Chapter 730 — A Paintbrush Cannot Capture Its Spirit

"What, in the end, are the martial way and the martial soul?

" Shen Mu studied the descendants of the gods around him. These people did indeed possess a bearing and momentum unlike that of ordinary mortals -- a spirit that charged ever forward, breaking through every obstacle.

This differed from the fiery spirit of the age that burned in the divine-power practitioners of Jingping.

Those practitioners of Jingping were no less brave and keen, but their temperament and spirit were nimble and ever-changing, like boiling oil in which every bubble wore a different color; that was the spirit the age of reform had granted them -- a hundred flowers vying to bloom, a hundred schools contending to be heard. The essence of these descendants of the gods, however, was not the spirit of an age but the spirit of martial artists. This spirit was unlike that of a great knife master like the Butcher, whose genius was vast and unbridled; unlike that of a sword master like the Village Head, which was nimble yet inward; unlike that of a divine-arts master like Granny Zhu, which was whimsical and clever; it differed from the Deaf Elder's talent compressed within his paintings, differed from the Blind Elder's insight into all things carried with free-spirited ease, and differed from the Silent Craftsman's fire hidden deep in volcano and furnace.

They were like ascetic monks, like Old Huo before he had yet attained Buddhahood.

Shen Mu's eyes brightened. Yes, exactly like Old Huo! The Old Huo of Hidden Remnant Village.

That Old Huo was stern and unsmiling, gravely serious in all things; it was from him that Shen Mu had learned to be earnest and focused.

Though Old Huo's body was always held ramrod straight, he gave one the sense of a man walking beneath a heavy burden, as if he carried Mount Sumeru on his back, the mountain pressing down upon him.

That pressure had become his impetus.

Of course, pressure becomes impetus only when it has not crushed the bearer; if the pressure grows too great, it crushes the whole person.

There had been a period when Old Huo was crushed by it, and it was only after Shen Mu came to Hidden Remnant Village that he steadied himself against the pressure and pressed onward once more.

These young descendants of the gods in the heavens of Douniu Palace were, like Old Huo, martial artists bearing enormous pressure. But the weight they carried was not Mount Sumeru; it was the despair that the divine bridge of their race had been utterly severed, that the divine-bridge realm no longer existed at all, that they could never cultivate to the divine realm.

That despair could become an impetus, driving them forward to find a way through; it could likewise become the great mountain that crushed them, utterly destroying their spirit and will.

"They are martial artists!

" Shen Mu's gaze grew brighter and brighter, and a smile surfaced on his face.

"Once upon a time, before I had cultivated divine powers, I was such a martial artist too.

But after I opened the primal embryo's divine storehouse, I gradually forgot that spirit. " A martial artist was the name for one who had not yet set foot on the path of cultivation; a martial artist could only use lowly means such as fists, feet, and weapons.

Old Huo's state at Hidden Remnant Village was likewise that of a martial artist, the war-techniques school using the physical body alone to produce the effects of divine powers -- and with greater force, with greater ferocity!

At last, the crowd began to enter the Southern Heaven Gate.

Shen Mu stood where he was, unmoving.

He did not understand what the Martial Heavenly Master meant by letting them enter the Southern Heaven Gate. What did entering the way through martial arts have to do with entering a heavenly palace?

Beneath the Southern Heaven Gate, a woman suddenly gave a muffled grunt; crushed by pressure so solid and heavy that her bones snapped and her sinews broke, she abruptly shriveled by a full head and was pressed flat to the ground, vomiting blood without cease. A youth walking along suddenly had his leg bones shatter. Another's body burst open in small holes, blood sputtering outward in gushing torrents.

Still another suddenly vomited mouthful after mouthful of blood, his five organs and six viscera burst apart under the immense pressure! As for the others, it was as if they were bearing the Southern Heaven Gate on their backs; some were crushed until their bodies shrank without cease, yet they still advanced against the pressure, and with each step they took the pressure abruptly surged, crushing them until they stood less than five feet tall.

On they went, and their bodies grew smaller still; soon they were crushed to less than a foot in height. Some were crushed to the point of collapse, kneeling with both hands braced against the ground, vomiting mouthful after mouthful of blood, until their arms could no longer support the pressure of the Southern Heaven Gate and their arm bones shattered.

Many more shouted in repeated explosions, their fists and feet swinging wide and open, using the divine powers of their flesh to hold firm against the pressure of the Southern Heaven Gate; their fists and feet were like axes that split open the heavens, cleaving through the pressure step by step as they advanced.

Shen Mu frowned deeply, staring at the Southern Heaven Gate in shock and doubt.

Could this gate really be the doorway of the Imperial Throne, a pressure so immense that only true gods could bear it?

How could divine-power practitioners of the life-and-death realm withstand such crushing force? If this was the Southern Heaven Gate of an Imperial Throne powerhouse, then only true gods would have the strength to cross it; anyone who had not cultivated to true godhood would be crushed, even pressed to death!

The Martial Heavenly Master could not possibly intend to eliminate them by such means, could he?

"The runic marks on the Southern Heaven Gate have not fully lit up. " Shen Mu observed that among the textures and patterns on the gate, not even one percent had kindled, which meant the pressure was still far from the level of a true god.

Clearly, the Martial Heavenly Master also knew how to keep within bounds. Though these gods had already been walking for a long time, the Southern Heaven Gate was too tall and too wide; they had still not crossed half the distance.

Clearly, as the pressure grew greater and greater, this single gate alone would eliminate more than half of the divine-power practitioners. Shen Mu stripped off his clothes, bared his torso, and bound up his trouser legs, laughing: "Dragon Fatty, there is no need for you to go in.

Watch over my clothes for me.

" He handed his garments and the Taotie pouch to the Dragon Qilin, bare-handed, carrying no weapon at all.

The Dragon Qilin sighed with relief, took the clothes, and asked, "Sect Master does not need the sword elixir?

" "No need!

" Shen Mu gave a low shout, one hand rising and one hand falling; azure dragon patterns emerged on his back, gradually coalescing into a great azure dragon. The azure dragon flew out from his body and coiled around his flesh.

He stretched his body again, his bones and sinews crackling; the azure dragon dispersed, and white tiger patterns appeared on his back.

A white tiger leapt out from behind him, its roar shaking the mountain forest. He extended one leg back and bent the other in a crouch; black tortoise patterns emerged, and from beneath his feet rose a great turtle with a dragon's head and a tortoise's body, treading a black sea, a thousand-winged soaring serpent coiled about it, fierce and savage.

Shen Mu spread his arms; the black tortoise dispersed, and behind him flames shot into the sky.

The vermilion bird spread its wings and rose from the blaze, great fire spreading everywhere.

"I will take up the martial spirit and fight my way in!