Chapter Eighty-One: A Legacy That Shakes the Ages

“Oh~”

“…”

“!!!”

But very soon, Mo Hu’s plan was dead before it even began. Not long after he conceived it, something sudden and unimaginable occurred—so inconceivable that he immediately strangled his own plan with his own hands!

Right before the eyes of Mo Hu and the other two, Zhou Yi’s body seemed like a display rack for light bulbs. One by one, points of light began to shine, each like a bulb, illuminating in succession after an initial delay.

However, these were not bulbs. This surging cluster of lights was not a mere collection of bulbs; each shining point was an acupoint!

Normally, the manifestation of a single acupoint would require all of a person's energy; two would be the stuff of legend.

Yet now, one after another, acupoints blazed into existence. This impossible sight left Mo Hu and his companions stupefied, their minds blank as if bombarded by countless explosives, buzzing with emptiness.

They were shocked beyond words.

It was as if an ordinary person, meticulously budgeting and counting every penny of their salary, suddenly saw another stand before them, casting down wads of cash by the handful—one stack after another.

In that moment, the sum of your life’s toil, the entire span of your labor, seemed like a joke. A lifetime of effort, persistent striving, and cherished dreams had never in all your days felt so close, so within reach.

Yet, tragically, all of it belonged to someone else.

And the more you thought about it, the farther away it felt once again.

This was exactly the state of mind Mo Hu and his two companions found themselves in. Their worldview crumbled, every experience until now having taught them that it was impossible for someone to open two Celestial Gates at the same time. If such a thing ever happened, it was said to occur once in a century, or even a millennium!

But now, these points of light, surging forth like spring water, and the acupoints they represented—what was the meaning of all this?

Were their eyes deceiving them? Or was this all just a dream?

“This is certainly not a dream!”

The three knew full well that this was no dream. Yet for them to truly accept what was happening before their eyes—that was something else entirely.

But disbelief would not make any of it cease to exist.

Simultaneously, a trace of bitter resignation appeared on their faces, dark and profound.

“Who can tell me that these countless points of light, as numerous as pimples, are not acupoints? And that this ever-brightening radiance does not signify Celestial Gates?”

“And who can tell me where he’s drawing such immense spiritual power from?”

“By now—there must be ten already!” Mo Hu’s eyes danced with every flare of light on Zhou Yi’s body, his eyelids twitching, his emotions on a wild rollercoaster ride that, unlike any other, only ever climbed higher, showing no sign of descending.

“Is it truly possible for a man to reach the ultimate limit?” Huang Yu muttered, his gaze hollow, his mind equally numbed. “Just how far can he go?”

After the initial shock, Xue Kai was the first to regain his composure. Even now, as Zhou Yi performed a feat unheard of in the annals of history, Xue Kai’s expression barely shifted; he simply turned to look at Song Hai with a complicated gaze.

All that Zhou Yi was accomplishing was indeed astonishing, even earth-shattering. But if such things were accomplished by the man beside him, they would be of little consequence.

After all, Zhou Yi was merely opening Celestial Gates. The difference was that others did so one at a time, while he did so all at once—but in essence, it was still breaking through to the realm of the Transcendent.

But what about the man standing beside him?

Though Xue Kai still couldn’t determine his exact level of cultivation, he was certain that the strength Song Hai displayed was at least that of a False Core. Whether he actually possessed one, Xue Kai didn’t know.

At first, he’d assumed Song Hai was at the acquired stage and hadn’t paid him much heed. But as time passed, anyone who still thought so would have to be a fool.

Even if he couldn’t pinpoint Song Hai’s true strength, Xue Kai estimated that, if nothing else, he must be at the level of a Transcendent—his power was too evident.

Even if he considered Song Hai and Zhou Yi equal in talent, or perhaps Song Hai slightly more gifted, to achieve the power of a False Core, one must at least reach the Transcendent realm.

Xue Kai found it hard to believe that someone could possess False Core strength while still at the innate stage.

Therefore, perhaps everything Zhou Yi was doing now had already been done by the man standing right beside him.

…

Time slipped by quietly as Zhou Yi poured all his strength into the three hundred sixty-five vortices. Under his control, all the vortices were now perfectly balanced—those he’d filled first, those he’d filled last, each contained exactly the same power.

“Just a bit more!” Zhou Yi’s heart surged with excitement as he gazed at the three hundred sixty-five vortices, each swelling with energy. He arched his brows in satisfaction, took in a breath, and focused his will for the final step.

Buzz!

Buzz!

Buzz!

At the moment his will moved and he poured the last thread of power into the vortices, they each reached completion, spinning round and round like perfect spheres, emitting a low, resonant hum as they rotated.

“This is…!” As the vortices spun and sang, Zhou Yi suddenly grasped their true nature.

Physical effort, storing energy, gathering the void, ceaseless motion, merging into unity—these vortices were unmistakably acupoints!

Three hundred sixty-five!

As the number flashed through his mind, Zhou Yi understood instantly. There was nothing left unclear—these three hundred sixty-five vortices he’d been nurturing were, in fact, three hundred sixty-five acupoints!

Three hundred sixty-five, corresponding to the stars in the heavens, the three hundred sixty-five principal celestial bodies!

“So that’s it!” Zhou Yi was struck with revelation.

“Ugh!” Caught between realization and joy, suddenly, from the three hundred sixty-five acupoints now formed into spinning spheres, a beam of white light shot forth, piercing his mind. A torrent of information flooded his consciousness, so vast that his head ached unbearably—even his body, battered as it was by endless flames and black winds, could not mask the pain.

Fortunately, Zhou Yi was used to this. He had suffered so much already that an extra burden felt trivial. Even so, he could not help but grunt; after a moment, he composed himself.

“So that’s how it is!” Taking some time to absorb the sudden influx of knowledge, Zhou Yi immediately understood what had just transpired.