"The underworld."
Su Yan stared into the endless gloom, his eyes dark and hollow. From the moment he had killed the village god of Jiangjia Village, it seemed he had been tied to the underworld by an unbreakable bond. Since the Naihe's rerouting and the underworld's invasion, the world he knew had changed beyond all recognition.
He had met Yuan Qi and Elder Zhong at the Stone Mountain, been dragged into the feuds of Li Xiaoke and the Fairy Qingbi, and, pursued by the Zhou family, entangled himself in the ancient secret of the devoured nuo immortal. All of it, in some measure, was bound up with the underworld.
"Zhou Qiyun needed to intimidate the underworld to cross his tribulation, and the Temple of the Gods was built at its entrance to watch it, not govern it," he mused. "To flee him, I crossed with Veyon from the underworld to the Abyss of Cangwu and climbed Mount Jiuyi."
He remembered then: when Zhou Qiyun crossed his tribulation, the Underworld Emperor bore a coffin to Mount Wuwang to watch, and its corpse — his own body — bore at the brow the trace of an eight-sided sword, Li Xiaoke's weapon. "Li Xiaoke, too, keeps watch on the underworld! And the careworn Fu Yi is always going there for Mengpo's soup; it must have joined in sealing me, perhaps playing an important role. Xu Fu presided over the Naihe's rerouting — he must have ties as well."
The Divine Land's seals, too, had begun breaking from the underworld first, on both banks of the Naihe; only the land's rapid return had let the invasion pass, largely unnoticed. Yet it had never stopped.
"And now the underworld invades this Primal World," Su Yan mused. "What is here for it to covet so?" The Yuanshou World was rich; an invasion made sense. But the Primal World was barren, too poor even for a heavenly god to nibble at. He looked at the ancient battlefield; a war of terrifying intensity had smashed this world to ruin, and the invasion had begun from this very field. Something about it must be strange.
"Zhai Wuxian, when the founder of the Eight Forms left the Primal World," Su Yan asked, "did he seek a way out, or the reason for the invasion?"
"I do not know," Zhai Wuxian said. "He never returned. Perhaps he found the road out; perhaps he died along the way." He paused. "You have studied all the martial arts. Go test what you have learned. When you have fused them into one, you can try to open your seal yourself. If you cannot, I or Martial Heavenly Sovereign will do it."
Su Yan gave his thanks and walked out. Zhai Wuxian watched him go. Master Yuandao, robe hanging open, strolled over lazily. "He is only at the Qi-Gathering stage, not yet past his gate. It is too early for the battlefield, and with a single person's strength he can never open a Heavenly Dao seal!"
Zhai Wuxian asked, "Master Yuan, how long did you take to learn the Far Shore's arts?"
"My talent far exceeds the Martial Heavenly Sovereign's," Master Yuandao said, looking after Su Yan. "Two hundred years for every method. A few old monsters then promised my future would match theirs."
"I learned them all in two months, and fused them in a year."
Master Yuandao grunted. "I brought you in myself. I am proud of you." Zhai Wuxian went on, "Then they declared me the shortest learner in the Far Shore's history. In future, even if I tread the void, ascend, and become a Martial Great Emperor, they will not be surprised."
"Be a little more modest and you'd be more formidable still."
Zhai Wuxian sighed. "Su Yan learned everything in two months — ten months faster than I."
Master Yuandao's face grew heavy. "He learned them, but may not have fused them. That takes at least a year."
"He comprehended the Eight Forms on his first day," Zhai Wuxian said. "His fusion is a matter of course."
"Two hundred-generations talents, then?" Master Yuandao mused, shaking his head. "That seems rather too many." Zhai Wuxian answered, "He comes from another world; perhaps there he is a hundred-generations talent. He will surely open the seal!" Master Yuandao shook his head. "With a mere nine hundred and ninety-nine stages?"
The instant Su Yan stepped into the ancient battlefield, a chill wind of yin rushed at him, piercing his bones. He drove his martial qi and blood, and the wind was beaten back. Behind him the Far Shore stood like an island, the martial masters' essence and spirit resisting yin and corpse-qi like torches that steadied the heart. Ahead, smaller wisping essences blurred in the darkness — masters of the Far Shore confronting the underworld, trying to purify the battlefield.
Suddenly a gust swept past. In a skull among a heap of bones, fire flared in an eye socket; the white bones flowed and assembled a towering frame. A great skeleton rose, its aura bursting like an awakened god! Over ten zhang tall, its bones were pitted by wind and mist, yet in places bore no damage — for strange patterns rippled over them, the Dao this one had branded on its own bones in life.
"Kill!" Its remnant consciousness scattered Su Yan's martial spirit, the pattern on its brow blazed, and Samadhi True Fire erupted! Su Yan dodged, but a mountain-sized fist hammered him tumbling; the skeleton spat more flames. Su Yan fled with the Art of Utter Ease and Freedom and stood dozens of li away — then the yin wind faded, warmth rushed in, and he found he had fled back to the Far Shore! He felt a pang of shame. *Every man carries fear; conquering it makes a warrior.*
He drew a long breath, crouched, and shot forth as a rainbow streak before the skeleton! *Yaaa!* His fist-intent lashed at its brow. It roared, its remnant battle-will flooding over him — but Su Yan held firm in Grand Unity, spirit one and unshaken. Fire erupted and a broken weapon slashed down. He threw his all into one punch; the flame surged and parted — *Bam!* — his fist shattered the brow, burst through the skull, and drove out the back, the head exploding.
A gust of yin wind wrapped the remnant consciousness into a wisp of black qi shooting at him, seeking his body. Su Yan waited until it drew near, then let his martial spirit, fused with qi and blood, bloom like a blazing sun, and smelted the remnant to nothing.
He raised his hand; his knuckles dripped blood; the punch had broken his own bones. "Zhai Wuxian can evolve five of the Six Secrets through martial arts and heal in an instant," he muttered. "What a pity I have not yet grasped its mysteries."
He walked on. Bones wrapped by something unseen thrust from earth, growing into trees whose branches were arm-bones, whose leaves were palms, whose fruit was skulls clattering in the yin wind. A demon clung to the dead bones, singing a coaxing, alluring song: dead, no lord above me, no harsh levy; dead, no subjects below, no weary toil; dead, no four seasons, no heat nor cold; dead, no vexing cares, no pain nor ache. A graceful woman's form flitted through the forest, singing, "What joy, what joy! My life is bounded, my death unbounded. Life holds a thousand miseries, death a myriad joys! Better dead than alive! Die soon, die soon!"
Su Yan felt himself sinking into a bliss beyond death. "I have the martial path," he said. "It abolishes tyranny and washes away toil. A paltry demon means to disturb my Dao heart?" Sword-qi erupted through the bone-forest, swift as lightning; the forest collapsed and the demon was shaken to powder.
He went on, meeting demons born of strongmen slain in the ancient battlefield, their wills corrupted by the underworld. After a long time he neared the first torch-bright martial essence in the darkness: a tall figure on the wasteland, ringed by empty li no yin wind or demon-qi could reach, its qi and blood surging into the sky as a canopy of clouds.
"This humble one is Su Yan, newly entered the Far Shore, seeking to test the martial path," he said as he approached. "I am weak and wish to rest under your protection..." He trailed off, stunned. There stood a white-haired old man, tall and mighty, his qi and blood un-withering, his martial spirit surging with that rousing, bold, forward spirit — and yet he was dead. His body stood fast, a torch outside the Far Shore pointing the way for those who came after.
Su Yan fell silent and looked where the old man faced. There, essence and spirit burned like flame — Far Shore masters who at death had walked into the underworld, leaving their bodies to give off their last warmth.
*If there should be no light, then become the light,* Su Yan thought. *Even in death, light the world.*
He sat beside the old man, pondering that spirit of valor. After a long while his qi and blood surged, his essence, spirit, and soul fused as one, and swept like a swelling tide toward the tailbone gate studded with Heavenly Dao seals! The black-iron gate lit up rune after rune!
At that moment, out in the ancient battlefield, a stone idol turned its head toward him. "Su Yan. I have been waiting for you!"