Chapter Seventy-One: Wounded

Although the flying sword was his natal magic weapon, cultivating it required a meticulous, step-by-step process; to complete every step was to achieve immortality. Yet, the Geng Metal sword energy upon it had existed from the very beginning, and was the sharpest of all things. When first refined and shaped, it could never be stored within the body.

This sword not only harmed others but also its wielder, making no distinction between friend and foe. Only after successfully tempering the body with vital energy and opening every meridian could one accept the flying sword into the lungs. Through gradual refinement between the real and the illusory, the sword could then transform endlessly, ultimately becoming a sword pellet hidden in the lungs.

Subsequently, the flying sword in the lungs would return the acquired to the innate, refining the five viscera and six bowels, nourishing the soul, and thus forming a Golden Core.

But now it was clearly too soon. He truly did not know what to do. If someone skilled in surgery were here, they might be able to remove the flying sword from his lungs. Yet this was obviously unrealistic; a solution had to be found, or else he could only await death.

At that moment, he saw two figures, one tall and one short, both clad in azure, standing before him. One was dignified and elegant, gentle in demeanor; the other was lively and mischievous.

"Where are the ones who were fighting just now? Why did the battle end so quickly?" the younger asked as she gazed at the half-dead Wang Yuanfeng.

Erqing had actually noticed the two fighting from afar, and she recognized the old man—it was the Roe Deer Spirit from the southern mountains. The Roe Deer Spirit had cultivated for nearly five centuries, always keeping a low profile in the southern range. Only recently had he defeated a tiger demon, claiming the other side as his own, and now, unexpectedly, he had come here. Considering the stalactites in this area, it was not difficult to deduce his purpose.

His cultivation had reached the Great Pellet realm; he likely wished to seize the spiritual vein here, meld it with his own vital energy, and form a Golden Core. Fortunately, their battle was discovered by her; vigilance would be necessary. Erqing examined Wang Yuanfeng’s injuries, determined his lung meridians were wounded, and asked, "Young master, how are you feeling?"

Wang Yuanfeng tried to speak, but as soon as his mouth opened, a spray of blood gushed forth. His head throbbed, and the sword energy in his lung meridians continued its destruction. Dizzy and half-conscious, he could not hear their conversation, focusing only on retaining his awareness.

Seeing him faint without a word, Xiaoqing moved forward to wake him, but Erqing stopped her, saying, "Don’t touch him, Xiaoqing. His condition is very precarious."

"Oh," Xiaoqing withdrew her hand and asked, "Second Sister, should we save him? I think he’s close to death."

Erqing sighed, "Let’s take him back to the Serpent’s Lair first and stabilize his injuries. His current state is connected to our lair—most likely he saw something the Roe Deer Spirit did, and the spirit tried to silence him."

Xiaoqing had also heard of the Roe Deer Spirits—a small clan, with only three or five ever becoming demons. For centuries, they had acted with utmost discretion. She wondered why things had changed and asked, "Second Sister, what do you think the Roe Deer Spirit is after? Hasn’t he always stayed in the southern mountains? Why come north?"

Erqing recalled the elder brother's warning: the Blade and Axe Mountain was changing; she must be vigilant. It must be the Roe Deer Spirit’s doing. She replied, "Xiaoqing, let’s take him to the Serpent’s Lair and control his injuries first. Then I’ll search the area—since the Roe Deer Spirit has come north, there will be traces left behind."

Hearing that there would be a search, Xiaoqing’s eyes sparkled. "Second Sister, leave the investigation to me. I promise nothing will go wrong."

"No," Erqing refused without hesitation. "This is no trivial matter. The Roe Deer Spirit’s cultivation is too advanced; only our elder brother can confront him. Even I can only ensure my retreat. You should stay and guard the lair."

"Alright, Second Sister," Xiaoqing agreed, though her eyes darted about, clearly plotting something.

How could Erqing not see through her little schemes? She shook her head with weary resignation.

Erqing formed the Mountain-Bearing Seal with one hand and pointed at Wang Yuanfeng with the other. Wang Yuanfeng slowly rose into the air and hovered in front of her, supported by an unseen force. This was a simple transport spell, acting on vital energy and empowered with an incantation—the so-called Mountain-Moving technique.

Given Wang Yuanfeng’s precarious state, any large movement would only worsen his injuries. Only this method could avoid further trauma.

Having lifted him, Erqing said, "Let’s return to the Serpent’s Lair."

With that, the two carried Wang Yuanfeng back the way they had come. Their pace was swift yet steady, and soon they arrived at their destination.

Wang Yuanfeng dared not relax his spirit for a moment. The flying sword in his lungs had already caused considerable damage. Fortunately, the lungs were of the metal element, and so was the sword’s Geng Metal energy. Moreover, it was his natal sword, so their lives were intertwined; otherwise, he would have perished on the spot.

Even so, he was half-dead—the Geng Metal energy from the flying sword destroyed his lungs, but the sword also drew in innate energy to repair them, a process of simultaneous destruction and regeneration.

Had he already reached the Great Pellet realm, things would be much easier; at that stage, vital energy fills every meridian and extraordinary vessel, the pellet is condensed anew, and the internal organs are strengthened accordingly.

Cultivation is a dual practice of nature and life: nature represents the Way, life the body. The Way refines innate understanding; the body, through refining essence, energy, and spirit, is transformed to elevate the level of life itself.

The true purpose of cultivation is to elevate one’s level of existence.

Consider one who has never encountered the wider world, whose outlook is limited, whose thoughts are simple, whose days are spent farming and raising a family. In his mind, the emperor is the greatest, gold is the most precious; perhaps he imagines that the emperor plows his fields with a golden hoe.

To those whose thoughts are at the forefront of their era, the highest level is that of the immortals—beings without want, at the pinnacle of mortal power, yearning only for longevity and freedom.

In their imaginings, immortals are lofty figures who obtain whatever they desire at will, who may become monarchs, gather countless wives and concubines, and so on.

But in the eyes of immortals, things are yet different—hence the distinction between nature and life.

Life is cultivation, destiny; nature is one’s realm and level. Only by advancing both together can one walk the right path.

If one’s realm is high but lacks cultivation, one is but a madman. If one’s cultivation is high but realm is low, one is a child with an atom bomb—if you steal his candy, he may just detonate it.

Though Wang Yuanfeng had achieved the state of human immortal, he had only opened the lesser circulation of energy. His pellet had condensed once more, nourishing his organs for a time.

It was this that granted him some resistance; otherwise, the sword would have destroyed him, leaving his soul to cultivate as a wandering ghost-spirit, seeking rebirth after a century or so, and beginning anew.

Now, the flying sword both destroyed and drew in innate energy to reform his lungs. It seemed intent on remaining there, not returning to its sword case.

The flying sword’s purpose was for cultivation—when reaching the Great Pellet realm, one could return the acquired to the innate, open the bridge between heaven and earth, blend yin and yang, and form the Golden Core.

Wang Yuanfeng estimated that, at this rate, it would take at least seven days to adapt. During that time, any sudden movement would provoke bloodshed; combat would be out of the question. He might project the sword outward, but recalling it would leave him half-dead.

He mused that if someone could help accelerate the process, he could link the flying sword to the Celestial Armillary, using it as a pointer—so long as his fate endured and the instrument remained intact, he would not easily die.

Suddenly, he felt a surge of vital energy entering his lung meridian, resisting the Geng Metal’s destruction. He realized it was the two azure-clad figures he had glimpsed before he lost consciousness, now saving him.

Their method was somewhat rough, lacking the subtlety of his own Heavenly Finger technique, but in his current state it was salvation itself—a timely rain after a long drought.

His burden eased, Wang Yuanfeng’s spirit sank into the Celestial Armillary. Though still dim, several stars now shone within the instrument’s celestial sphere; the Northern and Southern Dippers could be faintly discerned.

The Four Poles within grew ever clearer, the Gouchen Palace already returning to its place. Gouchen governs life and death, commanding the Four Poles. If he could light a star or two within the Zodiac’s twelve houses, the Armillary would operate as intended.

He tried to guide the sword’s energy into the core of the Armillary. As soon as a trace entered, a wisp of gray mist emerged from the core, drew in the sword energy, flashed twice, then fell still. No matter how he coaxed it, there was no further reaction.

In his past life, whenever the Armillary absorbed a corresponding energy, it would always react, yet now the core remained unchanged, as if all were as before. He reasoned that, as before, the Armillary corresponded to all the body’s acupoints, the three talents of heaven, earth, and man, manifesting within it; the Four Poles corresponded to the liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys. The twelve zodiac palaces were within the body and within the Armillary’s workings.

The upper, middle, and lower dantians corresponded to their own abodes, enabling him to deduce the operations of his internal world.

But now there was no reaction. If his guess was wrong, perhaps the core was the heart, though not the physical heart; perhaps his realm was insufficient, lacking the Lord of Ten Thousand Spirits. He set the matter aside.

He looked inward at the flying sword within his lungs; though its sword energy still lingered, it had lessened considerably. With outside assistance, it no longer harmed him, and the sword was now refining his lungs with innate energy.

At this rate, a bit more refinement and he would be able to withstand the Geng Metal within the sword. Though for now he could not wield it freely, nor refine it completely into pure sword energy poised between real and illusory, like a pellet in the eye, he would no longer be restricted in action. So long as he could move, as long as he had a head and a mouth, there were many things he could accomplish.