Chapter 782: Learned a New Skill: Reciting Poetry

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"The Divine Realm of Pili" chronicleth the classic lore of an Eastern assault upon the Central Plains, an onslaught that directly forgat a monumental clash between the paramount masters of both realms, an encounter fierce enough to move heaven and earth, to move gods to tears and ghosts to wail.

Yet in this hour, none did foresee that a cataclysm of immeasurable proportions was silently, invisibly gathering in the deep: the Creator Demon Emperor of the Demon Realm, once the foremost Martial God of the Heavenly Realm, the God of Destruction and Rebirth, Sou Tian Tei. Utilizing the absolute power of the Sacred Demon Primordial Embryo and the Pillars of the Divine Realm, he was plotting his descent... and total annihilation!

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Traditionally did it unfold, recounting an ancient legend.

And yet...

Before their eyes...

(Much like..."The Legend of the White Snake," this drama possessed its own opening theme sequence.

Yet it differed, for much of this chronicle’s prelude was composed of pure, unadulterated instrumentation.)

Figures of majestic grace, or of bearing as steady and unyielding as mountains and rivers, flashed across the vision like falling stars. To the accompaniment of drumbeats dense as falling rain, beneath a blood-red dying sun, ten thousand vessels launched in unison in grim, orderly arrays, bearing countless warriors across the sea toward the Central Plains.

The Central Plains, the Eastern Realm, the Demon Domain... a vast epic of the martial world seemed to unfurl its grand tapestry slowly before them.

Cold steel gleamed like flashes of lightning, displaying techniques of the most exquisite perfection... and energy roared like the surging seas, palms striking with the force to shatter heaven and earth—this was the true clash of the supreme!

At that moment, the gathering of onlookers found themselves utterly enthralled within the opening sequence, unable to tear themselves away; it felt as though a roaring fire had been ignited within them, setting their very lifeblood ablaze!

Even a troupe of elves cried out within their hearts: "This drama seems wondrously grand!"

They clearly possessed no understanding of what martial arts truly meant, yet they gasped in wonder from the sidelines: "Ah... this is altogether too splendid!"

"Are these the martial artists of the Eastern Continent!?" Even several Saint-realm masters who followed behind, such as Saint Willy and Leyton, could not contain their collective astonishment.

"Hmm—?" Several martial artists of the Heaven-Reaching Sect—most notably the black-robed Elder Dugu Xiao, who bore a sword upon his back—gazed upon the opening theme, then exchanged a knowing look with Elder Xiao Yunhe beside him.

"Oh my! Why do these people recite poetry upon their very arrival!?"

Having watched for a time, a throng of warriors from both the Desolate Sea Realm and Lingzhou stared in utter amazement.

Before the men themselves had arrived, ethereal voices pierced through the void.

To say nothing of the elves from the Western Continent, who were completely spellbound.

"..."

"This..."

How could a mere warrior be so magnificently grand?!

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"Is this also considered the martial world!?" Nalan Hongwu watched with rapt attention, for clearly, only the patrons of the old establishment possessed a measure of understanding.

"The martial world? And what is this martial world...?" Several Saint-realm masters of the Western Continent spoke in a thoroughly awkward dialect of Lingzhou, evidently acquired through spells of linguistic enlightenment.

Were these not simply a host of mighty warriors?

How could there exist something so potent known as the "martial world"!?

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The crowd sat before their computer desks, and whether they understood it or not, all watched this new chronicle with absolute devotion.

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Now, it is said... the Continent of the Immortal Ruins held Three Sects, Four Factions, and Six Great Grotto-Heavens.

Some of these inherited lineages from ages immensely remote, while others, through the long passage of years, grew continuously until they attained their present eminence.

"To think... it hath fallen to such a state..." Along with a black-robed figure who trod through the desolate valley, idly plucking a wild flower from the vale, the knee-deep wild grasses, green and vibrant as emerald jade, appeared lush, yet beneath the chaotic and turbid spiritual aura, there seemed yet to remain a few scattered, broken formations.

He lowered his head, clearing away the weeds, when suddenly he raised his gaze; at the mouth of the valley stood another figure.

It was a man of exceedingly refined mien, who at first glance resembled a schoolmaster, gentle and cultivated.

His countenance bore a sickly pallor, his gaunt face resembling one newly recovered from a long malady, as though a single breath of wind might cast him down.

Had it not been for the terrifying anomalies spreading outward beneath his feet, perhaps anyone would have deemed him a common mortal.

His black robe seemed the very hue of death; with every step he took, an aura as dark as ink bled into the earth beneath, causing the lush vegetation around him to wither and decay.

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Zou Mo felt that it was not merely at night; even by day, the moment he closed his eyes, he seemed to behold those bizarre, phantasmagoric things, completely ignorant of their origin.

He seemed once more to see a black figure, the darkness radiating from his form appearing capable of swallowing the sky and the earth, of swallowing... the entire world!

"The Evil Emperor... Shang Jiuwen...!?"

That darkness seemed poised to consume him as well!

In a trance, he seemed to glimpse that ancient era where supreme powerhouses stood thick as trees, and countless individuals of breathtaking talent arose.

That seemed the very zenith of splendor in human history!

Once more he beheld countless falling stars descending from the sky; beneath the clouds lay a barren expanse of land bordering the sea.

"Ah—!" He felt as though those figures were all intimately familiar, and at that moment, he too was falling from an immensely lofty height...

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Above the boundless void, there seemed to fall a cold, indifferent gaze, devoid of any human emotion.

It existed as though from eternity, never having departed, watching over every age like an omnipresent sentinel; before those eyes, any man, any matter, stood as naked, as though no secret could be kept.

And within the darkness of that void, there seemed yet to be countless rapacious eyes, staring intently upon the whole world.

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A raging will to battle burned like fire; throughout the valley, that emerald greenery had by now been utterly transformed into a wasteland of scorched earth.

Just as it had been in times of old...

Yet in the next moment, though that martial intent did not recede, the oppressive atmosphere in the surroundings vanished in an instant.

In any event: "He who can take one step further, stands alone."

The success of one man is built upon ten thousand withered bones; in the end, countless souls blossom as brilliantly as summer flowers only to wither away, and after thousands or tens of thousands of years, not even a name shall remain; perhaps... this is destiny.

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"How is it already finished!?" Although there were four episodes of "The Divine Realm of Pili" available each day, these warriors and cultivators felt that a drama lasting an hour per episode passed as though it were but three minutes.

"Do you think the proprietor secretly shortened the length of an episode?" Sera and several other elves stared suspiciously at Proprietor Fang.

Then, having repeatedly checked the time and finding no deception therein, they could only review what they had seen.

It felt as though across the four episodes, nearly every single one contained battles of immense ferocity, and they felt they had profited greatly from the spectacle.

"Half God, Half Saint, and Half Immortal; Whole Scholar, Whole Taoist, and Whole Sage. A mind filled with ten thousand volumes of true lore; mastering civil and martial might to command half the heavens!" The Lingzhou speech of these elves was thoroughly clumsy, even more so than a certain thick-tongued Thea, as they rocked their heads back and forth within the shop, reciting aloud.

"I have decided!" Sera proclaimed loudly. "This shall be my poetic title!"

It felt both elegant and magnificently grand; as an elegant elf, she felt thoroughly satisfied.

"That belongs clearly to me!" Lorleen snorted coldly.

Even the elves of the new establishment were thus inclined, to say nothing of those at the old shop, though they had witnessed but a few episodes.

Evidently, witnessing these conflicts provided them with no small measure of spiritual advancement.

Combined with Teacher Fang's untiring daily lessons and guidance...

"Hmm...?"

King's Cram School (Elementary) (Completed)

Mission Reward: League of Legends

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PS: Regarding Pili Puppet Theatre, if any newcomers want to watch it, I'd still recommend the Sino-Japanese co-production Thunderbolt Fantasy. For the old series, just watching the martial arts scenes and the openings is usually enough; most newcomers find it quite difficult to sit through the rest.

(Unlike the original Minnan version, the system's meticulous research into the origins and regions of each character means that some characters will carry dialectal colors, though this is not the case for everyone. The poem recitations are determined according to the character's own accent.)

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