The Deepwater Menagerie entered a new era of quiet, industrious peace. The war was a fading memory and the riches of the harvest fueled a period of explosive growth. Under the steady guidance of Brother Kai and Uncle Wei and the watchful eyes of Hu Jian and Lin Tao, the valley became a true jewel of the Green Mountain Sect, its reputation for producing the finest quality spiritual beasts and herbs spreading throughout the entire region.

But for Li Yu, the true war had only just begun. It was not a war of swords and beasts but a silent internal battle for his own future, for the very definition of his own path.

He sat in the highest, most secluded chamber of his pagoda. Before him, resting on a simple stone table was the unadorned jade slip containing the life’s comprehension of the sect’s founder. He took a deep, steadying breath and placed the jade slip to his forehead.

The world dissolved.

He was no longer in his chamber. He was standing on a high mountain peak, looking out at a sea of clouds. A figure, ancient and indistinct, sat before him, its back to him. Li Yu knew, with an instinctual certainty, that this was the founder of the Green Mountain Sect. He was not reading words; he was witnessing a memory, a legacy of enlightenment left behind for promising successors.

He watched as the founder raised a hand. The spiritual energy of the world, the very laws of heaven and earth, seemed to bend to his will. He watched as the founder drew upon the steady, unyielding power of the earth, the fleeting, formless grace of the wind, the nourishing, gentle flow of the water, and the vibrant, explosive energy of the fire. He wove them together, not as a chaotic mix but as a perfect harmonious balance.

“To form a core,” the founder’s ancient, benevolent voice echoed, not in his ears but in his soul, “is to create a world. A world must have balance. Earth to provide a foundation, water to nourish it, wind to give it breath and fire to give it a heart. To walk the path of a single element is to create a flawed, incomplete world. The true, great dao is one of balance, of harmony, of creating a perfect self-sustaining cycle within one’s own soul.”

Li Yu watched as the four elemental energies coalesced in the founder’s palm, forming a single and brilliantly shining sphere of multi-colored light. It was a flawless, balanced Core, a testament to a profound, orthodox and incredibly powerful dao.

The vision faded, and Li Yu was back in his chamber, the jade slip now cold in his hand. He sat in silence for a long time, his mind a turbulent sea.

The founder’s path was profound. It was a path of balance of harmony. But it was not his.

His foundation was not a harmonious balance of the four elements. It was a violent, paradoxical fusion of two absolute, opposing concepts: the all-consuming absolute death of the void and the boundless generative power of life. To try and force it into the mold of the founder’s dao would be like trying to build a peaceful village on the edge of a black hole next to a birthing star. It would tear itself apart.

Also, he already had a core. He didn’t form it by doing anything of the things the ancestor did, it had simply formed during his breakthrough. He thought it was odd and it truly was odd. Would that mean he would be creating a second core now? Or it was something entirely different. He wasn’t sure.

He needed a different perspective. He sank his consciousness into his Koi’s Sanctuary.

He bypassed his two new companions, who were resting in their respective domains and went directly to his true teacher, the source of his understanding of a higher power. He stood, his spiritual avatar a beacon of calm, before the obsidian ledge where Khaos rested.

“Khaos,” his thought was a simple, direct question. “I have seen the dao of my sect’s founder. It is a path of balance. Of creating a world within the self. Is this the only path to the Core Formation Realm?”

A wave of ancient and utterly dismissive amusement washed over him. “‘Creating a world’?” Khaos’s mental voice was a sneer of arrogance. “How quaint. Mortals are so fond of their pretty metaphors. They seek to build little gardens in their souls, to replicate the flawed, chaotic world they already inhabit. It is a child’s game. A path for insects who wish to become slightly larger insects.”

“Then what is the true path?” Li Yu pressed.

“There is no path,” Khaos retorted. “There is only law. The founder of your sect borrowed the laws of the world to build his little garden. A true sovereign does not borrow. A true sovereign writes the law. To form a Core is not to build a world. It is to create a singularity, a point of absolute, unshakeable will that imposes its own, unique law upon the universe. It is to say to the heavens and the earth, ‘Your rules no longer apply here. Here, there is only my rule’.”

Li Yu was silent, his mind reeling from the sheer, absolute arrogance and the terrifying truth of Khaos’s words.

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He left the ledge and moved to the deepest part of the misty lake, where the colossal, thirty-foot form of Kui, the Behemoth Turtle-Snake, rested in a state of deep, healing slumber.

“Kui,” he projected gently. “I seek your wisdom. You have walked the path of the Core Formation Realm. Tell me about your dao.”

The ancient, boisterous consciousness stirred. “Ah, Wise Host! You honor this old turtle with your questions! My path was a simple one, a path of profound, unshakeable laziness!” Kui’s mental voice was a booming, joyful laugh. “This one did not seek to impose my will upon the world. The world is a noisy, troublesome place.”

“This one sought only to create a world that could not be touched by the world. My Core is a fortress. It is a perfect, self-contained shell of absolute, unbreachable defense. Within it, I am the absolute master. Nothing can get in and nothing needs to get out. It is the dao of the eternal, peaceful nap.”

“Thank you Kui.” Li Yu said before moving to the next person.

A new, completely different perspective. Not of balance, not of law, but of impregnable defense.

Finally, he moved to the icy corner of the sanctuary where the elegant, thirty-foot form of Xylia, the Glacial Matriarch, rested in a state of cold meditation.

“Xylia,” his voice was a gentle whisper. “I would ask for your insight as well. Tell me about your Core.”

Her sapphire-blue eyes opened, and a wave of cold washed over Li Yu’s spiritual avatar. “My path was one of purity,” her mental voice was a melody of profound, unending sorrow. “The world is a chaotic, messy, and imperfect place. It is a storm of conflicting energies. I sought not to balance it, but to perfect it.”

“My Core is a single unblemished crystal of absolute ice. It is a point of absolute stasis, a law of perfect, unchanging order that seeks to freeze the chaos of the world around it into a single, beautiful and eternal moment.”

“Thank you for your response.” Li Yu said to her before leaving her alone.

Li Yu withdrew his consciousness, his mind a swirling vortex of four profound, and utterly contradictory, truths.

The founder’s dao of Balance.

Khaos’s dao of Absolute Law.

Kui’s dao of Absolute Defense.

Xylia’s dao of Absolute Control.

He sat in his chamber for a full month, the jade slip of the founder resting on the table before him. He was at a crossroads, a precipice of understanding. He could not copy any of their paths. His foundation was too unique.

He looked inward, at his own spirit. The blood-red Koi. It was a creature of the deep. It was silent. It was a being of overwhelming, hidden power, content to swim in the quiet abyss until it was time to surface and devour the heavens. It was unbound by the laws of the surface world, free to roam where it pleased, its very presence and its own authority. He felt a profound resonance with this concept. It was the story of his own life.

A slow, profound and unshakeable understanding finally dawned in his heart. This was his personal philosophy, his nature. This was his first dao.

He would call it The Dao of the Silent Leviathan.

A “Leviathan” is a creature of absolute, overwhelming power that rules the deep. “Silent” reflects his entire life philosophy: to be low-key, to move unseen and to exist in the quiet depths until the moment he needs to surface with irresistible force. His dao is not about loud declarations but about the quiet inevitable power of the abyss itself.

He stood up, a new sense of clarity filling him. But as he looked at the founder’s jade slip, a nagging thought remained. Is my spirit’s nature the only thing that defines me? The founder’s dao was one of balance. Khaos’s was one of law. They were methods, paths of cultivation, not just philosophies of being. His own cultivation art, the «Myriad Rivers Returning to the Sea Art», was a clue he had overlooked.

He thought of the four daos he had just witnessed. Balance, Law, Defense, Control. They were all different rivers, flowing in different directions. But his own foundation, his own cultivation, did not choose one. It consumed them all. The life essence of beasts, the pure energy of the Pavilion, the ancient curse, the void energy of Khaos, the life energy from the sleeping behemoth—all of it, every different river of power, flowed into him and became a part of his own, singular foundation.

The second, deeper truth slammed into him with the force of a revelation. He did not need to choose a path. His path was to consume all paths.

He had found his second dao, the dao of his cultivation. The Dao of the Universal Sea. It was a path of all-encompassing power, a method that viewed all other daos, all other energies, as mere rivers flowing into his own, final, abyssal ocean. Within this sea, his Silent Leviathan could roam, unbound and absolute.

His eyes were now burning with a brilliant, new light. He had found his way. He would not form a Core that was a balanced world, a singularity of law, an unbreachable fortress, or a crystal of pure control. He would form a Core using the two paths, the main body that was the Universal Sea itself, a foundation of absolute, all-devouring potential. And within that sea, he, the Silent Leviathan, would be its one and only sovereign.

The two daos were not separate. They were two sides of the same coin, a perfect whole. He was the Silent Leviathan that swam in the Universal Sea.

The moment this final, perfect understanding cemented in his mind, the world went silent. The spiritual energy in his chamber, in the valley, in the entire area, froze for a single, timeless instant. The swirling vortex of his thoughts, the constant, churning power in his dantian, all of it settled into a state of profound tranquility.

His eyes, which had been burning with a brilliant light, slowly closed. His body, which had stood up in a moment of revelation, slowly sat back down on the meditation cushion, its movements as natural and effortless as a falling leaf.

He had found his path. And in that moment of perfect clarity, of unshakeable understanding of his own dao, he had stepped through a new, invisible door. He had entered a state of deep enlightenment.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep