Section Three: Divine Art

Ling Luo had already straightened his robes and greeted with a respectful, “Peace to the Princess,” before quickly explaining the rules of the Northern Spirit Sect, lest the princess think he was simply standing there, dazed and unmannerly.

“The Marquis of Faith, after so many years, your bearing has grown even more impressive than before. Such a warm and patient welcome honors me greatly,” the princess replied.

Ling Luo had been granted the title Marquis of Faith by Prince Zheng, which was why the princess addressed him so.

Bu Jingxian, hearing the princess speak with such clarity and melodious strength—her voice sweet but never frail—quickly raised his hand to his forehead and bowed in respect.

Princess Tianlai regarded him with curiosity, asking, “And this is… one of the Undying Soul Clan?”

In the world, those who pursued the cultivation of spirit and will were known as the Soul Clan or, more commonly among the people, the Undying Soul Clan. Bu Jingxian instantly realized that the princess must often be among the common folk to be so accustomed to this term.

“Yes,” Ling Luo replied at once, introducing him, “He is Bu Jingxian, the third disciple of our sect, and the future master of the Soul Formula Sect—a close friend and confidant of mine.”

The princess immediately bowed to Bu Jingxian, playing the part of an inner-circle companion, giving Ling Luo ample face and filling his heart with joy—she had not forgotten him.

“Let us continue up the mountain and reminisce,” she suggested.

Two guards were about to accompany them, but the princess stopped them. “Northern Spirit Mountain has strict rules. Aside from disciples and invited guests, no one else may enter. With Marquis of Faith at my side, there is nothing to fear. You may wait for us in the city.”

Though the guards felt uneasy, they dared not disobey and could only watch as the three ascended the mountain.

Bu Jingxian felt a flicker of concern—he feared that just the two of them might not suffice to protect the princess. But seeing Ling Luo’s confidence, he said nothing, not wishing to undermine his senior brother before the princess or question his abilities.

He had been worried the princess might be frail, yet to his surprise, she not only kept pace but seemed more at ease than either of them. Ling Luo inquired and learned that she had become a disciple of the Sect of Flying Immortals. The sect master had said that while she lacked innate physical strength, her inner energy was extraordinary—her constitution was naturally attuned to cultivating internal power more swiftly and easily than others. After ten years of practicing the Supreme Art of the Nine Sovereigns, she had achieved remarkable results, prompting the sect master to take her as a disciple. Though she had not formally joined the sect, out of family ties, she was taught with care.

As they walked, Ling Luo spoke more than he had in an entire month, eagerly introducing the scenery of Northern Spirit Mountain and recounting its history and legends.

Bu Jingxian, following behind, noticed the princess’s graceful bearing; even the wind that brushed past her seemed to carry a faint, unique fragrance unlike any other noblewoman’s. In his heart, he felt that Ling Luo and this princess truly were a perfect match—none could be more suitable. Yet Ling Luo, perhaps from long anticipation, seemed less composed than usual, while the princess appeared all the more mature and steady. This made Bu Jingxian quietly anxious for Ling Luo, convinced the princess would appreciate the calm and poise Ling Luo usually possessed on the mountain.

A little further along, Bu Jingxian heard the sudden flurry of startled birds. Ling Luo, though engrossed in conversation, never neglected to watch his surroundings. He fell silent at once, his expression transforming—no more smile, his eyes deep as the sea, his inner energy naturally radiating outward. The faint energy shield that usually appeared almost invisible now shone with bright light, tinting the air around them pale.

He focused intently in the direction of the disturbance, not realizing that the princess, who stood behind him, had lifted her face to watch him, surprised by his instantaneous change.

“There are faint footsteps ahead,” Ling Luo said quietly. “Junior brother, hide yourself in that thicket. When the time comes, attack from behind and throw their formation into chaos. I will protect the princess.”

“Yes.” Bu Jingxian had thought the same, and was glad to comply, happy to let his senior brother display his prowess before his betrothed. Though he had not learned many true techniques over the years, his internal cultivation had progressed rapidly. He felt strong and unafraid of the likely battle ahead.

Sword in hand, he slipped into the undergrowth to lie in wait.

Ling Luo whispered to the princess, “There are unknown enemies ahead. When you see me move, follow as if nothing is amiss. This will lure the enemy into attacking, and I’ll be able to dispatch several before they realize.”

“Marquis of Faith, your foresight and composure in danger are admirable. I will follow your lead.”

They stood silently for a moment. As the sounds drew near, Ling Luo strolled forward, appearing at ease, gesturing beside the cliff as he spoke, “Princess, look—this is the Cliff of Devotion. Twenty years ago, a pair of martial lovers met here. Though deeply in love, they were forced to fight due to opposing allegiances. One was struck from this very cliff, but the victor, unwilling to see their beloved perish, leapt after them. They embraced as they fell, crying out, ‘If we cannot be together in this life, let it be in the next.’ Since then, this place has been called the Cliff of Devotion…”

The princess, bold and unflinching, listened intently, gazing out over the cliff as though wholly unaware of the five bandits creeping up behind them.

Just as those five were about to launch their attack, Ling Luo whipped around, inner strength surging from his palms. With a wave of his hand, he sent all five bandits flying, knocking over another seven or eight who were descending behind them.

Bu Jingxian, hidden, was astonished. Though he knew the Divine Formula’s inner power was formidable, he hadn’t imagined such strength. His father, once renowned, had only mastered this kind of force in the five years before their sect was destroyed. With each level of the Divine Formula, one’s internal power multiplied. Ling Luo was only at the sixth level; Elder Beiling had said he would surpass the tenth by the age of twenty—what power would he possess then? It was unthinkable!

Seeing Ling Luo’s might, Bu Jingxian decided to wait until more enemies gathered before striking. The bandits had clearly come prepared; both their rear and path ahead were blocked as enemy forces swarmed to encircle them.

Ling Luo, though new to real combat, was bold and unshaken. White light radiated from his body, and a thunderous roar exploded from within, felling seventeen or eighteen foes in an instant, blood streaming from their ears, noses, and eyes.

With a casual flick of his sleeves, Ling Luo’s movements seemed effortless, yet the energy unleashed was immense, killing more than twenty enemies at once and sending their weapons flying into the sky.

These were the Thunderstroke and Divine Sword Qi techniques of the Divine Formula.

Next, Ling Luo raised his hands above his head and, with a swift motion, sent the airborne weapons whistling through the air, cutting down over a dozen more bandits.

Most of these bandits were ordinary men, unaccustomed to such scenes. Even the fiercest warriors they knew were merely skilled fighters—formidable in battle, but still just men. Now, before their eyes, Ling Luo shone with a supernatural light, dispatching their comrades effortlessly, as though playing a child’s game. How could they dare advance?

Terrified, they kept their distance, sweating and wide-eyed, dreading another display of this sorcery.

Bu Jingxian, seeing their fear and their refusal to retreat, surmised that a powerful leader must be nearby. He remained hidden, ready to strike if necessary, but trusted that Ling Luo would need no help—such rabble were no match for him.

As he pondered, an angry, booming voice shouted from above.

“You worthless cowards, why have you stopped fighting?”

A burly man with a dark face leapt down from above in three great bounds. His eyes fixed on Ling Luo, studying him up and down before sneering, “A disciple of the Northern Spirit Sect? What’s your name? I once admired Elder Beiling’s reputation and knelt for seven days and nights on this very mountainside, begging to be accepted as a student! That Elder Beiling, such arrogance, such a cold heart—he refused to even show his face! Out of spite, I chose to become a bandit here, hoping to lure him out to deal with me, so I could see whether his skills matched his pride! If you’re just some nameless underling, I won’t bother with you.”

“You wish to witness the sect master’s power? You’re not worthy! I am Ling Luo, first disciple of the Northern Spirit Sect. Today, you’ll learn just how formidable our sect truly is!”

“Arrogant child!” the dark-faced man roared, lunging forward with a fist. He seemed every bit the reckless brute, not someone adept at internal energy.

Bu Jingxian was already picturing the bandit chief being sent flying by Ling Luo’s power.

But what happened next was utterly unexpected—absurd, even.

That seemingly clumsy punch missed Ling Luo’s raised, energy-charged hand and slipped past his protective energy shield, landing squarely in Ling Luo’s abdomen. His formidable defensive cultivation seemed to vanish, and he doubled over from the blow!