Chapter Twenty-One: A Thought Arises, A Thought Fades

A single thought arises, another fades away.

The mysterious woman rarely praised anyone in such a manner—perhaps it was because she had long remained hidden from the world, and now, faced with this singular youth of the Yellow Rank, whose cultivation seemed to be shrouded in countless enigmas, she found herself unable to restrain a few words of interest.

At this moment, Bai Qi’s heart was weighed down with gravity. He understood that the final ten steps ahead could not be conquered by mere persistence. It was no longer a battle of willpower alone against the will of Heaven; now, he had to rely on what little strength remained in him—and above all, that unyielding spirit that had burned within him from the very start.

Bai Qi moved toward the tenth step. As he raised his left foot just an inch from the ground, a pain as searing as a lightning strike tore through him, wrenching at his very bones and the depths of his soul. His calf trembled uncontrollably; his foot was stuck midway, unable to move forward, yet retreat was impossible, as if his leg had taken root on the tenth step. Overhead, the thick, dark clouds pressed down, a shackle ready to bind him at any moment. If he faltered or fled, he would be obliterated in an instant, reduced to dust.

Bai Qi mocked himself inwardly, realizing he had overestimated his own strength and underestimated the hardships strewn along the path of cultivation. Every stage required steadfast steps, and one misstep would send him plummeting into an abyss from which there was no return. To traverse this path, one had to disregard life and death as mere trifles—for in the end, strength was the only truth.

Indeed, the gap between earth and sky—the Celestial Summit and the Mortal Realm—was vast beyond measure. In the lower realm, one might act freely, but upon ascending to the heavens, entry was not granted at a whim, nor could one simply soar as they pleased. At best, this was a form of tacit recognition; at worst, it was a cruel truth: many seekers of the Way knelt before Heaven, pleading for enlightenment, only to find their knees taking root after too long. And to stand again? That was a luxury few could hope for.

The pursuit of the Dao was fraught with hardship. Every cultivator sought the slimmest chance of survival in the crevices of certain doom. Some found it and clung to life, others were crushed, dying with regret, and some lost even the will to struggle, perishing into oblivion.

A strange urge to weep welled up in Bai Qi as he reflected on his journey—its rises and falls had worn him down. He wondered if, one day, he would become nothing more than a walking corpse. He gazed up at the distant firmament—so close and yet so far, a world apart—stretching out his hand, he felt he could almost touch it, yet it remained forever out of reach.

Muttering softly, Bai Qi said, “I have stood atop the mountain and fallen into the abyss; both have taught me well. I cannot give up here. These ten steps represent countless steps in my future—perhaps a hundred more. This distance, I must cross—one at a time. To succeed is to live, to fail is to perish.”

Indeed, I cannot give up here—such simple words, yet they embodied an attitude, a state of being.

…

Observing Bai Qi’s condition, the woman shifted closer and lifted her veil. Had Bai Qi seen her face, he would have been astonished—it was the very image of the woman from the portrait he had seen before. Yet, if he looked more closely, he would see a beauty mark upon her chin that the woman in the painting lacked.

Raising her right hand, the woman traced a character in the air above Bai Qi. It seemed a casual gesture, but within it was a profound aura of the Great Dao, remarkably similar to the aura Bai Qi had sensed a year ago within the “Feather”—the aura of Samsara’s Ultimate End. An ancient presence swept toward him…

Bai Qi’s body blazed like a roaring fire, unleashing a tremendous aura. Though his spiritual energy was nearly spent after conquering fifty or sixty steps, the last dregs of his power now burned with renewed intensity, unleashing the essence buried deep within his core—rising once more with unstoppable force.

…

The tenth step—his foot fell, and with a resounding clang, like a bell crashing to earth, the sound reverberated with strength.

The ninth step—his right foot rose and came down. Like a tsunami, a surge swept across the ground, overwhelming all obstacles. In the murky waters, the desperate cries from the abyss mingled with the roar of the waves—a heart-rending cacophony.

The eighth step—Bai Qi’s foot struck the stair, and a drumbeat thundered through the air, echoing with the eternal will of the ancients. It was as if the beginning and end of an era were being proclaimed—the passing of heroes, the collapse of mountains, the end of an age of cultivation.

…

The third step—after the weight of the preceding stairs, Bai Qi felt no joy at approaching the end. Only a calm acceptance remained. Three steps left—just three—and the Celestial Summit would be his. Yet in his heart, it was nothing more than another peak or valley in his journey, no longer stirring his soul as it once had.

Meanwhile, the woman’s aura drew near—one hundred meters, fifty, until only three inches separated her power from Bai Qi’s core. In a flash, just as her energy was about to enter his dantian, Bai Qi swung his arm and slapped it away, glaring at the mysterious woman behind him and roaring, “Back off! I can handle my own affairs! Why meddle in my business?!”

He bellowed, but as soon as he saw the woman’s ethereal beauty, he paused, quickly turning away, a new sheen of sweat upon his brow.

Clenching his fists, Bai Qi struck at the final three steps, reciting an incantation. Light radiated from his body, a golden sheen cloaking his form, exuding an aura of majesty.

“Samsara’s Ultimate End!”

His fist, glowing with gold, drove back the dark clouds swirling above. With a thunderous crash, he shattered the third step—its former impregnable defense crumbling before him.

A second blow destroyed the penultimate stair. Bai Qi stepped onto the final step. In that instant, he was seized by an urge to see what lay beyond the barrier that had turned so many geniuses away—what kind of world awaited on the other side?

Without hesitation, he struck once more. The sky itself trembled, and the barrier shattered like glass. Bai Qi surged through, and in that moment, the spiritual energy within a hundred miles whipped into a storm, swirling toward him as its center.

Hundreds of acupoints across his body devoured the essence around him, refining and filtering the spiritual energy until it condensed into thick, weighty drops that swirled into a vortex.

Were anyone to witness this, they would be astounded—the concentration of spiritual energy in a single droplet surpassed the dantian reserves of any peer by a hundredfold.

Within the spiritual energy of the heavens lingered a trace of the will of Heaven itself—the vital element for crossing into the Celestial Summit.

Bai Qi drew this essence into his core. Instantly, his meridians expanded, his bones crackled, and his dantian underwent a profound transformation. Where once it was pale, now it shimmered with the faintest golden hue. The misty flows within condensed into a solid golden sphere, and around it floated dozens of crystalline droplets of spiritual energy. If, in the future, Bai Qi were to absorb all fifty of these droplets, his cultivation would soar—perhaps not to the realm of legends, but certainly with unprecedented speed.

The commotion was immense. Were it not for the isolation of this glacial region, others would have surely sensed it and come to seize this peerless treasure—the trace of Heaven’s will.

After a long while, Bai Qi slowly opened his eyes. A golden light flickered in his gaze as he exhaled, rotating his limbs and cracking his neck.

The world beyond the barrier—he had seen it, that realm just a step away. Bai Qi dared not speak of it lightly, but buried its image deep within his heart. If, one day, he achieved the power to pluck stars and move mountains, then he would return to gaze upon the realm of Heaven’s Dao with his own eyes.

A single thought, and the edge of the world is within reach; another thought, and it all slips away—such is the way of all things, ever-changing.

He clenched his fist, sensing the strength and power within. The Celestial Summit—indescribable, legendary. For Bai Qi, it was now a reality, and its benefits were beyond measure—almost dreamlike in their unreality.

He let out a slow breath, when suddenly, a voice, tinged with anger, rang in his ears: “Well, aren’t you bold? You dared shout at me? Since my birth, no one has ever yelled at me like that. Congratulations—you’ve done it!”

This icy voice sent a chill through Bai Qi, more terrifying than his recent breakthrough. Cold sweat broke out on his back as he turned stiffly, bowing his head in apology, “Ah, well…this was just an accident…”

“Oh? An accident? Then let me show you an accident as well!”