Chapter Sixty-One: The Warrior's Boulder Shifts and the Wolf Smoke Rises—Who Stands by the Cliff, Robes Dampened in Blue?

Willow trees are lush, cicadas chirp softly, and crows cannot overpower their song; distant mountains are dotted with a few strokes of rosy clouds. Walking into the spring woods, shadows of clouds scatter, while across the stream, the immortal hound barks beneath blossoming peach trees.

As the Spring Examination approaches, the beauty of Linjiang Prefecture becomes ever more delightful.

Anle, dressed in a single robe of azure, with a belt bearing the ink pool of Green Mountain, followed Ye Chong out of the Lin residence and boarded the splendid carriage, already prepared for their journey.

The wheels rolled with a gentle rumble, winding out of the Lin'an city, where verdant waters and green hills, tinted by the spirit of spring, offered their own unique charm.

Ye Wenxi, Ye Yinping, Lin Zhuifeng, and Lin Jiumei—who had hoped to go painting but was dragged along—sat upright in the carriage behind.

Two magnificent carriages made their way toward the Martial Temple.

Anle lowered the curtain, gazing at the romantic spring scenery outside the city, and felt his mood blossom with its brilliance.

Ye Chong radiated an air of iron discipline; even seated within the carriage, he kept his back straight, maintaining the bearing of a soldier from a rigorously trained corps.

Inside the carriage, a brazier boiled water, accompanied by the finest Dragon Well tea leaves. Ye Chong seemed unlikely to prepare the tea himself, so Anle took up the teacups to brew fragrant tea.

The compartment was quiet, save for the hiss of boiling water and the gentle sounds of Anle washing and steeping the tea.

First water, second tea, third and fourth infusions are the essence.

Anle was not a professional, but he understood the art.

The emerald tea shimmered like jade; Anle pushed the cup toward Ye Chong.

"Brother Ye, please enjoy some tea," Anle said with a smile.

"Thank you," Ye Chong replied, clasping his hands with sincerity, then raised the cup and drained it in one gulp.

Just a cup of tea, yet he drank it with the bold satisfaction of old yellow wine.

Anle smiled, also draining his cup, tilting it to show he had emptied it completely.

Ye Chong saw this, and the cold, chiseled lines of his face softened, his lips quirking into a sharp, cool arc.

The mutual toast broke the carriage's silence, and Ye Chong finally spoke: "Last time, you declined the invitation from the Sixth Mountain's Keeper, resolved to strive for the Little Saint's Token. That is worthy of my admiration."

"Brother Ye is upright in character; your praise is truly uplifting," Anle replied with a smile.

Ye Chong, hearing this, pursed his austere lips and continued, "Let me tell you about the details concerning the Martial Temple's Warrior Stone."

"I am eager to learn," Anle said, pouring tea with earnestness.

"There are not many particulars to caution you about—just one crucial point."

"The young lady already told you: the Warrior Stone was forged with the blood of generations of temple champions, so it contains a vast and oppressive energy. In the face of its power, you must not think of anything related to the cultivation of the spirit, nor should you rouse your mind to resist."

Ye Chong spoke seriously.

"The Academy of Letters and the Martial Temple were both founded by the first emperor who united the world. The Warrior Stone has existed nearly ten thousand years as the temple's supreme treasure. The blood of dozens of champions has been poured into it, and the energy within is as intense as the blazing sun."

"Even those who surpass the Fifth Realm in spirit cultivation will have their minds burned and damaged if they approach."

"Though you are a prodigy in spirit cultivation, it is best to suppress your mind."

"Also, one more point: The Academy cultivates the spirit, the Martial Temple tempers the body. Both exist because of that world-shaking emperor, yet they have rivaled each other for millennia. Just as the literary and martial tournaments have continued, the Warrior Stone has a spirit—it inherited this rivalry. If your mind offends it, not only will it refuse to help you clarify your martial path, you won't even comprehend half a word from the martial scriptures."

Ye Chong explained.

Anle was surprised; he truly had not known these secrets.

"This Warrior Stone... is it really so capricious?"

Ye Chong pressed his lips, solemn. "Precisely so."

"Or perhaps... it is the purity of martial valor," Anle suddenly smiled.

Ye Chong was taken aback, gazing at the world of spring outside the window, the cold arc of his lips deepening.

This young lord was truly adept with words.

...

The Martial Temple was not within the city. After driving for about an hour along the official road outside, they followed a small path for a while and suddenly saw a string of steep mountains, and the roar of the river was constant.

In the distance, a stone stele and archway rose from the valley.

The carriage stopped before the stele and arch; Ye Chong and Anle alighted in turn.

After the rain, the river waves were long and wide, and sunlight gilded the peaks, awakening phoenixes.

The continuous mountains and the river merged into a unique scenic tableau.

Anle stood outside the stele and arch, gazing into the mountain pass. His mind, just entering a state of transcendence, quivered as he sensed that the verdant valley was, for a fleeting moment, shrouded in blazing energy.

Scalding, fierce, surging, immense—like a volcano poised to erupt, sending waves soaring to shatter the heavens.

There was no concealment in the energy, only an extreme surge and terror.

Anle took a deep breath, collecting his mind.

Ye Chong glanced at him, said nothing further, and, with solemn reverence, walked toward the valley.

Anle followed, neither speaking, as if two friends setting out for a spring outing.

Perhaps it was the proximity to the river, or perhaps a secret spring rain had fallen in the valley—the mountain path was muddy, boots stained with earth.

Mist curled in the distance; faintly visible were crimson gates and many octagonal, multi-eaved jade towers shrouded in haze.

After a while, they arrived at a martial training ground among the crimson gates and jade towers.

The stone-paved arena was ablaze with activity, shouts and cries ringing like thunder behind clouds.

Anle looked over and saw many robust figures in short jackets practicing martial arts, their energy surging and gathering like wildfire.

"These are soldiers training in the temple, refining themselves with the Temple's accumulated energy over thousands of years. It helps them advance in martial arts," Ye Chong explained.

Anle swept his gaze over them; each practitioner bore a dozen threads of 'time energy' swirling about them, his eyes narrowing.

These soldiers, though perhaps lower in cultivation than the young masters of the Lin residence, possessed more 'time energy' by a thread or two.

Clearly, these battle-hardened warriors had achieved feats of glory on the field of life and death.

Without lingering, Anle followed Ye Chong onward. The Martial Temple covered a vast area; everywhere were people of strong energy, some armored and armed.

Ye Chong saluted each, and they returned the gesture. As for Anle—unfamiliar and dressed as a scholar—they mostly ignored him.

After a while, passing many crimson gates and jade towers, the roar of the river suddenly thundered in his ears, chains clashing with a metallic ringing.

Chains?

Anle wondered, then the scene opened up: a cliff facing another, with a raging torrent below!

Twin streams surged like battling jade dragons, a pagoda of clouds and chains locked in emerald layers!

Looking up, chains spanned the gorge, woven into a net above the turbulent waters.

His gaze was drawn to the center of the torrent, where a massive, jagged stone, about two fathoms tall and blood-red, exuded waves of heat—like a martial champion seated atop a peak, surveying the world.

The densest cluster of chains connected to this stone.

Each thick chain converged like rivers to the sea, binding the strange stone, upon which two or three figures were either seated, standing, or holding their stance.

"This is the Warrior Stone," Ye Chong stopped at the cliff's edge, gazing at the chained stone, a hint of fervor on his cold face.

Anle took a deep breath—a fine Warrior Stone indeed!

He refrained from probing with his mind, not daring to release his spirit.

Suddenly, several sounds split the air.

Figures sped over, their powerful energy drawing near.

One, armored and bearing a huge black iron bow, landed swiftly, his energy roaring in tandem with the torrent below.

"Anle, the one who won the Little Saint's Token?" the newcomer was Zhong Shunchao of the Zhong family, the formidable general who had vied for the Sixth Mountain's Keeper.

"Young Lord An, a pleasure to meet you," Zhong Shunchao greeted with clasped hands.

Anle returned the gesture.

Ye Chong nodded slightly: "Madam asked me to bring him to see the Warrior Stone."

Zhong Shunchao arched his brow: "Having just forged the Spirit Bone, coming to view the Warrior Stone seems a waste. If you reached the Fourth Realm or approached the Fifth, viewing the stone could help clarify your martial path and reveal the breakthrough."

"Is he here to obtain the Martial Canon from the stone?"

Ye Chong said nothing further, simply looked to Anle and said, clasping his hands, "I've already told you the details to mind when viewing the Warrior Stone."

"Young Lord An, please."

Zhong Shunchao remained silent. He admired Anle for refusing the mountain keeper's post and striving for the Little Saint's Token.

But he knew Anle's body refinement was only just at the stage of forging the Spirit Bone at the Sixth Mountain. With such cultivation... he might not even be able to approach within a hundred meters of the Warrior Stone.

The closer one gets, the better the chance to clarify the martial path and acquire the Martial Canon.

Of course, cultivation is not the only factor; some depends on resonance with the champion's blood in the stone.

Over these ten millennia, there have been peerless prodigies with no cultivation who stepped within a hundred meters of the Warrior Stone.

Thousands of years ago, there was a prodigy of the Xiang clan, then a divine figure of the Lü clan...

The world is full of marvels, always some who defy expectation.

Thus, Zhong Shunchao did not absolutely dismiss Anle's chances.

Soft footsteps sounded; several graceful figures arrived.

Ye Wenxi and Ye Yinping reached the cliff; Lin Zhuifeng, with his fire stick, hopped excitedly, pulling along the unwilling Lin Qingyin.

Zhong Shunchao greeted them all.

The group fell silent, gazing at the iron chains spanning the cliffs, curious what feats the young man who won the Little Saint's Token at the Sixth Mountain would achieve before the Warrior Stone.

They saw the youth in azure, sword at his waist, step to a thick chain, pause, then raise his foot and walk along the chain toward the central stone.

Hmm?!

Suddenly, all were stunned.

In the center between the cliffs, the Warrior Stone wrapped in myriad chains flashed with red light, its energy rising like smoke, resonating with the sword aura!

Clang! Clang! Clang!

All chains shook violently at that moment!

The river erupted in a spray, soaking the chain where the youth walked.

Then, a surging sword aura swept skyward from the youth in azure; dazzling swordlight split into two, then three, then countless fragments.

Like a blossom, swordlight bloomed behind the youth's back.