Chapter Nine: All Unbridled Desires Are Poison

Time passed like dripping water, ticking softly. Immersed in the incantation, Bai Qi resembled a marionette manipulated by invisible strings, his movements stiff and awkward, utterly uncoordinated. His entire mind was absorbed by the tadpole-like script on those few sheets of paper.

Kun stroked his beard, his brows first furrowing, then relaxing. Before Yin died, he had entrusted Kun with the ultimate fate of this zither. Yet, in such circumstances, Kun could not know whether his late friend had made this choice out of helplessness or had foreseen that Bai Qi might one day gain the zither’s approval. If Bai Qi truly possessed that fortune, then this ordeal would turn into a blessing in disguise. If not, then the zither’s earlier intervention could only be seen as an impersonal act of self-defense, not as protection of Bai Qi.

Looking up at Bai Qi’s entranced state, Kun could not guess what might happen next, but he knew he must not interrupt. The uncertainty of the outcome placed him in a true dilemma.

The tadpole script twisted and turned, its meaning indecipherable by shape alone. Rather, it resembled an array, where the mind must seek the true significance hidden in each character. After each glyph was demonstrated once, it vanished into the void. To repeat the process required one’s own insight. If you grasped even a little, the script would guide you further, though its depth would become ever more abstruse. Still, the benefit was clear—each new understanding pierced the veil a little more, like poking through a layer of paper, revealing ever greater vistas, deepening comprehension in a cycle without end. With each repetition, your perception of the other characters grew sharper, your understanding richer. Yet, a single blockage was like a dammed stream—the flow of insight halted, no new revelations forthcoming, and correlation became impossible.

This incantation, capable of unlocking ten thousand techniques from one, granted access only as deep and wide as your understanding of that “one.” The “ten thousand” were measured by it.

Bai Qi, at first, was utterly bewildered. He had encountered this script in his hometown, long ago, never imagining it would one day become crucial. Who could have foreseen its use now?

Gradually, he discovered that each character was akin to a martial move—offense and defense, advance and retreat combined. Slowly, one glyph imprinted itself upon him, like a wild beast charging from the wilderness, or like an avalanche roaring down the slopes, an unstoppable force. It became a fierce raptor, swooping into his body and merging with him. The momentum, the intent of the word, became clear: this was the force to break through ten thousand barriers, to shatter all obstacles. Bai Qi named it “Break”—break as in “unstoppable as splitting bamboo,” as in “breaking through the waves,” as in “with one force, shatter a myriad of thorns.”

In that instant, a vortex of energy swirled around Bai Qi, the currents so strong they took on substance, slicing the cave walls like blades and leaving deep, jagged scars. Suddenly, Bai Qi opened his eyes, his hands drawing together, converging a surge of spiritual power ready to erupt. Yet, instead of releasing it, he formed a scanning shield of energy between his palms, sweeping over his body until it concentrated in his lower abdomen, at his core.

A humming sound vibrated in the air, as if something had been triggered. Bai Qi guided the force, confronting the hidden, destructive energy left in his core and meridians by the Soul Sparrow’s previous assault.

With a thunderous shout, Bai Qi understood this was his best, perhaps only, chance to heal his injuries. If he failed now, he dared not imagine the consequences. Pouring all his strength into it, he expelled the Soul Sparrow’s lingering poison from his body, wielding the very “Break” character he had comprehended—force against force, strength against strength.

The two energies clashed like sworn enemies. At first, neither yielded, gnawing at each other—the power of “Break” fierce as a tiger, the hidden force sly as a jackal, waiting for its chance. But in time, absolute strength prevailed; Bai Qi steeled his resolve, determined to destroy the Soul Sparrow’s remnants utterly, not leaving a trace. With the hidden force gone, he spat out a mouthful of black blood. The aura he had awakened now acted as a healing elixir, swiftly repairing his body, restoring his complexion, and clearing his eyes with renewed clarity.

A crackling erupted from his bones—a sign of advancement, as powerful as any attack. This was no ordinary level-up. Bai Qi gathered himself, preparing to ride this force forward, but abruptly Kun’s shout stopped him.

“Wait! Child, quickly rein in your mind and suppress that power!” Kun’s warning was urgent. Bai Qi did not know why, but sensed that if he missed this chance, who knew when he might break through again.

Kun continued swiftly, “I’ve told you before—though the Yellow Rank is the entry to cultivation, sometimes, by chance or by fate, those with great opportunities suppress their advancement at this stage, lingering in another realm that cannot be entered at will. The Yellow Rank is the beginner’s gate, divided into ten levels. But there’s a legend—by sheer force of will, two further levels can be achieved: Earth Crest, the eleventh, and Heaven’s Pinnacle, the twelfth. Those who reach these levels will, in the future, be able to sense the threshold of the Divine Transformation stage ahead of time. Though some call it legend, I have witnessed such prodigies—true talents of great perseverance. You, by channeling this power from the zither’s incantation, may find that each character unlocks a new method. This is a unique cultivation art. If you continue thus, you will be able to roam the world unhindered.”

Bai Qi was astonished—who could have guessed the lowest rank concealed such secrets? Perhaps every stage, once perfected, hid a similar legend. Should anyone reach these heights, they’d be near invincible. If Kun knew Bai Qi was thinking about breaking the boundary of each rank, he’d be even more shocked, for no one had ever considered such a thing. Everyone strove to progress, eager to ascend to the next level, never imagining to challenge the very structure of advancement itself. But first, one must dare to imagine.

Since the legend existed, Bai Qi resolved to draw closer with every step. One day, when he reached it, it would cease to be myth—it would be reality, it would be his. For now, he was at Yellow Rank, ninth level. Three years had passed since his arrival, and only two of those spent in cultivation. For his first year in this world, for reasons unknown, his body refused to absorb the local spiritual energy, only beginning his path in the second year.

Two years could change much, and under Kun’s rigorous training, Bai Qi traversed the green mountains daily. Sometimes he stumbled into the territories of fearsome beasts, sometimes hunted lesser spirit creatures, learning to master himself. Any unchecked desire was a poison, an invisible toxin corroding body and mind until it became second nature, impossible to escape. It was a terrifying prospect, but Kun used this very principle to teach Bai Qi self-control, discipline, and the importance of choices in every detail.

Thus, when Kun intervened, Bai Qi understood and knew what to do. Step by step, steadfastly. The road of cultivation was dull and arduous, but to gain true power, one must submit to its rigors. He thought of the place he came from—when, if ever, could he return? How were the people there? Was Hei Zi well?

After a long while, Bai Qi shook his head, clearing his mind. Determination shone in his gaze. He believed he would return—and take Hei Zi back with him.

Breathing deeply, he began to adjust his state, refining the insights he had just gained. At that moment, the bottleneck of Yellow Rank, level nine, gave way like a bamboo shoot breaking through earth. Energy burst forth, surging toward the next stage. Bai Qi could acutely feel the force—violent and powerful. He fought to restrain it, not letting it rush uncontrollably into the next rank, determined to reach the state beyond the tenth level.

Clenching his teeth, his knuckles cracked under the pressure, his fingers turning pale blue from the strain.

With a shout, Bai Qi forced the power down. His core brimmed with spiritual energy, which he diligently refined into spirit force, using it to compress and restrain the influx of energy from the world around him, all while resisting the benefits—the impact on his bottleneck—granted by the zither’s incantation.

Outside, the world responded. Spiritual energy from the land gathered like a black hole toward Bai Qi. For a hundred miles, spirit beasts fled in terror; the mightier ones roared in his direction but dared not approach, cowed by the pressure of heaven and earth.

Bai Qi was thrown into turmoil, his struggle no less destructive than the previous clash of forces within him. Now, by his own hand, he repeated the ordeal, like a smith hammering iron again and again. Each strike brought pain, but he endured, gritting his resolve.

At last, the core within him underwent a transformation. At Yellow Rank, spiritual energy in the core was a mist. In the next stage, it became crystalline. Bai Qi’s state was unique—a coexistence of solid and liquid, his spiritual energy already clear and pure, no longer hazy.

Breathing slowly, he sensed the change, the power flooding his being, his body restored.

Observing Bai Qi as he examined himself, Kun finally relaxed. He approached, sat beside Bai Qi, and placed his right hand on Bai Qi’s arm as if checking his pulse. After a moment, Kun nodded. “This time, you advanced with control. That is excellent. I judge you have reached the eleventh level. Who knows what benefits this will bring? For now, don’t worry about the result—rest and recover. In a few days, you’ll have a chance to test your strength.”

At these words, Bai Qi’s excitement faded. He knew, once again, rigorous training awaited him.