IDWBE -Chapter 390 Innate Realm

The rest of the disciples of Chunshan City were equally bewildered.

Since when had their City Lord become so merciful?

That monk had fought his way to the very gates of Chunshan City—and yet she let him go so easily. If word spread, where would Chunshan City’s dignity be?

Moreover, Xie Xiaoqing, as the Holy Maiden of Chunshan City, had conducted a secret affair with a man, disgracing the sect. According to the rules, after soaking three full years in the water dungeon, she should have been executed as a warning to others.

Only thus could discipline be upheld.

“The City Lord,” the cook from the Department of Provisions said indignantly, “that little monk’s martial arts are extremely strange. Letting him leave like this will surely become a great future calamity.”

Even now she could not believe it. She, a peak ninth-rank expert, had failed to keep a mere sixth-rank monk.

Most astonishing of all, in that brief moment, the boy’s cultivation seemed to have broken through.

Standing before him, she could neither see nor fathom him. She did not even dare harbor the thought of attacking.

Breaking through to Grandmaster in half an hour?

Impossible. Absolutely impossible.

The only explanation was that he had been deliberately concealing his strength all along.

Like a lion toying with a white rabbit.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

“If you could have kept him, you would have done so already,” a woman in colorful robes covered her mouth and laughed softly. “You boast daily of your martial prowess, yet he slipped right through your hands.”

“Xie Anlan!”

The cook snorted coldly. “You didn’t keep him either. What right do you have to mock me?”

Xie Anlan smiled. “Which is precisely why he is extraordinary. If the City Lord acted thus, she must have her reasons. Why make such a fuss?”

“You—!”

The cook gnashed her teeth in fury.

“Enough.”

With a single airy word from Zhaoyao, the plaza fell silent again. She gazed at the retreating figures of the monk and Xie Xiaoqing and said slowly, “That boy cultivates external body-tempering techniques. Reaching sixth rank with such methods already makes him exceptional.”

Xie Tiance frowned. “City Lord, I am ninth rank, yet I was helpless against him.”

He was the first to disbelieve that the monk was only sixth rank. Like everyone else, he was confused—what rank was he truly?

Under everyone’s gaze, Zhaoyao said calmly, “He is sixth rank—and yet he is not.”

The crowd grew even more confused.

What did that even mean?

Xie Anlan bowed. “Disciple is dull-witted. Please enlighten us, Master.”

“For external body training, he is indeed sixth rank. That is beyond doubt,” Zhaoyao said. “But someone forcibly cleansed his marrow and empowered him, sealing immense cultivation within him. He lacked the method to integrate it. Just now, in that instant, he broke through the life-and-death tribulation and stepped into the Innate Realm.”

Marrow cleansing and empowerment?

Innate Realm?

These were terms no one present had ever heard before.

“Master,” Xie Anlan asked, “is not cultivation something one must achieve through personal training? How can it be instilled?”

Zhaoyao sighed. “The world is vast, full of wonders you do not know. There exists a technique called Yin-Yang Eight Desolations Art, the secret manual of Xingchen Sea in the Western Wasteland. Even someone who knows nothing of martial arts, if empowered by another, can gain decades—even a century—of cultivation out of thin air.”

“Yin-Yang Eight Desolations Art…”

“Xingchen Sea…”

Whispers spread. It was the first time any of them had heard of such a sect or such a technique.

If empowerment were truly possible, then could an aging master pass on his life’s cultivation before death?

With a century of accumulation, would everyone eventually become Grandmasters?

How terrifying such a sect would be.

The thought alone was chilling.

Zhaoyao continued, “Usually I urge you to train diligently, yet you grow complacent. Reaching mere ninth rank, you already dream of fame and glory. Do you think that as long as you do not encounter a Grandmaster, you are safe? You do not even know that above Grandmaster lies the Human Realm, and above the Human Realm—the Innate. Even I, having entered the Human Realm, would have no power to resist against an Innate expert.”

Above Grandmaster was the Human Realm; above that, the Innate.

The crowd finally understood.

They recalled her earlier words: ‘One step, one heaven; one thought, and one reaches the Innate.’

Their faces filled with shock.

That monk was Innate?

And even their City Lord was no match for him?

Impossible.

They still could not believe it.

He was so young. Even with empowerment, how could his cultivation surpass hers?

Zhaoyao said coldly, “Issue my order. From this day forward, Chunshan City will close its mountain gates. Without my command, no one may leave.”

“Master!”

Everyone was stunned.

Chunshan City rarely interacted with the martial world, but that was because Chuanzhou was remote—not because they were a hidden sect. Disciples often went out to train.

More importantly, there were thirty to forty thousand people in Chunshan City. They had to eat and live.

Closing the mountain entirely—what would they eat? Drink?

It was utterly impractical.

But Zhaoyao seemed not to hear them. She said expressionlessly, “When I inherited the position of City Lord, my master told me: Xingchen Sea is a demonic sect. When Xingchen Sea reappears in the world, Chunshan City must withdraw from it.”

Xie Jiuyun hurriedly said, “Master, even if that monk knows Yin-Yang Eight Desolations Art, it does not mean he belongs to Xingchen Sea. Moreover, he serves Prince He and has never been to the Western Wasteland.”

She had known the monk for a long time. Though angry with him, she did not believe he was some demonic cultivator.

“You question me as well?”

Zhaoyao snorted. “Those who wish to leave, I will not stop. But if you do, do not ever return. And you may not act in my name in the martial world—or I will personally cleanse the sect!”

“Yes!”

They had no choice but to obey.

They all sensed one thing: their City Lord feared Xingchen Sea deeply.

The high sun pierced layers of mist and dense bamboo forest, struggling to cast even a sliver of light upon the stone steps. Yet it could not dispel the mountain’s gloom.

“Monk…”

Xie Xiaoqing hunched over, clutching her chest, staggering down the steps. “I can’t walk anymore.”

“Amitabha.”

The monk felt at a loss.

“You’re covered in blood,” she said softly, looking at his robe. “Are you hurt?”

He shook his head. “Rest assured, I am unharmed.”

“Monk… why did you come for me?”

She still felt as though dreaming. Most unbelievable of all—her master had let them go.

“To save a life is to build a seven-storied pagoda,” he said, palms together. “I could not bear to see you suffer.”

“Monk,” She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned against his back, saying sorrowfully, “Let’s hurry and run. As far as we can. I know my master well—she would not let us go so easily.”

The moment her body pressed against his back, he trembled.

She was injured; he could not push her away. Carefully, he supported her legs and continued step by step down the mountain.

In his heart he chanted: Form is emptiness, emptiness is form. I do this to save a life.

Passing the Ministry of Rites, she saw Xie Baishou sitting stiffly, eyes rolled white.

“What happened to him?”

“He lost his soul. It cannot return.”

“A living corpse?”

“Indeed.”

“Did you do it?”

“No. He trapped himself within his own music. He will remain immersed until his body decays.”

“He was seventh rank, skilled in killing with sound. How did he harm himself?”

“I learned a technique called ‘Dou Zhuan Xing Yi’—Shifting Stars and Reversing Constellations. It borrows force to return it,” the monk explained patiently. “It was Murong Fu’s famous skill.”

“Who is Murong Fu?”

“A very formidable master.”

“A Grandmaster?”

“Perhaps. But in the end, he went mad.”

“Why?”

“He failed to restore his kingdom. His dream shattered.”

“Which kingdom?”

“He was merely a descendant of the royal family of Great Yan…”

“And where is Great Yan?”

“….”

The monk laughed. When Prince He once told them this tale, they had asked the same questions.

The blind man had even vowed to learn that technique. He failed—but the monk had pieced together something himself. Combined with his Lion’s Roar, it would be immensely powerful. So he learned both.

Talking as they walked, they eventually left Chunshan City’s borders.

“Miss?”

After calling several times without reply, he turned his head. She had fallen asleep.

The wilderness stretched around them. He gently laid her on the grass and lit a fire.

It was winter—no wild fruits to be found. He found a few tangerines, but they were rotten inside.

At last, he discovered a persimmon tree and gathered a bagful.

When he returned, she was awake, crouched by the fire roasting fish.

“I won’t eat such astringent persimmons,” she said, glancing at his bag.

“Amitabha.”

Seeing the fish’s unblinking eyes, he clasped his palms. “Amitabha.”

“You killed Xie Baishou, yet now you act pious,” she said.

“I did not kill him,” he protested.

“He’s a living corpse. What difference does it make? Without your Shifting Stars technique, he wouldn’t be like that.”

“I…”

He did not know how to explain.

She smiled proudly. “Come. I’ll treat you to fish—to thank you for saving me.”

“Thank you for your kindness.”

He turned away and quietly ate his persimmons.

She bit fiercely into the fish, bored.

On New Year’s Eve, heavy snow fell.

Lin Yi set off a thousand taels’ worth of fireworks at the Meridian Gate.

“That old bastard Mo Shun has made another fortune,” Lin Yi muttered atop the city wall, watching the dazzling display.

Mo Shun was now both merchant and official—a true merchant-official. If he grew too powerful, it would bring endless trouble.

Yet for the sake of “efficiency,” Lin Yi had to compromise.

Sometimes one could not have both fish and bear’s paw.

“Your Highness,” He Jixiang stroked his beard, “in the northern campaign, the gunpowder’s power was extraordinary. Mo Shun’s contributions were great.”

“I’m not denying it,” Lin Yi sighed. “And those suppliers—money must be rotting in their vaults. I heard Liang Gen bought a mansion outside Ankang City for fifty thousand taels. Does his whole family even fill it?”

“Your Highness,” He Jixiang said cautiously, “Liang Gen brought twenty ships of grain. Ankang City need not fear shortage for now.”

Lin Yi smiled. “Those who can make money have ability. The more who prosper, the happier I am.”

His status was no longer what it once was. A careless word could spell disaster for the people.

After all, the founding emperor Lin Baozhi had once treated everyone as brothers—until he took the throne and executed the realm’s richest merchant without hesitation.

“Your Highness is wise!”

They all chorused.

Lin Yi turned to He Jixiang. “I hear you brought your great-grandson here?”

“Yes. I am old and have little time left. He is young, so I brought him to teach personally.”

“Good. Go spend the evening with him. No need to guard me.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

But he did not leave.

“Have the Crown Prince’s family been escorted into the palace?”

“They arrived earlier this evening,” Liu Kan replied.

“Good. Prepare the banquet. You may all disperse. I must attend the New Year’s dinner at Qilin Palace.”

Only when he left would the others dare leave.

They knelt. “Farewell, Your Highness!”

Qilin Palace blazed with light.