Chapter 86: Soul Tempering

Inside Hu Mo’s body, two forces were fiercely struggling for dominance. The aura of the King’s Cauldron of Verdant Wood suddenly grew much more aggressive; the combined assault on his senses—sight, sound, smell, and touch—caused his fire battle power to surge uncontrollably, the searing heat seeming to burn his very soul, leaving the chaotic fire within him unstable.

At the same time, the Sacred Water Sovereign and the Silken Restraint stirred as well, emanating a chill that suppressed the rampage of the King’s Cauldron of Verdant Wood. The alternating waves of ice and fire clashed within him, each impact making Hu Mo’s heart tremble.

To make matters even more bewildering, Cang Ling’s small hand unexpectedly grasped his large one; the smooth, delicate sensation nearly shattered Hu Mo’s focus entirely—a feeling of utter passivity swept over him.

“What’s wrong? Why is your body so hot?” Cang Ling’s mischievous whisper brushed past his ear, her fragrant breath making his skin tingle and his gaze toward her burn with mounting heat.

Seeing the wild gleam in Hu Mo’s eyes, Cang Ling sighed softly. “On the path of cultivation, the most vital thing is a tranquil heart. Without calm, your journey will be full of obstacles. Little one, your desires are too heavy.”

Her voice was gentle, yet from her small hand poured a surge of profound cold, immediately suppressing the agitation of the King’s Cauldron of Verdant Wood. At that moment, Hu Mo felt as though a wandering soul had finally found direction; clarity flashed through his mind. He suddenly noticed that the surroundings were slowly changing.

A lush green bamboo forest appeared, so familiar, so reminiscent of a memory. Hu Mo couldn’t help but recall that bamboo dwelling, the plaintive flute music tinged with sorrow, and that breathtaking face turning away—wasn’t this where he had first met Cang Ling?

“How am I here? What happened?” Hu Mo muttered, glancing around in confusion.

“Of course, I brought you here, silly. If I weren’t sleeping beside you, holding your hand, how could I lead you into the Mystic Bamboo Sanctuary? This will be your place for nightly cultivation from now on. I chose it especially for you,” Cang Ling’s figure appeared by his side, ethereal and captivating as though from a dream.

She took his hand again, swiftly leading him through the dense bamboo. Soon, they arrived at a pool beneath a waterfall, the mist swirling above the water creating a bewitching atmosphere. Hu Mo murmured in awe, feeling as though he had stepped into a fairyland.

“Don’t just stand there in a daze. From now on, you’ll cultivate within that waterfall every night. Let me make this clear: this isn’t for increasing your battle power, but to temper your mind and spirit. You should know your willpower is far too weak, and that’s a huge contradiction to your current cultivation. If this continues, you will definitely suffer a backlash in the end, and the pain will be far greater. This is all I can do for you; the rest is up to you. Oh, and remember: you can only enter the waterfall once a day. If you come out, you cannot go in a second time—remember this, and good luck!”

With those words, Cang Ling’s voice faded and her figure gradually vanished before Hu Mo’s eyes.

Reflecting on her words, Hu Mo felt a surge of both gratitude and confusion. Indeed, although his strength had grown quickly, his spiritual cultivation lagged behind; at the very least, he could not let Cang Ling’s teasing throw him into disorder any longer. This was a problem that had to be solved. Yet, why had Cang Ling so insistently emphasized that final rule?

He slowly approached the waterfall; as his foot touched the pool, a jolt of startling realism shot through him—the icy water seeped through his clothes and caressed his skin as if stroking his heart. In that instant, his once restless mind calmed immediately.

The mist beneath the waterfall was dense. He waded forward, letting the water cascade over his body, soaking him completely from head to toe.

Within the waterfall sat a black stone, just large enough for one person. It glimmered faintly in the rushing water. Hu Mo leapt onto the stone and crossed his legs, but the moment he sat, he noticed something was off.

The stone was hot—scorchingly so, its temperature rivaling molten lava. Startled, Hu Mo instinctively tried to summon the King’s Cauldron of Verdant Wood, only to find he had lost all connection to his three treasures.

Panic flickered in his heart. He had relied on those treasures for so long; their absence left him anxious and unsettled. Now he understood why Cang Ling had stressed her warning: with his War King-level cultivation, sitting atop a lava-hot stone without the help of chaotic water or fire was sheer torment.

Fortunately, the heat affected only his spirit, not his body, or he truly feared he would be roasted alive.

But greater suffering lay ahead. Soon after sitting, the waterfall above him transformed—the water grew as cold as primordial chaos, the bone-deep chill nearly freezing his soul. This was the true meaning of ice and fire in one body!

“This is outrageous!” Hu Mo gritted his teeth against the inhuman pain, refusing to leave the stone. He understood Cang Ling’s intentions; before, his cultivation had focused on physical suffering, which was already no easy feat. Now, this spiritual ordeal was even harder to endure. Within moments, his entire body began to tremble.

In the bedchamber, Cang Ling gripped Hu Mo’s hand, feeling his body shake. She tightened her hold, well aware of the agony he was enduring, yet she dared not offer him any assistance. She knew this was truly for his own good; only by enduring and understanding pain could he be reborn like a phoenix and reach higher realms.

“Silly boy, I don’t know how much longer I can protect you. I only hope that day doesn’t come too soon, for you’re still far too weak,” Cang Ling murmured to herself. Her eyes were filled with helplessness and confusion as she finally closed them, drifting into slumber—one man and one woman, alone in a room, sharing a bed.

When the morning sunlight crept through the door crack, Hu Mo opened his eyes, utterly exhausted. The night’s cultivation had drained him; his mind was battered by visions of volcanic eruptions and blizzards, leaving him dizzy and in pain.

As he tried to move, he suddenly realized someone was hugging his waist tightly, and a soft, snow-white leg draped across him. In that instant, Hu Mo’s drowsy mind snapped awake, and a surge of fire rose from his core.

Wasn’t this the cruelest of temptations? Hu Mo could only smile bitterly—his nominal master had maintained this posture all night. How could a chaste, pure-hearted young man like him possibly withstand it?

Morning was the time when a man’s yang energy was at its peak, and any normal man would awaken to find a certain “tent” particularly prominent. Glancing down, Hu Mo saw that under the influence of his surging desire, the tent was even more conspicuous than usual. Shaking his head, he quickly summoned the Sacred Water Sovereign and the Silken Restraint to suppress those thoughts.

Yet the ordeal of the night had markedly strengthened his spirit; perhaps because he was starting from a weak foundation, the effects of his first spiritual cultivation were especially pronounced.

He moved slowly, trying to slip from Cang Ling’s embrace without waking her. He dared not use too much force, not wanting to disturb her peaceful dreams. Oddly enough, Hu Mo reflected that, in his experience, Cang Ling was the soundest sleeper among all cultivators he knew.

Sure enough, as he got out of bed, Cang Ling remained sprawled carelessly across the mattress, mumbling incoherently as she hugged the blanket like an octopus.

Hu Mo smiled slightly and bent down to tuck her in. As he leaned closer, his face drew near to hers. Cang Ling’s features were young and delicate—Hu Mo’s first impression of her was always one of youthful innocence. Her proud chest was hidden beneath the blanket, leaving her looking like a girl of fourteen or fifteen: pure, tender, and lovable.

He gazed at her without a trace of impure thought; he knew that to entertain such notions at this moment would be nothing short of desecrating beauty.

As he looked at her small mouth, Cang Ling suddenly licked her lips and muttered something unclear in her sleep. Hu Mo was startled, then chuckled to himself, “She must be dreaming of food, this little girl…”

Then, a strange impulse welled up in his mind. He slowly lowered his head, moving closer to her lips, gradually, gradually—almost unaware of what he was doing, driven only by the urge to plant a gentle kiss.

Closer and closer, just as he was about to kiss her, a small hand suddenly covered his mouth. Cang Ling’s eyes snapped open, and she looked at him warily. “What do you think you’re doing? You dare take liberties with your master—you must have a death wish!”