Star Martial Soaring Cloud

Wang Xiao was dumbfounded. He had cultivated on Seven Star Mountain since childhood and only knew about the division of cultivation realms, but he had never heard of such ancient secrets. It took him a long time to come back to his senses, and he murmured, "So that's how it is... So, Senior Brother, you..."

"After the Eight Emperors' Decree, the Divine Sense Void Realm was not insurmountable; some have achieved it. If the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors sought equality between cultivators and mortals, then this person's ambition was even more insane—he wanted equality for all! Cultivators can be bound by the laws of heaven and earth, but how can the complexities of the human heart be restrained?" At this point, a hint of longing appeared in Song Qing's eyes. His voice rose slightly, but he quickly regained his composure, immediately changing the subject and raising a hand to stop Wang Xiao's attempt to press further. "You will know these things in the future. By the way, where did the Kung Pao Chicken go?"

"It went to Lishan a long time ago," Wang Xiao shrugged helplessly. "Every time it sees you, you pluck all its feathers off, so how could it dare to come near you?"

"It boasted itself that it was a phoenix divine feather. Such a divine object naturally deserves our careful 'appreciation'," Song Qing chuckled, then asked, "Did you also come down the mountain this time for the Lishan Trial?"

"Yes." Wang Xiao nodded, his gaze firm. "To be precise, it's preparation for the trip to the Demon Island a year from now."

"Demon Island... a once-in-a-century golden age of cultivation, it's truly something to reminisce about." Song Qing gazed at the flickering lamp wick, a hint of melancholy in his voice.

The origins of the Demon Island have long been lost to the annals of time. It is only known that it reappears once every hundred years, remaining on the land of Kyushu for a full year. This island absorbs the essence of heaven and earth, and exhales the quintessence of the sun and moon. The reason it attracts cultivators from all over the world is its unique Immortal Ephemeral Flower—a crucial element for cultivators to leap over the Dragon Gate and enter the Divine Realm, indispensable to them. As the saying goes, "The Ephemeral Flower appears in the morning, and one can inquire about the Dao by evening," thus, the arrival of the Demon Island is a golden age of cultivation, with geniuses rising and extraordinary talents emerging in great numbers.

"After this incident, you have become the target of criticism from the younger generation. Are you prepared to deal with it?"

"Don't worry, senior brother." A sharp glint flashed in Wang Xiao's eyes, and his tone was firm. "I am a disciple of Seven Star Mountain, the Seven Star of martial arts. Genius is someone like me, or someone like me. Let the world see what a true genius is."

"How is Master doing lately?"

"If you miss your master so much, why don't you go back to Seven Star Mountain to visit him?" Wang Xiao asked rhetorically.

"If I go back, will the one on the dragon throne sleep soundly?" Song Qing's tone was indifferent, but it contained a hint of sarcasm.

"But doesn't Senior Brother Li Guang return to the mountain every year?"

"Simply because his surname is Li."

Who would have thought that the two most promising geniuses in the Nine Provinces who are most likely to break through to the Divine Sense Void Realm—Li Guang and Song Qing—are actually from the same school, both from Seven Star Mountain.

"By the way," Wang Xiao changed the subject, looking at Song Qing and asking the question that everyone in Kyushu was curious about, "Senior brother, why did you choose to become a bandit?"

"Follow me." Song Qing did not answer directly, but turned and walked deeper into the stone chamber.

After passing through a long, dark tunnel, the two entered a large hall made of blue stone. Thousands of luminous pearls were embedded in the ceiling, their shimmering light illuminating the entire hall as bright as day.

There were no walls on either side of the hall; instead, there were rows of neat rectangular stone doors, behind which lay the dwellings of the Liangshan "bandits." The entire layout resembled a giant cave dwelling, connected to countless smaller cave dwellings. Far from being the filthy and chaotic place of a typical bandit's den, it was clean and tidy, exuding an air of peace.

There was no shouting or cursing, no drunken revelry, and no rampant rape or plundering.

Before Wang Xiao was a group of busy figures—some sitting and spinning, some cooking, and some mending clothes. Their simple and honest manner was no different from that of farmers working in the fields.

What's baffling is that they tore up all the brocade and fine clothes they had stolen and sewed them back into tattered beggar's clothes; the ingredients by the stove were not delicacies, but only ordinary rice and noodles. The porridge they cooked was mostly water with little rice, so thin that you could see your reflection in it, and the steamed buns were dry and hard, like rocks.

This seemingly wasteful approach filled Wang Xiao with doubt. Song Qing, however, simply smiled mysteriously: "Come on, let's try it together."

Wang Xiao followed instructions and joined the work team. Before long, he discovered the secrets: the seemingly worn-out clothes were actually filled with high-quality cotton, and some even contained warm mink fur, with fine and meticulous stitching, making them far warmer than ordinary clothes; the shriveled steamed buns were actually sweet and soft, with small pieces of meat inside; and the seemingly bland porridge contained several precious medicinal herbs, which were believed to have health benefits and promote longevity.

After finishing their work, the "bandits" put on straw raincoats and hats, disguised themselves as porters, hid their altered clothes in oxcarts filled with hay, and packed steamed buns and porridge into bamboo baskets. Then, in groups of five, they drove the oxcarts and carried the bamboo baskets, setting off down the mountain in batches. Song Qing even took the lead, carrying a basket of food and following at the end of the group. Seeing this, Wang Xiao also picked up a basket and followed closely behind his senior brother.

"Is this your special cultivation method?" Wang Xiao couldn't help but ask.

Song Qing remained smiling but did not answer. Wang Xiao grew even more curious, but stopped asking and silently followed the group.

The group did not enter the bustling city of Zhongyun, but instead headed straight for a desolate mountain on the western outskirts of the city. The rugged mountain path was like flat ground to them, clearly indicating that they were frequent visitors.

When he reached the top of the mountain, Wang Xiao was completely stunned. The scene before him left him speechless with shock, and even his hands and feet became a little stiff.

A dilapidated temple stands alone atop the mountain, its outer walls peeling and covered in cobwebs and grime, its windows wide open, revealing the utter chaos inside.

Upon entering the temple, one finds broken tables and chairs scattered everywhere, cockroaches and rats scurrying about, and a gentle breeze stirring up clouds of dust and a pungent stench.

Yet, in such a harsh environment, there were crammed refugees who were emaciated and dressed in rags—naked children were so thin that their ribs were clearly visible, with only a few lights shining in their eyes; elderly people huddled on the cold ground, breathing weakly and on the verge of death.

The next moment, an even more moving scene unfolded for Wang Xiao: the "bandits" who had just been mending and cooking put down their loads and began distributing food and clothing in an orderly fashion. Some cleaned the temple, some carefully tended to the elderly, and others played with the children. Who would have thought that these bandits, who struck fear into the hearts of the entire nation, were like this in their daily lives?

In front of the temple, Wang Xiao and Song Qing stood side by side, gazing into the distance at the bustling Zhongyun City below.

"Unbelievable, isn't it? The most prosperous place is also the most impoverished." Song Qing's voice carried a hint of emotion. "Once the situation of the refugees here improves, I will make them 'become bandits' too."

"You must be wondering why we only send porridge and not rice, and why we don't just distribute the looted goods to the refugees, but instead use such a clumsy method to provide relief to the disaster victims?" Song Qing turned to Wang Xiao and took the initiative to answer.

Wang Xiao nodded silently.

"Because the most clumsy methods are often the most effective," Song Qing said slowly. "This way of doing things will neither give others a handle against us nor implicate the innocent. Junior brother, looking down at Zhongyun City now, do you still think it's prosperous? If Zhongyun City were to fall one day, tell me, would those behind it love this city more, or would the people drinking and making merry in the city love it more?"

A gentle breeze blew by, carrying the coolness of the mountains. Wang Xiao stood there, speechless for a long time.

Song Qing's voice rang out again, tinged with indignation and nonchalance: "Officials who disregard the people's plight, embezzle public funds, and exploit the populace—aren't they robbers? Merchants who hoard goods, cheat on weights and measures, and sell inferior goods as superior ones—aren't they robbers? Scholars who distort the teachings of sages, mislead students, and confuse right and wrong for the sake of flattering the powerful—aren't they robbers?...

A series of questions exploded in Wang Xiao's ears like thunder.

"Since this world is full of robbers, why can't I be a robber openly and honestly?" Song Qing rose into the air, flicked his sleeves, and laughed loudly, his voice echoing through the valley, "Stealing from the people, stealing from their homes, stealing from their country, stealing half a day of leisure; stealing to ignite lofty ambitions, stealing to bring peace to the common people; stealing from the beginning of chaos and the creation of all things..."

The laughter faded into the distance, and Song Qing's figure disappeared into the horizon.

Wang Xiao stood alone on the mountaintop, gazing down at the bustling and prosperous Zhongyun City. His vision gradually blurred, and he could no longer make out the shape of the city...