After leaving the Central Province Imperial City and witnessing the drama and tragedy of power succession, Tang Xiao Qi didn't deliberately seek any particular destination. His pace became increasingly unhurried, no longer clinging to seeking, but wandering freely, following destiny.
He might pause outside an unnamed mountain village private school, listening to children'syoung reading voices, watching their curious eyes toward the unknown world. He might blend into the marketplace, watching vendors and portershurrying for daily meals, experiencing the most primal survival wisdom and neighborhood warmth. He might climb an unnamed mountain, watching clouds curl and spread, feeling heaven and earth's tranquility and grandeur. He even quietly returned to that small Northern Plains tribe, seeing them after the snowstorm, revitalized through new survival skills and greater unity. He also gazed at that East Sea fishing village from afar, seeing new fishing boats operating at sea, more stable wisps ofcooking smoke rising in the village.
Years passed in such seemingly ordinary wandering. He didn't deliberately cultivate, the Nascent Soul in his body remained self-sealed, spiritual power not advancing a single step. But his eyes grew increasingly profound and peaceful, as if able to contain mountains and seas, seeing through worldly changes.
He witnessed mortals' birth, aging, sickness, death, love, hatred, passion; experienced their struggle, resilience, and the small yet never-quite-extinguished flame of hope in the torrent of fate. He felt nature's might and ruthlessness, understood the true meaning of balance and reverence. He witnessed power's temptation and corrosion, also saw faith, responsibility, and clarity persisting even in desperation.
The resilience of Qingniu Town, the hope of Wangchao Village, the faith of the Western Desert caravan, the balance of the Southern Border forest, the order of Central Province Imperial City... these scenes, these understandings, like hundreds of rivers returning to the sea, ultimately converged in his understanding of the word "protection."
Protection was no longer lofty salvation, no longer abstract responsibility or slogan.
It was Chief Batu of the Northern Plains tribe, knowing it meant death yet going out to search anyway—the warmth between the weak in desperation.
It was in Wangchao Village, villagers rekindling the fire of life upon discovering new food sources—the resilience of rebuilding homes through their own strength in the ruins.
It was on the Western Desert caravan, Hassan swinging his blade at the traitor to defend the cornerstone of faith—Zayir's courage guarding companions through blood.
It was in the Southern Border forest, reverence for nature's might, respect and maintenance of the law of balance.
It was in Central Province Imperial City, the prince stepping forward at crisis with responsibility and wisdom to avert greater catastrophe—clarity.
Protection was concrete, down to earth. It concerned every living person, their right to survive, pursue happiness, and retain hope. It required power, but also wisdom, tolerance, and deep understanding of human nature and natural law. It wasn't merely resisting external enemies, but nurturing the inner self, allowing life itself's power to healthily continue and bloom.
True protection was enabling those protected to have the ability and hope to protect themselves and grow.
One day, he walked on a hillside covered with unnamed wildflowers, the setting sun stretching his shadow long. A gentle breeze brought the fragrance of earth and flowers. In the distance, a shepherd boy rode a blue ox, playing an off-key tune, slowly returning home.
Everything was so ordinary, so peaceful.
However, at this moment, Tang Xiao Qi's heart seemed thoroughly washed by an invisible clear spring. All past experiences, all insights, like shattered mirrors, were reassembled by some mysterious force into a complete, harmonious, flawless pattern.
He felt an unprecedented clarity and completeness.
The Nascent Soul dormant for years, self-sealed, trembled lightly at this moment—not from spiritual power surge, but an instinctive of life-level imminent leap. The invisible yet sturdy barrier between Nascent Soul and Spirit Transformation, before his flawless heart state, became as thin as a cicada's wing, as if a gentle touch would shatter it.
Enlightenment struck naturally. He raised his head, his gaze seemingly piercing through mountains and waters, looking toward the distant east.
There was where his path began, where he first established the thought of protection, where his soul always remained anchored regardless of distance—Qingxu Temple.
A clearstirred arose from his heart, like a wanderer hearing his mother's call.
The opportunity for Spirit Transformation wasn't elsewhere—it was at Qingxu Temple!
He needed to return there, on that land carrying too many memories and witnessing his initial growth, to complete this final, most important leap.
No excitement, no hesitation, only serene clarity and tranquility.
He stopped his aimless wandering, turned, faced east.
Tempering the heart in the mortal world, years of travel, traversing mountains and rivers, experiencing all conditions. Today, heart state complete, opportunity manifests.
His figure on the hillside gradually blurred, finally disappearing like merging into the sunset's glow. The next moment, he hadexert the magical technique of compressing earth into inches (heart state complete, control of power refined to perfection, even with seal unbroken, couldmobilize some mystical abilities), racing toward Qingxu Temple.
The final breakthrough was about to begin at the place where his dream started.