It was said that in the ancient primordial era, not only was martial arts flourishing, but scholarly pursuits were also a vibrant landscape where a hundred schools of thought contended. Xi Zi, whom the Seven Spirits Sect venerated as their founding ancestor, was one such luminary.

He championed the doctrine of absolute equality among all people, asserting that regardless of strength or origin, every soul possessed inherent, equal rights. All the kings and nobles who governed the world, he argued, deserved to be overthrown, letting the masses govern themselves.

Such a doctrine, naturally, was viewed as heresy by all the powerful elites and privileged rulers of the age, who vehemently rejected it, lumping it in with the dark arts of the demonic path. Xi Zi established the Path of the Common People, disseminating his teachings with the ambition of forging a new school distinct from the Buddhist, Daoist, Confucian, Legalist, and Mohist traditions, aiming to secure well-being for all under heaven.

He ultimately failed and perished. However, several of his most exceptional disciples managed to carry his ideals forward, and the Seven Spirits Sect was one such vessel.

Since its ranks consisted entirely of women, it was also known as the Bewitching Demon Sect. Legend held that millennia ago, their methods were extremely radical.

They believed that if the ideology was correct, and the ultimate goal was the equality of all people, then any means necessary could be employed to achieve it—a belief that increasingly solidified their reputation as demonic. Though their current conduct has moderated somewhat, it remains tinged with fanaticism.

Observing the fate of the martial artists who followed Zhao Yanran, one could easily discern their underlying style. In later eras, people gradually came to accept Xi Zi’s philosophy.

The sect’s designation as demonic was overturned, yet residual aversion persisted. But how was he to explain all this to Chu Xue?

Frowning in thought, Zong Shou decided on a more tangible approach: “I hear the Cloud Ascending Sect currently boasts twenty-three martial cultivators above the Celestial Rank, and seventeen Spirit Masters above the Day Wanderer Rank. As for the Seven Spirits Sect, they are trailing by a mere three experts of the same caliber—they are equally considered a contemporary grand sect.

Do you truly believe that Long Ruo of the Cloud Ascending Sect would so easily engage Zhao Yanran in a fight?” He added mentally, unless Long Ruo was absolutely certain that he, Zong Shou, could cultivate martial arts, why would he bother interceding for him? Faced with a powerhouse like the Seven Spirits Sect, if Zhao Yanran remained steadfast in her demands, even that Vermilion Token might prove unreliable.

“So, they bully the weak and fear the strong!” Chu Xue immediately understood. Even she, dull as she might be, knew that if these two great sects clashed, the entire eastern expanse of the Cloud Realm would plunge into chaos, leading to widespread death and suffering.

She secretly felt a chill of fear, realizing that if her words had genuinely enraged that lunatic woman, it might only take a puff of breath to annihilate their Qian Tian Mountain. But the Cloud Ascending Sect, perhaps, was understandable; why had she never heard of the Seven Spirits Sect?

Could they be one of those legendary hidden sects? She did not doubt Zong Shou’s knowledge of these matters.

Given his status as a young lord, it was unsurprising he knew more about these true grand factions. Furthermore, she thought, even if they were contemporary grand sects, what of it?

They had already come knocking; were they not permitted to fight back? At worst, they would trade their lives for it.

“This woman’s temper is certainly strange, but her word is generally reliable. Oh, right!

What did she mean when she said the Young Lord’s Swordsmanship possesses spiritual resonance? Earlier, when I watched the Young Master wield his sword, I felt he was truly, truly masterful.

He held his own against such a fierce blade, achieving perfect parity. But exactly how masterful, I cannot discern—” Zong Shou let out a soft chuckle; this was something he couldn't easily explain.

That recent battle had been an instance of him exceeding his normal limits, employing swordplay far beyond his actual strength while under the pressure exerted by that madwoman, despite his frail body. But when it came to the Way of the Sword, there was more to it than just that.

Just then, Yin Yang approached, his expression cold and unyielding, his demeanor utterly grave. “Yin Yang has a question for the Young Lord.

In Long Ruo’s hand, there were clearly far more precious spiritual elixirs and rare treasures—why did the Young Lord not choose them? Why did you waste a superb Cloud Ascending Vermilion Token for me?

And how did you know that Yin Yang was afflicted by a sect restriction?” Zong Shou was momentarily stunned. After a moment of thought, he met Yin Yang’s gaze with equal seriousness: “No matter how precious those items were, they are useless to me.

It is better to grant you what you need. Henceforth, my safety will likely depend on you and Chu Xue.

As for that superb Cloud Ascending Vermilion Token, if I told you that even facing death, I would never beg the Cloud Ascending Sect for even a sliver of assistance for my own matters, would you believe me, Uncle Yin? As for the spiritual art restriction upon you—I heard you hail from a prestigious lineage.

One would assume that a direct descendant favored by my father, the King, would not possess only this level of power; there must be another reason, which led me to make some educated guesses—” In the Cloud Realm, few sects could legitimately claim the title of ‘prestigious lineage.’ Even the disciples of the weakest among them possessed power far beyond that of ordinary men. To reach the Seventh Meridian Martial Master realm by the age of thirty—that aptitude was hardly exceptional.

In truth, as soon as his Sea of Qi opened, Zong Shou had sensed Yin Yang’s vital energy to be somewhat dim and obscure. It was only after opening his Bone Wheel these past few days and entering the Martial Master stage that he confirmed it.

Yin Yang’s eyes flickered briefly, followed by a sigh. He then knelt down in a deep, formal bow.

“Yin Yang is indebted to two generations—His Majesty and the Young Lord—for this immense kindness. I have nothing to offer in return save this life, which is yours to command unto death!” The last few words were spoken with deliberate emphasis, each syllable ringing out with resolute power.

Furthermore, a strange, intricate pattern composed entirely of blood-red lines materialized between his brows. “Uncle Yin, you are a descendant of the Spirit Race?” Zong Shou’s expression shifted, then he frowned deeply.

“This Blood Covenant, once sworn, binds for life and generations beyond, impossible to undo. Uncle Yin, are you serious?

That Long Ruo of the Cloud Ascending Sect concluded that Zong Shou will never break through the Wheel in this lifetime. In the future, far from being of assistance, I will likely be a burden—” Yin Yang remained silent, more blood lines emerging on his brow, completing the intricate pattern.

Zong Shou let out a wry smile, understanding the customs of the Spirit Race. To refuse now would be to insult Yin Yang.

After a moment of contemplation, his expression grew solemn and grave as he stood before Yin Yang. “I do not know why you wish to swear this oath, Uncle Yin, but should you feel it is unsuitable in the future, you may seek me out to dissolve the contract at any time—” He extended his hand and tapped Yin Yang’s brow.

Instantly, a thin thread of scarlet blood seeped into his palm. On the side of his wrist, it formed a faint, barely visible reddish pattern.

This was the Spirit Race Blood Covenant. From this moment forward, a single thought from Zong Shou could control Yin Yang’s life and death, and indeed, all his descendants would become his servants.

He was initially unconcerned, but then suddenly felt a burst of spiritual intent erupt from within that blood thread, plunging directly into his very marrow. Countless images and texts flashed before Zong Shou’s eyes.

“It’s the Spirit Race Heritage Blood Root!” In an instant, Zong Shou understood Yin Yang’s true intention. If this Blood Root could be fully integrated into his body, it would take only seven or eight years for his current physique to transform into a Spirit Race body.

Even if he could not practice martial arts, he could cultivate soul power. However, the original owner of the Heritage Blood Root would pay an immense price.

Glancing at Yin Yang with astonishment, Zong Shou then offered a faint smile, realizing that the status of his new servant was likely far more significant than merely a disciple of a prestigious lineage. Without hesitation, he then carefully sealed those wisps of alien Spirit Race power back into the pale red pattern, locking them down completely.

Recalling Long Ruo’s words from before, Zong Shou’s lips curved into a cold sneer. Unable to cultivate?

He truly refused to concede defeat so easily. He was determined to see if he could reach the pinnacle of the martial path with this body!

It was a pity that Long Ruo’s words were vague, failing to specify the precise nature of his hidden affliction. To uncover that truth would likely require another round of effort on his part.

However, before that, he currently faced a more immediate, pressing danger. Zong Shou looked around; the area was entirely surrounded by hundreds of Marsh Wolves.

With the suppression from Zhao Yanran and the great flood dragon removed, they were now closing in, their eyes glowing red, gazing upon him with ravenous hunger. The sheer density of their numbers made one’s scalp tingle.

This time, that madwoman had truly brought him terrible trouble. PS: The data is grim; charting new territory is disheartening.

Once again, I humbly beg everyone for support! Chapter fifty-seven was incorrectly posted at noon and has been deleted and moved later.