Chapter 61: A Pieced-Together False Life
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
Qin Ming rubbed his temples. Every time he tried to recall the fragments of his shattered memories, a dull ache settled in his head, leaving him feeling mentally exhausted. It was a clear sign of how severe his injuries must have been. Despite undergoing multiple awakenings and continuously improving his physical condition, he had yet to fully recover.
Still, he was certain the end of this struggle was near. With successive instances of innate transformation through acquired means, he would soon resolve the lingering issues in his body.
“Such fragmented images,” Qin Ming murmured, frowning deeply. “It’s like my life has been pieced together, almost unreal.”
As a child, he had lived a life of poverty, his clothes worn and patched in countless places. Yet, at around thirteen or fourteen years old, everything had changed completely.
In the broken images that lingered in his mind, he saw himself racing through the outskirts of a massive city on a magnificent beast. The creature was large and powerful, its scales shimmering with a soft radiance that marked it as no ordinary aberration. He had also resided in an opulent mansion, where every object spoke of luxury and refinement.
The prominent figures in that grand estate wore fine clothes and exquisite jade ornaments. Their lives were marked by elegance, even down to the elaborate adornments worn by the women. Some used rare feathers glowing with golden light as hairpins, while others secured vibrant peach blossoms, their petals gleaming with a crimson hue, in their hair.
In this resplendent mansion, his name was Cui Chong He, and he seemed to be an esteemed member of the family. He distinctly remembered a boy named Cui Chong Xuan, about a year younger than him, consuming a three-colored flower and successfully fusing four types of Celestial Light Force. The scene had left everyone in awe.
“It’s puzzling,” Qin Ming muttered to himself. He had been a member of the main family line in that life. His circumstances were far from humble—fine food, luxurious clothing, even rare aberrations for transportation. Yet, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, he hadn’t embarked on a path of cultivation.
When Cui Chong Xuan fused four distinct strands of Celestial Light Force, it caused a sensation. The elders of the Cui family praised him endlessly, even rewarding him with the priceless Six Imperial Heart Sutra.
“Four types of Celestial Light Force… It doesn’t seem like much,” Qin Ming reflected. Out here in this remote land, he had effortlessly surpassed such feats through his own efforts.
But many things remained unclear, his understanding hindered by the lack of complete memories.
“Fourteen must have been a turning point,” Qin Ming thought, recalling another fragmented scene.
At that time, his life had taken a sharp turn for the worse. His once lavish clothing became plain, even threadbare. He had become a village boy, leading a simple and impoverished life.
Then, one fateful night, a group led by a feather-cloaked youth appeared. Flames engulfed the village, devouring everything. Nearly everyone perished in the inferno, and Qin Ming himself suffered grievous injuries.
Sitting at his table, Qin Ming traced a few numbers in the tea that had spilled across the wooden surface: three, thirteen, fourteen, sixteen. Each number marked a distinct phase of his life, each wildly different from the other, as though they belonged to a disjointed, false existence.
Among the scattered memories, he finally pieced together a name from the previous night’s vision: Li Qing Yue.
When he was thirteen or fourteen, Li Qing Yue had often been by his side. Along with other companions of similar age, they rode rare aberrant beasts together. Li Qing Yue had been a close friend, one of the few who stood out in his fragmented recollections.
“To meet her here, in such a remote place, only for her to pretend not to know me… Is it because I’ve fallen into ruin, far removed from the Cui family? Or is it something deeper—connected to the events of two years ago, something I still can’t touch?”
Qin Ming tried to piece the timeline together, but the harder he tried to remember, the more disjointed his memories felt. Certain moments of his life seemed unreal, like rootless duckweed floating on water—belonging to someone else entirely.
He shook his head, forcing himself to stop thinking about it. What good would knowing more do? He was far from that sprawling city now, a wanderer in these lands. At present, there was little he could change.
What truly mattered now was building his strength. As his life force continued to evolve, those memories would naturally come back in time.
Refocusing, Qin Ming opened the yellowed book in front of him once more.
“Yellow Mud Palm—a terrible name,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “But according to this ancient text, it’s a formidable technique.”
The notes in the book described the palm technique as highly revered among those who practiced it. Many believed it was exceptionally powerful, but few could master it due to its demanding requirements. Some of the commentary seemed to come from renowned masters, who claimed Yellow Mud Palm was as deadly as the ultimate techniques of higher-tier energy arts.
Intrigued, Qin Ming devoted his full attention to studying the book.
As he read, a mist seemed to rise in his mind’s eye. Soon, an elderly figure appeared, demonstrating various palm strikes on the ground. The vision unfolded step by step, from the evolution of life force, to the nurturing of Celestial Light Force, to the transformation of Yellow Mud Palm into something divine.
By the time the vision ended, Qin Ming was so engrossed that he clapped his hands in awe.
“If someone could reach this level, it would truly be skill approaching the Dao.”
The technique’s unassuming name, he realized, stemmed from the humility of its creator. Even at its early stages, the technique allowed practitioners to break bones and rupture organs with palm strikes that penetrated flesh and skin.
“This is the brilliance of soft force,” Qin Ming concluded. He was certain that Yellow Mud Palm wasn’t based on a single force but incorporated multiple secret energies, lending it extraordinary strength.
“With further mastery, the Celestial Light Soft Force can pierce through armor, tear through scales and hides, and destroy anything in its path.”
Turning to the final pages, Qin Ming encountered a vivid description of the technique’s ultimate form. The elder in the vision stood rooted to the ground, drawing upon the energy of the earth itself. Celestial Light Force merged with this earth energy, forming a dense, clay-like substance around his hands.
With a single effortless strike, the elder shattered a monstrous beast the size of a hill. The creature crumbled like a mountain of flesh, its remains staining the ground red.
“Incredible,” Qin Ming whispered. This was far beyond ordinary combat techniques—it was transcendent, breaking the boundaries of conventional martial arts.
“But mastering it to this level will be incredibly difficult,” he admitted. Though he was confident in his aptitude and ability to resonate with the elder’s insights, the real challenge lay in amassing enough Celestial Light Force to fuel the technique’s full potential.
Standing in the courtyard, Qin Ming began to practice. He focused on the mysterious soft force that lay at the heart of the technique. Every moment he wasn’t eating, he spent in deep concentration, refining his movements and immersing himself in the study of Celestial Light Soft Force and Yellow Mud Palm.
Qin Ming was determined to master his skills sooner rather than later. The Yellow Mud Palm had proven itself in real combat, even taking down one of the mysterious Outlanders. That alone made it worth the effort.
After practicing for most of the day, he finally stopped, feeling a little weary. As he rested, his thoughts wandered. Among the various secret techniques he had acquired, only the final move from the Blade Manual could rival the Yellow Mud Palm. That blade technique aimed to cut a single line through the heavens, tearing apart the shroud of night itself.
But to unleash the full power of that blade intent required incredible skill and discipline.
“Time to get moving,” Qin Ming murmured to himself. “I have promises to keep, and I won’t leave them unfulfilled.” He was a man of his word, and once he gave a promise, he made sure to follow through.
Not long after, Qin Ming headed into the mountains, carrying a throwing net.
The harshest days of winter had passed, and in just over a month, the ice and snow would start to melt, giving way to spring’s warmth. Some birds were already stirring, flitting through the trees. Before long, they’d be building their nests.
Qin Ming knew the mountains well. He understood the habits of many creatures, and with his skills, sneaking around and capturing a small animal wasn’t much of a challenge.
Half an hour later, he spotted his target and swiftly hurled the net over a patch of brambles.
“Help! Somebody’s killing birds!” a frantic voice screeched. Something inside the net wriggled furiously, struggling to escape but failing miserably.
Qin Ming grinned and hurried over. Tangled in the net was a small, pale-blue bird.
It was slightly smaller than his palm, with bright gem-like eyes that shimmered with intelligence. To his astonishment, it spoke. “Merciful Two-Legs! Spare me, please! Let me go, and I’ll lead you to a big, fat bear. Bears have way more meat than little old me!”
Qin Ming laughed, delighted. He had caught a Talking Sparrow! Now he could finally keep his promise to young Wen Rui.
There was no chance he’d let this little blue chatterbox go.
As Qin Ming approached the village, a furious voice rang out from behind him.
“Who took my wife?! You’d better stop right there if you value your life!”
Qin Ming turned and immediately recognized the speaker. It was a Talking Sparrow, much larger than the average bird, with bright eyes full of cunning. This particular one was infamous for its sharp tongue and cheeky attitude—it had once driven Cao Long to the brink of madness.
“You, Two-Legs! Let her go, or I’ll call Old Bear down from the mountain to storm your village and tear you apart! Don’t you know who I am? I’m the Great Sparrow of these mountains! I could even summon the Mountain Lord himself to wipe out your whole village!”
The large sparrow’s eyes were red with anger as it flew closer, hurling threats and insults without pause.
But the moment it saw Qin Ming clearly, it froze mid-rant. Its tone changed in an instant.
“Big Brother!” it chirped nervously. “Oh, what a misunderstanding! It’s like a flood washing into the Dragon King’s temple—we’re family, after all!”
Qin Ming raised an eyebrow, bemused by the bird’s sudden shift from arrogance to flattery.
The sparrow hurriedly explained, “Master Wu told me before he left to deliver messages and scout for you in the mountains. But, well, I’ve been busy lately. I just got married, you see, so I’ve been…preoccupied.”
“What nonsense are you talking about?” Qin Ming asked, utterly confused.
“Master Wu—the crow, remember? The one who’s always following that mysterious woman in the black cloak. Oh, by the way, that woman’s name is Tang Jin. Stunning figure, beautiful face—I could sketch her for you…”
Qin Ming suspected the bird might be a human who had transformed into an aberration.
“Big Brother, please let my wife go,” the sparrow begged.
Later, at Lu Ze’s house, his two children were hopping around with glee.
“Uncle Qin, you’re amazing! You actually caught a Talking Sparrow! I’m so happy. Now our squirrel has a friend!”
“That’s my wife, not a companion for a squirrel!” the sparrow screeched indignantly from the roof. “Squirrels should pair with weasels!”
The children’s pet squirrel fixed its gaze on the sparrow, eyes brimming with hostility.
Lu Ze and his wife exchanged looks. These animals seemed almost…too clever.
“Keep it for a few months and then let it go,” Qin Ming advised. “I made a deal with it. In the future, when Brother Lu goes into the mountains, the sparrow will help warn him of danger. Don’t worry—it won’t cause trouble. If it does, I’ll find Master Wu.”
The next day, Yang Yongqing showed up, sighing as he tugged his black goat along. He had come to fetch Qin Ming for the journey to Golden Rooster Ridge.
Qin Ming groaned. Another trip! It would take a hundred miles round trip. Why hadn’t this matter resolved itself yet?
“Uncle, no rush. We just need to get there before nightfall,” Yang Yongqing said cheerfully. “Why are you so eager to run to a bandit’s lair?”
“Fine,” Qin Ming relented.
Even after lunch, Qin Ming was reluctant to leave. Eventually, Yang Yongqing couldn’t wait any longer. Worried that the bandits might cause trouble if they were late, he set off on his own.
But less than half an hour later, Yang Yongqing came sprinting back to the village, grinning from ear to ear.
“Big news!” he shouted. “The heavens have finally done justice! Golden Rooster Ridge is gone—all the bandits are dead! Poof! Gone to the heavens!”
“What?!” Everyone in the village rushed out in disbelief.
Yang Yongqing, still breathless, explained what he’d heard on the way. Just yesterday, he had been cursing the bandits, saying only their complete annihilation would save them from trouble. And now, before he even reached Golden Rooster Ridge, it had become Silent Ridge.
Sipping a cup of coarse tea, Qin Ming gazed out the window. The matter was settled, and it was time for him to move on.
In a grand, glittering city renowned for its splendor, a stern middle-aged man sat in a magnificent hall, its carved beams and painted rafters showcasing unparalleled craftsmanship.
“Recently, several doses of Yin-Yang Elixir have surfaced near Black-and-White Mountain,” the man said. “They’ve attracted the attention of noble families and Outlanders alike. Cui Hong, you’re familiar with the area—you visited it two years ago. Go and see if you can retrieve some.”
A long-armed man standing in the hall nodded respectfully.
“You left that child near Black-and-White Mountain, didn’t you?”
“Yes. If they survived, they should still be there,” Cui Hong replied.
“Check on them while you’re at it,” the middle-aged man ordered.
“Anything else you’d like me to do?” Cui Hong asked cautiously. He knew the man wouldn’t give such orders without a deeper purpose.