Chapter Thirty: Commissioner Cumming-Nason and the Reformer (Part One)

Wei Wuji met the special envoy sent by the Revolutionary League at the edge of the forest, and his eyes lit up. Since his arrival on this continent, he had encountered many races: humans, Feixi people, wild elves. Though each possessed powers that could threaten him, in terms of single combat, only the Fei Kingdom—whose origins lay in the Daoist sects like his own—posed a true menace. Yet now, he had to add the man before him to that list.

At first glance, this man seemed utterly ordinary, just another Randian, perhaps with a slightly larger frame, taller stature, and bigger hands and feet than most. Yet Wei Wuji could discern the extraordinary in him. Through the mystical light of the divine method illuminating his gaze, he saw the man's muscles distributed in perfect harmony, achieving the body's ideal state, ensuring that when strength was unleashed, it would erupt with unimaginable force. Moreover, the man's bones were as dense and fine as jade, while the marrow within was soft as a dragon’s. A faint, elusive fragrance emanated from his body, reminiscent of a blooming white lotus.

Most striking of all was the vivid red hue of his marrow, without a trace of impurity—like a dormant blood dragon sleeping within him, rising and falling subtly with each breath. Even Wei Wuji, who dared not underestimate him, was startled. It was known that only newborns, before their innate breath dissipated, had wholly red bone marrow. Once impurities entered the body, breaking the innate cycle formed in the womb, those impurities mixed with the vital blood, and the marrow gradually developed other colors.

This man was at least thirty, perhaps forty, and clearly not freshly emerged from his mother. There could be only one explanation: he had reached the state described in the Daoist classics as “returning to the primordial, blood essence condenses into a dragon.” According to Daoist cultivation records, this was one manifestation of reaching the peak of the innate stage. Such individuals had restored the pure constitution and innate cycle of early infancy, able to expel all external corruption and impurities that entered through breath and blood. In other words, this was one of the signs heralding the formation of the Golden Elixir. One essential requirement for this was to establish the innate cycle within the body, resisting external darkness and naturally producing a fragrance like a white lotus.

Wei Wuji’s appraisal of this man climbed even higher. Yes, he stood at the threshold before forming the Golden Elixir, yet unlike Wei Wuji or the Fei Kingdom, he had not received the orthodox Daoist transmission. Perhaps this was a single step separating him forever from true transcendence, unable to ever form the Golden Elixir. But that was not the whole story. The Daoist sects never claimed their way was the sole correct path. Their supreme tome, the Root Wisdom of All Ways, documented countless methods of cultivation. Anyone who forged a unique path and succeeded in forming the Elixir, even without following orthodox practices, could offer their method to the Daoist sects. Once reviewed and recorded in the Root Wisdom, they could ascend from a wandering cultivator to a guest elder. If their heart leaned toward the Dao, they could exchange their method for discipleship in a major sect, and after further refinement, their method would be returned to their home sect for its benefit. If unwilling to do any of these, at the very least, they could trade their method for material goods or other conditions from the elders’ council.

Thus, the Golden Elixir was seen as the necessary passage to higher evolution by the Daoist sects—at least in terms of cultivation. But when it came to combat and killing, the Golden Elixir was not the only path. For example, the sorcerer Dong Dan Gan whom the Crow encountered among the beastfolk had mastered the most formidable flying-head technique, merging man and magic—so troublesome that even a Golden Elixir cultivator would struggle. He was ultimately slain by the combined efforts of the Crow, the cat-man assassin Kleiman, and the paladin Albert. Such practitioners, after the rise of the Daoist sects, often had to submit to them, even offering their methods for recording in the Root Wisdom if they wished to persist. Otherwise, they were branded heretical, facing obstacles in the Daoist-dominated East, and some, like Dong Dan Gan, would end up in hiding and meet a tragic end far from home.

The revolutionary league member before Wei Wuji was surely of this kind. Though he had not truly formed the Golden Elixir, his blood essence had already taken the shape of a dragon, his bone structure was as fine as white jade, and under the mystical light, further differences appeared—tiny pores arranged in a mysterious pattern, nearly invisible to the naked eye. Wei Wuji knew these pores and their arrangement were almost natural, formed through a certain cultivation method. Once developed, they produced effects similar to the Golden Elixir, maximally integrating with the innate cycle and greatly boosting the efficiency of the immense energy from the dragon-shaped blood essence. To fight with this man would be no less than battling a Golden Elixir cultivator. The only question was whether this path offered further possibilities for evolution.

“Hello, I am responsible for joining you in rescuing Miss Benzili, the daughter of Mr. Hegel. I…” The newcomer extended his hand to Wei Wuji. Members of the Revolutionary League were not as pretentious as the continent’s nobles; they greeted each other with a handshake and called each other comrades, only referring to Mr. Grant as the Leader.

The envoy’s words trailed off as their hands met, and Wei Wuji began his deliberate test. Two immense forces collided and swirled between their palms, distorting their faces as if blasted by a hurricane. Their clothes snapped taut, yet did not tear, but the ground beneath their feet could not withstand such power and began to crack and split.

“Hmm, you’re certainly qualified to accompany me; you won’t be a burden.” Wei Wuji nodded and released his grip.

At the moment the earth split, both withdrew their strength in unison. This was only a test—if they continued, it would turn into a life-or-death struggle, something neither would allow.

With those words, Wei Wuji ceased to wait, not even asking the envoy’s name, and charged like a wild horse toward the distant city of Gaul.

The rest is omitted.