Chapter 722: False Godhood
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Chapter 722 False Godhood
The woman trembled fiercely. She hadn't felt this sort of feeling, this sort of instinctual fear, since she was a child, long before she picked up her first sword.
What Ryu had done wasn't as simple as venting his rage with some calligraphy, she could feel that it was much deeper than that. With a single stroke, he had placed an unerasable mark on the Faith and Legacy of this Sky God.
Calligraphy was an enigmatic practice to begin with. But, at its core, it was the process of exuding strength through words.
In Ryu's youth, he had spent a lot of time on the Four Arts not because he was interested in them initially, but rather because in his vast array of knowledge as a Ruin Master, he had come across countless legends related to these four disciplines.
If Ryu was asked now, he could recount hundreds, thousands, even, of folk tales speaking of the rise of artists. In these stories, it would always begin with a normal mortal man or woman who had a great passion for the Arts. One day, usually in their old age, they would complete a masterpiece, and with this masterpiece, they would form their Godhood in a single step.
For Ryu, who couldn't cultivate, these stories were a fatal sort of attraction. The hope to one day stumble upon a grand inspiration that would give him the strength he had been missing out on for his whole life was his childhood fantasy, and one he carried well into adulthood.
Interestingly enough, it was Ryu's stepping into the world of the Four Arts that allowed him to meet with Elena. Though the Holy Wing Clan was one he felt was filled with scum, they were also a group of women who placed great emphasis on the Four Arts as well.
Beneath the ban of Mental Realm cultivation, the Four Arts was among the very best ways to refine the mind and purify the soul. The Holy Wing Clan placed great emphasis on their higher state of mind and had had a practice of refining their skill in the Four Arts for several generations. So, maybe it wasn't all that surprising the most talented young woman of the Holy Wing Clan would be an expert in such things as well.
That day when Elena stripped naked and almost forced herself onto Ryu, he only managed to escape with his chastity by agreeing to paint Elena nude.
Truth be told, Ryu was quite impressed with Elena's persistence and technique in ensnaring him. Maybe he would have been able to forget about her had he never made that painting. But, due to it, every outline and contour of her body was etched into his mind, never to be forgotten.
Ryu had never seen that painting again after that day, but he assumed it had always been with Elena. Though… he could never quite understand what she saw in him.
There were many women who were fond of Ryu. Even setting aside his looks, his arrogant demeanor was often a great attraction to them as well. But, after painting Elena that day, he concluded that she wasn't the type to be swayed by such things. It wasn't that she didn't care for his looks, or wasn't fond of his confident air, but rather that these things didn't move the needle for her.
What had she cared about?
Ryu couldn't quite put his finger on it. His conclusion was at most a vague feeling, an ethereal and unexplainable mystery that lingered within the eyes of his wife. Maybe if he had been able to paint that mysterious thing back then, he really would have stepped through that threshold and become a Sky God in one leap.
They like to say that when a woman becomes curious about a man, she had already fallen for him. What they failed to explain, though, was that it often worked the other way as well.
Maybe Ryu had subconsciously chased after that mystery, trying to peel back the final layer that was Elena, and in all the time, without even getting the answer he was looking for, he had already fallen too deeply to pull himself out.
Before he realized what was happening, he had already been engaged to her for hundreds of years and he couldn't see a life without her by his side.
In this life, Ryu had never picked up a paint or calligraphy brush, a go piece or a lyre. Even when he was stuck in the Tor Kingdom, he had never been allowed to learn about anything because they feared his intelligence so much to the point he was barred from the library.
After he gained the ability to cultivate, he never looked back. What need did he have for such things when he didn't have to hope and pray for power anymore? He could grasp it with his own two hands now, he didn't need anyone to bestow it upon him…
Ironically, maybe this was exactly why Ryu had never grasped that mystery and why he would never replay the legend of those Four Arts Masters of old…
To them, the Four Arts weren't a tool, they were as fundamental a part of their lives and breathing was. However, Ryu had only ever seen them as a path to power.
His skill in the Four Arts dwarfed almost anyone. But, when it came to those true masters, he would only be several steps below... In the past, anyway.
This character Ryu had just drawn carried with it the momentum of a true master, a true expert. He had drawn it not because he was seeking out something in return, nor had he used it as a tool to accomplish something he was hoping for… In that moment, he just had some frustration to get out of him, he wanted to vent an emotion that had been bottled up within his heart for all these months…
And the result was something devastating.
…
In an unknown corner of the martial world, an old and wrinkled man sat in meditation. He wore pristine white robes and had a sword of blood red laid across his lap. Judging by the surroundings, he hadn't moved a single inch in billions of years, his body having reached a holy state of union with the Heavens.
The only method he had used to interact with the world in this time was an avatar. However, he was aware that he was running out of time. Very soon, his avatar alone wouldn't be enough and he would be forced to step into the real world again.
Luckily, though, he was very close to finishing off his closed door cultivation perfectly, just a single step away from grasping exactly what he needed. Once he succeeded, his strength would grow another step and his Godhood would step up from the ranks of False Godhood to True Godhood.
This was an extraordinarily rare step to take. Many who formed their False Godhood initially would never get the chance to reforge their foundations and become a True Sky God. By then, they would only be marginally stronger than those secondary profession Sky Gods.
However, he had found a method to do so, an ingenious method at that. He had spent trillions of years implementing this plan and was now reaping the benefits. After billions of years of meditation, he felt that he would only need another year or two and his Godhood would blossom forth.
It was then, though… That something the old man could have never expected to happen occurred.
He felt his heart seize, a sense of discomfort gripping him. It was a subtle feeling, so other than frowning initially, he hadn't thought much of it. However, that uncomfortable feeling only continued to grow.
Suddenly, his entire body quaked.
The old Sky God shook, something within him rupturing and his qi spiraling out of control. His inner organs were torn to pieces and his heart threatened to split in two.
A violent mouthful of blood flew from his lips like a sword leaving its sheath. It was an unhealthy and blindingly bright shade of red. It took just a single look to understand just how precious this mouthful of blood was.
The old man sat in a daze, his body withering. He watched on in horror as his Godhood collapsed, his cultivation plummeting from the ranks of a Sky God back down to the World Sea Realm.
A loud and pulsing sound echoed in his ears.
'Trash…. Trash… Trash…'
In that moment, his Dao almost completely collapsed, his dazed expression going out into a vast nothingness. He couldn't seem to hear or feel anything…
And then… He saw red.
A furious howl shook the small world. All the inhabitants and beasts could only watch on in horror as the world they had come to know collapsed under a bout of rage.
"WHO DID THIS TO ME?! WHO DID THIS TO ME?!"
The manic roar of a man who had lost his mind shook this small corner of the martial world.
…
Ryu couldn't sense what was happening across such a large distance. Or, more accurately, he wasn't in a state to use his sight of Fate to find out.
His body entered an odd and ethereal state, his breath vanishing and his eyes glazing over.
The woman who stood not so far away looked toward him in abject fear. Her fingers flexed and unflexed, her gaze flickering with killing intent.
How could someone with such an ability be allowed to live?
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Chapter 722 False Godhood
The woman trembled fiercely. She hadn't felt this sort of feeling, this sort of instinctual fear, since she was a child, long before she picked up her first sword.
What Ryu had done wasn't as simple as venting his rage with some calligraphy, she could feel that it was much deeper than that. With a single stroke, he had placed an unerasable mark on the Faith and Legacy of this Sky God.
Calligraphy was an enigmatic practice to begin with. But, at its core, it was the process of exuding strength through words.
In Ryu's youth, he had spent a lot of time on the Four Arts not because he was interested in them initially, but rather because in his vast array of knowledge as a Ruin Master, he had come across countless legends related to these four disciplines.
If Ryu was asked now, he could recount hundreds, thousands, even, of folk tales speaking of the rise of artists. In these stories, it would always begin with a normal mortal man or woman who had a great passion for the Arts. One day, usually in their old age, they would complete a masterpiece, and with this masterpiece, they would form their Godhood in a single step.
For Ryu, who couldn't cultivate, these stories were a fatal sort of attraction. The hope to one day stumble upon a grand inspiration that would give him the strength he had been missing out on for his whole life was his childhood fantasy, and one he carried well into adulthood.
Interestingly enough, it was Ryu's stepping into the world of the Four Arts that allowed him to meet with Elena. Though the Holy Wing Clan was one he felt was filled with scum, they were also a group of women who placed great emphasis on the Four Arts as well.
Beneath the ban of Mental Realm cultivation, the Four Arts was among the very best ways to refine the mind and purify the soul. The Holy Wing Clan placed great emphasis on their higher state of mind and had had a practice of refining their skill in the Four Arts for several generations. So, maybe it wasn't all that surprising the most talented young woman of the Holy Wing Clan would be an expert in such things as well.
That day when Elena stripped naked and almost forced herself onto Ryu, he only managed to escape with his chastity by agreeing to paint Elena nude.
Truth be told, Ryu was quite impressed with Elena's persistence and technique in ensnaring him. Maybe he would have been able to forget about her had he never made that painting. But, due to it, every outline and contour of her body was etched into his mind, never to be forgotten.
Ryu had never seen that painting again after that day, but he assumed it had always been with Elena. Though… he could never quite understand what she saw in him.
There were many women who were fond of Ryu. Even setting aside his looks, his arrogant demeanor was often a great attraction to them as well. But, after painting Elena that day, he concluded that she wasn't the type to be swayed by such things. It wasn't that she didn't care for his looks, or wasn't fond of his confident air, but rather that these things didn't move the needle for her.
What had she cared about?
Ryu couldn't quite put his finger on it. His conclusion was at most a vague feeling, an ethereal and unexplainable mystery that lingered within the eyes of his wife. Maybe if he had been able to paint that mysterious thing back then, he really would have stepped through that threshold and become a Sky God in one leap.
They like to say that when a woman becomes curious about a man, she had already fallen for him. What they failed to explain, though, was that it often worked the other way as well.
Maybe Ryu had subconsciously chased after that mystery, trying to peel back the final layer that was Elena, and in all the time, without even getting the answer he was looking for, he had already fallen too deeply to pull himself out.
Before he realized what was happening, he had already been engaged to her for hundreds of years and he couldn't see a life without her by his side.
In this life, Ryu had never picked up a paint or calligraphy brush, a go piece or a lyre. Even when he was stuck in the Tor Kingdom, he had never been allowed to learn about anything because they feared his intelligence so much to the point he was barred from the library.
After he gained the ability to cultivate, he never looked back. What need did he have for such things when he didn't have to hope and pray for power anymore? He could grasp it with his own two hands now, he didn't need anyone to bestow it upon him…
Ironically, maybe this was exactly why Ryu had never grasped that mystery and why he would never replay the legend of those Four Arts Masters of old…
To them, the Four Arts weren't a tool, they were as fundamental a part of their lives and breathing was. However, Ryu had only ever seen them as a path to power.
His skill in the Four Arts dwarfed almost anyone. But, when it came to those true masters, he would only be several steps below... In the past, anyway.
This character Ryu had just drawn carried with it the momentum of a true master, a true expert. He had drawn it not because he was seeking out something in return, nor had he used it as a tool to accomplish something he was hoping for… In that moment, he just had some frustration to get out of him, he wanted to vent an emotion that had been bottled up within his heart for all these months…
And the result was something devastating.
…
In an unknown corner of the martial world, an old and wrinkled man sat in meditation. He wore pristine white robes and had a sword of blood red laid across his lap. Judging by the surroundings, he hadn't moved a single inch in billions of years, his body having reached a holy state of union with the Heavens.
The only method he had used to interact with the world in this time was an avatar. However, he was aware that he was running out of time. Very soon, his avatar alone wouldn't be enough and he would be forced to step into the real world again.
Luckily, though, he was very close to finishing off his closed door cultivation perfectly, just a single step away from grasping exactly what he needed. Once he succeeded, his strength would grow another step and his Godhood would step up from the ranks of False Godhood to True Godhood.
This was an extraordinarily rare step to take. Many who formed their False Godhood initially would never get the chance to reforge their foundations and become a True Sky God. By then, they would only be marginally stronger than those secondary profession Sky Gods.
However, he had found a method to do so, an ingenious method at that. He had spent trillions of years implementing this plan and was now reaping the benefits. After billions of years of meditation, he felt that he would only need another year or two and his Godhood would blossom forth.
It was then, though… That something the old man could have never expected to happen occurred.
He felt his heart seize, a sense of discomfort gripping him. It was a subtle feeling, so other than frowning initially, he hadn't thought much of it. However, that uncomfortable feeling only continued to grow.
Suddenly, his entire body quaked.
The old Sky God shook, something within him rupturing and his qi spiraling out of control. His inner organs were torn to pieces and his heart threatened to split in two.
A violent mouthful of blood flew from his lips like a sword leaving its sheath. It was an unhealthy and blindingly bright shade of red. It took just a single look to understand just how precious this mouthful of blood was.
The old man sat in a daze, his body withering. He watched on in horror as his Godhood collapsed, his cultivation plummeting from the ranks of a Sky God back down to the World Sea Realm.
A loud and pulsing sound echoed in his ears.
'Trash…. Trash… Trash…'
In that moment, his Dao almost completely collapsed, his dazed expression going out into a vast nothingness. He couldn't seem to hear or feel anything…
And then… He saw red.
A furious howl shook the small world. All the inhabitants and beasts could only watch on in horror as the world they had come to know collapsed under a bout of rage.
"WHO DID THIS TO ME?! WHO DID THIS TO ME?!"
The manic roar of a man who had lost his mind shook this small corner of the martial world.
…
Ryu couldn't sense what was happening across such a large distance. Or, more accurately, he wasn't in a state to use his sight of Fate to find out.
His body entered an odd and ethereal state, his breath vanishing and his eyes glazing over.
The woman who stood not so far away looked toward him in abject fear. Her fingers flexed and unflexed, her gaze flickering with killing intent.
How could someone with such an ability be allowed to live?
Chapter 722 False GodhoodThe woman trembled fiercely. She hadn't felt this sort of feeling, this sort of instinctual fear, since she was a child, long before she picked up her first sword. What Ryu had done wasn't as simple as venting his rage with some calligraphy, she could feel that it was much deeper than that. With a single stroke, he had placed an unerasable mark on the Faith and Legacy of this Sky God. Calligraphy was an enigmatic practice to begin with. But, at its core, it was the process of exuding strength through words. In Ryu's youth, he had spent a lot of time on the Four Arts not because he was interested in them initially, but rather because in his vast array of knowledge as a Ruin Master, he had come across countless legends related to these four disciplines. If Ryu was asked now, he could recount hundreds, thousands, even, of folk tales speaking of the rise of artists. In these stories, it would always begin with a normal mortal man or woman who had a great passion for the Arts. One day, usually in their old age, they would complete a masterpiece, and with this masterpiece, they would form their Godhood in a single step. For Ryu, who couldn't cultivate, these stories were a fatal sort of attraction. The hope to one day stumble upon a grand inspiration that would give him the strength he had been missing out on for his whole life was his childhood fantasy, and one he carried well into adulthood. Interestingly enough, it was Ryu's stepping into the world of the Four Arts that allowed him to meet with Elena. Though the Holy Wing Clan was one he felt was filled with scum, they were also a group of women who placed great emphasis on the Four Arts as well. Beneath the ban of Mental Realm cultivation, the Four Arts was among the very best ways to refine the mind and purify the soul. The Holy Wing Clan placed great emphasis on their higher state of mind and had had a practice of refining their skill in the Four Arts for several generations. So, maybe it wasn't all that surprising the most talented young woman of the Holy Wing Clan would be an expert in such things as well. That day when Elena stripped naked and almost forced herself onto Ryu, he only managed to escape with his chastity by agreeing to paint Elena nude. Truth be told, Ryu was quite impressed with Elena's persistence and technique in ensnaring him. Maybe he would have been able to forget about her had he never made that painting. But, due to it, every outline and contour of her body was etched into his mind, never to be forgotten. Ryu had never seen that painting again after that day, but he assumed it had always been with Elena. Though he could never quite understand what she saw in him. There were many women who were fond of Ryu. Even setting aside his looks, his arrogant demeanor was often a great attraction to them as well. But, after painting Elena that day, he concluded that she wasn't the type to be swayed by such things. It wasn't that she didn't care for his looks, or wasn't fond of his confident air, but rather that these things didn't move the needle for her. What had she cared about? Ryu couldn't quite put his finger on it. His conclusion was at most a vague feeling, an ethereal and unexplainable mystery that lingered within the eyes of his wife. Maybe if he had been able to paint that mysterious thing back then, he really would have stepped through that threshold and become a Sky God in one leap. They like to say that when a woman becomes curious about a man, she had already fallen for him. What they failed to explain, though, was that it often worked the other way as well. Maybe Ryu had subconsciously chased after that mystery, trying to peel back the final layer that was Elena, and in all the time, without even getting the answer he was looking for, he had already fallen too deeply to pull himself out. Before he realized what was happening, he had already been engaged to her for hundreds of years and he couldn't see a life without her by his side. In this life, Ryu had never picked up a paint or calligraphy brush, a go piece or a lyre. Even when he was stuck in the Tor Kingdom, he had never been allowed to learn about anything because they feared his intelligence so much to the point he was barred from the library. After he gained the ability to cultivate, he never looked back. What need did he have for such things when he didn't have to hope and pray for power anymore? He could grasp it with his own two hands now, he didn't need anyone to bestow it upon him Ironically, maybe this was exactly why Ryu had never grasped that mystery and why he would never replay the legend of those Four Arts Masters of old To them, the Four Arts weren't a tool, they were as fundamental a part of their lives and breathing was. However, Ryu had only ever seen them as a path to power. His skill in the Four Arts dwarfed almost anyone. But, when it came to those true masters, he would only be several steps below... In the past, anyway. This character Ryu had just drawn carried with it the momentum of a true master, a true expert. He had drawn it not because he was seeking out something in return, nor had he used it as a tool to accomplish something he was hoping for In that moment, he just had some frustration to get out of him, he wanted to vent an emotion that had been bottled up within his heart for all these months And the result was something devastating. In an unknown corner of the martial world, an old and wrinkled man sat in meditation. He wore pristine white robes and had a sword of blood red laid across his lap. Judging by the surroundings, he hadn't moved a single inch in billions of years, his body having reached a holy state of union with the Heavens. The only method he had used to interact with the world in this time was an avatar. However, he was aware that he was running out of time. Very soon, his avatar alone wouldn't be enough and he would be forced to step into the real world again. Luckily, though, he was very close to finishing off his closed door cultivation perfectly, just a single step away from grasping exactly what he needed. Once he succeeded, his strength would grow another step and his Godhood would step up from the ranks of False Godhood to True Godhood. This was an extraordinarily rare step to take. Many who formed their False Godhood initially would never get the chance to reforge their foundations and become a True Sky God. By then, they would only be marginally stronger than those secondary profession Sky Gods. However, he had found a method to do so, an ingenious method at that. He had spent trillions of years implementing this plan and was now reaping the benefits. After billions of years of meditation, he felt that he would only need another year or two and his Godhood would blossom forth. It was then, though That something the old man could have never expected to happen occurred. He felt his heart seize, a sense of discomfort gripping him. It was a subtle feeling, so other than frowning initially, he hadn't thought much of it. However, that uncomfortable feeling only continued to grow. Suddenly, his entire body quaked. The old Sky God shook, something within him rupturing and his qi spiraling out of control. His inner organs were torn to pieces and his heart threatened to split in two. A violent mouthful of blood flew from his lips like a sword leaving its sheath. It was an unhealthy and blindingly bright shade of red. It took just a single look to understand just how precious this mouthful of blood was. The old man sat in a daze, his body withering. He watched on in horror as his Godhood collapsed, his cultivation plummeting from the ranks of a Sky God back down to the World Sea Realm. A loud and pulsing sound echoed in his ears. 'Trash. Trash Trash'In that moment, his Dao almost completely collapsed, his dazed expression going out into a vast nothingness. He couldn't seem to hear or feel anything And then He saw red. A furious howl shook the small world. All the inhabitants and beasts could only watch on in horror as the world they had come to know collapsed under a bout of rage. "WHO DID THIS TO ME?! WHO DID THIS TO ME?!"The manic roar of a man who had lost his mind shook this small corner of the martial world. Ryu couldn't sense what was happening across such a large distance. Or, more accurately, he wasn't in a state to use his sight of Fate to find out. His body entered an odd and ethereal state, his breath vanishing and his eyes glazing over. The woman who stood not so far away looked toward him in abject fear. Her fingers flexed and unflexed, her gaze flickering with killing intent. How could someone with such an ability be allowed to live?
