Apotheosis Begins with Tai Chi

With every gesture, to touch the sea of stars. With every breath, to channel the Great Dao of Heaven and Earth.

Boundless and limitless, endless and eternal!

This was the True Intent of Foundation Establishment Tai Chi!

Just then, a flurry of hurried, chaotic footsteps echoed from the distance. They crunched over withered branches and fallen leaves, the RUSTLING sound growing closer.

Mingled with the footsteps were several ragged gasps and hushed voices.

”Damn it! What rotten luck! Where the hell did two brutes with Six Pillars of Blood Qi come from? They killed four of our brothers the moment we engaged...”

”Good thing Lord Wei brought enough of that Poisonous Powder. He hit them with it when they weren’t looking, and they both fell for it. Otherwise, we’d all have been goners back there!”

”Enough talk! Pick up the pace!”

Liu the Crooked barked in a low, cold voice.

”Those two are too tough to handle. My Poisonous Powder won’t hold them for long. We need to get to the city and regroup with the Second-in-Command’s unit.”

”Lord Wei.”

A one-eyed man following close behind Liu the Crooked asked in a low voice.

”Who exactly is the Fuchang Trading Company trying to grab this time? They even brought in the Second-in-Command.”

”I don’t know...”

Liu the Crooked narrowed his eyes, his pace never slowing as he mulled it over.

’This time, the Fuchang Trading Company is likely just the intermediary. The ones who really want to use the Dark Saber are the Bai Family, the power behind the Cangying Hunting Manor.’

He paused, then sneered.

”We just get paid to do a job. Pull this one off, and we’ll be set for a good six months!”

”You’re right, Lord Wei!”

The one-eyed man nodded emphatically, a savage grin spreading across his face.

”The pay is real generous this time. Fifty taels of silver for each of us, and that’s just the deposit. Once we get the rest... heh heh...”

”Lord Wei.”

Meanwhile, a bald man with a Hunting Bow on his back and a Quiver at his waist narrowed his eyes. He raised a hand, pointing toward a patch of dark black that stood out amidst a large expanse of grayish-yellow dead leaves.

”What’s with that jar over there?”

”A jar?”

Liu the Crooked and the other two men followed his gaze, but their vision was clearly no match for the bald man’s. From this distance, they could only make out a faint, indistinct shape.

”Probably some family’s funeral urn,” the one-eyed man said with a sneer.

”Doesn’t look like it,”

the bald man said in a low voice.

”It’s a glossy, black-glazed jar sealed with red cloth. Looks like the kind used for fine wine.”

”Tch. It’s not like it’s full of silver,”

Liu the Crooked’s expression darkened, his voice firm and decisive.

”We go around. Don’t go looking for fucking trouble!”

’Filled with silver... It’s not entirely impossible.’

The bald man’s gaze hardened, and he quickened his pace, closing in on the jar.

But he wasn’t foolish enough to charge right at it. When he was about thirty paces away, he came to a firm halt.

His right hand smoothly plucked the Longbow from his back while his left reached into his Quiver, drawing an Arrow. The entire sequence was as fluid as flowing water, executed in a single, seamless motion.

In this world, a single pace consisted of a step with each foot.

From a distance of thirty paces, hitting the black-glazed jar—which was more than halfway buried in dead leaves and branches—was no easy feat for an ordinary Archer.

The bald man drew his bow and nocked the arrow, his movements silky smooth. He was as calm and composed as if he were at routine target practice, a testament to the absolute confidence he had in his Archery.

The thirty-pace distance also served as his escape route.

It provided a sufficient safety buffer, allowing him to retreat at a moment’s notice should anything unexpected occur.

WHOOSH—!

The bowstring twanged as the Arrow was loosed.

The shaft spun rapidly in midair, its Arrowhead glinting with a cold light as it bored straight toward the black jar.

The air shrieked as it was torn asunder. Dry leaves, caught in the powerful draft, swirled in the Arrow’s wake.

It crossed the thirty paces in an instant.

In that same instant, the red cloth sealing the jar’s mouth trembled faintly in the wind, as if something within was about to break free.