Volume One: The King's Decree Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Eternal Wooden Swordsman

“What is he doing? Doesn’t he know he needs to awaken the millennial divine tree?” the disciples murmured among themselves. All had heard tales of what awaited within the King’s Path, and many had experienced its trials firsthand, passing down a basic strategy through the generations. The ancient tree blocking the path had grown here for over ten thousand years, absorbing the essence of sun and moon until it became sentient; only by communing with its spirit could the second trial be revealed.

Unaware of this secret, Liu Xiaoyi pondered for a long time to no avail, then began to wield his sword. The tree’s crown danced with his blade in tranquil harmony, a serene sight that made the audience outside anxious; the longer he lingered, the greater the power of the millennial spirit tree would become. Now, crossing this threshold seemed nigh impossible for Liu Xiaoyi.

“The final move of the Frost Sword Technique—watch closely,” Liu Xiaoyi said, brushing his left hand across the sword tip, gathering a drop of icy energy onto his fingertip, and pressing it against the trunk. In that chill was the culmination of all his sword forms, and with a single touch, the tree trunk received it.

To his satisfaction, a finger extended from within the trunk, meeting his touch, releasing a countering sword aura that deftly neutralized his attack.

“You’ve finally figured it out, or I’d have had a headache for quite some time.”

Within a five-meter radius, Liu Xiaoyi commanded his own domain; any movement within it was perceptible to him, and he had already sensed something unusual within the tree as he danced his sword. A pair of profound eyes lingered upon him, never shifting, and under the pressure of his carefully prepared sword aura, the true form was forced out. Liu Xiaoyi felt a surge of pride.

When the figure revealed itself, it was a seven-foot-tall wooden puppet, initially moving stiffly, but after a gust of wind, it grew lively and agile. In its hand was a wooden sword, made of the same millennial spirit wood as its body, and without a word, it thrust forward.

“So you are the second trial? Forgive me!” Liu Xiaoyi had anticipated something strange; his opponent had watched him practice for so long, surely to mimic him. He summoned a gust of wind, forcing the puppet back.

Eighteen black and white chess pieces shot forth, forming a tight array to trap the wooden swordsman. Yet, the Frost Sword Technique in the puppet’s hands was even more potent, striking directly at the weak points of the formation and cleaving open a gap in just a few strokes, escaping easily.

Liu Xiaoyi threw the last two Immortal Binding Ropes he had seized from fellow cultivators. Just as the puppet was about to dodge, it stepped into the trap, instantly becoming encased in ice, frozen solid by the chilling energy.

“A fine imitation, though a bit dull,” Liu Xiaoyi said, approaching with a smile, face-to-face.

The towering tree behind the puppet shook, dropping leaves like tiny knives that shattered the ice crystals, releasing the wooden swordsman once more.

The advantage of the puppet became apparent—it was immune to negative effects. With a single sword, it lunged directly at Liu Xiaoyi’s face. Unable to act faster than the sword’s speed, Liu Xiaoyi was forced to parry, but his ice sword seemed innately countered by the wooden blade; at each collision, his sword cried out in anguish, and its chill was absorbed by the wood.

The puppet’s swordplay was steady and patient, not rushing to attack, waiting instead for repeated clashes to drain Liu Xiaoyi’s true energy.

“This is bad—I need to finish this quickly!” Liu Xiaoyi realized something was wrong. Feigning a move, he executed a swift turn and then, reversing his grip, unleashed the first form of the Nameless Sword Technique—a crescent moon-like sword aura slashing toward the wooden swordsman.

This sword form was Liu Xiaoyi’s most powerful offensive move, one he hadn’t used while practicing earlier. The puppet, however, responded in kind, swinging its own crescent moon. The two met silently, yet the lingering sword aura still struck Liu Xiaoyi.

The superiority was clear—the puppet’s skill was greater.

Seeing that this move could not overcome his adversary, Liu Xiaoyi grew anxious, recalling the saying, “Retreat before the wood.” Surely there was a clever solution, so he calmed himself and continued to spar.

Unable to defeat his foe, he chose to circle it, carefully controlling the chess array to keep their distance greater than a sword’s reach.

Unable to breach the array, Liu Xiaoyi exchanged sword energy with the puppet from afar, their contest lasting another half incense stick’s time, and the audience began to grow weary.

“Will they ever settle the score? How much longer will this drag on?”

“This lad’s got some skill, daring to face the millennial divine tree—a lot of true energy, too.”

Dao Xuzi listened to the murmurs, sitting quietly in a place of honor, observing. Through the scene, he saw a different vision.

Sixty years prior, he had faced the millennial divine tree with a long blade, making the same choice as Liu Xiaoyi. Even knowing how to awaken the tree spirit, he chose this passive method, for there were rumors that if the spirit acted on its own, unexpected rewards might follow.

He was curious whether Liu Xiaoyi could clear this trial and claim that reward.

Liu Xiaoyi’s true energy moved rapidly through his dantian, like a ventilator gathering and releasing energy at equal pace. He could continue fighting for a day and night without issue.

The wooden swordsman, however, lacked such patience. When Liu Xiaoyi focused only on defense, the puppet became indecisive, finally laying its sword across its lap and sitting down cross-legged.

“No longer fighting? Let’s see what trick you’re up to,” Liu Xiaoyi said, sitting as well, pulling out the meditation mat he always carried and placing it beneath him.

The puppet’s sitting posture was peculiar, not the classic five-pointed pose, but with all limbs resting on the earth. Mimicking it was awkward; Liu Xiaoyi struggled for some time before managing to press his feet into the soil, enduring the discomfort.

No sooner had he exhaled than he realized something was wrong—his limbs would not move, numbed!

“You old thing! Playing dirty!” He opened his mouth, lips moving but no sound escaping, panic rising.

With each breath, green streams of energy flooded his body, coursing through his meridians and limbs. His temperature dropped, senses dulled.

“This is bad, this domain is all his—I shouldn’t have imitated him.” Liu Xiaoyi lamented, but could only grit his teeth and hold firm, waiting to see what would unfold.

Unbeknownst to him, from the outside, Liu Xiaoyi’s body was sprouting tender green leaves; his hands and feet morphed into roots, embedding themselves in the earth—he was becoming a new tree.

Meng Qiaoqiao saw this and, tears in her voice, begged her master, “Master, please save him! If he becomes all wood, he’ll be done for! Master…”

“The King’s Path is not to be entered lightly. Whether that boy emerges alive depends on his fate. Great fortune brings opportunity, otherwise he’ll become nourishment for the divine tree.” Bai Yiting remained unmoved as Meng Qiaoqiao struck his shoulder repeatedly, sighing helplessly, sitting steadfast.

Some knowledgeable cultivators outside understood that this was the phenomenon of being assimilated by the accumulated spiritual energy—it was not the tree’s intention, but Liu Xiaoyi’s shallow cultivation that left him unable to resist the invasion.

If he could awaken from within, he’d achieve remarkable progress. Now, all they could do was watch; anyone who intervened would be killing Liu Xiaoyi.

The soul was entwined with spiritual energy, already merged. Cutting off the energy would damage the soul—at best leaving him a fool, at worst destroying his very essence. Bai Yiting patiently explained until Meng Qiaoqiao was calmed.

“If the little priest who knows the Nine Word Mantra can endure, the remaining trials of the King’s Path will be no trouble for him—it all depends on his fate.”

The tree Liu Xiaoyi had become began to branch and spread, spiritual energy further occupying his body, even launching an assault on his consciousness, attempting total assimilation.

His fragmented soul was wrapped in the Golden Dragon Soul, nurtured within. When struck by the spiritual energy, the dragon soul’s consciousness stirred, battling the divine tree—each collision caused Liu Xiaoyi intense pain.

“Hold on, I must endure. The Golden Dragon Soul is no weakling; if it tries to devour me, I’ll devour it first!”

His soul lashed out, gripping the invading energy tightly, unable to find his mouth, so pressed his entire soul against it, using all his imagination to consume.

This proved effective; bits of spiritual energy were torn away and merged with his soul, a refreshing sensation flooding his being.

With renewed vigor, he devoured all incoming energy—let them see who truly was master! Inspired, he swallowed the surging energy mouthful after mouthful. Using his soul in such a way was unheard of among cultivators.

Normally, soul cultivation barely interacted with spiritual energy; soul power was a unique force, distinct from magic and true energy, requiring years of accumulation.

To directly convert spiritual energy into soul power was reckless in the extreme; one misstep and the soul would be scattered, the body destroyed.

The fearless ignorance of youth was fully embodied in Liu Xiaoyi; since things had reached this point, he threw caution aside, devouring with all his might. He had no idea how much time passed before the spiritual energy ceased flooding his mind, instead retreating from his body.

Come and go as you please? Now that he had regained some vitality, Liu Xiaoyi was unwilling to let it slip away. His soul formed a seal, using its ethereal form to invoke the “Lin” mantra, locking the energy within his body, to be slowly consumed.

The leafy appearance vanished rapidly, faster than it had appeared, leaving yellowed leaves atop his head, making Liu Xiaoyi look rather comical.

When the last trace of spiritual energy was devoured, Liu Xiaoyi was astonished to find a seedling had sprouted in his dantian—a tenth root, beyond the Nine Spirit Roots!