Chapter Two: Martial Arts Knock on the Door of Immortality

Dreams are lush, but reality is stark. Immortals are not cabbages you can stumble upon at will, nor are they the male leads in romance dramas who chase after you, pleading to take you in.

Judging by the scant few encounters with traces of immortals over these three years, Kou Li understood his own talent was nothing special; otherwise, he would not have remained stagnant for so long.

Through these experiences, Kou Li grasped a simple truth: seeking the immortal path was not so ethereal and mysterious. In fact, it was no different from job hunting.

Aptitude was like academic credentials; one's past life equaled background. Without credentials or background, you didn't even have a stepping stone—let alone prospects for the future.

Everyone knew the road to immortality was arduous, but the problem was, he had spent three years and hadn't even reached the threshold!

“‘The road is hard, the road is hard, so many winding paths—where am I now? Dammit, even a winding path would do, just let me get started!’”

Kou Li let out a long, pent-up sigh. Unlike Old Man Zheng, he couldn't vent all his frustrations in two breaths. He unrolled the scroll; its surface was smooth and blank—it was a book with no words.

He was certain this was a treasure of the immortals, and a high-ranking one at that. Otherwise, those two “immortals” would not have fought to the death over it, allowing him to benefit in their stead.

But the problem was, this treasure hardly followed any conventional script. Dripping blood, sprinkling urine, chopping with a knife, burning with fire—even calling upon an imaginary old master for three years—none of it elicited the slightest response.

He had tried every method he could think of, but the wordless book showed not a glimmer of spiritual light!

“If the immortals won’t give me face, must you, too, you damned book? I'm a transmigrator, you know! No system, fine, but even the treasure won’t activate. Believe it or not, I’ll sink you to the bottom of the sea!”

Though he spoke thus, Kou Li still tucked it away with care. If the Water Dragon Gang came after him, he had nothing and no one to tie him down—he could run at a moment’s notice.

“Just a few more hills to check—by tomorrow at the latest I’ll be done. Once that's settled, I’m leaving this place; Lingnan is no land of peace.”

With those words to himself, Kou Li stepped out the door.

...

On a land infamous for its savagery, a flash of black light appeared. A man with a face like a demon materialized atop Black Peak Mountain and bowed three times before the colossal, withered tomb before him.

“It has been confirmed: Leng Xinghe of the Devil’s Path and Qingxuzi of the Purple Cloud Sect perished together on Dulong Peak. Now both righteous and demonic factions are searching for Zuo Sheng’s legacy. Master, we—”

"The Cold Fire Mind and the Bingding Needles have fallen into the hands of Purple Cloud Sect’s Feng Cai; the Extreme Yin Orb is with Zuo Sheng’s eldest son, Tu Sheng. The Five Insect Sword’s whereabouts are now known. Then what these two fought over must be the most mysterious of all—the Wordless Celestial Tome. Unfortunately, such a primordial treasure cannot be divined by any means, or we would have found it by now."

"But Master, all of Zuo Sheng’s treasures are renowned, yet I have never heard of this Wordless Diagram."

"Qin Gui’er, you must understand: in my generation, the world is ruled by the Four Sects, Three Elders, Two True Ones, and a Singular Marvel. Yet Zuo Sheng, hailing from an unorthodox lineage, had neither master nor reincarnated predecessor. In just three hundred years, he achieved the status of Earthly Immortal, one of the Two True Ones, all thanks to this treasure."

Qin Gui’er frowned. “But Master, if this was such a unique Dao-advancing relic, why was it unheard of before Zuo Sheng’s rise? Could it be he forged it himself, and not some ancient immortal’s artifact? But if such a marvel were created, there would have been celestial omens—yet there were none.”

“This I do not know. I have only heard it called by another name: the Heart-Knocking Diagram.”

“In any case, our Ghost Immortal Sect must seize such a treasure. It may be the key to our sect’s revival. I shall send the Fiendish Beast to aid you.”

...

Under the feverish gaze of Qin Gui’er, the enormous withered tomb began to writhe; the mound swelled and bulged, yellow fluid seeping out, flesh and blood protruding as if some monstrous terror was about to burst forth.

...

Just before sunset, Kou Li returned windblown and dusty. He was not exactly disappointed, but he had found nothing.

No sooner had he set foot inside than he sensed something amiss. Instinctively, he moved to leave—he hated trouble most of all. But a childish voice piped up from within.

“Kou big brother, you taught Bao’er the coin trick, and I’ve learned it! Let me show you!”

A chubby child of five or six, clad in a blue cotton jacket with a peach-shaped lock of hair on his forehead, came stumbling over, his plump cheeks full of excitement.

“Watch!” Zheng Bao’er extended his hand, a coin pinched between his fingers. With a twist of his wrist, the coin vanished.

“You’re amazing, Bao’er,” Kou Li smiled, ruffling the boy’s hair. Fate had brought them together on Nantian Gate Mountain—had it not been for him, Bao’er would have fallen prey to a tiger. Since then, the little one had become quite attached to him.

And this Bao’er was the beloved grandson of Old Man Zheng—the same man from earlier. No wonder the old fellow was always clamoring to repay his debt.

“That’s right, Bao’er is the best,” Bao’er beamed. “Oh, Grandpa says he wants to see you. He said he has something you’re looking for.”

Kou Li raised his brows. If Bao’er was playing outside, the place must be safe enough. And if the old man was so certain, perhaps he really did have a clue.

Old Man Zheng’s room was on the third floor. Climbing the rickety stairs, Kou Li saw burly men stationed on either side, faces marked with fearsome tattoos, waists bulging with concealed weapons, eyes glinting with danger.

He’d heard the idlers at the inn brag that the Water Dragon Gang kept a squad of hatchet men: murderers, fugitives, convicts, pirates—all fearless enough to kill officials even in these peaceful times.

It seemed the rumors were not exaggerated.

At the door stood two clearly extraordinary men—one blind in one eye, the other with a dramatic scar across his forehead. Neither was especially large or imposing, but their air matched that of Old Man Zheng in his earlier skirmish—veterans of the martial world, perhaps.

Inside, besides Old Man Zheng, there was a round-faced middle-aged man dressed in fine silk, clearly the costly Nanning official brocade, crowned with a pearl cap and wearing a constant smile—a smiling tiger if ever there was one.

“Brother Tie, it’s been confirmed—those were beggars’ handiwork. Rest assured, our Water Dragon Gang will never shelter villains. Anyone who overreaches gets the chop. We’re an honest business here—”

Old Man Zheng listened impatiently. At the sight of the two returning, his eyes lit up and he coldly interrupted, “You handle it as you see fit. If you don’t give me an explanation, this old man may be aged, but I’ll give you one myself. Now get out.”

“Yes, yes,” the middle-aged man mopped his brow, finally relieved. He cupped his fists to Kou Li and made a hasty exit.

The scarred man by the door, however, gave Kou Li a long, meaningful look.

“Elder Zheng, you’re quite formidable. That man seemed to be the Water Dragon Gang’s chief in Yuezhou City,” Kou Li observed, raising his brows. He’d seen the man’s entourage in town—impressive indeed.

“Oh, nothing much, just courtesy among men of the rivers and lakes,” Old Man Zheng replied smugly.

“Are your martial arts truly that high? Have you acquired the legendary sixty years’ worth of internal energy?” Kou Li asked curiously.

“What nonsense is that? In our world, a fighter’s prime is around thirty. As age sets in, old injuries and training aftereffects pile up, and speed and stamina decline—skills deteriorate sharply. Did you see those two at the door? Flat fists, bulging temples—classic external-style experts. If there are no firearms, I may not win against them. Youth always trumps age in combat.”

Half-understanding, Kou Li at least realized the real martial world had neither people flying about nor secret manuals of invincibility. The thought left him somewhat disappointed.

“I heard you have something I want?”

Old Man Zheng perked up. “Us swordsmen from Yu Province always repay our debts. You saved my grandson; that’s a debt I must settle.”

“You’ve said that before.”

Old Man Zheng shot him a resentful look, sending goosebumps up Kou Li’s arms. “But you want neither money nor land, and you refuse even an honorary position. If my eyesight weren’t sharp enough to see you mean what you say, I’d have thought you were about to make an outrageous demand!”

“I truly lack for nothing,” Kou Li replied earnestly. If a transmigrator still had to worry about filling his belly after crossing over, he might as well find a pillar and end himself on the spot.

“If you’re really determined to walk that impossible path, let me point you in a direction,” Old Man Zheng said, his eyes flashing with pain. “I’ll swallow my pride and let you and Bao’er become disciples of a Southern Fist master. Then—what is that look in your eyes?”

Kou Li’s disappointment was plain. He admitted these martial arts were more powerful than he’d imagined—just yesterday, even ten more from the Water Dragon Gang might not have bested the old man.

But so what? One man beating ten, or even a hundred—if he wanted to show off, he had plenty of ways to do so. Why waste time learning this?

“If there’s nothing more, I’ll take my leave. If you truly feel indebted, donate some money to charity.” With that, Kou Li rose to go.

“Stop!” Old Man Zheng slammed the table and roared, “Don’t you want to seek the Dao and achieve immortality?”

“Can martial arts grant immortality?”

“No, but they can knock on the gates of the immortals!”

Kou Li, already at the door, finally paused and turned, eyes burning with fervor. “Tell me more.”

Old Man Zheng finally relaxed—his debt could at last be repaid.

According to the old man, he recalled a passage in the “Boxing Canon” that stated: when martial arts reached their pinnacle, when internal and external schools were united, one could connect sinew, bone, and skin, refine lead and mercury, master the hidden forms, and unlock the body’s full potential. At the final step, there was a chance to shatter the void and reach the legendary realm of the Human Immortal.

This was the knocking on the gates of the immortals through martial arts.

Kou Li was silent for a moment before he asked, “How many in the martial world have ever reached this realm?”

Old Man Zheng smiled awkwardly. “Not a single one in the past hundred years.”

“And my potential in martial arts?”

“Without training from childhood, your sinews and bones have set, flesh and skin grown slack—in theory, you could at best reach third-rate proficiency.”

“If you want to repay me, save it for the next life.”