Master of Strange Dao

After a while, the book would automatically turn a page.

Many cultivators around were tearful, and some who were already sensitive fainted directly from crying.

Yu Ziqing glanced around, and there were even more fainted people than rumored.

This indicates that more and more people cannot withstand the true intent within the classics.

Fainting is also a form of self-protection, as the true intent contained in the sacrificial text is not meant to harm people.

Once the beast skin scroll recommenced flipping from the first page, Yu Ziqing stood in mid-air, tens of meters away, and began to observe its contents.

As he started to see the text of the sacrificial document, he felt his Yin God abruptly open its eyes.

A sense of grief emerged from the depths of his heart.

The Red Ape in his heart, burning with anger on his head, gradually slumped down.

Inside him, the Five Little Ones, without exception, all appeared listless. Even the most spirited Earth Toad now lay motionless, without a care for the others.

Grief consumed his heart; Yu Ziqing's emotions were hard to control, affecting his Yin God. His eyes burned with Blood Flame, almost ready to cry.

He stood there, tears streaming down his face like rain, no different from the others.

Further in, when he couldn't see the specific content of the sacrificial text, able only to feel the sorrowful intent, a drop of blood tear fell from the corner of the Yin God's eye.

It made a "patter" sound, like a water droplet falling.

Yu Ziqing's consciousness suddenly cleared, and the content of the sacrificial text became clearly visible before him.

So clear that he vaguely sensed deeper layers of intent within the sacrificial text.

He seemed to see a man with slightly gray temples kneeling before a tomb, weeping blood into ink, using his finger as a pen, writing on a piece of beast skin.

The terrifying intent, alongside the text, solidified on the beast skin.

"The legacy of the senior must be inherited by the juniors.

I will never let the senior's heart blood go to waste.

This sacrificial document, indestructible for all eternity, establishes beneath the Dao."

The sacrificial document was completed in one go, and then, that person showed grief in his expression.

The Divine Soul emerged from the body, a mouthful of primordial spirit blood was sprayed out, landing on the beast skin.

On the beast skin, the fearsome intent stirred waves, finally solidifying completely.

Anyone who sees this piece of beast skin would never have the thought to destroy it.

After experiencing the vicissitudes of time, gradually, the most core "Shi" character, shining on the sacrificial document, began to dim.

A sacrificial document, losing its protagonist, the meaning slowly changed.

Changed into an ordinary travelogue.

However, the sacrificial document, formed with the sincerest intentions and determination at a great cost, was indelible, just temporarily obscured, unseen.

When the protagonist is recovered, it would be the time to cleanse the dust away.

It was nearly the same as Yu Ziqing imagined; he didn't see any intense means, as if dust was slowly falling with time, enveloping it a little by little, discreetly burying the truth.

Like melting glacier water, constantly washing down, slowly creating a great pit in the washed-out place that could bury a man.

Reading through the sacrificial document, he also saw the final signature.

Wen Jun.

Again, a single-character Jun.

According to Yu Ziqing's understanding, having such a title is not something one can achieve with strength alone; strength is merely foundational.

He didn't know whether Shi had a title, but logically, there should be one.

But the existing information indeed shows that Shi didn't have a title, just a name.

Yu Ziqing estimated that eighty percent of it was buried again.

Too much information has been buried.

When the sacrificial text was finished, Yu Ziqing was overwhelmed with grief, standing there, tearful, unable to control himself.

As the Yin God cried, drop by drop the blood tears fell, his consciousness grew clearer instead.

The feeling of immense grief, juxtaposed with clarity, made him very conflicted.

He stood unable to move, and again went through it anew.

His body was uncontrollable, crying till he struggled for breath; this time, his comprehension of the level deepened again.

This time, he seemed no longer a bystander, but became the person in the first perspective, to see, to comprehend.

Seeing himself writing the sacrificial text with his own hands, feeling the grief emerging continually from deep within his heart.

Drop by drop of blood tears fell, gathered into a stream, slowly merging into Yu Ziqing's organs, flowing into the blood throughout his body.

Once reaching the first perspective, the most perfect personal sensation, he then sensed a deeper resolute intent.

An intent stronger than that of grief.

At this moment, the two words "Wen Jun" suddenly emitted radiant brilliance.

Yu Ziqing saw a person with slightly gray temples, one hand behind his back, eyes forward, as if looking at him.

"Senior Shi once told me, the fire seed has never been extinguished.

Our glory will be like the shining stars, only growing dim but never disappearing.

Do you know why I'm titled Wen Jun?

I proudly consider myself a man of letters, never engaging in combat with anyone, my hands only for writing, documenting the heritage.

Never stained with others' blood.

Ordinary people fail to argue, then die of shame.

They curse me, saying I curse them to death whenever I speak.

Fine, then consider me having spelled them to death.

How about calling it a spell?

Do you want to learn?"

"I'm crude, I like beating people to death, but as long as it kills, I don't care about the means." Yu Ziqing spoke frankly.

"Unfortunately, posterity probably won't remember me.

But it doesn't matter, a name is extraneous.

As long as you remember Senior Shi.

Remember the way of heritage, passing the torch, unceasing life."

Wen Jun chuckled, turned around, walked away briskly and confidently, then disappeared.

Yu Ziqing's consciousness returned, and once again he saw the ancient scroll.

His eyes cried sorely, wetting a large area in front of his chest.

The people around did not laugh at him, instead, they all bore respect.

Yu Ziqing cupped his hands in salute, wiped his tears, and turned to leave.

Inside him, the blood-red stream continually absorbed his grief's intent, coursing throughout his body.