After the Great Dao Died

It was mid-February, and the winter wind still cut like a knife.

In the open space before the West Courtyard East Hall of the Baosu Marquis Residence, the servants had swept the snow completely away, revealing the dark cyan stone bricks beneath.

Though it was not the usual hour for martial practice, over twenty young disciples stood silently in three neat rows.

Most wore the standard cyan martial attire issued by the residence, their waists cinched with leather belts, standing as straight as spears.

The white breath from their exhalations misted in the biting air, forming a thin haze.

Two people stood at the front of the crowd.

One was Lin Longyue, the daughter of the marquis.

Today, she had left behind her signature crimson cloak. Instead, she wore a long, dark cyan satin jacket lined with silver ermine fur. The ruff of fur around her collar made her pointed chin look even sharper.

She stood with her hands clasped behind her back, her calm gaze sweeping over the young men. Her face revealed little emotion, but her innate nobility and commanding presence silently dominated the grounds.

The other person was an unfamiliar face.He looked to be in his early forties. His build wasn’t particularly burly; if anything, he appeared lean and wiry.

His skin had been weathered to a dark ochre from years outdoors. He had high cheekbones and a square jaw. A faint scar slanted from his left brow bone down to his ear, adding to his fierce, valiant air.

But his most striking feature was his hands. The joints were unusually thick and heavily calloused. Though they hung casually at his sides, they seemed to hold the power to shatter mountain rock.

This man was the newly hired guest minister of the West Courtyard—Jiang Yuan.

Standing half a step behind Lin Longyue was He Duan, the instructor of the West Courtyard’s Martial Arts Hall.

The instructor wore only a simple dark blue martial outfit, his face as dark and resolute as ever.

A faint, silvery-white halo seemed to ripple across his body. This was the external sign of a martial artist in the Silver Bone Realm, where abundant qi-blood and bones like refined silver created an extraordinary presence.

Yet today, he wasn’t the main figure. He stood quietly like a pine tree, his gaze lingering mostly on Jiang Yuan.

That was because Jiang Yuan was a figure at Silver Bone Realm Consummation, far stronger than someone like He Duan, who had only recently entered the Silver Bone stage.

At Silver Bone Realm Consummation, all two hundred and six bones were completely tempered like silver. Qi-blood generated endlessly, completely free of dust!

Such a figure stood high on the path of martial arts, already glimpsing the threshold of the Golden Body.

In the entire Yuanjiang Prefecture, those who had reached this realm were exceedingly rare.

”Mister Jiang,” Lin Longyue spoke, her clear voice breaking the silence. ”The disciples of the West Courtyard are all gathered here. I leave it to you to assess their root bones.”

She addressed him as ”Mister” rather than ”Instructor” or ”guest minister,” a clear display of courtesy.

Jiang Yuan gave a slight nod. With a humorless expression, he said, ”You are too polite, Commandery Princess. My Mountain-Collapsing Force focuses on how to break cleverness with force. When unleashed, the force strikes like a collapsing mountain, so its demands on a practitioner’s root bone, qi-blood, and temperament are quite harsh.

If their root bone is poor, forcing the practice will only injure them. If their temperament lacks resolve, they will never achieve greatness.

”Today’s bone-touching is to see who has an affinity with my fist technique.”

With that, he stepped forward and walked into the crowd.

The art of bone-touching was far more than a simple squeeze of the hands and feet.

Jiang Yuan stopped in front of the first youth. Without a word, he formed his right hand into a claw and pressed his five fingers against the youth’s major joints at the neck, spine, arms, and hips with lightning speed.

The force in his fingertips seemed light, but the youth trembled all over. His face instantly flushed crimson, then drained of color as fine beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

Jiang Yuan’s technique was incredibly fast. In just a few breaths, he released his grip, shook his head, and dropped two words: ”Just average.”

The youth staggered back a step as if granted a pardon. When he realized what had happened, he lowered his head, his face full of disappointment.

Jiang Yuan didn’t stop, moving down the line to touch the next person’s bones.

”Subpar.”

”Passable.”

”Sluggish meridians.”

”Flimsy qi-blood.”

...

His assessments were terse, even caustic. The young men who had their bones checked looked either disappointed or quietly unconvinced.

As his iron hands fell time and time again, the atmosphere in the courtyard grew heavy and oppressive.

Most of these West Courtyard disciples were the children of the courtyard’s veterans, considered promising seedlings the residence heavily invested in. They had never lacked for food or medicinal baths, yet in the eyes of a Silver Bone figure like Jiang Yuan, most were merely ”barely satisfactory.”

Lin Longyue’s face remained calm, but her gaze darkened slightly.

He Duan also frowned. As the instructor of the Martial Arts Courtyard, having his disciples’ root bones deemed poor naturally caused him to lose face.

In just a short while, Jiang Yuan had touched the bones of more than half of them.

Finally, he stopped in front of a tall, slender young man.

This was the very same young man who had delivered the three secret manuals to Chen Lingxi on He Duan’s orders.

He met Jiang Yuan’s gaze without flinching, his breathing steady.

A faint hint of surprise finally crossed Jiang Yuan’s eyes, and his hand movements became much more meticulous.

His five fingers trailed slowly down the young man’s spine before repeatedly pressing and probing the ulna and radius of his arms, as well as the tibia and fibula of his legs.

”Hmm...” Jiang Yuan mused for a moment. ”Even bone structure, clear joints. Though your qi-blood isn’t overwhelmingly vigorous yet, it shows signs of enduring stamina. You are excellent material for martial arts, especially suited for a fierce and unyielding path.

”What is your name?”

The young man cupped his fists, his voice ringing clear. ”Answering Mister Jiang, this junior is Zheng Qingya.”

”Zheng Qingya...” Jiang Yuan nodded. ”Are you willing to learn the Mountain-Collapsing Force from me?”

Joy burst into Zheng Qingya’s eyes, and he hurriedly bowed. ”This disciple is willing! Thank you for your favor, Mister!”

A low murmur of commotion and envious sighs rippled through the surroundings.

Studying martial arts under a figure at Silver Bone Realm Consummation... to any of them, it was a tremendous opportunity.

But now, this opportunity had been picked up by Zheng Qingya.

The tight line of Lin Longyue’s mouth relaxed for a barely perceptible moment.

He Duan’s gaze toward Zheng Qingya also held a bit more approval.

Jiang Yuan patted Zheng Qingya’s shoulder in preliminary acceptance.

He glanced around at the handful of people left whose bones hadn’t been touched yet. Appearing to harbor little expectation, he was just about to say something to Lin Longyue—

Just then, the light sound of footsteps came from the corner of the covered corridor.

A little maid in cyan clothes was leading a person toward the East Hall.

The newcomer was Chen Lingxi.

He had changed into the newer indigo winter clothes rewarded by the West Courtyard. His frame was still thin, but there was an indescribable steadiness to his gait that he hadn’t possessed a dozen days ago.

The freezing wind whipped up the loose hair on his forehead, revealing a pair of clear, tranquil eyes.

In his hands, he carefully cradled a potted flower arrangement.

The pot was an unglazed, bisque-fired earthenware basin, exuding the rustic ochre-yellow of raw clay.

Inside was no rare, exotic plant. It held only a few gnarled, twisting old plum branches set at a slant. Scattered sparsely along the branches were three or five half-open wintersweet buds. Their color resembled beeswax, their petals translucent, radiating a faint, cold fragrance beneath the overcast, gray sky.

Beside the plum branches sat a few stems of withered yellow reeds and one or two wintergreen leaves still bearing traces of frost.

A single narcissus stood upright in the center, delicate yet unyielding.

The overall composition was sparse and desolate, yet it breathed an indomitable vitality through the bleakness, possessing a bizarre, perfect harmony with the snow-covered courtyard in the dead of winter.

Chen Lingxi kept his eyes lowered, his footsteps exceedingly light.

At first, his arrival didn’t attract much attention.

He Duan merely gave him a brief glance. Recognizing the official bondservant who had offered flowers in the snow, earned the young lady’s reward, and taken the Seven Forms of Halting War manual from him, he paid no further attention.

The attention of most West Courtyard disciples remained fixed on Zheng Qingya, who had just been selected by Jiang Yuan, or they were lost in their own disappointment at failing.

Chen Lingxi came to a halt beneath the corridor, waiting for the guiding maid to step forward and announce him.

However, the very instant he stopped—

Jiang Yuan, who had been on the verge of giving Lin Longyue the final results, suddenly froze!

”Huh?”