Soul of the Revered Banner
Chapter 60: Betrothal

Wen Yue slowly opened his eyes.

Above him was the clear blue sky and bright sunlight, with a gentle breeze brushing across his face.

In the distance, mountains stretched in layers, and a sea of clouds rolled endlessly.

Beneath his feet was a small patch of land, standing tall and alone in this world, as if it existed apart from the mortal realm.

“Am I… dreaming?”

Wen Yue realized he might be dreaming, he could distinctly feel that he was unable to use his internal energy.

His leg injury was still there, yet it didn’t hurt.

Nor did it hinder his ability to walk, sit, lie down, run, or leap.

Suddenly, a swirl of gray mist surged forth, and from within the black fog emerged a vaguely blurred figure that gradually grew clear.

The unrestrained strands looked like a lion’s mane.

He was cloaked in a tattered black robe, barely concealing a muscular body and unable to hide a fierce and violent aura.

His face was green with red eyes, his expression cold and stern.

Two flesh-covered bumps bulged from his forehead, as if something was about to sprout.

Wen Yue stood stunned, staring at the tall, over-seven-foot-tall green-faced demon ghost that appeared before him.

The saying goes "a greeb face and fangs," but all Wen Yue saw was the green face, no fangs in sight.

Just standing there, the ghost gave Wen Yue the feeling that his throat was being choked, he couldn’t speak a word.

And that alone was already an overwhelming pressure like none he had ever felt before.

He truly couldn’t imagine how terrifying this unknown ghost god would be if they were to start fighting.

But at the same time, Wen Yue was trembling like a sieve, not out of fear but from excitement.

Though the letter had not described the ghost god in great detail, it had made it clear that the entity meant no harm, instead, it taught the cultivation techniques.

He never imagined that on the first night of receiving the treasure, he would dream of the ghost god.

Of course, that was enough to excite him.

Tu Shanjun looked down at Wen Yue. Aside from those immortal masters he had once faced, Wen Yue might be the first mortal to see his true appearance and not show outright fear.

In fact, Wen Yue’s eyes were filled with longing.

Tu Shanjun understood, this man before him longed to become stronger, longed for power, longed to heal his broken body.

Wen Yue steadied himself, and with some nervousness, softly murmured, “The dream-walking ghost god…”

Tu Shanjun was already used to it. Every soul-banner bearer had to go through this dream state. This appearance of his didn’t need to be changed, once the banner master got used to seeing it, it would be fine.

With a wave of his hand, black mist gathered into lines of written scripture:

"Demon Ape Focus Fist."

Wen Yue read it aloud.

What followed was the familiar task of memorization.

To be honest, the idea of reciting scriptures in a dream was something Wen Yue never dared imagine, yet here it was, becoming his reality.

Tu Shanjun had already chosen for him. The Blood Fiend Grand Method was the most complete technique he possessed, it could be cultivated up to the sixth layer of Qi Refining. Although the other techniques in his collection had mysterious elements, unfortunately, they were all incomplete.

And an incomplete art meant no future path forward.

Though the Blood Fiend Grand Method had side effects, it was still far more reliable than those other fragmented methods.

With the Demon Ape Focus Fist to counteract the blood fiend energy’s effects on the mind, there was little chance the banner master would grow twisted.

Moreover, the Blood Fiend Grand Method was attribute-neutral, meaning it would be easy to later patch, switch to a different method, or continue along another path without major issues.

So, the moment Tu Shanjun decided to accept this banner master, he had already picked the technique for him.

He then passed on the Demon Ape Focus Fist.

Calling it a fist technique was perhaps misleading, it was more of a visualization method expressed through boxing movements.

Mind-Ape Settles Will, a rare fist-stance-based visualization method that could strengthen the soul.

Even for those with dull aptitude, entry wasn’t difficult. As long as one practiced diligently, they could steadily grow their spiritual soul.

Tu Shanjun dared to say that of all the techniques he held, none could compare to the Demon Ape Focus Fist.

Even he himself was practicing it with great effort.

With Zhao Shixian’s foundational experience and his own year-long practice, Tu Shanjun’s understanding of the technique had deepened immensely.

And his admiration for the genius who created it had only grown, it was sheer brilliance.

By using boxing stances to guide soul-visualization, it bypassed many beginner barriers and allowed for steady progress, essentially laying a stairway for countless dull-witted and spiritually weak cultivators.

Tu Shanjun corrected Wen Yue’s movements one by one.

Meticulous and precise, like the strictest of teachers.

Though Wen Yue couldn’t move in reality, training the Demon Ape Focus Fist in the dream still worked. In fact, as a visualization-based method, the dream environment may even produce better results than reality.

This was something Tu Shanjun had concluded from training the previous two banner masters in their dreams.

Wen Yue didn’t find it absurd, only that fate was strange.

He had been wounded by a ghostly being, and now to heal himself, he had to rely on a ghost god.

Now that ghost god was correcting his form and breathing rhythm.

He even had to recite the entire mental mantra by heart.

Two days passed.

Wen Yue had grown familiar with Tu Shanjun, though every time he entered the cultivation cliff in the dream, he still bowed before starting practice.

Tu Shanjun ignored it, let him do as he liked.

While Wen Yue trained, Tu Shanjun would either practice alongside him, or take out and compare the various scriptures and manuals he had scavenged, carefully studying the relationship between spiritual root attributes.

Unfortunately, the arts he had were incomplete, and most of them were neutral in nature, leaving him somewhat constrained.

Wen Yue had found it odd at first, but after seeing it enough times, he got used to it.

“This morning, I think I’ll be able to reach the Organ Refining Realm.”

Wen Yue gave this progress report to Tu Shanjun as if in idle chat, his tone cautious.

He never spoke with certainty about things that weren’t guaranteed.

Until the coffin was nailed shut, it wasn’t worth telling outsiders.

Chu Jiu only knew some rudimentary martial skills, he was an outsider.

Besides, Wen Yue felt that speaking too much would only make him seem weak.

Even though he regarded Chu Jiu as a brother, Chu Jiu always saw himself as a servant, and inevitably acted reserved.

That wasn’t something that could be changed with just a few kind words.

So much of what he had to say, he could only say to the ghost god on the cultivation cliff.

There were many things he wanted to talk about.

Wen Yue spoke of his past, how everything had gone smoothly for him. He had ridden fine horses in fine clothes, risen to become deputy commander of the Liang City's Military Affairs Office, part of the emperor’s personal army. A fourth-rank official with real power.

At his age, he had already become the talk of the entire Liang City nobility. What other young man had achieved so much?

A second-rate Bone Tempering expert before age thirty. Before twenty-four, to be precise.

Even among the younger generation of Liang City, he was a top-tier genius.

If he could reach Organ Refining before thirty, he’d have a real chance at ascending to that elusive Innate Grandmaster realm.

All that, ruined because of one mission to eliminate a ghostly entity. One leg crippled, all his brilliance shattered like glass and blown away like mist.

The blow had been crushing. If Wen Yue had even a sliver less resolve, he’d either be dead or a completely useless cripple by now.

He had indeed regretted his arrogance, but what was done was done. He chose instead to live in the present, to seek fortune and fate.

In martial cultivation, the Organ Refining stage came naturally.

Once internal energy was sufficient and could burst open the five meridians and circulate throughout the five organs and viscera continuously, one would attain the Organ Refining realm.

This was the level of a first-rate expert in the eyes of the jianghu.

Reaching Organ Refining indeed brought major recovery to Wen Yue’s injuries but still, he couldn’t walk.

The ghostly entity’s damage was far greater than he had ever imagined.

Over a month passed in the blink of an eye.

Wen Yue devoted himself to studying techniques and using internal energy to pry open blocked meridian points throughout his body.

Though his internal energy reserves already exceeded those of Xiang Hu, he was still young and had fewer opened nodes.

So most of that month was spent building foundation.

His internal energy was rich, his blood and qi abundant.

Skin Tempering, Bone Tempering, Organ Refining, these three thresholds had already blocked countless martial cultivators.

Reversing to the innate and transforming all internal energy into spiritual force would not only require a powerful body, abundant blood and qi, mastery of the macro-circulatory technique, and full meridian access, it also needed proper cultivation scriptures.

“Young Master, the old master sent someone to inquire.”

Chu Jiu spoke halfway, then stammered for a while without saying the rest.

Wen Yue didn’t react much and asked, “About what?”

“To discuss… a marriage engagement.”

“Marriage?”

“I don’t recall having a betrothal.”

Wen Yue looked puzzled. Though marriage alliances were necessary, before this incident he had been at the peak of his career, and still young enough to take his time choosing.

He never imagined something like this would happen.

All the matchmakers who used to trample his doorstep had vanished completely.

“It’s the daughter of the Annan Marquis.”

Wen Yue fell silent.

Rumor had it the Annan Marquis’s daughter had an eye disease.

And the Marquis also had a son, somewhat mentally deficient, likely between the age of ten and twenty.

“Quite a match,” Wen Yue suddenly laughed. Openly and without pretense.

This only made him even more determined to stand up again.

(Chapter End)