers on the tabletop: three, thirteen, fourteen, sixteen. They corresponded to the different stages of his life, each starkly contrasting with the next, like a patchwork of an artificial existence.
At the same time, searching through the shards of his past, he learned the name of the feather-robed woman he had encountered the previous night—Li Qingyue.
Back when he was thirteen or fourteen, he had often ridden out with peers his age on rare anomalous beasts. Li Qingyue had been present in most of those memories, one of the friends with whom he shared a close bond.
"When we crossed paths in this remote place, she didn't acknowledge me. Is it because I've fallen on hard times and ended up far from the Cui clan? Or is there a deeper reason stemming from the upheaval two years ago that I still can't grasp?"
Qin Ming tried to piece the timeline together. Yet the harder he tried to remember, the deeper he dug, the more insubstantial certain fragments of his life felt—like rootless duckweed, as if they did not belong to him at all.
He shook his head and pushed the thoughts aside. What good would it do even if he knew more? He was far away from that colossal city, stranded in this corner of the world, utterly powerless to change anything right now.
The most pressing matter was still to build his strength. As his life level elevated, those memories would naturally return to him in due time.
Collecting his thoughts, Qin Ming reopened the yellowed book before him.
"Though the name 'Yellow Clay Palm' sounds unappealing, according to the ancient booklet's records, it is a thoroughly orthodox supreme art..."
Qin Ming was surprised. The handwritten notes at the back showed that anyone who had practiced this palm technique held it in exceptionally high regard, considering it immensely powerful, though many failed to reach its advanced stages due to limitations in their natural talent.
Judging by the tone of some remarks, they seemed to come from venerable, elderly experts who claimed that the Yellow Clay Palm was not a whit inferior to the lethal trump cards found within advanced yiqi arts.
This thoroughly piqued Qin Ming's interest. Calming his mind, he set to studying the text in earnest.
Gradually, a dense mist rose before his eyes, and an old man appeared, demonstrating various unscripted stances upon the earth—progressing from the transformation of life levels to the cultivation of heavenly light force, and finally to the Yellow Clay Palm's mastery of turning the mundane into the miraculous...
By the end, Qin Ming was filled with admiration, his racing thoughts pulling him out of that wondrous trance.
The ancient booklet had utterly captivated him, and he could not help but clap his hands in praise.
"If one can reach that realm, the technique is nigh on the Dao!"
The name Yellow Clay Palm had only been chosen because its creator was excessively modest. Even when practiced to minor accomplishment, the palm technique could penetrate bone and organ, devastating the internal body right through the flesh.
"This is the wonder of soft force." Qin Ming was certain that this heavenly light force was definitely not a single form of force, but rather an amalgamation of multiple secret forces. Otherwise, it could never possess such power.
"With further mastery, the soft heavenly light force pierces from the fingertips, tearing through armor, hides, scales, and horns with effortless, overwhelming devastation."
Qin Ming then turned straight to the final page, and those concluding visions surfaced one after another.
"The highest realm of the Yellow Clay Palm actually produces a unique power—the heavenly light force condenses wisps of earth qi, causing its might to multiply explosively."
In the scenes Qin Ming witnessed, the old man stood upon the earth, his feet drawing up terrestrial qi to merge with his heavenly light force. The earth essence between his hands grew denser and denser until it solidified, resembling a layer of yellow clay clinging to his palms.
With a light flick of his right hand, a mountain-like behemoth—clearly a terrifying, formidable beast—was struck. It shattered with loud cracking sounds, crumbling like a mountain of flesh sliced and torn apart, dyeing the ground crimson.
"Truly extraordinary!"
This had transcended the scope of conventional combat techniques; it was altogether remarkable. What was called "technique nearing the Dao" was precisely born of such profound, cage-breaking methods.
"Reaching the highest realm will be exceedingly difficult," Qin Ming sighed. When it came to comprehension, he was confident enough; combined with his emotional resonance, he could absorb the old man's experience and insights directly, making that aspect no obstacle at all.
In the end, it all came down to accumulating a sufficient reserve of heavenly light. Only with an abundant, profound foundation could one use the soft heavenly light force to draw forth the earth's essence.
Qin Ming stood in the courtyard and began practicing, starting with the mysterious soft force, for it was the core essence of the manual that underpinned everything.
Aside from stopping to eat, he spent the rest of his time pondering and drilling deep into the art, progressing from the soft heavenly light force to the Yellow Clay Palm itself.
He was eager to master it as soon as possible, as the Yellow Clay Palm boasted a genuine, verified track record: it had slain people beyond the mundane world.
After more than half a day, feeling somewhat fatigued, he finally stopped.
While resting, Qin Ming silently reflected. Among all the secret techniques he had acquired, only the final stance in that saber manual could rival the Yellow Clay Palm—that saber intent that sought to sever a line through the heavens and tear open the night.
Likewise, the requirements to unleash the full might of that supreme saber intent were exceptionally demanding.
"I'll be leaving soon. I need to fulfill my promise to others." Qin Ming took his word seriously; if he said he would do something, he saw it through.
Not long after, he headed into the mountains carrying a throwing net.
The bitterest days of winter had actually passed. In a little over a month, the ice and snow would begin to thaw, and the season of reviving Fire Springs and blooming spring flowers would not be far off.
Some birds had already grown increasingly active, and before long, they would likely begin building their nests.
Qin Ming was already very familiar with the mountains and understood the habits of certain creatures. With his current agility, stalking and capturing a few small critters was hardly difficult.
Half an hour later, he spotted his target and swiftly cast the net over a clump of brambles.
"Help! Murdering a bird!" a tiny creature shrieked inside the net, thrashing frantically in a bid to escape, to no avail.
Qin Ming was overjoyed and strode over. Inside was a pale blue little bird.
It was slightly shorter than a palm, with large, gem-like glowing eyes, and it spoke in human tongue: "Lord two-legged beast, spare me! Let this little bird go, and I'll lead you to catch a bear! It has way more meat!"
Before leaving, Qin Ming had finally caught a speech sparrow, fulfilling his promise to Xiao Wenrui.
Under the circumstances, there was no way he was going to release this pale blue bird.
Just as he reached the village entrance, an exasperated voice suddenly shouted from behind: "Who caught my wife?! Stop right there! Are you looking to die?!"
Qin Ming looked back and recognized it at once. It was noticeably larger than ordinary speech sparrows, possessed far more spirituality, looked shifty and sly, and had a foul mouth that had once infuriated Cao Long to no end.
"Two-legged beast, let go of that speech sparrow, or else I'll call the old male bear down from the mountain to tear through the village and rip you to shreds! Do you even know who I am? I'm a celebrated sparrow of these great mountains! I can even summon the Mountain Lord to wipe out your entire village!"
The foul-mouthed mutant speech sparrow's eyes were red with fury as it chased close, spouting non-stop threats and bluster.
However, the moment it caught a clear look at Qin Ming, it froze in astonishment and instantly flipped its demeanor, saying, "Brother, the dragon king's temple got flooded by our own waters! What a mess this is... It's a complete misunderstanding, we're family!"
Qin Ming was taken aback as he looked at the speech sparrow fluttering in the night sky, so quick to fawn after its bluster and possessed of such a gossipy mouth.
"Before Master Wu left, he told me to help you deliver letters and scout paths in the mountains. It's just that I've been a bit busy lately—I just took a wife, so I didn't get around to it."
"What nonsense are you babbling?" Qin Ming asked, baffled.
"Master Wu is that crow! The one that follows the woman covered from head to toe in a black cloak! Let me tell you, that woman is called Tang Jin. Her figure is out of this world, and her looks are absolute perfection—I could draw her for you right now..."
Qin Ming began to suspect that this bird was actually some human who had ventured into the mountains and transformed into an anomaly.
"Brother, show some mercy, please! Let my wife go."
...
A short while later, in Lu Ze's home, the two children were bouncing with joy.
"Uncle, you're amazing! You really caught a speech sparrow! I'm so happy—the little squirrel finally has a companion!"
"That's my wife! Squirrels belong with weasels!" the mutant speech sparrow shouted from the eaves, eager to correct them.
The mutant red squirrel instantly locked its gaze onto the bird, its eyes far from friendly.
Lu Ze and his wife could only feel that these little critters had all turned into spirits!
Qin Ming said, "Keep it for a few months and then let it go. I've already reached an agreement with it: whenever Brother Lu heads into the mountains, it will help keep watch and sound warnings. Don't worry, it won't harbor bad intentions; otherwise, I'll go have a word with that Master Wu."
The following day, Yang Yongqing arrived sighing and groaning, leading his black goat to find Qin Ming so they could set off together for Golden Rooster Ridge.
Qin Ming was speechless. He truly did not want to make another trip—it was a hundred li there and back. Why had the news not broken yet?
"Uncle, there's no rush. As long as we get there before dark, it'll be fine. Why be so eager to throw ourselves into a bandit's den?"
"Well, alright then."
Even after lunch, Qin Ming still showed no inclination to move. In the end, Yang Yongqing could wait no longer. Fearing that arriving late would give the bandits an excuse to pick a quarrel, and failing to persuade Qin Ming, he had no choice but to set off on his own.
Yet in less than half an hour, he came galloping back on his goat, his spirits soaring as the hooves clattered in a frenzy.
The moment he reached the village entrance, he shouted with a broad grin, "Huge news! Heaven has opened its eyes! All the bandits at Golden Rooster Ridge have been welcomed up to heaven, haha!"
"What?!" Everyone was stirred by the commotion and rushed outside.
When Yang Yongqing had first heard the news halfway along the road, he had been utterly stunned.
Only yesterday he had been cursing, claiming that unless every last bandit there dropped dead, he would have no choice but to report to them. And today, before he even reached Golden Rooster Ridge, the place had truly become a ridge of the dead!
Qin Ming sipped a cup of coarse tea and looked out the window. The affairs here had reached their conclusion; it was time for him to embark on his distant journey.
...
In a renowned, dazzling city, magnificent buildings stood clustered together. Inside a vast hall adorned with carved beams and painted pillars, an imposing middle-aged man sat upright. He said, "Recently, several portions of yin-yang great medicine have surfaced from Black-White Mountain, drawing the covetous eyes of numerous prominent clans and people beyond the mundane world. Cui Hong, you are relatively familiar with that region, having gone there to observe two years ago. Make a trip there in the coming days to see if you can retrieve a portion of the yin-yang great medicine."
Standing in the grand hall was a long-armed man who nodded in assent upon hearing the command.
"Back then, you left that child near Black-White Mountain, didn't you?"
"Yes. If he managed to survive, he should have put down roots there," the long-armed man replied.
"Check on him while you're there," the imposing middle-aged man instructed.
"Do you have any specific instructions, my lord?" the long-armed man asked cautiously. He knew that the imposing man seated before him would never tell him to check on someone just in passing.
Chapter 61