Chapter Twenty-Five: Ningning of Mount Tu

Qi Armor Technique—

As the name suggests, this is a defensive Daoist art that transforms embryonic breath into armor and weapons to protect the body.

Concentrate the mind to guide the breath, condense qi to strengthen the spirit, regulate the breaths so that more is drawn in than released, steady the body and mind in silent composure, outwardly tranquil and inwardly clear, with a single thought centered, then settle the mind below the navel to guide the breath into the qi cavity. This is called returning the spirit to emptiness and refining the spirit into qi.

There is nothing particularly difficult or obscure about this Daoist art.

After all, it is merely a lesser technique—how hard could it truly be? As long as one is willing to quiet the heart and devote hard work, even the dullest talent can gain some benefit.

"Command!"

Chen Heng’s hand gesture shifted once more. Instantly, the faint flow of energy around him grew more turbulent, ringing sharply and swirling, until the sound of clashing metal echoed in the air, sparks bursting from the void.

"Come, let me see how you measure up."

Chen Heng drew the Thunderfire Peril Bead from his sleeve and, with a flick of his mind, hurled it skyward. At his command, a blaze erupted fiercely.

This was no ordinary flame. As it came into being, it distorted and wavered the very air, its power truly fearsome.

Yet as it was about to engulf Chen Heng, the invisible current summoned by the Qi Armor Technique surged forth, instantaneously blocking the flames completely, not allowing a single wisp to escape.

Even though the fire raged so close, Chen Heng felt none of the searing heat—truly marvelous.

Next, Chen Heng extracted a streak of red and white lightning from the bead and brought it down. This time, the qi armor trembled more violently, yet still held firm.

Spitting fire, casting thunder—

These were all functions of the Thunderfire Peril Bead.

But the true killing move of this mid-grade talisman was to entwine fire and lightning together, wrap it around the bead, and hurl it in a single strike!

The bead itself was forged of refined silver essence and secret sands, extraordinarily sturdy. Empowered by fire and thunder, once unleashed, not even a city wall could withstand the blast—it would be shaken to rubble!

However, this technique consumed much embryonic breath. At Chen Heng’s current level, unleashing such a strike would leave him utterly exhausted, unable to continue fighting.

The Six Yin Ghost Banner and Five-Colored Pendant were one thing.

But who would have thought that the Daoist of Mount Yang, by some stroke of immense fortune, also came to possess the Thunderfire Peril Bead?

This man’s wealth and resources far exceeded those of common itinerant practitioners. Even within the Mystic Truth Sect on Little Sweet Mountain, few disciples could rival his riches.

"And that external body-tempering art of his—what a pity..."

Chen Heng sighed.

He sat cross-legged, regulating his breath for a while. Once his spirit revived, he transformed the bead in the air into a beam of light and smashed it straight down onto his crown.

Bang!

Flame and lightning erupted in unison, dazzling brilliance filling the space. This time, there was no surprise—the qi armor technique lasted not even half a breath before shattering apart with a crack.

Chen Heng’s body caved in at the chest, his entire upper torso blasted apart by thunder and fire, flesh and blood scattering.

Moments later, a new body took shape where he had stood.

"A mid-grade talisman truly is extraordinary. At the small accomplishment level, the Qi Armor Technique cannot withstand it—that is only natural."

Chen Heng smiled faintly and drew the Thunderfire Peril Bead back into his sleeve.

The power of the Qi Armor Technique at the small accomplishment stage was not impressive.

But what of the technique at the intermediate or great accomplishment level?

Few ever cultivate such lesser arts to great accomplishment. First, their quality is limited, after all; second, they require too much time—wasting one’s cultivation for their sake would be absurd, even laughable.

But Chen Heng was free from such troubles.

For now, he had no other arts to choose from, and with the "one day in the present world equals ten days in the Dharma Realm" rule, time was never a concern for him.

Chen Heng closed his eyes and once again entered deep meditation.

Layers of energy rippled and swirled around him, faint gleams flickering within, echoes lingering long.

Thus, days passed in the Dharma Realm—twenty days within, only two without.

At last, Chen Heng exhaled a long, turbid breath, dispersing all the energy about him.

"It’s done!"

He laughed aloud, stood up, and pointed, letting the "Mahasovereign Luminous Meditation" scan himself.

...

[Mahasovereign Luminous Meditation]

[Name]: Chen Heng.

[Techniques]: Chen Clan Archery (Great Accomplishment), Qi Armor Technique (Intermediate), Little Red Dragon Sword Classic (Intermediate), Green Satchel Medicine Classic (Small Accomplishment), Blood Armor Technique (Initiate), Aurora Grand Escape (——).

[Talismans]: Thunderfire Peril Bead (Mid-grade), Universe Pouch (Low-grade).

[Stage]: Embryonic Breath.

...

"It's a pity. That 'Aurora Grand Escape' requires dry silver star ore as a catalyst to begin cultivation. This sort of rare material—I've never even heard of it before. How could I find it?"

Withdrawing his gaze, Chen Heng was somewhat regretful.

If only he could master that escape art before venturing to the Earth Abyss, his chances of surviving would increase significantly...

His journey to Lanliang City, where he acquired the "True Classic of Primordial Reality According to the Lord of the Divine Abode," was truly a stroke of luck.

But the next steps—opening the Purple Mansion, condensing the Golden Core—those methods remained a puzzle for Chen Heng.

Embryonic Breath, Qi Refinement, Foundation Building, Purple Mansion, Profound Mystery, Golden Core—

The "Three Qi Illuminating Spirit Art" of the Mystic Truth Sect can be cultivated all the way to the Purple Mansion, but the scripture itself is unremarkable, merely ordinary.

Chen Heng dared not gamble on whether he might have the luck of a Master Yan Xi—starting with a lower-tier true qi foundation, a lesser Purple Mansion phenomenon, a lowest-grade innate mercury, and still, by some reversal of fate, attaining the return of the primordial spirit in one leap.

If possible,

He wished to tread a path of step-by-step, solid foundation, culminating in natural success and perfect attainment.

"How to join a great sect for their scriptures, and then there’s the matter of this body’s father... The more I think, the more troublesome it seems."

Chen Heng lingered no longer.

He summoned his consciousness to commune with the Golden Cicada, and instantly withdrew from the True Dharma Realm, returning to the outer world.

...

On the meditation mat.

After swallowing a Small White Sun Pill, Chen Heng suppressed the cold true qi within, then slowly rose to his feet.

He triggered the mechanism, rolling aside the massive rock that sealed his cave dwelling.

Not far from the cave, there was a black wooden tray, and beside it curled a foolish little fox with a swollen bump on its head, intently playing with its own tail.

At the sound of footsteps, the little fox leapt up and circled Chen Heng’s feet, whining in protest as if displeased at his tardiness and the long wait.

“Tu Mountain Ningning, was it you bringing me food again?”

Chen Heng glanced at the lump on her head and recognized her as the silly fox who had knocked at his door with her head the other day, then fled and got lost, saying mildly,

“Looks like your injury is quite severe—the bruise on your head still hasn’t faded.”

At these words, the little fox bristled with anger.

She arched her back, as if to bite him, but did not dare. Instead, she scratched furiously at the earth in frustration.

“No need to wait next time—just leave it and go.”

Chen Heng picked a grape from the tray and placed it before her, then returned inside without another glance.

“Whine, whine~”

At first, the little fox pretended to be aloof, turning her head and swishing her tail.

But as soon as the boulder was rolled back into place, she couldn’t wait another moment—she gobbled up the grape in one bite.

“Whine, whine~ whine, whine~”

She squinted her eyes in satisfaction.

...

...

Two days later.

Within the divine realm of Mount Yang.

In a vast open space.

Tu Mountain Gezheng, holding a ritual sword, was hard-pressed on all sides, driven to exhaustion by Chen Heng’s peach branch, sweat streaming from his pale face.

“I yield, I yield!”

He suddenly threw down his sword and cried out, “Master, please spare me! This round is yours!”