Chapter Nine: Chen Ying

Inside the cave dwelling, Chen Heng slowly opened his eyes.

Two beams of piercing brilliance shot forth from his gaze, each stretching over three feet, shining so brightly that even the flames of several oil lamps burning on the stone walls seemed to dim beneath their radiance.

Only after several dozen heartbeats did the light in his eyes gradually fade, returning to their usual deep, placid darkness.

"With the fetal breath achieved, the innate nature reveals itself. Next, I must seek out a method of refining qi, and begin the process of transforming essence into vital energy."

He stretched his shoulders and arms, his bones instantly giving off a resonant crackle, like bamboo stalks bursting with new growth.

With a single thought, the furnace-like vigor within him surged, sending a shockwave that shattered and swept away all dust and debris within ten feet, as if a wild beast were stretching its claws, ready to spring.

Never before had Chen Heng felt so invigorated.

His vitality and spirit blazed within him like embers in the night.

Every movement, every gesture, carried a terrifying, boundless strength—splitting wood and stone or bending iron would be nothing to him now.

This was the legendary strength of shaking an arm and overpowering three warhorses with ease.

It was a pity there was nothing in this cave weighing a thousand catties or more by which Chen Heng might measure his true might. If he wished to do so, he would have to go to the great pool beneath Yangqi Peak.

There, hundreds of five-thousand-pound stone spheres lay sunken at the bottom, each one carved by the ancient Jun himself for the sole purpose of training the many cultivators of the sect.

But the mysteries of refining qi are vastly different from those of the fetal breath.

At the level of fetal breath—even though the ever-present innate energy could strengthen the body and greatly increase one's power—it would, with time, gradually wane, until, at last, it was spent entirely.

This is why, despite martial grandmasters who attain the fetal breath living to one hundred and fifty years, they still grow old and ill and ultimately return to the dust.

But for those who walk the immortal path, it is different.

Through the art of refining qi, they are able to forge a bridge between the small world within and the vast world outside, thus reaching the stage of qi refinement.

Once there, they can draw upon the boundless spiritual energy of the world to replenish their own limited fetal breath.

With the endless energy of the heavens and earth as sustenance, that thread of innate breath within not only ceases to diminish, but grows ever more robust as their practice deepens.

In time, like a fish leaping through the dragon gate, the innate breath within may be transformed into true qi.

It is precisely because of this inexhaustible flow of spiritual energy that practitioners of qi refinement seem almost miraculous.

Not only can they summon and retract their fetal breath at will, commanding magical artifacts, soaring through the air, breathing fire and summoning light...

Even the five-thousand-pound stones at the bottom of Yangqi Peak’s pool can be lifted effortlessly from the water by those who have mastered this stage.

...

"Refining qi, refining qi..."

Chen Heng raised a finger, and the long sword he had been practicing with in the True Dharma Realm flew to his hand from across the room.

"If the fetal breath can still be considered self-reliant, then refining qi is truly borrowing from the world?

Drawing upon the spiritual energy of nature, upon elixirs, upon all medicines—every source that can nourish the innate breath—strengthening the body once again, and, depending on the method, giving rise to different kinds of true qi. Is this what is meant by laying the foundation of the Dao?"

He gazed at the sword for a moment, then slashed it at his own hand. This time, however, no blood flowed—only a faint white mark appeared on his palm.

Within two breaths, even that white mark faded away.

"With the fetal breath accomplished, I am no longer an ordinary mortal—my body is as strong as metal or stone. Truly, it is as they say."

Curious, Chen Heng swung the sword a few more times, each stroke more powerful than the last. Only when he wrapped his fetal breath around the blade did a wound deep enough to reveal the bone finally appear in his palm.

And with that strike, he sensed that a thread of his inner fetal breath had vanished, lost forever.

"No wonder, despite the hundred and fifty years granted to those of the fetal breath, few martial grandmasters who go to war survive even sixty years. Unless one advances to refining qi, there is no way to replenish the fetal breath—each use is a permanent loss."

He casually wrapped his wounded hand, pushed open the great doors, and stepped out of the cave.

At that moment,

The mountain winds surged like a tide.

Damp, chilling mists coiled around half of Little Gan Mountain like an enormous serpent. The air shimmered with pale whiteness, the sunlight shifting in the fog, turning a delicate golden hue that was extraordinarily beautiful—at a flicker, it became a cascading waterfall of fiery gold.

The landscape spread before him, vast and resplendent as the sea.

Recalling the misery of his past life and the desperate struggles upon first arriving in this world, Chen Heng felt an overwhelming sense of elation within his chest, as if he could seize the whole expanse of the heavens in his grasp.

"After today, I’ll make a trip to Rong Country, return my predecessor’s cousin’s remains to his family, and avoid the eyes of Yan Feichen," Chen Heng thought to himself.

Though the world was at peace, bandits and outlaws could never be completely eradicated.

Yet, having achieved the fetal breath, he now possessed some measure of strength to protect himself.

In the mundane world, unless an army was sent against him, there were few situations that could truly threaten him.

"This time, when I go down the mountain, I’ll travel the land in search of a method to refine qi and hone my skills in the True Dharma Realm, awaiting the opening of the Abyss next year.

Now that Yan Zhen is dead, surely no one in the Xuan Zhen Sect will pursue me with such madness any longer?"

So pondered Chen Heng.

Suddenly,

Two blazing meteors plummeted from the sky towards his cave. Before he could react, the flames transformed into two handsome youths, standing in midair, treading upon true qi.

"May I ask which two senior brothers I have the honor of meeting?" Chen Heng stepped forward, greeting them politely.

Of the two,

One wore a robe of purple clouds and a jade lotus crown, with the bearing of a young nobleman. His attire was splendid, his expression haughty.

"Senior brother? Who are you calling senior brother, you upstart from a humble background?"

He sneered reflexively at Chen Heng’s words, but, remembering something, forced his tone to change:

"You—Chen Heng? Hmph. You do have some good looks! Come, I’ll take you to see the master."

"The master?" Chen Heng frowned slightly, recalling unpleasant memories of Yan Zhen’s forceful advances in the past. "May I ask why your master wishes to see me? Could you explain?"

"Explain? Why so much nonsense! Do you think being pretty gives you the right to be arrogant? Just do as you’re told!"

Impatiently, the youth in fine clothes let his true qi fly, transforming it into a rope aimed to bind Chen Heng.

But before the rope reached him,

The other youth at his side raised a hand, dissipating the true qi with a gentle strike.

"Our master is a noblewoman of the Ai clan of Shangyu. On her visit to the southern region, she heard word of your elegance and talent while calling on your sect’s leader, and, moved by admiration, has sent us to invite you for a meeting."

This youth bowed slightly, his voice warm and mellow as he smiled at Chen Heng:

"Yuan Xing’s manners are rough and impulsive. Please accept my apology on his behalf."

"Hmph! Always playing the good man," Yuan Xing, the youth in fine clothes, cried out angrily, his face flushed with indignation at having his true qi so easily scattered.

"May I ask your esteemed name, senior?"

An inexplicable feeling stirred within Chen Heng.

He felt a strange sense of kinship, as if he and this youth who had just intervened were destined to be close.

"I dare not claim the title of senior. As for my humble name, it is not worth mentioning."

The youth smiled.

"My surname is also Chen. I am called Ying."