Chapter 127: The Zhongyi Sword Sect

An hour later.

After crushing a fierce ghost whose entire body was covered in greasy green eyeballs and absorbing the spiritual aura from its body, Chen Heng finally opened his eyes again. He restrained the brilliant, piercing radiance within his pupils, a thoughtful expression resting on his face.

At this moment, faint, swirling mists were rising from the crown of his head, coalescing and dispersing, gathering and dissolving, shifting without any fixed form.

The aura around his body was deep, unfathomable, and imposing, resembling a towering abyss or a majestic mountain peak. A single glance gave one a sense of immense, unscalable loftiness. Even just standing in place without moving, his presence caused the surrounding air to vibrate violently and ripple intensely.

If anyone with profound cultivation were to observe him with mystic arts from the side, they would find that the space where Chen Heng stood appeared entirely empty and desolate, a great void. Yet, when viewed with the naked eye, it was undeniably real and solid.

This was precisely what is called: "Vague and elusive, yet when viewed, obscurely profound." He had already comprehended the principle of holding fast to the One and preserving the genuine.

The Ninth Layer of Qi Refinement...

This level represented the ultimate pinnacle of the ninefold cycle of Qi Refinement, with nowhere further to advance. He merely needed a single thought to nurture his true nature, transform his Qi, and ascend into the next major realm of the Immortal Dao.

Ever since he obtained the gourd of grand primordial pearls bestowed by Ai Jian and underwent a period of ingestion and Qi adjustment, he had already pushed his Qi Refinement realm to the eighth layer.

During the few days he spent waiting for the so-called wedding date, Chen Heng had not simply sat idly in his room; he had exhausted all the talisman coins from the Qiankun bags of the various members of the Yan family.

No matter how vast the Primordial True Qi resembled the Northern Abyss, unfathomably deep, it ultimately possessed a finite limit.

With the infusion of these hundreds of ghosts and talisman coins, difficult though the process was, he had finally achieved the Ninth Layer of Qi Refinement.

Clear-headed, peaceful, his senses sharp and penetrating...

At this moment, Chen Heng could feel an endless supply of strength coursing through his entire body. His frame was exceptionally light and nimble, and a vigorous, clear Yang vitality was actively circulating through his internal organs, nourishing his flowing blood.

With just a single thought at this moment, he could root his mystic foundation at any time, forging a "Qi Sea" within his body and becoming a true foundational cultivator officially inscribed in the Dao registers.

However, recalling the parting words of Ancestor Fushen, Chen Heng hesitated for a moment before abandoning this course of action.

"I cannot casually establish my foundation? What constitutes 'not casually'... If I use the Primordial True Qi to forge my Dao foundation, what harm will it ultimately bring?"

Chen Heng sighed inwardly, his gaze flashing as he fell into a silent contemplation.

Ancestor Fushen had already departed, and looking around, there was not a single person capable of resolving this doubt.

Even Xie Tan from the Flower God Manor—let alone the fact that this person was not yet his master and paid him no heed—even if he were fortunate enough to be accepted as a disciple under him, he would likely still receive only a silent response...

Without establishing a foundation, relying solely on his current meager Qi Refinement body, how could he ever ascend to the Immortal Dao?

At this rate, would his path of the Dao not be strangled and cut off in disguise?

Chen Heng frowned, pacing with his hands clasped behind his back in deep thought for a long while, before finally lowering his eyelids and temporarily banishing all chaotic and stray thoughts.

Ancestor Fushen's parting words had been extremely solemn, clearly tied to matters of life and death. They deserved to be taken to heart and could not be underestimated.

Yet presently, he could not find a single master of great divine power to grant him a spark of enlightenment.

Under such circumstances, excessive pondering was of no use; it would merely be a foolish person disturbing himself, wasting his mind to no avail.

"It seems the only way is to take it one step at a time. I only hope that when mountains and rivers end, I may yet find a village nestled amidst willow trees and bright flowers."

Chen Heng thought to himself.

At that moment, he truly and deeply appreciated the difference of having a supreme lineage and master.

The gulf between a rogue cultivator and a disciple of a major sect was as vast as heaven and earth, a disparity beyond all calculation.

If he had entered a major sect at this very moment, he would naturally be able to consult and seek answers from his sect's elders.

Unlike his current predicament, where there was no path to the heavens and no door to enter the earth...

While he was deep in thought, the hundreds of ghosts that had been incapacitated by the mirage vapor—now reduced to less than fifty—were all struggling to regain their consciousness, fighting their way out of the boundless illusions.

Seeing that this human was actually consuming ghosts to practice Qi Refinement, every single one of them was frightened out of their wits, their hearts leaping into their throats with terror.

"Awake?"

Chen Heng was unsurprised. He took the Floating Jade Mirage Bead from his sleeve and was just about to use it when he noticed that the luster of the bead had dimmed considerably. It seemed that due to being used multiple times today, the mirage vapor was insufficient and required time to slowly regenerate.

He put away the talisman artifact instead, let out a sharp cry, and shook his body. A mass of white cloud mist flew out from the crown of his head, rumbling as it divided into nearly fifty parts, pressing down toward the writhing crowd of ghosts.

That wispy cluster of cloud, though seemingly light enough to be blown away by a sigh, carried the crushing weight of ten thousand jun.

The ghosts were pressed so hard that their eyeballs bulged deep out of their sockets, and they breathed with extreme difficulty, utterly unable to move a fraction of an inch—not even lifting a single finger.

"Fetal breathing? This is not true Qi?!"

A furry ghost, after assessing its condition, turned pale with shock:

"You can suppress me to the point of complete helplessness with just a wisp of fetal breathing? What kind of background do you have? Could you be a high disciple of the Eight Sects and Six Guilds?"

"You possess some discernment to actually recognize fetal breathing. However, do ghost entities in the Earth Abyss also recognize the Eight Sects and Six Guilds?"

Chen Heng cast his gaze over it and calmly said:

"It's a pity I do not possess such a prominent background. If I were a person of the Eight Sects and Six Guilds, how could I have fallen to such a state in the Earth Abyss, relying on eating ghosts to sustain my cultivation?"

He walked toward the furry ghost that had cried out. Under the terrified gazes of the gathered ghosts, he made an empty slicing motion with his hand, and the strand of fetal breathing pinning the furry ghost darted forward, cleanly cutting it open from the waist and abdomen as blood spilled across the ground.

Immediately afterward, a dense and robust spiritual aura shot forth like a flying serpent from the furry ghost's corpse, which Chen Heng swallowed into his belly with an upward tilt of his mouth.

Seeing his casual expression, the ghosts who had watched all of this unfold began to struggle desperately, their shrieks rising one after another.

They had only ever seen ghosts eating humans; when had they ever witnessed a human eating ghosts!

However, Chen Heng's fetal breathing was incomparably heavy. No matter how hard the ghosts exerted themselves, they could not shift it by even a fraction, and they could only go down one after another, following the footsteps of the furry ghost.

Five.

Ten.

Twenty...

When only the last two ghosts remained alive, a layer of faint jade light suddenly emerged on the surface of Chen Heng's physical shell, momentarily illuminating the beams and rafters of the room, making him appear like a jade human of breathtaking, soul-captivating beauty.

After a few breaths, that faint jade light gradually dimmed, sinking back into his skin, muscles, and bones until it was no longer visible.

"The fifth layer of the Profound Realm, and the sixth layer is not far off... If I devour just a few more ghost entities, I should be able to ascend to the sixth layer of the Profound Realm."

The Taisu Jade Body at the sixth layer of the Profound Realm would be more than sufficient to find few matches among foundational cultivators.

Although he could not yet perform the act of establishing his foundation to elevate his Immortal Dao cultivation at the moment, the Taisu Jade Body had no such impediment!

This divine art of achieving physical sanctification was created by the Taisu Zhangren and was even ranked among the Earth Gate Golden Chapters of the Daoist Court. It allowed one to rely on human physical strength to rival those innate divine monsters born from chaos who bore the mandate of the heavenly tribulations. Its power was extraordinarily formidable!

Since it was inconvenient to rashly elevate his Immortal Dao realm for now, and the Taisu Jade Body was likewise an exceptional defensive method—furthermore requiring a vast amount of spiritual Qi—the spiritual auras on the corpses of the ghost entities were naturally utilized by Chen Heng for this great divine art of physical sanctification...

At that moment, a dark shadow suddenly twitched slightly, curling its legs.

Chen Heng looked over and saw that the last two remaining ghosts in the courtyard were none other than Song Rupuk and a large-headed ghost.

The large-headed ghost was already streaming with snot and tears, looking utterly devoid of the will to live and resigned to the butcher's knife, wanting nothing more than a swift end.

Song Rupuk, on the other hand, was playing dead like a discarded dog, four limbs facing the sky with his eyes rolled back white, as if Chen Heng's wisp of fetal breathing had already stripped him of his three souls and seven spirits, leaving him on the verge of perishing on the spot.

However, ever since Chen Heng began devouring ghosts, Song Rupuk had used some unknown method to secretly neutralize the suppression of the fetal breathing.

Position by position, without drawing any attention, he had rolled his way to the threshold, half of his body already sliding past the main hall.

Seeing this, Chen Heng chuckled inwardly.

After raising his hand to execute the large-headed ghost and claiming its spiritual aura, he flicked his long sleeve, sending forth a streak of green light that slashed toward Song Rupuk, who lay stiffly on the ground!

A flash of green radiance erupted as piercing momentum tore through the air. Even before the Qinglü Sword drew close, a bone-chilling, biting sword intent approached, causing a faint prickling sensation deep within the soul.

Plop!

At this juncture of life and death, Song Rupuk could no longer afford to keep up his act. Deeply regretting that his feigned-death skills were not up to par, he panicked and hurled an object out to shield his face.

The moment it was thrown, it was merely a speck of sparkling starlight, but growing rapidly against the wind, it quickly transformed into a small purple-gold dragon-headed shield enveloped in hidden treasure light.

"Wait! Elder brother, this younger brother still has words to speak!"

Whoosh!

The Qinglü Sword pierced through the air to kill, clashing hard against the small dragon-headed shield!

Though barely blocked, the immense rebound force nearly caused Song Rupuk to vomit blood, and he stumbled backward in a panic, almost tripping over the threshold to the ground.

"This younger brother is a scenery cultivator! I am on good terms with living beings and have never partaken of flesh or blood!"

Failing in its first strike, the Qinglü Sword instantly retreated, transforming into a green rainbow that circled around before spotting a tiny opening and slashing forward again from a transverse angle.

The small dragon-headed shield rose up to meet it, but with a single strike, its spiritual light instantly shattered and dissipated. Yet the Qinglü Sword did not stop, continuing to sweep across the air with successive strikes.

Amidst a flurry of piercing sounds, after mere seconds, Song Rupuk turned pale with horror, his eyes flickering as he finally hardened his heart.

"I have a great opportunity to share!"

Disregarding everything else, he waved his hand and simply recalled the dragon-headed shield back into his body, leaving himself completely unprotected. He spread his arms wide, closed his eyes, and shouted:

"It is the Yin-Eroding Red Water—"

Swish!

The sound of breaking air abruptly halted!

After a long while, Song Rupuk dared to open his eyes with a quiver, swallowing hard as his hands and feet trembled.

He saw that a flying sword was resting precisely three inches away from the center of his brow, gleaming with a desolate, chilling light like a long snake flicking its tongue, causing the goosebumps on Song Rupuk's back to stand on end.

"Yin-Eroding Red Water?"

Chen Heng spoke.

"...It is indeed the Yin-Eroding Red Water, precisely one of the subsidiary waters of the Nether True Water!"

Song Rupuk awoke as if from a dream, dazed for a moment before snapping back to his senses and hastily saying:

"This younger brother knows the method of cultivating the Yin-Eroding Red Water. I beg you to spare my life!"

When he said this, seeing that Chen Heng did not respond, Song Rupuk was stunned for a moment before slapping his head in a sudden realization.

"Ah, a slip of the tongue for a moment... The Yin-Eroding Red Water known to this younger brother is actually a heritage left behind by a senior of the Immortal Dao. Song is of shallow karmic fortune and hasn't had the honor of witnessing the core secrets within, nor can I recite it from memory..."

He accompanied his words with a cautious expression:

"However, that heritage is not far from my cave dwelling. If this elder brother is interested, I can also lead you there. Who knows, perhaps elder brother is destined to be that fated person..."

"Heritage?"

Chen Heng looked at him and said calmly:

"Which senior of the Immortal Dao would leave a heritage in a place like the Earth Abyss? Let alone a supreme technique such as the Yin-Eroding Red Water?"

"The Zhongyi Sword Sect!"

At this, Song Rupuk answered with absolute certainty, slapping his thigh:

"I once witnessed that senior carve a mountain into a pillar with his own eyes, inscribing upon it the cultivation method of the 'Yin-Eroding Red Water'! He stated himself that he originated from the Zhongyi Sword Sect, one of the Eight Sects and Six Guilds, and came to this place to borrow the boundless Yin Qi to cultivate a great divine art. This little brother would never dare to deceive elder brother!"

The Eight Sects and Six Guilds.

The Zhongyi Sword Sect?

A trace of faint surprise stirred in Chen Heng's heart.

This mystical sect was actually not located within the Dongmi Prefecture, but far away in the Donghun Prefecture, sharing the same territory with the Taifu Palace and the Demonic path's Shenyu Sect.

Within the Xudu Heaven, speaking of the number of sword cultivators and the profound subtlety of sword scriptures, the Zhongyi Sword Sect reigned supreme.

Even looking beyond the universe, combining several neighboring heavens together, not a single sect or household could match them!

According to texts in Daoist books, ever since its founding, this mystical sect had produced no fewer than five sword immortals—truly a name of resounding prestige.

The saying most widely circulated and praised within the Zhongyi Sword Sect was none other than: "Those who cannot comprehend the 'ten-step kill' before the age of sixteen are not permitted to enter my sect."

Even among the Eight Sects and Six Guilds, the Zhongyi Sword Sect had the strictest recruitment criteria—without exception.

Unlike the Yuchen Sect and the Innate Demonic Sect, which maintained lower courtyards and numerous Dao veins;

Nor like the Yingjing Sect, where several aristocratic families took turns holding power, often passing it from father to son.

Although the Taifu Palace and the Beiji Garden had few members, they placed great emphasis on karmic affinity, at least leaving a sliver of possibility.

As for the Zhongyi Sword Sect, if you could not comprehend the ten-step kill before sixteen—no matter how peerlessly talented you were, you could never set foot into the Rusong Valley to enter the sect and study the mysteries...

Chen Heng pondered for a moment, and after a while, suddenly raised his sleeve to recall the Qinglü Sword.

Before Song Rupuk could feel joy, Chen Heng gestured with his hand, flicking out a sheet of contract paper and using his fetal breathing as a brush to write rapidly.

"Your turn."

Chen Heng handed over the Dharma contract and looked at Song Rupuk: "You should understand what I mean, right?"

Song Rupuk stiffly reached out to take it, but the moment he glanced at it, his complexion turned somewhat ashen.

"Wait, could elder brother still distrust this younger brother's character? Even among scenery cultivators, Song is a well-known man of honor and integrity!"

He took a step back and said with a dry laugh:

"Um, is it really necessary to sign a Dharma contract..."

Chen Heng remained silent, simply raising his long sleeve where a faint green strand resembling a rainbow was winding and floating within.

"Wait, I'll sign! I'll sign! I'll sign it!"

Startled, Song Rupuk hurriedly snatched the floating Dharma contract out of the air.

Once the Dharma contract was completed and a strange sensation—as if his life and death were entirely controlled by another—suddenly welled up in his mind, he wiped away a cold sweat, feeling his heart ease slightly.

"In that case, please allow your esteemed self to resolve my doubts. What exactly is the background between that senior of the Zhongyi Sword Sect and the Yin-Eroding Red Water?"

Chen Heng gave a slight cupped-fist salute and asked.

"How could I dare, how could I dare."

Though Song Rupuk felt bitter at heart, he didn't waste any time with his mouth.

After an unknown amount of time, when he had finally finished speaking with a dry throat:

At this moment, Chen Heng's expression remained calm, yet the subtle expression deep within his eyes had gained an extra layer of strangeness.