Chapter Twenty: The Eight Trigrams Formation in the Mountains

The passage was exceptionally long. After sprinting for a while, Zhou Yi was already out of breath, yet he could not pause. The corridor seemed endless, and as Zhou Yi ran, he lost all sense of time—an utterly terrifying sensation. It was reminiscent of a punishment from the Republic era, where offenders were locked in a pitch-black room devoid of any concept of time; those lacking resolve would suffer mental collapse in three days, while even the strongest could not withstand seven.

Zhou Yi ran with spiritual energy infused in his legs, but he still required physical stamina. Soon, he felt his strength waning, gasping for air, yet the passage was thick with the earthy stench of soil, severely lacking oxygen. When the body is deprived of oxygen during intense exertion, the brain receives insufficient supply; a mild case leads to dizziness, a severe one to unconsciousness. Feeling dizzy, Zhou Yi diverted a strand of spiritual power to protect his spiritual consciousness. As long as his awareness remained clear, he would not faint.

He had no idea how much time had passed—perhaps two whole days—when, just as Zhou Yi was about to collapse, a faint chill wafted from the front. Though weak, that cold breeze was a godsend; he desperately needed oxygen. Knowing the passage was not endless, Zhou Yi felt a surge of joy.

After much effort, Zhou Yi finally emerged from the corridor and collapsed onto the ground. The prolonged heavy breathing left his lungs aching, and his spiritual energy was depleted; his condition could not have been worse. Unconcerned about his surroundings, he sat cross-legged, beginning to absorb spiritual energy to replenish what had been consumed during his frantic escape.

After a brief rest, Zhou Yi felt much improved. He sat cross-legged, his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth, his eyes half-closed to clear his mind. Now he employed the tortoise-breathing technique, his breaths extremely slow. On one occasion, he tested himself—while not cultivating, a single inhale and exhale could last six minutes. Having just undergone intense exertion, he could not reach that peak, but three to four minutes was attainable.

It was eerily silent. No wind, no water, not even Zhou Yi’s own breathing could be heard. After a while, in the vast hall, only the powerful, rhythmic beating of his heart was audible. The tortoise-breathing technique was wondrous indeed: not only did it slow the rhythm of his breathing, but his blood flow and pulse also slackened several times over.

Two hours passed, and Zhou Yi had not yet awakened, but Mingchuan Youzhi emerged from the Li Gate. At that moment, Mingchuan Youzhi reeked of burnt flesh; his hair and eyebrows were completely singed. Zhou Yi had entered the Kun Gate, of the earth element, which caused the ground to collapse. Mingchuan Youzhi, however, had entered the Li Gate, of fire, and suffered for it.

Mingchuan Youzhi exited the Li Gate and naturally noticed Zhou Yi. Zhou Yi was in deep meditation, his ears and nostrils barely twitching; though his eyes were closed, he could hear and smell the aroma of roasted meat emanating from Mingchuan Youzhi.

Mingchuan Youzhi was in a similar state, immediately sitting cross-legged to recover. Another hour passed before Zhou Yi awoke from his meditation. He stood, feeling his limbs and bones refreshed and comfortable. As Zhou Yi rose, Mingchuan Youzhi also stirred from his trance.

"This place is a labyrinth; there’s no way out," Mingchuan Youzhi said.

Zhou Yi smiled faintly. "Within the Eight Trigram array, there must be a gate of life and a gate of death. But besides life and death, there are also auspicious and ominous gates—this is the legacy of our ancestors. You people from the East Isles would not understand." Zhou Yi was Manchu, a minority; but with the Qing ruling central China for nearly three centuries, his claim that these traditions were ancestral was not inaccurate. It was a subtle sense of belonging and identity, a minority quietly integrating into Han culture. Nowadays, there was hardly any distinction between Manchu and Han.

Mingchuan Youzhi, hearing Zhou Yi begin an exposition of the Eight Trigrams, listened eagerly, afraid to miss a single word. Yet after waiting for some time with no further explanation, he prompted, "Master Zhou, please, I am all ears."

Zhou Yi found this amusing and replied with a smile, "Then listen closely." Mingchuan Youzhi nodded earnestly; he was fascinated by Chinese culture, but when it came to the Five Elements, Eight Trigrams, cultivation, and martial arts, he could not delve deeply. First, the language of antiquity differed greatly from that of the Republic era. Second, he couldn’t fully comprehend the specialized terminology of Qian, Kun, Li, Kan, Dui, Xun, Gen, and Zhen in the Eight Trigrams.

Zhou Yi pursed his lips and said, "Alright, I’ve rested enough. Next time I’ll explain it to you." With that, he turned and entered the Kan Gate. Seeing Zhou Yi about to enter the Kan Gate, Mingchuan Youzhi hurriedly called out, "Master Zhou, aren’t you going to teach me about the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams?"

Zhou Yi glanced back with a slight smile. "I’m parched today; another time." With those words, Zhou Yi did not linger and entered the Kan Gate.

Disappointment flickered across Mingchuan Youzhi’s face, but he followed Zhou Yi into the Kan Gate. Within the Eight Trigram array, Mingchuan Youzhi, unfamiliar with its intricacies, dared not venture elsewhere alone; following Zhou Yi gave him a sense of security—though its origin was unclear.

Neither noticed that as Zhou Yi entered the Kan Gate, the Eight Trigrams in the hall rotated slightly. When Mingchuan Youzhi entered the passage, the Kan position had shifted to the Xun position. What befell Mingchuan Youzhi is not discussed here; let us focus on Zhou Yi, who, after entering the Kan Gate, was assailed by countless ice arrows shooting from both sides of the passage. These small arrows, made of crystalline ice, gleamed coldly and were extremely sharp. Zhou Yi had to proceed cautiously, dodging the ice arrows. But they seemed endless; soon the floor was littered with them.

The temperature in the passage plummeted, and the ice arrows gradually melted into icy water. The deeper Zhou Yi went, the deeper the water became. The more water, the faster the ice arrows melted—a vicious cycle. Zhou Yi regretted choosing this path, for he already knew the Kan Gate belonged to water. In his mind, water was preferable; entering the Li Gate as Mingchuan Youzhi had, roasting one’s flesh until it smelled enticing, now that would be a tragedy.

As the water increased, it began to flow through the passage. Zhou Yi did not know the workings of the Kan Gate’s array, nor could he break it; he could only wade forward. In less than an hour, the icy water in the passage grew deeper and faster, soon reaching Zhou Yi’s chest. He had to brace himself against the walls to maintain balance and avoid being swept away.

But the torrent was more than a man could withstand. After advancing a little further, his grip slipped, and he fell into the water. Once down, it was difficult to rise again. Swept away by the rushing current, with ice arrows still occasionally scraping his face and the cold biting into his body, Zhou Yi was on the verge of collapse.

He did not know where the water flowed, but drifting along, Zhou Yi floated with his head above water, eventually arriving at another hall—slightly different from the first. Previously, a huge stone hung from the summit of the cave, suspended like a sword, but this hall had none.

Before Zhou Yi could examine it closely, the current swept him into another entrance. Zhou Yi understood that as long as he avoided being swept into the earth gate corresponding to 'Kun', he would not be able to stop now.

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