Once Impermanence Strikes, All Ends

Mount Huamei, Canglong Temple. Outside the Seven Stars Hall, Zhou Wuji paced back and forth with a horsetail whisk in hand, glancing up from time to time at the deep starry sky overhead. It was late autumn. The Big Dipper hung high, its handle pointing west. Zhou Wuji thought of his past life. Back then, he had never paid attention to astrological shifts, only spouting nonsense about horoscopes to sweet-talk women. Now, however, he had to study the constellations of the Northern Dipper every day, trying to draw yuanqi from them and sense the movements of heaven and earth. Unfortunately, even though he had awakened memories of his past life and possessed the intellect and tenacity of an adult, his progress over the past ten-odd years had been utterly mediocre. This world resembled ancient China, except that it harbored powerful cultivators, man-eating demons, and soul-devouring specters—it was a perilously fraught world. To live well here, having sufficient strength was paramount. At this thought, Zhou Wuji could not help sighing. He had constantly tried various ways to find a shortcut. As it turned out, talent mattered most in cultivation; things like hard work and perseverance were secondary. Clever little tricks were even more useless! "Fortunately, I met a good master. The old man is quite capable and owns a Daoist temple. It wouldn't be bad just sticking by him and idling away my life..." Just as Zhou Wuji was indulging in pleasant thoughts, a flash of intense light suddenly flared inside the hall, followed by a muffled boom. He was startled. The old man had been secretly performing a ritual inside—how could he cause such a massive commotion? Without time to think, Zhou Wuji hurriedly pushed open the doors and rushed into the hall. The statue of the Arctic Celestial Emperor loomed high in solemn majesty. On the incense altar before it sat offerings of incense, candles, fruit, orchids, and the five grains. The dim yellow light cast by two everlasting lamps flickered and swayed wildly, causing the statue's features to shift between light and shadow with an indescribable, sinister eeriness. A short, stout figure lay motionless prostrate before the altar. From the build, it was none other than his master, Li Yiyuan. Zhou Wuji rushed forward to help his master up, but as soon as he drew near, a pungent stench of burning flesh hit him. When he lifted him up, he saw that the old man was charred black from head to toe, with not an inch of intact skin in sight. "Master, Master..." Zhou Wuji panicked; the old man's condition was terribly grim. Li Yiyuan slowly opened his one undamaged eye, his dilated pupil contracting faintly until he could make out Zhou Wuji's face. Even this slight movement caused several tiny charcoal-like flakes to peel from his face. Recognizing his closest disciple, the old man felt a surge of relief. In a raspy voice, he said, "Wuji... I used a secret art without sanction and broke a great precept. Struck by the heavenly punishment of Yin Thunder, I am beyond saving..." Though Zhou Wuji possessed the wisdom and experience of two lifetimes, seeing his master in such a wretched state made his heart ache, leaving him at a loss for words. The old man had not only saved his life but had also treated him better than anyone else. Who could have expected him to suddenly meet such disaster? "Time is short. Listen to me." Li Yiyuan knew his time was running out; he had to settle his affairs before departing. Zhou Wuji said earnestly, "Speak, Master. I'm listening!" "I—" Li Yiyuan uttered only one word before his throat went too dry to make a sound. Zhou Wuji realized what was wrong and said, "Master, dip your finger in the lamp oil and write on my clothes—" Li Yiyuan was pleased with his disciple's quick wit, but he shook his head to indicate it was unnecessary. As a seventh-rank ordained Daoist, he possessed far more refined methods. Forming an incantation seal, Li Yiyuan concentrated all his mental strength and tapped lightly between Zhou Wuji's eyebrows. With a boom like thunder echoing deep inside Zhou Wuji's mind, he suddenly "saw" a black book. The book looked archaic, bearing five intricate, profound characters on its black cover. Although he did not recognize the script, he instinctively understood their meaning: Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment. Li Yiyuan's voice resonated in Zhou Wuji's mind: "This book is called the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment. It is the most sacred artifact of our Arctic Sect, and the foremost slaughtering artifact of the Daoist gates..." Through Li Yiyuan's explanation, Zhou Wuji learned that the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment was indeed a sect artifact, but it had been lost for hundreds of years. By twist of fate, it had fallen into his master's hands. Seeking to cultivate a secret art within, his master had inadvertently violated its precepts, triggering Yin Thunder that shattered his physical body and spirit. "The Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment contains one hundred and eight minor precepts and thirty-six major precepts, and its laws are of utmost strictness. With this divine artifact in your hands, you must take my fate as a warning, strictly observe the precepts, and never act recklessly." Li Yiyuan transmitted his thoughts through divine consciousness, but by now his spirit had weakened and his qi was exhausted, his voice faltering. Zhou Wuji nodded firmly. "The Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment is a supreme artifact with infinite wonders. Ponder and study it slowly, but you must never reveal it to another living soul. "However, the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment is a vessel, not a cultivation method. True superior techniques can only be learned at the main abbey. That is the key..." At this point, Li Yiyuan sighed. "Since childhood, you have been deep-minded and resilient; these things won't be difficult for you. "It's just that you can be petty-minded and are fond of taking shortcuts; your breadth of mind is somewhat lacking. You must be careful about that in the future." Zhou Wuji felt somewhat wronged. It was true he liked taking shortcuts, but how was he petty-minded? The old man's judgment of character wasn't all that sharp... Still, given how dire his master's condition was, he could hardly argue. "Zhang Wuding, Fang Wuzhen, and the others are all direct scions of prominent clans in the county. Those clans are short-sighted and driven purely by profit. With my sudden death, they will surely set their sights on Canglong Temple. It will put you at a severe disadvantage! "If you cannot contend with them, take a step back and go to the branch abbey first. I have close ties with your Martial Uncle Yiping; out of respect for me, he will look after you to some degree..." Zhou Wuji nodded again. Zhang Wuding and Fang Wuzhen were his fellow disciples, and they had gotten along decently on ordinary days. Yet when it came to the direct inheritance of Canglong Temple, such fraternal bonds would not be worth a copper. Having finished his final arrangements, Li Yiyuan exhaled a long breath of turbid air, the light in his remaining good eye gradually fading. "More than ten years ago, I chanced upon the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment deep underground. I believed I was ordained by heaven, destined to shake the world and ascend through the Dao. "Never did I think that a single misstep would bring about the destruction of my body and Dao. The Great Dao is arduous... so very arduous!" Lamenting, Li Yiyuan gripped Zhou Wuji's wrist tightly with one hand. "This Great Dao... you shall walk it in my stead. Ascend to the Ninth Heaven, and see for yourself what the Celestial Emperors and Buddhas truly look like!" "Yes!" Zhou Wuji replied in a deep voice. Having obtained Zhou Wuji's promise, the remaining spark in Li Yiyuan's eye slowly dispersed. With his dying breath, he let out a faint sigh: "While breath remains, a thousand schemes unfold; once death strikes, all comes to an end..." Without the support of his powerful divine consciousness, the Daoist's body lost every trace of life. Realizing that his master had passed away, Zhou Wuji slowly set him down. Daoist Yiyuan lay quietly on the ground, his clothes and hair charred by the Yin Thunder, making him look like... a bulky chunk of charcoal. The only external object left intact was the Seven Stars Sword in its black wooden scabbard, which the old man always carried at his side. This sword was a seventh-rank dharma artifact specially forged to vanquish specters and demons. The old man had always treated it as a treasure, never letting him touch it. The more forbidden it was, the more Zhou Wuji had schemed to sneak a chance to play with the Seven Stars Sword. Now, he was in no mood for such things. Picking up the Seven Stars Sword, Zhou Wuji casually hung it at his waist. After sitting dazed for a while, Zhou Wuji knelt on a prayer mat and kowtowed deeply before the deity's statue. "By the Celestial Emperor's mercy, this disciple is willing to sacrifice three years of life, or four—" He paused, gritted his teeth, and said, "Sacrifice five years of my life in exchange for Li Yiyuan ascending as an immortal, free from all suffering and distress." Then Zhou Wuji felt that might not work; five years of his life probably wasn't worth that much. He added, "Just let the old man reincarnate into a good life..."