Volume One: The King's Decree Chapter Forty-Eight: The Mantra of Nine Sacred Words

A single word, "Command," thundered forth like a bolt from the heavens, instantly subduing the phantom of Lan Caihe. The blind old man, intent on resisting, found instead that he was forced to cough blood repeatedly, collapsing onto the ground.

Far away in the White Crane Mountain, the yellow-robed Daoist who was sipping tea suddenly rose to his feet, gazing into the distance. His eyes flashed with brilliance as he whistled softly. An immortal crane swooped down beside him, opened its beak to swallow a green pill, then transformed into a gale and flew toward the source of the sound.

Within Liu Xiaoyi's body, he felt his meridians drying up, as if the entire essence of his being had been drained by that single word. Yet when he turned his inner gaze to his elixir field, he found his true energy still abundant.

"Master Liu, your lineage truly lives up to its reputation. May I ask, what are these two techniques? Their power is extraordinary," Li Jue said with newfound respect in his tone, casting an envious glance at him.

The Golden Light Spell had reached him as the eighth successor. As the last descendant of the Li family, Li Jue was determined to restore its former glory. If he could follow such a promising young Daoist as Liu Xiaoyi, what ambition could remain unfulfilled? Guo Shuda, captivated by the dazzling Daoist arts, exchanged a knowing look with Li Jue, together stepping before Liu Xiaoyi to shield him.

"Old man! Are you letting us pass or not? Don’t tell me your word means nothing!"

The blind old man stepped aside, yielding the path. The previous blow had shattered his serene Daoist heart; now he dared not utter a word, glaring as he watched them depart.

"What are we to do? If those above find fault, it’ll be hard to explain," the crippled child grumbled, unwilling to let it go, but his cultivation was not as deep as the old man’s, so he dared not challenge them head-on.

If that young Daoist unleashed another strike, shattering him as well, it would be a loss beyond measure.

"Report truthfully—just say a young Daoist capable of invoking the power of spoken law has entered the Heavenly King Path!"

The Daoist tradition preserves the Nine Word Mantra, each word embodying a supreme Dao. To comprehend all nine is to attain perfection, traversing heaven and earth without limitation.

Except for Liu Xiaoyi himself, none could hear clearly the word he recited. Those lacking spiritual roots could only perceive mysterious notes issuing from his lips, which shattered the phantom of Lan Caihe.

It was a fortunate accident; he recalled the yellow-robed Daoist’s daily string of unrelated words—likely cultivation formulas—accompanied by shifting hand gestures.

Seeing the attack approach, Liu Xiaoyi acted out of desperation, striving to recite the phrase. As soon as he uttered the first word, a splitting headache seized him, and his body froze in place.

When his mind recovered slightly, he felt blood trickle from his seven orifices, but his soul, faintly, had grown more stable. The power of the "Command" mantra helped his soul regain strength, at the cost of requiring profound spiritual energy as its foundation.

He had never cultivated Daoist arts, relying solely on his innate soul power, which naturally inflicted injury upon his spirit. Fortunately, the golden dragon soul protected him, preventing disaster. Even so, as he entered Five Elders Mountain and found himself free from enemies, his body faltered and he collapsed backward.

"Hey! What’s wrong with you? Wake up!" Meng Qiaoqiao pressed her finger to Liu Xiaoyi’s brow, feeling a wave of weakness within herself. "Fellow Daoist Li, what do we do?"

Li Jue shook his head; none of the pills he carried could reverse fate like this.

"The young master has overexerted himself and injured his soul. Let me use the Golden Light Spell to aid him!" Li Jue produced a small bronze mirror, this time releasing a gentle golden light that streamed straight into Liu Xiaoyi’s brow, spreading warmth throughout his body and nourishing his soul.

For a while, he managed, but after half an hour, Li Jue was struggling: "If the young master doesn’t wake soon, I truly have no remedy!"

Suddenly, a fierce wind whipped overhead. Meng Qiaoqiao hurriedly cast talisman papers, which formed a shield to protect them. The wind, sharp as blades, shredded the talismans in an instant. A snow-white immortal crane alighted before them, lowered its head, and spat out a sparkling pill, gesturing for Meng Qiaoqiao to feed it to Liu Xiaoyi.

"It’s the immortal crane! The young master’s technique was also the immortal crane's—it's the Daoist sect’s rescue. Hurry and feed it!" Li Jue urged, anxious as Meng Qiaoqiao hesitated.

The golden light of the spell had grown faint; Li Jue had poured all his energy into this bottomless pit.

Meng Qiaoqiao took the pill, placed it in Liu Xiaoyi’s mouth, and tilted his jaw so it would be swallowed.

Green light radiated from beneath his skin, saturating the air with vibrant life. Even the weary Li Jue felt his spirits rise.

"What kind of pill has such effects? The young master must have a remarkable background and a profound lineage!"

In his unconsciousness, Liu Xiaoyi once again saw the yellow-robed Daoist, who drew from his wide sleeve a calligraphy sheet bearing the Nine Word Mantra, along with cryptic grammatical patterns that defied comprehension.

"I see you are clever, but I didn’t expect you’d master it without instruction. You used the Nine Word Mantra in battle today—how did it feel?" the Daoist smiled.

"The Nine Word Mantra? Forgive my ignorance—I only knew it was your daily practice, and used it in my panic. Its power was immense, but when I came to my senses, it had harmed me. It’s not easy to use," Liu Xiaoyi answered honestly.

From the calligraphy sheet, nine large characters flew out, circling the yellow-robed Daoist: Command, Troop, Battle, One, All, Array, Rank, In, Front.

The Daoist extended a finger, tapping Liu Xiaoyi’s brow. The nine characters followed his finger, sinking into Liu Xiaoyi’s brow and vanishing.

"Your spiritual root is revealed; how much fortune you grasp is up to you. When you comprehend all nine words, come find me at the Palace of Soaring Clouds." The Daoist departed serenely. Liu Xiaoyi wished to ask more, but suddenly opened his eyes to see willow branches swaying overhead.

The other three were seated in meditation, recovering from the exhausting battle. Their magical artifacts were greatly damaged: the faceless general had been consumed, Guo Shuda’s glass lamp severely depleted, leaving them powerless for now.

Thus, when Liu Xiaoyi stood up, no one noticed. He did not disturb them, instead turning his inner gaze to his elixir field, where he discovered nine seeds—only one had sprouted, bearing two round, verdant leaves.

"Command!" The word resonated within him. As he spoke softly, the sprout’s leaves quivered, and a pure current of energy arose, forming an invisible shield around him. It steadily absorbed the ambient spiritual energy, reinforcing the barrier.

This time, aided by the seeds, he suffered no overexertion. The Command mantra could intimidate foes or protect oneself, the foundation of the Nine Word Enlightenment.

The seeds in his elixir field were present in every Daoist cultivator, the source of magical power. Usually, a Daoist had only one, sufficient to summon wind and rain, but he possessed nine.

Liu Xiaoyi knew but little of Daoist lore, and the legend of the Nine Word Mantra was wholly unknown to him. He believed it to be a gift from the yellow-robed Daoist, and respectfully bowed three times toward White Crane Mountain.

The sound of his bowing startled the other three, who returned from meditation. Seeing Liu Xiaoyi unharmed, they rejoiced: "Congratulations, fellow Daoist, your magical power has advanced again!" The light in his eyes was unmistakable to any cultivator.