Bamboo Chest, Chapter 24: Disciple Guan Yuan, Here to Seek Counsel

Few remember now that when the Haoran scholar Zhou Mi first arrived in the Wilderness, a quiet, unassuming demon-race disciple was already trailing by his side.

Later, when Zhou Mi established the Taiping Academy in the Wilderness, that disciple became the academy's first student—the senior brother to all who followed.

It was the first time Zhou Mi had ever opened his heart to his eldest disciple. Perhaps it was the isolation of being in a foreign land, or perhaps, in Zhou Mi’s eyes, his apprentice was simply too good, too pure. In any case, Zhou Mi revealed his grand ambition. He spoke of creating a world where the strong and the weak were strictly divided, a world that would grant the strong true freedom. Back then, master and disciple talked joyfully into the night.

Countless years passed. The academy flourished and changed the world in profound ways, yet Zhou Mi remained Zhou Mi, and his eldest disciple remained the same. Until today.

The disciple, nicknamed "Bookworm," looked at his master with sincere, earnest eyes and said, "Master, you are wrong."

"I am wrong?" Zhou Mi gestured to the surroundings. "Qianjing City proves my point perfectly! Why should the strong protect the weak? They are dull-witted and ignorant; they only drag this world into decay!"

By now, few ordinary members of the demon race remained alive in Qianjing City. Bookworm stared at his master, feeling a sense of profound estrangement. "But Master, we were once the weak too."

"Wrong," Zhou Mi replied coldly. "You still do not understand me. The weak will always be the weak."

Bookworm sighed, his voice heavy with sadness. "Perhaps. But Master, in my heart, you are wrong."

Zhou Mi was deeply disappointed and raised his hand. If they were to be strangers, he would make the ending swift. Bookworm’s face turned deathly pale; his life force and his Golden Elixir of Dao were draining away, slowly being "devoured" by Zhou Mi.

"I will let you witness the world I speak of. Then you will realize just how absurdly wrong you were."

Above Qianjing City, a massive stone island blotted out the sky. Upon it stood an academy. Zhou Mi stepped across the void and reappeared, seated upon a meditation cushion. Looking out, the academy’s disciples stood in two rows, bowing in unison, their voices respectful: "We greet you, Master."

Zhou Mi nodded, a scroll appearing in his hand as he prepared to recite. It was, in its own way, a beautiful scene of teaching.

"Master." A voice interrupted him.

Zhou Mi frowned, seeing Bookworm stumbling toward him up the stone steps. Bookworm passed his stunned fellow disciples and the familiar flowers and grasses he had once known so well. Finally, he stopped before Zhou Mi and bowed, though not in submission.

The scholar spoke aloud: "To disrespect one's master is to be no better than the grass and trees, yet Master once taught that what is wrong is wrong."

"Guan Yuan!" Zhou Mi roared. "I spared your life—do you not cherish it?!"

Guan Yuan disliked his given name; he preferred the nickname "Bookworm." Back home in his youth, the Haoran scholar would pat his head and laugh, "You spend all day silently reading—let’s just call you Bookworm." The boy would gently set down his book, look up at his teacher, and smile happily. Closing his eyes, the memories flooded back; the days spent traveling with the Haoran scholar were gone forever. He remembered that, once, the scholar could smile.

Guan Yuan opened his eyes and met Zhou Mi’s gaze. "Master, your disciple, Guan Yuan, is here to seek instruction."

A long sword appeared in Guan Yuan’s hand. Before the shocked eyes of the academy, he pointed it at Zhou Mi.

Zhou Mi clutched his chest, looking at Guan Yuan. The portion of vitality he had just consumed was now churning within him, struggling to return to its master.

"Guan Yuan, I will give you one last chance. Leave now, and I shall let you live." Zhou Mi’s scroll dissolved into ash as he rose to his feet, his Confucian robes fluttering in the wind.

Guan Yuan said nothing; he simply took a step forward. He was no genius; he had spent a hundred years reading only to reach the Jade Purity realm. Yet, as the first disciple of the Haoran scholar, his Jade Purity was naturally different from others. A flawless jade, and Guan Yuan had found his path.

When he had read enough books, he began to wonder what kind of world his master truly sought. He had harbored doubts in Qianjing City, but today, this very morning, he finally understood: in his master’s world, there was no place for the people of the world below.

...

On the stone island, the sky was filled with characters—some from the Haoran tradition, some from the Wilderness, and some from obscure Buddhist scriptures and Daoist texts.

"What is happening up there?!" Lu Yun set down Dong Sangeng and stared blankly at the stone island in the sky.

"Zhou Mi actually wants to swallow the entire Taiping Academy in one gulp!" Dong Sangeng felt the hilt of his blade, "Yizhang Gao," at his waist. "A pity I am so severely wounded, or I would truly love to hack him to death."

"Then..." Lu Yun was about to ask what would happen to Bookworm, Shan Cong, and Hong Yu when he saw a bald, burly man sprinting through the streets. It was Shan Cong.

Shan Cong took a deep breath and launched himself into the air, transforming into a meteor that charged straight toward the stone island. A brother is like a father; having lost his kin long ago, his senior brother was his elder, his father. The man didn't know why he had followed Guan Yuan to Qianjing City, but he knew he had people to protect. The meteor slammed into the text-shrouded island, tearing a hole straight through it.

...

Lu Yun watched this, his eyes widening. Heavens, he hadn't realized Shan Cong was so fierce!

"Even if you don't treat them as your senior brothers, they truly treat you as their junior brother. That much I can see." Dong Sangeng took a deep breath and looked toward the Imperial Palace. "Very well. They have their task, and we have ours."

From within the palace, a pillar of light erupted, piercing the clouds. The aura of the Ascension realm was fully revealed; the entire city of Qianjing sank by a foot, and even Lu Yun was pressed to the ground, unable to rise.

"Tch, with such a grand display, one might think it was the Fourteenth Realm of Dao Integration." Dong Sangeng drew "Yizhang Gao" and slashed casually toward the palace.

...

Seeing the brilliant pillar of light above the palace, Yuan Bai knew that everything else had become irrelevant. Tears of joy streamed down his face as he raced toward the palace. But the next moment, he caught sight of a streak of sword energy.

...

The crimson gates swung wide. Yuan Feng, dressed in black imperial robes, raised a hand to block the sword energy. His robes billowed, and behind him, the entire palace disintegrated into dust. Standing on a desolate, ruined plain, Yuan Feng looked at his palm. A terrifying, bloody gash remained there, refusing to heal.

"Choosing to strike early?" Yuan Feng lowered his hand and looked into the distance.

Dong Sangeng was in a similar state after unleashing that strike. One was an unstable Ascension-realm cultivator; the other, an Ascension-realm swordsman suffering from multiple grievous wounds. Yuan Feng sighed, murmuring, "Success or failure, it all hinges on this battle."