Chen Shi was deeply moved by these enthusiastic loose cultivators. That evening, the boy took out his grandfather's spirit tablet from the wooden cart, lit three sticks of incense, and silently prayed in his heart: Grandpa, I've found the loose cultivator organization. The people here treat
well, and they say such pleasant things.
Even though so occasionally treat
poorly, they get beaten by the others and then beco very good to .
Grandpa, are you doing well down there? You don't need to worry about .
He inserted the incense into the small incense burner in front of the spirit tablet, took out his bedding, and spread it out, planning to sleep outdoors like this.
Blackie Pot slept nearby.
Li Tianqing had gone who-knows-where. Blackie Pot had made his al, but he hadn't returned to eat it.
Chen Shi lay down and gazed at the sky.
Even at night, Mist Ridge was bright as day, with massive primordial spirits seated in the air like guardians, while the distant lands fell into darkness.
Many loose cultivators didn't rest, exchanging insights from their past decade through the night.
In the skies above Mist Ridge sat nurous great void realms of varying sizes, like layer upon layer of heavenly dos, dazzling to behold.
Those great void realms contained their own sun, moon, and stars, emanating brilliant light, each forming its own world.
Only those in the Void Realm could cultivate a great void realm—a level utterly unattainable for Chen Shi.
The gap was too vast.
Even among loose cultivators, such existences were rare and held exceedingly high status.
Even loose cultivators would be overjoyed to receive guidance from them, viewing it as an ancestral blessing.
Every loose cultivator invited into a great void realm felt deeply honored, approaching with a pilgrim's reverence.
Chen Shi hadn't realized how exalted the status of the Cold Migration Elders was until he saw how revered even Void Realm experts were. Only then did he understand the true prowess of those unassuming old n.
The guidance of Cold Mountain Loose Cultivator was worth far more than a few taels of silver.
Even Void Realm existences took pride in receiving their instruction!
But if Cold Mountain Loose Cultivator was so powerful, why had he been beaten black and blue, with several ribs broken?
Chen Shi was puzzled. No one had told him what happened after his death, so he didn't know that the Cold Migration Elders' sorry state was all thanks to him.
"I should first cultivate the Heart-Steering Spirit and Dawn Transformation that Cold Mountain Loose Cultivator taught , mastering these two arts before anything else."
Chen Shi didn't look down on these loose cultivators; rather, for the past two years, he had been taught by his grandfather.
A casual pointer from Grandpa was likely a cultivation secret that outsiders would break their heads to obtain.
Moreover, he had morized countless talisman scripts and comprehended the mysteries of spells from them. He felt that the spells and divine abilities these loose cultivators had pondered held little true insight.
They might not even compare to the techniques outside the Tomb of the True King.
Not to ntion that he hadn't even entered the Tomb of the True King yet, where there were many techniques on the level of the Water-Fire Tempering Art.
Learning the loose cultivators' techniques wouldn't make much difference for him.
On the other hand, Cold Mountain Loose Cultivator's Heart-Steering Spirit and Dawn Transformation could rival Grandpa's talismans and the Tomb of the True King's techniques—well worth his study.
Chen Shi sat up, took a sheet of paper, and folded it into a paper crane, cradling it in his palm.
He drew in a breath of true qi, circulated it three tis in his chest, and with his other hand ford a sword finger accompanied by the release of true qi. The sword finger tapped the paper crane, and the tip emanated the Art of Dawn Transformation.
The paper crane actually flapped its wings in his palm and gradually took flight.
Chen Shi attached a strand of his mind to the paper. Using the paper crane as his eyes, he saw nothing. Only then did he realize, "I forgot to dot the crane's eyes!"
There were legends of dotting the eyes in a dragon painting: once the eyes were dotted, the dragon would fly from the wall amid thunder, becoming a true dragon.
Simply folding a paper crane wasn't enough for this wondrous spell; it needed eyes dotted to bind a strand of mind and see the surroundings clearly.
Chen Shi fetched a cinnabar brush and dotted a small red spot on each of the paper crane's eyes.
The paper crane flew up, and he could indeed see the surroundings through its eyes. As it flew higher and higher, the transformation began to take effect. The paper crane grew larger and larger, sprouting feathers, flesh, muscles, and bones. Internal organs ford within, gradually turning into a true immortal crane that let out a resounding cry!
This immortal crane was indistinguishable from a real one!
The immortal crane spread its wings and soared, weaving between the sea of clouds and the great void realms, flying amid the colossal primordial spirits.
Suddenly, the immortal crane soared high, piercing the clouds. Beyond them, moonlight bathed it, and Chen Shi clearly sensed strands of evil qi infiltrating the crane's body along with the moonlight.
However, this corruption wasn't intense; it wouldn't turn the immortal crane into an evil spirit in short order.
Strange—the Heart-Steering Spirit and Dawn Transformation together ford a spell that felt off, like sothing was missing.
Chen Shi controlled the crane in flight. Though the immortal crane was ford from a single breath of true qi, it showed no depletion even after flying for so long.
Clearly, the purpose of Dawn Transformation was to preserve true qi.
With other spells, it would have been exhausted long ago, unable to fly far.
Even Transforming Spirit Realm experts were impressive if their spells could fly dozens of li.
Even the high officials of Arch Province City, like Fei Tianzheng and General Xia, would falter after a hundred li.
But Dawn Transformation turned true qi and the paper crane into a living immortal crane, preserving the true qi within its body for a long ti.
There must be another transformation after this!
Chen Shi suddenly realized, thinking,
"Reverse the Dawn Transformation to revert the immortal crane to paper, and the true qi won't dissipate! So, what if that true qi turns into sword qi then?"
His heart pounded. He suddenly thought of the third art that Cold Mountain Loose Cultivator hadn't taught them—it had to be the reversal of the transformation, restoring the true qi to strike from thousands of li away!
With that figured out, more ideas flooded his mind.
"That breath of true qi can beco not just sword qi, but fire, water, thunder, or even the Taotie Devours Heaven Art!"
"I can engage enemies in peak condition from a hundred li—or farther away! Assassinate foes!"
"The one Cold Mountain Loose Cultivator didn't teach is the crucial spell! No—divine ability!
Spells and divine abilities differ. Spells borrow power from talisman scripts—often external forces, like the divine patterns and spirit or demon nas inscribed on them. Different spells borrow different divine powers.
Divine abilities are the cultivator's own power!
If Chen Shi truly mastered this, it could be called a divine ability.
Half-spell, half-divine ability.
"What if it's not a paper crane that flies out, but a flying sword?"
Chen Shi suddenly thought: if a paper crane could beco an immortal crane via Dawn Transformation and fly off, could a flying sword beco a flying bird, flapping through the air to conserve true qi?
Then, thousands of li away, the bird turns back to sword and slays the foe!
What terror this spell—divine ability—held!
"No wonder Cold Mountain Loose Cultivator said the people of Western Capital would surely agree to his request upon seeing his letter! It wasn't a request—it was a show of skill, declaring: I can take your head from thousands of li away, effortlessly! If your cultivation falls short of mine, you just wait to die!"
Chen Shi inwardly praised,
"Cold Mountain Loose Cultivator is so bold!"
He didn't know that while Cold Mountain Loose Cultivator harbored such thoughts, his immortal crane had its neck seized by Creation Little Five the mont it entered Western Capital, dashing any notions of showing off.
Chen Shi was thrilled. Lacking a flying sword, he simply took out the small knife he used daily to bleed Blackie Pot and cast Dawn Transformation on it.
The knife was an ordinary one, seven inches long overall: four-inch handle, three-inch curved blade sharp and hooked at the tip, like a tiger's claw with barbs.
Chen Shi exhaled a breath of true qi and pointed with a sword art. Suddenly, the knife fluttered and rustled, transforming into a cloud sparrow that flew from his palm, beating its wings nimbly.
The cloud sparrow's wings beat furiously, incredibly fast—blinking in and out of sight. Though slower than Young Master Xiao's shrike sword, its agility surpassed it.
Chen Shi directed the cloud sparrow in flight, piercing the clouds to the mountains below.
Dozens of Heavenly Listeners were distant: so perched on treetops, others hanging upside down from branches, or squatting on boulders—ears cocked, scribbling furiously.
Chen Shi flew the cloud sparrow past and landed it on a branch. The Heavenly Listeners all tilted their heads to listen, then turned their ears away after a mont, ignoring it.
"Cold Mountain Loose Cultivator is impressive!"
Chen Shi was moved. These Heavenly Listeners hadn't seen through the sparrow's disguise!
They took it for an ordinary cloud sparrow and paid it no mind!
He flew carefully, always minding the distance lest he lose the knife Grandpa left him if it got too far.
Then, a mountain ridge ca into view.
Lights shone atop it: lanterns hung beneath palace halls, brilliantly lit within. Chen Shi was puzzled when a bean-sized nascent soul whizzed past him.
Tiny as it was, the power within was imnse, and its speed blistering. It halted abruptly and turned toward Chen Shi.
Though only an inch tall, Chen Shi clearly saw its features: a middle-aged man, pale-faced and beardless.
"This person can see through ?"
Chen Shi froze.
"Little sparrow!"
The middle-aged man's nascent soul whistled over, reaching for the cloud sparrow.
So he didn't see through .
Chen Shi relaxed. His mind directed the sparrow to dart up and down, evading the pursuit, then plunged into the woods and vanished.
The middle-aged nascent soul had ant to catch a bird for fun but missed. He looked dazed, shook his head, and muttered, "I actually missed."
He flew toward the mountaintop palace halls.
Chen Shi waited until he was far off before flapping out of the woods and following the nascent soul through a mountain gate.
Flanking the gate were two furnaces billowing incense smoke, behind which stood two divine beasts with single deer antlers atop their heads, lion-like in form, two or three zhang tall and majestic.
These were the gate-guarding divine beasts—originally statues, but enriched by incense, they gathered extraordinary power into divine forms, manifesting at night to protect the gate.
The gate bore three words: Taiping Gate.
"Taiping Gate? Like a gang akin to Red Mountain Hall or Tianlao Society?"
Chen Shi flew through the gate; the divine beasts didn't block him, rely glancing over, deeming him an ordinary cloud sparrow.
At the mountaintop palace halls, he saw Taiping Gate disciples still awake deep into the night, dragging in white wooden skiffs. Boys and girls carried buckets of mixed black dog blood and cinnabar.
They hunched over the skiffs, ticulously tracing the talisman patterns atop them.
Chen Shi flapped by. A white banner hung in the air, and patterns were drawn on the ground. Over a dozen middle-aged n and won sat upon surrounding altars like solemn deities.
The boys and girls finished the skiffs' talismans and withdrew with their buckets.
More boys and girls approached, standing beside the skiffs.
The middle-aged folk pointed, and clusters of rotating cloud qi ford in the air—each about a zhang across.
They pointed again; ropes tied to the skiffs shot up with a whir, threading through the spinning clouds.
"You have only a quarter-hour to harvest soul-returning lotuses."
A woman opened her eyes, her gaze devoid of emotion.
"Return imdiately after picking the soul-returning lotuses. Do not linger.
Rember: make no sound. If you alert the ghost gods above, none of you will return alive!"
The raggedly dressed boys and girls—clearly from poor families—silently gripped the ropes and climbed. They reached beneath the white clouds and paused.
"They're the ones going to the underworld to steal white lotuses!"
Chen Shi realized, then grew excited. "That young lady who gave
the white lotus—she must be here too, right? A Taiping Gate disciple?"
He scanned their faces but didn't see the pigtailed girl who gave him the lotus.
Chen Shi flew about searching but still couldn't find her.
That girl who gave him the white lotus was his lifesaver. Without it, he might not have held out until Blackie Pot's rescue.
Suddenly, the sky tore open with round portal mouths, the other ends opening to the underworld!
The boys and girls hauled the ropes, pulling skiffs onto the clouds, then gingerly pushed them through the portals.
Chen Shi peered through: beyond was a marsh thick with white lotuses.
The children cautiously poked heads through, scanning for danger, then slid down the ropes.
"So that's how they enter the underworld."
Chen Shi understood.
"Taiping Gate cultivators send these children to steal white lotuses from the lotus fields, guarded by that ghost thing up there."
"But where's the young lady who gave
the white lotus?"
He flew around Taiping Gate until, at the back mountain, he found the pigtailed girl.
She was gravely ill—near death—
Reviews
All reviews (0)