Chapter 28: Great Luo Dharma Body

Chapter 28: Great Luo Dharma Body

Swish! Swish! Swish!

The earth stirred before dawn.

Li Yan swung his sickle in a rhythmic arc—left arm sweeping, right arm cutting—as golden stalks toppled in neat rows behind him, awaiting bundling.

As the first pale light crept across the horizon, Li Yan straightened his aching back, stretching his limbs. Around him, distant fields buzzed with activity.

The wheat harvest had arrived at Li Village Fortress.

Timing was critical. As the saying went: "Reap at nine-tenths ripe, and you’ll gather ten. Wait until fully ripe, and you’ll lose a tenth." The stalks, brittle when fully mature, risked shattering. Even the hour mattered—early morning or dusk, when stems were supple and grains clung tightly.

A year’s labor hung in the balance; not a grain could be spared.

Since returning five days prior, Li Yan had spent each night in Mental Visualization and Spirit Preservation. Progress had come, though success still eluded him. Yet with the harvest begun, he could labor by day and cultivate by night.

A strong man might reap an acre daily. Li Yan, trained in martial forms and village sickle techniques, could clear an acre and a half. A few days would see his family’s fields stripped bare.

From dawn to dusk—cutting, threshing, drying, storing—even a martial artist’s body ached. Yet he found joy in the toil.

His Divine Abilities often spiraled out of control, leaving his emotions in turmoil. But exhaustion emptied his mind, quieting his spirit, making Spirit Preservation easier.

Days passed unnoticed. The golden waves of wheat vanished, leaving only tawny earth and stubble. Dust swirled in the wind, and the Guanzhong plains stretched vast and raw beneath the setting sun.

The villagers smiled. Poets might mourn the lost golden seas, but farmers knew: only when every grain was stored could a harvest be called bountiful.

That night, breakthrough came.

In the stillness, Li Yan sat cross-legged, breath shallow, focus sharp between his brows. In the dark, a glowing figure hovered—the Spirit born of his Mental Visualization.

According to the True Scripture of the Western Mystical Grotto, he had visualized his organs, gathering ethereal sparks at his brow’s center for Spirit Preservation. Success meant an undying Spirit—summonable at will.

Progress was gradual. As his cultivation deepened, the Spirit would sharpen. Other sects modeled theirs on ancestral deities, but Li Yan’s source was unique: the Substitute God Statue nestled in his Dantian. Ever-present, it resonated with his focus, sparing him the struggle of scattered minds.

As his Mental Visualization solidified, the glowing figure suddenly linked to the Substitute God Statue, plunging into it like a star.

The statue stirred.

Its blurred face twisted, reshaping into Li Yan’s own visage. A flood of knowledge surged through him—shock gave way to elation.

Previously, his connection to the statue had been murky, its purpose guessed only through fragments. Now, Spirit Preservation had fused it fully to his being.

The artifact’s name: Great Luo Dharma Body.

Beyond swapping injuries or sacrificing itself to save his life, it could now guard his Spirit. Two boons emerged.

First, it anchored his Spirit, acting as a guardian—no need for rituals to stabilize it. Second, like his flesh, it could absorb spiritual wounds. A curse targeting his soul could be shifted to the statue, sparing his Spirit.

Yet rituals remained vital. The Great Luo Dharma Body could not enhance cultivation—only withstand harm. But it could evolve.

By consuming Heavenly Spirit Treasures, its form could strengthen. With enough, a ritual could reignite his Life Flame—granting, in essence, a second life.

Li Yan smiled, heart racing. With a thought, his Spirit returned to his brow, unwavering even amid chaos.

Suppressing excitement, he followed the True Scripture’s techniques, adjusting his breath until his Divine Abilities shifted.

His Divine Olfaction, long erratic—sometimes vanishing, sometimes overwhelming him with dizziness—now steadied.

He raised his left hand, thumb pressing the second finger’s tip—the Yang Seal, invoking the Sun Star Lord. A deep breath, and his nose flared with scents, sharpening at his will.

Thumb to the fourth finger’s tip—the Yin Seal, the Moon Star Lord—and the ability dimmed.

Divine Abilities stemmed from the Yang Six Roots, draining spirit and soul. With Spirit Preservation and mastery of Yin-Yang Seals, he could now control them, closing them off to avoid attracting malevolent forces.

The shadow over him lifted.

Pfft!

A stone clattered into the courtyard.

Li Yan’s ears twitched.

Someone approached.

Eyes narrowing, he slipped out, gripping the Guan Mountain Blade from the wall.

Pfft!

Another pebble fell.

A scouting tactic—Jianghu cultivators’ code. A shouted greeting might deter intruders; silence invited trespass.

He nearly called out, then paused, molding the seal, inhaling deeply. Within a hundred meters, scents sharpened.

Sha Lifei?!

Surprised, he glanced toward his grandfather Li Gui’s sleeping quarters before vaulting the wall.

There crouched Sha Lifei, disheveled and dusty, peering from the shadows of a jujube tree.

“What’s wrong?” Li Yan hissed.

Sha Lifei scratched his bald head, grimacing. “Let’s talk outside. Master Wang’s waiting at the mountain shrine.” He gestured weakly. “And… food? Water? I’ve starved since dawn.”

———

The shrine behind Li Village Fortress was a common sight across the realm. Travelers, hunters, and herbalists once sought its blessings before entering the wilds.

In the veterans’ days, incense smoke curled thick—men skilled with bows who hunted the mountains’ beasts. Now, visitors dwindled, and the shrine, its beam collapsed, stood forgotten.

Inside, a fire crackled.

Sha Lifei and Wang Daoxuan devoured flatbread toasted over the flames, gulping water like starved wraiths.

“Bandits raided the kiln?” Li Yan frowned.

No wonder the Wheat Reapers had returned early while Wang Daoxuan and Sha Lifei vanished. He’d assumed mourning delayed them.

“Aye,” Sha Lifei mumbled, crumbs flying. “The Wheat Reapers left—same night, bandits struck. Lucky we were out buying the coffin.”

Li Yan frowned. “Lu Family’s guards are many. How many bandits?”

Sha Lifei swallowed hard, cursing. “Hundreds—dark as crows. Saw the Qilu Horsemen too—their leader, the one we met on the road, had allied with Guanzhong’s knife gangs.”

He spat. “Whole village burned. Ruthless bastards.”

Li Yan fell silent.

This was no random raid.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end