The Xiang Butterfly Of Chaos - Chapter 70 Nine Interlocked Suns

Three kilometers away from the clearing, Li Mo Shang leaned against a nearby tree, lost in thought. Every few moments, he would inspect the interior of his body once again, tracing the pathways of the qi circulation unit with his perception.

The inscriptions of the dual coiled dragons and broadsword pulsated in as steady and powerful rhythm, matching Li Mo Shang’s heartbeat. Each pulse would cycle a strand of spiritual qi throughout the complex pathways, a scarlet light navigating through the maze of intertwining and winding spiritual meridians.

It was just that the qi circulation unit circulated qi around the entirety of the length, forming a closed cycle.

Not a single iota of the domineering spiritual qi attributed with the Ancient Ming Tribe’s berserk and explosive strength was distributed to the rest of his body. Although several thin meridians of the qi circulation unit extended and overlapped with the inscriptions on the bones of his arms, Li Mo Shang could determine that none actually transmitted the spiritual qi.

Gazing at the closed circulation system of spiritual qi, Li Mo Shang couldn’t help but feel that something was disastrously wrong with the current state of affairs.

“The qi circulation units should be interacting with the rest of the meridians in my body.”

Closing his eyes and visualizing the before him, Li Mo Shang flipped through the pages of the aged tome until he found the page depicting the qi circulation unit. Reading carefully multiple times, he instinctively frowned when he realized that there was no description on how to actually utilize the qi circulation units.

“The body comprises of fourteen major meridians and vessels that can replicate the natural flowing of spiritual qi of the world. By summoning the ancient legacies of cultivation’s forefathers, one can inscribe onto their meridians a defining construct that allows for doubling of strength and authority over spiritual qi”

Silently repeating the phrase to himself, Li Mo Shang reviewed and analyzed the contents thoroughly, only to result in more questions than answers. When he referenced the contents to what he had read the first time, Li Mo Shang gave a start, confusion settling in.

“What is a construct? The manual also clearly stated manipulation of spiritual qiwhen did it change to authority? What’s the difference?”

His brows continued to furrow, unable to resolve his confusion as he continued to scan the next few pages. Each page would describe each major meridian in great detail, from the compatibility of each legacy for each meridian or vessel, the advantages and disadvantages of certain attributes of spiritual qi, how to properly summon a legacy

It was just that Li Mo Shang’s question could not be answered. The manual simply didn’t state how to utilize the qi circulation’s massive advantages. No matter where he searched, Li Mo Shang simply couldn’t find a single hint or trace that could answer his doubts.

What was the point of doubling one’s reservoir of spiritual qi if it was barred from usage?

Stepping forward and moving a few paces away from the tree, Li Mo Shang undid his doctor’s robe before placing it neatly on the ground far away from him. In a haphazard attempt, he willed the spiritual core to yield a thread of spiritual qi.

Deftly waving his right hand, the spiritual qi transformed into a utilitarian steel sword, two-thirds of a meter in length, several centimeters in width, and half a centimeter in thickness.

Fixing his glare onto the ordinary sword grasped in his hand, Li Mo Shang began to pour the thread’s remaining spiritual qi into the blade. To his surprise and partial delight, the sword merely trembled slightly before releasing a pale-yellow glow, hardly distinguishable from the golden rays of the setting sun.

As Li Mo Shang continued to infuse spiritual qi into the sword, the emitted glow darkened in color and increased in intensity until a dull golden luster radiated from the steel blade.

Angling the blade to be parallel with his waist, Li Mo Shang abruptly rotated counterclockwise, the sword flashing in a wide arc as the steel blade sliced through the air. Reversing his direction the moment he had finished the swing, Li Mo Shang unleased a horizontal half-moon strike, the golden radiance scattering a few stray sparks that floated towards the ground.

Repeating the set of cuts multiple times, each instance with increasing speed and aggressiveness, the steel sword razed the surrounding air without a shred of mercy. Eventually, however, Li Mo Shang slumped onto the ground with a defeated expression.

Although he had failed to obtain his answer, he had finally managed to scrounge up the barebones of a plausible conjecture.

With each iteration of the striking pattern, Li Mo Shang had reflected on the most basic description of the legacy inscribed onto his first qi circulation unit, the Ancient Ming Tribe of Blood.

Strength.

Dominance.

Might.

Those descriptions were the first to form in his mind, thus he had enacted to display similar traits in his swings. Every time he had swung the steel blade, he had envisioned concepts of arrogance, mercilessness and ruthless, and dominating strength.

Using those thoughts as a guide, his blade had indeed increased in speed and struck without hesitation, accompanied by a faint, abstract aura of confidence. However, a critical problem still remained from Li Mo Shang’s perspective, one that prevented him from actively tapping into the legacy’s strength.

Although Li Mo Shang could emulate and exhibit the concepts of dominance and might, he didn’t embody them. Rather, he couldn’t.

Li Mo Shang had indeed witnessed hundreds and even thousands of deaths while studying medicine alongside of Tai Zi Hua, a significant portion from his own mistakes in measuring the various quantities of medicinal herbs. The first death by his own hands, Li Mo Shang had felt absolutely nothing while gazing at the corpse on the ground, not even a bout of nausea, only a cold curiosity at the effects of his mistake.

The apathy facing death had allowed him to improve his medicinal ability by leaps and bounds, but Li Mo Shang’s lack of aversion towards death had prevented him from engraving a distinct persona of himself. Without the shaking dread of watching failure consume to lives of his patients, and without the ruthless and cruel sensations of practicing medicinal techniques on a live subject.

When extended towards the sword, the best Li Mo Shang could do was exhibit and project the personas and auras of the various swordsmen whose lives he had burned into his soul. Even when he had slaughtered the men in the black uniforms at Blue Rose University, the only thought he had was that his required additional development.

Li Mo Shang himself was unable to experience the sensation of merciless dominance or arrogance, hence his conjecture for the inability to activate the Ancient Ming’s legacy.

“You lack determination.”

An aged, rough voice suddenly rang from Li Mo Shang’s right, causing the former to jump and release a fierce two-handed horizontal slash. When no other sound except for the soft whistling of the wind and keening of the leaves entered his ears, Li Mo Shang allowed the sword to droop to the ground, although his vigilance could only grow.

“You lack determination.”

When the voice repeated itself, Li Mo Shang saw the air before him slightly mist over, preventing even his enhanced vision from piercing through. Alarmed, Li Mo Shang conjured his spiritual sword, his senses stretched to the maximum for any pre-emptive signs.

As if to disappoint him, the mist dissipated in a minute, presenting a withered old man standing before him, leaning on a cane.

The old man was dressed in an odd, deep scarlet robe, with numerous golden dragons and phoenixes embroidered onto the sleeves. A head of flowing white hair and beard, with a gnarled ebony cane grasped in his right hand, the old man seemed unlike anyone from Blue Flame World.

At the very least, Li Mo Shang knew of absolutely nobody who could release a natural imposing and carefree aura. A mere three meters away, the old man emitted a regal demeanor, as if he was observing everything from far above.

“You lack the determination to slaughter. To rampage. You are too kindhearted to adopt the family’s arts.”

The old man spoke once more, the hoarse voice ringing in Li Mo Shang’s ears. Just as he was about to ask what the old man meant, the elder before him spoke. It seemed as if Li Mo Shang wasn’t even before his eyes, and he was conversing with someone else.

“You do not kill your enemies, giving them a chance of surrender and respite. Though you have physical strength, you do not embody it! Strength has no room or accommodation for kindness or generosity. Strength has no tolerance for moral reasoning or ethics. The path of pursuing strength requires that of an unceasing motivation and might to accomplish a goal without stopping, slaying both foe, ally, or family to achieve it. Not even yourself may be spared from the razing sword of strength!”

Li Mo Shang raised his eyebrows at the old man’s words, feeling rather unsettled when he noticed that his blood circulation had suddenly spiked near the end of the elder’s speech. Unsure of what or how such a phenomenon was triggered, Li Mo Shang remained silent, waiting for the elder’s next words.

“As a prince of the Ming Imperial Family, your innate kindness bars you from inheriting the throne,” the old man spoke, his tone no longer domineering and strict.

“Though you cannot become Emperor even as my only direct grandson of blood, I shall appoint you as the Imperial Censor.”

“Imperial Censor?” Li Mo Shang murmured. For an inexplicable reason, his back felt unusually warm, gradually but surely increasing in temperature.

“You shall admonish your brothers to preserve the clan’s lineage. You shall manage the empire when your brothers cannot. You shall destroy your brothers’ lineage if they dare disobey the clan’s teachings. You shall lay down your life for the Ming Imperial Family, as the bearer of the Nine Imperial Suns!”

As he spoke, the old man lifted the cane, directing it to Li Mo Shang’s left. With each declaration, he thrusted the gnarled cane forward, the tip glowing with a faint, golden radiance.

When the old man had spoken the ‘Nine Imperial Suns’, Li Mo Shang’s pupils dilated. On his back, a scalding heat erupted, an enormous beam of intertwined golden and deep scarlet aura surging towards the heavens.

His blood experiencing an unusual rush as his circulation accelerated by several folds, a barely imperceptible cold glint passing through his eyes as the pupils released a faint but blinding radiance, Li Mo Shang arched his head back to release a piercing howl.

In the sunset of Wan Shou, the doctors twittering around in the clearing suddenly jumped and gazed towards the beam of light arising from the center of the forest, shivering when the howl reached them. It possessed both humane and primal emotions, along with sorrow, rage, and determination.

His body releasing a powerful brilliance after the howl, the tattoo of the Nine Interlocked Suns on Li Mo Shang’s back exploded into view, the scarlet chains restraining the golden balls of fire. His blood slowly cooling down to its original state, Li Mo Shang gazed at his body, even manipulating his to project the view of his back.

Staring at the nine locked suns gently fluctuating between a deep scarlet and golden radiance, he suddenly felt the urge to swing the spiritual sword in his grasp.

Glancing at the sea of trees before him, Li Mo Shang stepped back with his right foot, the sword angled towards the ground. With a step forward, he swung the blade upwards to the left, not hesitating as he slashed down in a vertical strike.

As the blade sliced through the air, Li Mo Shang felt a sudden surge of spiritual qi explode from within the qi circulation unit, nearly causing him to lose his balance and stumble to the ground.