Volume Two: The Mortal Realm Chapter 109: Rooted in the Material

After the grand declarations were made, the path still had to be walked one step at a time. This time, the old beggar did not mock the person whose words were filled with such agitation and arrogance. Even if it was a dream, having a dream was still better than despair. Ye Mingke suddenly understood why the old beggar was so pathologically obsessed with the hope of an Emperor saving the world. However, Ye Mingke only understood; he did not accept it.

In a chaotic world that defies control, where can one find an unyielding conviction? Most convictions are not rooted in reason, but in a faith that requires no explanation. To live with constant clarity, one must perpetually think and negate—negate everything, including oneself—like a bird without feet, flying forever, never able to land. Yet, it is free, and it is vast.

Walking behind the others, Ye Mingke watched the iron-clad figure swaying ahead in the darkness, his mind awash in thoughts. As they walked, he perceived the points of fire-elemental aura in the area becoming increasingly dense. In his eyes, the dark night transformed into a warm, faint red. Yet, they had clearly already left the fire-scorched field caused by the recent explosion. Ye Mingke had no time to wonder, for suddenly, a massive mountain rose abruptly from the ground, blocking their path. It was so towering compared to the surrounding ranges, like a giant pillar supporting the night sky; its dark, rocky body shimmered in the vast, snowy night.

The path ahead was blocked unless one climbed that sheer, precipitous peak, but the old beggar and the iron-clad man continued forward—into the ground. In a momentary daze, Ye Mingke found himself following them underground, turning into a vast, uneven cavern. Rocks, layered like waves, surged into his view. It was a sea of stone, possessing a beauty that carried a soul-stirring power.

As Ye Mingke walked among these frozen waves, his attention was drawn elsewhere. Ironware, machinery, and all sorts of strange, incomprehensible apparatuses filled the space. On the cavern walls, which became smoother the deeper they went, someone had scrawled dense, complex mathematical formulas in chalk. The logic behind them was profound, involving algorithms Ye Mingke had never even studied. He was not distracted by the colorful gemstones, but seeing those advanced formulas, he moved closer to the wall, eventually stopping, mesmerized by the calculations.

The footsteps in the cave were clear; when Ye Mingke stopped, the others noticed and turned back. The iron-clad man saw Ye Mingke staring in a trance and walked over.

"You can understand this?"

"Your method is novel, but the algorithm isn't concise. Why use cumulative calculation instead of the Three Talents algorithm? Cumulative calculation is far more redundant here." Ye Mingke scanned the formula, which stretched over three meters along the wall.

"But the Three Talents algorithm has been lost for many years; it only exists in brief records in ancient texts. Do you know it?"

"Lost? My aunt didn't mention that when she taught me." Ye Mingke frowned. "Using the Supreme One or Two Appearances calculation would also be simpler than cumulative calculation. You know, this problem is derived from the Supreme One."

"But the Supreme One and Two Appearances calculations were lost even earlier than the Three Talents," the iron-clad man said, his voice filled with shock and hidden excitement.

"Oh, I see. So, many of the algorithms I learned are lost to this world?" Ye Mingke recalled his time in the Mist Sea, verifying the patterns of ghosts with Jian Jiu, and realized Jian Jiu’s knowledge of algorithms was far inferior to his own. It seemed the "Heavenly Derivation Chess" game his aunt had taught him involved mathematical knowledge that had been years ahead of the human world, including the cultivation realm, and had been preserved more completely.

"I'll teach you, then," Ye Mingke said, crouching down to look at the formulas.

"Good brother, that would be wonderful!" The iron-clad man couldn't crouch, so he sat down with a thud, his metallic hand clapping Ye Mingke on the shoulder.

And so, the two began to discuss the formulas as if they were children playing in the sand, oblivious to everything else.

*So much for the promised hospitality.*

After waiting a while, the impatient old beggar walked over and dragged the iron-clad man by his armor toward the depths of the cave. The iron-clad man’s long, wailing protest echoed through the cavern: "Don't stop me, I want to learn!"

...

Xu Ergou, courtesy name Zixian, style name Xuzi.

The elders in the village believed that a "cheap" name was easier to raise and would not be snatched away by jealous ghosts or monsters. As the only son, the iron-clad man was deeply loved by his parents, who were farmers born and bred in the soil for eight generations. Out of love, they gave him the name "Ergou" (Second Dog), filled with affection and expectation. Ergou meant they didn't desire great achievements; their only hope was for him to live safely, undisturbed by spirits. To survive—that was enough.

But Ergou didn't follow the rules. At five, he spoke in poetry, leaving the village scholar, who had intended to mock his parents' crudeness, stunned and humiliated. The scholar, despite his arrogance, held a natural reverence for learning. To keep a pearl from being tarnished, he personally paid for Ergou to attend the county school. Despite his genius, Ergou had no interest in studying and preferred skipping school to lie on rooftops like a dead dog, sunbathing, or wandering the wilderness to build strange, useless things—or using those inventions to tease the strange little girl in the village who liked to practice swordplay in her courtyard.

The arrogant scholar was driven to distraction, repeatedly forcing him back to school. The most successful attempt was a wager with the ten-year-old Ergou, who studied for three days and then went to the provincial examinations, taking first place. Yet, the little genius remained uninterested in honors, preferring his life as a "dead dog" and his handmade gadgets. His parents and the scholar eventually gave up, exhausted. As long as he was smart enough to find food and a wife, they were content.

However, they never imagined that while the name might have protected him from ghosts, the world had changed. Demons had long since faded, and the true terrors were no longer supernatural.

"That year, the Vigilance Department received intelligence that my father's kin were hiding in three villages near the county town. The Immortals couldn't pinpoint their location, so they released demonic beasts and followed them, blood-bathing those villages."

"Ergou and I were in one of those villages. We happened to be in the outskirts, so we escaped the first wave, but were later found by an Immortal in the mountains. It was Ergou who used those explosives to set a trap and kill that Immortal."

"The two of us were the only survivors. Later, my father found us, and to escape the 'Immortal-Worship Decree,' we hid here in the Ten Thousand Li Dragon Ridge. Ten years have passed in the blink of an eye."

Water dripped in the cave, and Liu Xi’s voice, filled with memory and sorrow, echoed. Ye Mingke finally understood who this miraculous iron-clad man was and looked up at him. The man had removed his armor and was meticulously organizing the supplies brought by the old beggar’s group, leaving not a trace of disorder. He was tall but gaunt, his long face handsome but bearing a sickly, pale cast—the look of one who had long been denied the sun.

"Ergou-ge is obsessed with the power of firearms, especially after the village's encounter with the Immortals. He poured his life into developing them, wanting to find a way for mortals to kill Immortals. This armor protects him from the explosions during his experiments," the old beggar muttered, perhaps recalling an unhappy memory. "Firearms... they are only good for blowing up city gates in mortal wars. What use are they in real combat?"

"This boy has great potential and insight, but whenever I tried to take him as an apprentice, he insisted on these 'clever but useless' tricks. Even the Great Xia’s civil service exams only have literary and martial tests. Since ancient times, who has ever heard of someone achieving greatness through inventing firearms? Literature is based on humanity, and the martial way is based on the human body. To prioritize objects over the self—how unwise!"