Chapter 42: The True Face of the Ultimate Dao Sutra

Realizing his mission was complete, the constable rose to his feet and said, “You all continue your conversation—I’ll go stand guard outside.” With that, he cupped his hands in salute and walked out.

Once he had left, Su Yi continued, “To be frank, I serve in the Embroidered Uniform Bureau. In the past, I was indebted to General Chi’s kindness. By chance, I learned that General Chi’s descendants had caught the eye of the demonic cultivators from the Yuan Demon Sect, so I tracked them to Jiangting, coordinated with the local prefecture and the military, and together we rooted out their lair in one fell swoop.”

The Embroidered Uniform Bureau!

The revelation sent chills through the crowd. This bureau, not unlike the Brocade-Clad Guards of Su Yi’s original Ming Dynasty, acted at the emperor’s behest, secretly patrolling the land and overseeing officials, wielding such authority that they could execute first and report later, even in the territory of regional governors.

It was said the Embroidered Uniform Bureau gathered countless masters from across the realm, their strength rivaling any of the great orthodox sects. The aura Su Yi had just let slip only confirmed these rumors, and with such skill, his position within the bureau must be extraordinary indeed.

With this realization, the look in everyone’s eyes changed, a trace of awe and respect creeping in.

Su Yi caught these subtle shifts and couldn’t help but smile inwardly. It seemed his decision to fabricate this identity was the right one. With the Jiangting authorities as his “endorsement,” others would naturally fill in the gaps about what they hadn’t witnessed themselves, and with the bureau’s reputation for secrecy, he needn’t fear probing questions about his origins. It was far too convenient.

“Master Su’s righteousness is admirable,” the elder Zhao Xing finally broke the silence after a moment, while the two burly men bowed in respect. Even Chi Pengjin, still a boy of tender years, followed suit.

“There’s no need for that,” Su Yi returned the salute. “I acted not only out of gratitude for General Chi’s past kindness, but also because it is my duty. These fiendish cultists flout the law and bring endless suffering. If they were to grow in power, the entire empire would be endangered. I could not allow their schemes to succeed.”

“Chief Zhao, there are some matters I wish to discuss privately with your young master. Would that be convenient?”

“This…” Zhao Xing glanced at Chi Pengjin, a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

“Uncle Zhao, you and Uncle Sun, Uncle Mi, please step outside for a while. Let me speak with Master Su alone.”

“Yes, young master.”

Once Zhao Xing and the two men had withdrawn, Chi Pengjin looked to Su Yi. “What is it Master Su wishes to say to me?”

“No need to stand on ceremony,” Su Yi replied with a smile. “I’m only a dozen years or so your senior. You can call me Brother Su.”

“All right, Brother Su.” Chi Pengjin nodded, his face lighting up with excitement. “Are you really only that much older than me? Your martial arts are incredible! How did you train? Even when my father was alive, he didn’t have the presence you showed just now. Did you start cultivating from the womb or something?”

Ah, the candor of youth. Su Yi mused.

“It’s not as miraculous as all that. Cultivation is like rowing upstream—some talent and a great deal of hard work are all it takes. (Though in truth, I have my system and cheat techniques.)”

“I see. That’s not so different from what my father used to say.” Chi Pengjin’s excitement faded into disappointment. “He always said my aptitude was average. I guess not only will I never match you, Brother Su, but even reaching my father’s level will take who knows how long.”

“Haste makes waste—you’re still young. Take your time. Since you call me Brother Su, I’ll call you Pengjin. The reason I asked you to stay is because there are some things I want to ask.”

“According to the clues I’ve traced, those Yuan Demon Sect fiends were after a martial art called ‘The Ultimate True Canon.’ Does this art truly have anything to do with you or your family?”

“This was actually only known to Uncle Zhao and me, but it’s not such a big secret. Our family’s inherited art is indeed called ‘The Ultimate True Canon,’ but I can’t say for sure if it’s the same as what those cultists seek.”

“According to their confessions, this ‘Ultimate True Canon’ was created three hundred years ago by an invincible leader of the Yuan Demon Sect. Didn’t your father ever mention this?”

Chi Pengjin shook his head. “No, my father only told me that he stumbled upon the manual as a youth, deep in the mountains, inside a cave. The elder who left it behind called himself the ‘Old Remnant.’ He never said what sect he belonged to, only warned that the art mustn’t fall into the hands of the wicked. But if the creator was really the head of a demonic sect, why leave such a warning? Isn’t that contradictory, or was he actually a good man?”

He went on, “Honestly, I don’t think the art is all that special. My father practiced it all his life and still wasn’t as formidable as you are at your age. If the founder was from a demonic sect, I have no idea why those fiends covet it so much. I started training at six, and now at twelve I’ve only reached the third level, and the art has eleven levels in all.”

Su Yi did not reveal that what the demonic sect valued was how this art perfectly complemented the “Whale Devouring Method,” resolving its internal backlash and helping practitioners break through bottlenecks that would otherwise be insurmountable.

As for Pengjin’s lament that he’d only reached the third level after six years, Su Yi could only agree with Chi Lingshao’s assessment—this child truly lacked talent in martial arts.

Su Yi remembered his own school days as an underachiever and couldn’t help but look at the boy with a hint of sympathetic amusement.

Really, the boy was born into the wrong family for martial pursuits. If he’d grown up in the Yuan Demon Sect, brute-forcing his way with the “Whale Devouring Method,” he might already have made a name for himself in the martial world.

Su Yi entertained the thought with a touch of mischief.

“Pengjin, those cultists confessed that the reason they followed you to Jiangting without acting was to wait for you to retrieve the canon. What’s that about?”

Though Su Yi had already learned much from interrogating Xie Lingyuan, the Yuan Demon Sect’s information was incomplete. To get the full story, he needed to hear it from Pengjin himself.

“So that’s how it is.”

“My father once told me that the martial manual he found wasn’t a book, but a strange sheet of metal inscribed with markings. There were no written formulas on it. To learn the art, you had to press the metal to your brow and sense the contents and essence directly. Father said the metal was sinister in some way. After much hesitation, he ultimately threw it into Vermilion Bird Lake outside Jiangting. Only on his deathbed did he tell me its precise location.”