Volume Two: The Mortal Realm, Chapter 104: Knight-Errant of the Mortal Realm

The dragon slayer will eventually turn into a dragon.

Only by acquiring god-like power can one challenge the gods and save the human world; yet, the moment you obtain that power, you have often already become a new god.

The human world remains a slaughterhouse.

"Is this why you have always refused?"

The old beggar's voice sounded incredibly aged. He looked up at Ye Mingke.

"You say you are not from the human world—then where on earth do you come from?"

"I was not born in the mortal realm. I come from..." Ye Mingke paused, unsure how to describe the small town. He gave a faint smile. "I don't even know where the place I come from is, or if it even exists."

"Why?" The old beggar looked at the strange and peculiar youth before him, unable to comprehend.

"Can I choose not to speak of my hometown? Everyone has their own secrets."

Ye Mingke shook his head gently to brush off the topic, looking at the old beggar with earnestness.

"I am not from the human world; that is one reason. But more importantly, I do not believe I am the Human Emperor's Vessel..."

"You *are* the Human Emperor's Vessel." The old beggar stared at Ye Mingke with clouded eyes, stubbornly refuting him once more.

"Even if I were, I do not believe I am inherently born with a greater responsibility toward this world. Everyone has the right to choose their own path. Who I am should be determined by me alone."

Ye Mingke's clear, limpid eyes met his, his tone gentle but firm.

"Besides, becoming a savior of the world sounds so illusory. Does the world truly need me to save it? Life will always find its own way, to say nothing of the countless living beings in this world."

Ye Mingke leaned his head back, watching the snowflakes swirling and falling under the ink-black sky, and smiled slightly.

He was merely a passerby in this world, observing it as a traveler.

The world was beautiful; there was Li Han’s kindness and resilience, Aru’s cuteness and mischief. The world also had its ugly side—the brutal cultivators, the ungrateful Fang Wu, the ferocious armored soldiers who treated people as prey. But beautiful or not, he was just a traveler.

He was nothing more than a lonely soul left behind after his small-town world had shattered.

The old beggar listened quietly to Ye Mingke’s words. He did not immediately refute him; after all, for a youth raised in the mortal world, to ask him to sacrifice his life for a potentially ethereal goal—how many could truly do that?

Most would wonder: *Why should it be me?*

"Do you know what a 'Xia' (heroic warrior) is?" The old beggar abruptly shifted the topic.

"A friend once told me that a Xia is someone who stands in a narrow pass, with blood-hot courage," Ye Mingke replied, recalling Li Han’s words.

"That is a good definition. Most Xia live among the lowest of the low in the human world. They walk the most difficult, narrowest paths. In such an environment, to survive requires courage—it requires staking everything you have just to stay alive."

"So, a Xia has courage."

The old beggar suddenly sat cross-legged in the snow, his brows, though gray, arched like sharp swords. His words were filled with grand spirit.

He turned to Ye Mingke.

"But do you know what is most important, besides courage, when walking a narrow path?"

"What else is needed?"

Ye Mingke, influenced by the old man's aura, also sat cross-legged. He pondered for a while, unable to find the answer.

"Integrity. When walking a narrow path, precisely because the road is constricted, one must walk straight, keep oneself upright, and ensure others do the same."

"That is why a Xia defends the justice of the world; the sword rings out for the downtrodden!"

The old beggar pressed his hands on his knees, his tone soaring like a blade unsheathed.

"Because the narrow path is already difficult to traverse, once someone walks it crookedly, it blocks the only path to survival for countless others. When trouble arises in the world, it is the Xia who strikes first, for the gluttons in the imperial court walk on wide roads and rarely see that the world's narrow paths have been blocked by corrupt men or deeds."

"I came from a martial family. In my youth, my home suffered a 'Cultivator Calamity' and was nearly wiped out. From then on, I vowed to resist these calamities and uphold the path of the human world. After settling the remaining kin, I traveled far for twenty years to hone my sword, and through good fortune, I inherited the legacy of the Human Emperor and climbed the heights of martial arts."

"Twenty years ago, as the Martial Alliance leader, I led the crusade against the immortals. Ten years ago, at the sword-offering ceremony in Yangjing, I slew a Wheel-Sea Realm cultivator atop the Vermilion Bird Gate. Since then, I have lived in hiding in the mountains of the Great Xia, evading the 'Worship the Immortals' decree. Though my heart is scarred by the deaths of my kin and brothers-in-arms, I have still slain over twenty immortals in these ten years. Fifty years of life and death—all for this."

"All for the human world."

The old beggar looked out into the vast, dark night, speaking the final sentence softly, as if he could see the fifty years he had spent hacking through thorns and bleeding in the dark.

Ye Mingke listened in silence. After a long pause, he spoke softly.

"When I was young, after hearing those stories of heroes, I also dreamed of being a swordsman who would roam the world, upholding justice. Especially the dream of leaving my hometown to see the wider world."

He remembered the boy under the great banyan tree, shouting to Tao Yao and Qiao Qiao that he would carry his sword a thousand miles away, and he smiled faintly. But his expression quickly turned lonely and heavy.

"But later, I truly left my home, lost my home, and reached the far-off lands. I found that while the world was beautiful, without my home, I could no longer find myself."

"Now, I only wish to find my hometown and my family again. So, I am sorry."

He looked at the old beggar earnestly and apologized once more.

"You will find your hometown again, though it will not be the one you once knew."

The old beggar looked into his pupils, then eventually turned away in silence. He said slowly, "I will not force you regarding the burden of the Human Emperor for now, but you must study martial arts well. There will be a time when you need them."

"Go back now; the night is almost over. Rest a while. We must continue our journey tomorrow."

The old beggar stood up, and Ye Mingke followed. They soon returned to the cave where they were sheltering. Inside, the fire was dim; Liu Xi and Aru had been asleep for a long time.

Exhausted, Ye Mingke soon fell asleep.

Only the old beggar remained, sitting alone before the swirling snow in the darkness outside.

A rustling sound came from beside him. He turned to see Liu Xi sitting down, handing him a bowl of medicine.

"What is this? Why give this to me?" The old beggar’s aged face, hidden in the firelight, flickered, but his voice remained calm.

"Father, this is the spiritual medicine you brought back, with the dosage increased," Liu Xi said, her head lowered, her face hidden behind tangled hair.

"I do not need this," the old beggar replied coldly, refusing.

"Father, are you hiding something from me? Why were you so severely injured by that little girl's low-level curse? Why are you so desperate for Mingke to accept the Human Emperor’s inheritance?"

Liu Xi, who had been looking down, suddenly raised her eyes to meet the old beggar’s gaze, which flickered away from hers.

She forced a strong, brave smile, trying to keep her tone calm, but her warm eyes were inadvertently red, brimming with tears.

"Is it because... after that great battle... your life force is nearly exhausted?"

She whispered, her voice slightly hoarse.

The old beggar remained silent. He reached out and slowly pushed away the bowl in Liu Xi’s hand. He did not answer her directly, only saying slowly:

"This medicine is useless to me now."

"Save it for that little girl."

Liu Xi was already weeping, and the hand holding the bowl dropped powerlessly.

*Whoosh.*

A cold wind carrying snowflakes surged into the cave, extinguishing the already dim fire.

But in this cold night, someone would always light another fire.

Facing the cold wind from outside the cave, the old beggar silently meditated.

...

At dawn, while Ye Mingke was still in a daze, he felt a small body crawl into his arms. He opened his eyes to see Aru, her eyes still hazy.

Aru clearly wasn't fully awake; perhaps feeling the morning chill, she had followed the familiar warmth into his arms. Her small hands gripped his clothes tightly, her red lips smacking, and she quickly fell back asleep against his chest.

Ye Mingke watched Aru, who had finally returned to her usual self, and joy welled up in his heart.

He gently stroked her small head and smiled tenderly.

"Little girl, be good and stay safe from now on. I promise I will never say I'll leave you behind again."

By that day, Aru appeared to have recovered, though according to the old beggar, the damage to her life force would require long-term care. Fortunately, the old beggar had brought enough medicine, and Liu Xi brewed it for her every day.

On the morning Aru woke up, they resumed their journey.

Each day, the old beggar kept the group moving at their fastest pace, crossing mountains and ridges toward Yangjing.

Each night, he continued to teach Ye Mingke the basics of martial arts. He focused mostly on the fists, and the pace of instruction grew faster and faster.

On the third and fourth nights, the old beggar taught the various techniques of borrowing force to strike.

Borrowing the strength of the earth, the power of intent and momentum, and even using Ye Mingke’s own strength—it made Ye Mingke's senses sharpen.

On the fifth night, the old beggar synthesized everything taught in the previous nights into a unique, profound fist technique and passed it on to Ye Mingke.

"The greatest problem for a martial artist facing a cultivator is that cultivators can draw upon the spiritual energy of heaven and earth to use as their own. They have vast amounts of energy at their disposal. While martial *Qi* far exceeds spiritual power in density and lethality, its quantity is too small. In the same realm, a martial artist is still at a disadvantage."

"This fist technique of mine is something I developed and honed in the wilderness after I lost my sword, while fighting against cultivators."

"It uses the very power the cultivator borrows from heaven and earth to strike back at them. Once you throw a punch, it is to the death—no retreat, no surrender."