The Path Toward Heaven

Chapter 316: The Sleeping Beauty

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

After Guo Dong had said this, it was quiet for a long time in the room at the vegetable garden.

Back when Pei Baifa was attacked by Tian Jingren in secret and then defeated by the Godly Swordsman of West Ocean, his Cultivation state was damaged to a great extent. It took him many years staying behind closed doors to recover his Cultivation state; but he was close to the end of his life now.

Tong Yan had anticipated this reason early on, so he kept silent.

He Zhan suddenly asked, “What can I do to help?”

The participants in this plan were Tong Lu and Su Ziye, and of course Mister Pei; but He Zhan was excluded.

Tong Yan had already contributed to it by plotting the scheme. It meant that He Zhan would do nothing in the action.

Guo Dong said, “You have cleansed your stomach for half a year at the Baotong Zen Temple already, so you should be clean enough. Then come with me to the Fruit Formation Temple.”

If it happened in any other occasion, He Zhan would kick and scream in protest; and he would claim that he had no desire to become a monk; but at the moment, all he did was look at Guo Dong quietly, saying nothing.

It was all because they had a kinship now.

Tong Yan predicted what would happen to his friend later, and bid his farewell with a smile.

He left the vegetable garden where he had lived for a while. He walked along a small path covered with the stone plates toward the foot of the mountain.

As he came to the boundary of the village enshrouded by the thin fog, Tong Yan turned around to look back at the temple. He could vaguely see the words “Baotong Zen Temple” on the plaque.

What Mister Pei was to do was similar to seeking death, he mused. Even if he succeeded, how could he survive it?

To change the final outcome, other orthodox Cultivation sects had to help. However, the Fruit Formation Temple would definitely not do it, neither would the Center Sect and the Green Mountain...

The Godly Swordsman of West Ocean cut down the Cloud Platform with a swing of the sword, and it also counted out any excuse the Center Sect and the Green Mountain would have for helping out.

The reason Mister Pei could strike out was that the grudge existed between the No-Mercy Sect and the West Ocean Sword Sect, and the bitterness existed between Mister Pei and the Godly Swordsman of West Ocean.

What else could he do to help? Tong Yan asked himself.

No matter how powerful one’s calculating skill was, he would always have something that he couldn’t predict. Who could calculate and predict all that happened in heaven and earth?

Tong Yan heard that Jing Jiu had left Green Mountain because his Cultivation state stagnated, and Jing Jiu was trying to find a method of breaking through the state by traveling in the outside world.

Many Cultivation practitioners who encountered the barriers in their Cultivation would try to find an opportunity to break through the state by traveling around the world; unfortunately, not everybody would be able to get what they wished for.

In fact, losers were in the majority. And many Cultivation practitioners had gradually given up hope during their journey and took a fancy to the mountains and rivers; they would eventually sleep forever among the mountains or in the rivers.

Yet, Tong Yan believed that Jing Jiu would not end up like that, and it was because he had played Go with Jing Jiu.

Jing Jiu wouldn’t place one single Go piece before he figured out the whole game. Then, he must have already calculated and predicted what would happen before he left Green Mountain.

But what was the meaning of calculating and predicting everything?

Mister Pei used the last three years of his life to carry out this plan; it was because he wanted to, not because he had calculated that he could succeed.

What about me?

I will have eight hundred years to live my life. Though it seemed long, it would actually the last eight hundred years of my life.

What should I do during the last eight hundred years of my life?

As Tong Yan thought about all this, he turned around and entered the village enshrouded in the fog.

...

...

Like Tong Yan thought, Jing Jiu had already calculated everything before he left Green Mountain, unless something unexpected would happen.

Jing Jiu didn’t want to think about what he should do in the last hundreds of years of his life.

If he had three hundred years left, he would try his best to live an extra five hundred years.

If he had eight hundred years left, he would try his best to live till three thousand years old.

If he were three thousand years old, he would try to live even longer.

One day was meaningless, and one should strive for ten thousand years.

The purpose of Cultivation was to seek longevity anyway.

Jing Jiu didn’t have the concept of how many years were left of his life; what he focused on was each day, each hour, and each moment.

He was cultivating every moment, every hour, and every day.

This was the sort of life he had in the Fiend Prison.

His discussion with the Underworld Emperor was finally finished.

He had already completely mastered the Control of Soul-Fire. Next he had figured out the basic method of letting the Sword Ghost cultivate by itself. What he needed to do was to check the results.

After long discussions with Jing Jiu, the Underworld Emperor had totally understood Jing Jiu’s thoughts and ideas. He couldn’t help thinking that Jing Jiu was an exceptional talent...though he had one doubt.

Here was the Taichang Prison of the Fiend Prison, which was isolated from the outside world, unable to absorb the energy of heaven and earth as a result; how could he cultivate and break through the Cultivation state then?

If he couldn’t break through the Cultivation state, how could he develop the Sword Ghost then?

Without the Sword Ghost, how could he substantiate this brand new and powerful magic method?

Yet, Jing Jiu didn’t try to explain to the Underworld Emperor, as he said, “I will probably sleep for a long time. If something happens, please wake me up.”

Even if the Cultivation practitioners fell into a trance behind closed doors, they would wake up from their meditation condition when there was a commotion outside.

But, Jing Jiu needed the Underworld Emperor to wake him up. This meant that he was to sink to the deepest part of his awareness to complete this magic method.

Having said this, Jing Jiu didn’t start his meditation immediately. Instead, he took out a bamboo chair and lay on it, and then closed his eyes.

Seeing the bamboo chair, a curious expression occurred on the Underworld Emperor’s semitransparent face, musing that this bamboo chair must be very comfortable to lie on, wondering if he should make one just like Jing Jiu’s for himself.

Jing Jiu fell in sound sleep.

Nothing could wake him up, no matter whether it was the sound of grass growing, the sound of flowers blossoming, the buzzing sound of the mosquitoes, or the sound of chopsticks breaking.

Some days later, he was still asleep. He hadn’t even changed his posture, and his eyelashes hadn’t quivered once.

Standing in front of the bamboo chair and seeing Jing Jiu’s face, the Underworld Emperor commented sentimentally, “What a sleeping beauty!”

Since he was the Underworld Emperor, he had to behave in a manner appropriate for his identity. So he couldn’t say so when Jing Jiu was awake. He had finally made the compliment that he wanted to make for a long time when Jing Jiu was asleep.

In the following days, Jing Jiu still slept, and the Underworld Emperor still watched by the side. The more the Underworld Emperor watched Jing Jiu, the odder he found Jing Jiu’s Cultivation was. It was different from that of the Green Mountain Sect or the Underworld; to say nothing of the posture, he didn’t even have any change in his energy, as if he were really sleeping.

No matter how beautiful a thing was, it would get boring looking at it for a prolonged time.

The Underworld Emperor cut down some flowering trees in an attempt to make a chair just like Jing Jiu’s bamboo chair; but he found that the material was different from bamboo, so he failed to make similar one no matter how hard he tried. Later, he made a soft bed for himself.

As he lay on the bed made of the flowering tree and looked at Jing Jiu who was sleeping soundly, he still felt it more comfortable to lie on the bamboo chair; and meanwhile he was worried that Jing Jiu might damage the bamboo chair after having slept for so long on it.

As he was thinking about this, he suddenly found that something was out of place.

Even though Jing Jiu was lying on the bamboo chair, the load on the chair seemed a lot lighter now.

The Underworld Emperor got up and walked to the bamboo chair, and found that Jing Jiu’s body didn’t touch the bamboo chair at all. His body was two inches above the chair, floating in the air.

If it were anyone else who had witnessed this scene, they would think Jing Jiu had turned into a ghost.

Yet, the Underworld Emperor didn’t think so; it was because he had seen s similar scene before.

After the Control of Soul-Fire had reached the third level, the Soul-Fire would have a drifting form just like Jing Jiu’s.

Looking at Jing Jiu deep in sleep, the Underworld Emperor was reflecting on something, his expression growing grave.

Judging by Jing Jiu’s condition, he shouldn’t have any further problems. As for why his body floated like the Soul-Fire, the Underworld Emperor had some ideas.

He took down the formation diagram from the flowering tree, and walked toward the outskirts of the green valley.

When he arrived in front of a broken cliff, he fell silent for a long time while looking at the darkness before him.

The Underworld Emperor didn’t lift his head to look at the blue sky; it was because the sky was fake, as well as the valley. The only reality was the darkness in front of him.

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