Chapter 181: Contending with the Dao
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
Qin Ming stood at the entrance, struck by the grandeur that greeted him. It was almost unbelievable—a luminous path at the far end of the main hall led straight into the night sky.
A woman in white, her long hair flowing with the night breeze, descended as if stepping from the moon itself. Her figure seemed ethereal, like a vision from the heavens, dreamlike and elusive, as if she had fallen from the Ninth Heaven.
“How could someone like this exist?” Qin Ming couldn’t believe his eyes.
After all, Wu Yao Zu’s grandmother had once told him that even the mightiest practitioners of the “Rainbow Transformation Path” in the Fourth Forbidden Land, after ascending to the moon, had never returned.
How could this woman dwell on the moon?
More baffling was how effortlessly she descended, strolling down the luminous path as if wandering through a garden, bathed in moonlight, her arrival serene and unhurried.
“Mirror, Flower, Water, Moon—Break!” Qin Ming mimicked Lu Zi Zai’s method from their first encounter, his voice resonating like thunder, sparks of electricity dancing in the air. His body radiated a pure Yang aura, surging with unyielding energy.
Yet nothing happened. The woman on the luminous path continued her steady descent, her body surrounded by a gentle glow, undisturbed.
The hall fell silent.
From afar, the woman appeared draped in white, her aura otherworldly and peerless in elegance. As she approached, her tall figure revealed hints of graceful curves beneath her robes. Her hair shimmered faintly, adding to her ethereal perfection.
But her face—her face was concealed, veiled by her long hair. As she drew nearer, her obscured visage disrupted the earlier impression of transcendence, replacing it with an unsettling, almost ghostly sensation.
The image of a white-clad ghost emerging from the night fog sprang to Qin Ming’s mind. His expression turned grim.
He stepped forward into the hall and was immediately struck by an oppressive force as heavy as a mountain. The weight bore down on him, threatening to crush him to the ground.
The source of the pressure came from the luminous walls of the hall, inscribed with scripture.
It was the legacy of one of the founders of the Silk Script Method, an old master who had once visited this place. The text he left behind glowed, each character like a towering mountain, suffocating those who dared approach.
Even Qin Ming, with his body radiating like the midday sun, felt as if he was about to collapse under the strain.
Still, he strained to lift his head, his gaze fixed on the wall. He was determined to etch every word into his mind, even as his body began to falter under the tremendous burden.
“That old scoundrel actually dared to scribble graffiti here,” the woman in white murmured. With a casual wave of her hand, a dense white mist arose, concealing the wall and its inscriptions entirely.
The crushing pressure on Qin Ming’s body vanished, but his face did not show relief. Instead, he spoke, “Senior, I wish to study the inscriptions on that wall.”
“You came here for that scripture?” the woman asked softly.
“Yes,” Qin Ming replied, nodding. When faced with a being of such power, honesty seemed the wisest approach.
“If you seek gains here, that’s possible,” the woman said gently, her tone devoid of the oppressive presence one might expect. “But it depends on your limits—how far you can go.”
Despite her calm demeanor, Qin Ming’s unease grew. If she were truly as mild as she seemed, countless others wouldn’t have come here only to never return.
“In the past, there were countless paths and endless debates, but most were just empty words. How many paths remain now?” Her voice remained soft, contemplative.
Pausing, she added, “I have grown tired of idle discussions. I prefer to see actual contests of the Dao. That is why this temple has so many… failures.”
A chill ran down Qin Ming’s spine. If she decided to personally test him, how could he possibly compete? He hadn’t anticipated that the risks would be so high.
“Among the newly awakened ones, who is the strongest?” she asked.
A phantom figure appeared suddenly, bowing as it responded, “The old master who inscribed the scripture on the wall.”
The woman stood at the far end of the hall. “He doesn’t count,” she said. “His body is absent, his thoughts incomplete—he cannot be summoned for a duel.”
Her gaze turned to a cobweb in the hall’s corner. “Spider, you’ve listened to others debate the Dao here for centuries. Your understanding isn’t shallow. Go and spar with him.”
Then her eyes shifted to a deep footprint pressed into the floor, where a pool of viscous black liquid lay. With a tap of her finger, a radiant white light shot out, drawing a black spider from the footprint.
Qin Ming felt a shiver run down his spine. The colossal spider, with a body as massive as a mountain, had been easily crushed underfoot in the past? How was such a thing even possible?
“The little spider walked the path of the divine,” murmured the black spider, its voice laced with confusion. It was nothing more than a lingering remnant of consciousness, having perished long ago.
“I didn’t restrict the path to any particular rule, as long as it’s within the First Realm,” explained the white-clothed woman casually.
In an instant, the black spider grew to the size of a millstone, its body gleaming with a dark metallic luster. Divine wisdom radiated from it, as though it was clad in sacred armor.
Qin Ming’s expression turned solemn. This was the Main Hall of the Divine Temple, a perilous trial that few survived across the ages. He understood the gravity of the situation, knowing that no effort could be spared.
Summoning every ounce of his Unified Celestial Light Force, his body seemed to burn with brilliance, like a rising sun illuminating the hall.
He would give it everything he had.
Ahead, the black spider crouched in a dense fog. Threads of silver light wove through the mist—not physical threads, but projections of its expanding Divine Wisdom.
Suddenly, Qin Ming’s head swam slightly. Was this an attack already? The spider’s power was infiltrating the spiritual realm!
But the moment of discomfort passed quickly. Fiery light burst from his body, igniting the spiritual threads as if they were tangible.
Qin Ming respected the spider’s strength but held nothing back. His newly perfected Unified Celestial Light Force erupted with unparalleled intensity.
A deafening explosion rang out.
It was as though mountains had collapsed and seas roared. Qin Ming moved like a golden crow streaking across the sky, his radiance suffusing the temple. Free from the constraints of the physical, his speed soared, and his celestial light took on solid form.
In his hands materialized a golden halberd.
The black spider recoiled, stunned. Its layered ripples of spiritual energy were incinerated by the radiant energy Qin Ming exuded. Nothing could stop or shield against it.
The spider condensed its divine wisdom into an intricate web, casting it forward as a last line of defense.
But it was futile. The divine web burned to ashes under the intense sunlight Qin Ming wielded. The network of divine energy shattered completely.
Gripping his halberd with both hands, Qin Ming struck downward.
The spider had no chance to evade. The Unified Celestial Light Force was as swift as the speed of thought, leaving it no room to maneuver. It could only brace itself. Eight legs danced as it swung sacred implements—Demon-Suppressing Pestles, Treasure Bottles, and Thunder Hammers—in a desperate counterattack. The chamber filled with blazing thunder and lightning, divine sparks scattering in all directions.
But in a flash, the spider was reduced to a formless, sticky mass, retreating back into the enormous footprint it emerged from. Qin Ming had cleaved it apart with a single strike of his halberd.
The white-clothed woman nodded. “Not bad. The spider is merely the threshold of this trial. Passing it grants you the right to compete with others and test your limits.”
Qin Ming fell silent, his unease growing. Though the woman appeared ethereal and serene, her words hinted at endless challenges ahead. How many opponents did she intend to pit him against?
Unable to hold back, he asked, “Senior, how many trials must I face?”
Straightforward as ever, he revealed his reasons for entering the temple: to recover the lost scriptures of his lineage and seek the Five-Colored Bottle.
The woman replied, “If your performance is extraordinary, just one match will suffice. But if you’re only average, expect several more.”
With a wave of her hand, she summoned a young man from the dried blood on the ground. The newcomer was strikingly handsome, and as soon as he appeared, his body exuded a pure yang aura.
Qin Ming’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A Pure Yang Consciousness Aura at the First Realm? That’s absurd!”
The white-clothed woman smiled. “Have you never heard of the Pure Yang Physique?”
“Pure Yang Physique only aids cultivation,” Qin Ming countered. “It might allow an early trace of Pure Yang Consciousness, but a fully formed aura at this stage? That’s the realm of true seniors.”
Studying the young man, Qin Ming’s expression grew serious. This opponent must be an elder masquerading in youthful form.
“I’m not of this path, am I?” the young man asked the white-clothed woman.
“You’re not,” she replied. “I killed you myself.”
Qin Ming’s wariness deepened. The Divine Temple’s master was clearly as ruthless as she was enigmatic. Could he truly walk out of here alive? He thought of Wu Yao Zu’s grandmother and resolved to place his trust in her guidance.
The white-clothed woman’s tone was indifferent. “You were nothing but dross, clinging to outdated practices. You offered no value to the pursuit of new paths. Better to spare resources for the young.”
With a casual flick of her hand, the young man dissolved back into a pool of dried blood on the floor.
Turning to Qin Ming, she remarked, “Your Unified Celestial Light Force has already begun to take shape outside your body. That borders on Outer Saint techniques—impressive, but overreaching. I’ll summon your physical body here and create a humanoid figure to match your path. It will use your techniques to fight your true self.”
Qin Ming stared at her suspiciously. Was she planning to enter the fray herself?
In the dense night fog, the Main Divine Temple loomed like a massive mountain, its grandeur oppressive and majestic.
From the mysterious small town, its residents could not pierce through the thick mist. They could only make out faint, otherworldly lights gradually emerging from the temple, casting a hazy glow that seemed almost sacred.
Suddenly, a shocking spectacle unfolded. From a dilapidated courtyard on the other side of the town, a physical body—wrapped in a shimmering, fog-like radiance—soared through the air and disappeared into the temple.
Curious and startled, many attempted to project their Consciousness Aura or use their Divine Wisdom to identify the figure. However, the fog rebuffed their attempts, sending each observer reeling with muffled groans. It felt as though their seas of consciousness had been struck by a hammer, leaving them in excruciating pain.
“I told you,” someone said, breaking the tense silence. “He’s not just a typical figure on the Path of Awakening. Did you see that? In the end, he moved his true form into battle using his Consciousness Aura!”
Another added confidently, “That’s a major figure from The Beyond!”
A voice countered, “Wrong. That was clearly a technique of The Secret Sect, guiding the physical body into the temple.”
“Perhaps none of you are right,” someone else interjected. “He’s already suffered a crushing defeat. The Master of the Divine Temple must have seized his true form to finish him off.”
Within the Main Hall of the Divine Temple, Qin Ming reunited with his physical body. He felt an unprecedented surge of vitality and strength. Previously, while using Celestial Light, his abilities had felt untethered, like rootless driftwood. Now, however, his connection to the earth was palpable. He felt as though he was in perfect harmony with the world, attuned to the rhythms of nature, a sensation that resonated deeply with the concept of the Great Way.
“Not bad,” remarked the White-Clothed Woman, her tone carrying a rare hint of genuine praise. After a pause, she added with a wry smile, “You’ve got a sliver of my former brilliance.”
Qin Ming raised an eyebrow, questioning silently if she was truly an elder. Her demeanor didn’t quite match the gravitas he expected.
“How many times have you undergone Awakening?” she asked, her hands deftly shaping a lifeless body across the hall. Each movement sent a cascade of white light into the form.
“Seven times,” Qin Ming replied honestly.
“Good,” she said, nodding. “She’s also at the Seventh Awakening.”
At her gesture, a figure slowly approached. It was a frail old woman, her body hunched and gaunt, with snow-white hair. The moment Qin Ming recognized her, his expression soured—it was the Cui Family’s Matriarch, someone he thought long gone. Wasn’t she supposed to be beyond repair?
The White-Clothed Woman explained, “She’s dead. I merely patched up her remains. She retains some lingering Obsessions. Now, fight her.”
The old woman’s dull gaze sparked with life as her obsessions surged. Her eyes locked onto Qin Ming, filling with venom. Despite her state, she recognized him, her teeth gritting in fury.
Gradually, the old woman’s mind absorbed the truths of her new existence and the profound insights offered by the Path of Awakening. Her madness only deepened as she processed it.
“Ha! Divine Temple? I’ve never heard of it, but the Resentments and Obsessions here are palpable. They’re all trapped, unable to leave. You’ll stay too, boy. Become one of the dead, never to return to the living world!” With a feral scream, she charged.
Qin Ming summoned the techniques of the River Network Sutra, enveloping the hall in a dense mist. He followed it with a Thunderfire Strike, sending a bolt of lightning crashing down. The old woman’s hair stood on end, her body scorched.
Despite her deteriorated form, the White-Clothed Woman had enhanced her potential to terrifying levels. Even as her blackened flesh bore the brunt of the attacks, it held together.
Qin Ming tested her strength, confirming she was indeed at the level of the Seventh Awakening. His confidence soared. Facing someone he once dreaded, he felt a cathartic rage boiling within him. At last, he could confront this nemesis, exorcising a shadow from his past.
With sheer determination, Qin Ming unleashed a barrage of ferocious techniques, his Celestial Light boiling with intensity. His punches landed with bone-crunching force, his kicks echoed with the sound of cracking joints. His assault left the old woman battered and broken, a tattered figure barely holding together.
“No! Impossible!” she screeched, stunned that her newfound strength was no match for him. Her perception of having reached the peak of the Night Fog World’s power crumbled under his onslaught.
Qin Ming grabbed her wrist, swinging her like a ragdoll. He smashed her into the ground repeatedly, ignoring the divine runes that reinforced the floor. Her limbs were torn off, her body shattered like a broken vase.
“Beast!” she spat, humiliated beyond measure. Her face contorted with fury, she howled as her jaw broke, scattering her teeth.
Qin Ming finally ended it. His foot, glowing brilliantly, stomped down with decisive force. With a resounding crash, she was no more.
“You cheated!” the White-Clothed Woman accused, incredulous. “That was my carefully crafted combat tool. How could she lose so miserably?”
Qin Ming stood firm, his expression unflinching. “Check for yourself,” he said calmly, inviting her scrutiny.
The woman’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Now I’m itching to test you myself!” she declared, stepping forward. Her every movement radiated sacred brilliance, her presence both divine and detached. Only the veil of her hair, obscuring her face, marred her otherwise perfect aura.
“First realm only,” Qin Ming replied, his excitement barely contained. Finally, he could face the Master of the Divine Temple on equal footing.