Chapter Thirty: Innate True Legacy

"Then why are you willing to entrust this thing to us?" Zhou Yi gazed at the three men, his voice calm. "What makes you think we can withstand the effects of this lingzhi?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The three fixed their eyes on the blades at Zhou Yi and Song Hai's sides. "That unique Tiger Head Sabre—on these rivers and lakes, only members of one sect dare to carry it."

"So, you deduced our origins from these sabres?" Zhou Yi neither confirmed nor denied, glancing at the group before asking, "Tell me, who else is after this lingzhi?"

"The true disciples of every sect. Otherwise, we wouldn't be handing over a treasure like the Autumn Leaf Lingzhi so easily," the bearded man replied, bitterness flashing in his eyes. As he spoke, he drew a wooden box wrapped in red cloth from his robe and placed it at the center of the table, his gaze fixed anxiously on the pair.

Zhou Yi observed the tension etched on their faces. His keen senses immediately detected countless eyes converging upon him the moment the box appeared.

With another glance at the two, Zhou Yi suddenly broke into a relaxed smile. He swept the box into his robes, ignoring the sudden heat in the surrounding stares, and said to the trio, "Now, can you tell me who these pursuers are?"

Seeing Zhou Yi tuck the box away, the three men finally exhaled, the anxiety that had gripped them now truly dissipated.

The bearded man offered an apologetic smile. "There’s Mingzhen, a true disciple from the Bodhi Courtyard. His Thousand-Petal Palm of Great Compassion is legendary; he once reduced a massive stone three meters wide and ten meters tall to dust with a single strike."

"Then, there's Ruzhi from the Vajra Courtyard. His Mad Staff technique is unmatched; he embodies the essence of madness. Rain cannot touch him, nor wind penetrate. He once broke through a mountain with his staff."

"Jienu, a true disciple of the Arhat Hall, is steady as a mountain. His Arhat Staff mastery allows him to wield unimaginable weight as if it were nothing. He once sparred with a million wild bees for three days and nights, never suffering a wound and not harming a single bee."

"Autumn Wind Daoist from the Azure Ox Courtyard, his Breeze Sword is swift as the wind. He once etched three thousand Daoist scriptures onto the petals of every flower in Blossom Valley within an hour."

"And Saintess Huang Yue of Peach Blossom Hermitage, whose leg techniques are unrivaled—the Three Thousand Peach Blossom Legs. She moves unseen, leaving only a fragrance. During an assault by three thousand bandits, she drew tiny turtles on every face, yet none saw her."

"And many more..."

Once Zhou Yi took possession of the box, the bearded man’s worries evaporated. The greed that once flickered in his eyes faded away. While the Autumn Leaf Lingzhi was still in their hands, they had their own designs; but now that the treasure was gone and its new owner not easily trifled with, their minds relinquished the last holdouts of desire.

Though regret lingered, with the threat to their lives and the situation irretrievable, there was little point in clinging to what could not be kept.

The trio, now liberated, chattered over one another, eager to reveal every name of those coveting the Autumn Leaf Lingzhi.

The more Zhou Yi and Song Hai listened, the graver their expressions became. By the end, their faces were solemn.

A stone three meters wide and ten meters tall—that’s ten meters high, three meters wide—shattered with a single palm. That’s power.

Breaking through a mountain with a staff—that’s force.

Sparring with bees, neither harmed nor harming—such control over strength.

Three thousand Daoist scripts carved onto flower petals in an hour—such speed and skill.

Drawing tiny turtles on three thousand faces under three thousand pairs of eyes—such swiftness.

All these feats pointed to one fact: these were not ordinary people. Their strength was formidable.

Zhou Yi felt a headache brewing. All these people were after the Autumn Leaf Lingzhi, which now rested in his own robe.

Their true abilities might not be known, but their exploits alone were terrifying. No wonder the trio had been so eager to hand over such a priceless treasure.

"By the way, all these true disciples share one trait: they are at the Innate stage!" The bearded man suddenly exclaimed, slapping his forehead.

At these words, Zhou Yi’s expression darkened. Innate stage! Damn it—he himself was only at the Postnatal peak. Just a hair’s breadth away from Innate, but a hair’s breadth remains a gulf.

Though their internal energy was deep enough to theoretically challenge Innate cultivators, that was only conjecture. Innate practitioners wield their will, each strike imbued with unique attributes.

The difference between Innate and Postnatal is as vast as heaven and earth.

Whether their profound internal energy could bridge this gap, neither Zhou Yi nor Song Hai could guarantee.

They had never faced such opponents.

These true disciples from each sect were already intimidating by their deeds; their cultivation at the Innate stage made them even more daunting.

Now, these Innate experts were their enemies—all because they had accepted the Autumn Leaf Lingzhi.

For a moment, the two men’s faces flickered with uncertainty.

Damn it. They prided themselves on their deep internal energy and prodigious talent—fearless in their youth, reckless and unafraid. Yet in a moment of inattention, they had taken on a burden that threatened to upend the world.

Suddenly, the room fell silent. The bearded man stared wide-eyed at Zhou Yi and Song Hai, astonished at their changing expressions.

After a pause, he looked at them carefully. "Are you not at the Innate stage?"

His question made the bearded man tense again, watching them anxiously for an answer.

"Postnatal peak," Zhou Yi replied in a low voice, his face expressionless.

"What?" The bearded man was dumbfounded, exclaiming in disbelief.

His two companions were equally stunned.

"Aren’t you both true disciples of the Mountain Sabre Sect?" The bearded man’s eyes flicked back and forth between their sabres and faces.

"We are true disciples, but who says true disciples must be Innate cultivators?" Zhou Yi frowned, perplexed.

"But…but…" The bearded man hesitated, uncertainty in his gaze.

"If you have something to say, say it," Zhou Yi snapped, irritated by the man's stare.

"Isn’t it true that all sects’ true disciples are Innate? If you’re not, how did you become true disciples?" the bearded man asked, puzzled.

"Innate? True disciples? Innate true disciples?" Zhou Yi was taken aback. Song Hai was equally surprised. They exchanged a glance, each seeing confusion in the other's eyes.