Chapter 119: Energy Absorption

"So, you have us cornered? You have quite the audacity! That is a good joke indeed!"

Before Yan Ping could speak, a young man of the Yan clan—with a face powdered white and lips painted red—could not help but sneer. He stomped on the bright yellow true qi beneath his feet and surged forward, flying directly toward Chen Heng, who sat cross-legged atop a central stone pillar.

This man was Yan Jia. His cultivation had already reached the first level of Foundation Establishment—the realm of Qi Sea Transformation. Being from a wealthy family, he possessed many treasures and was considered a formidable combatant among his peers. To Yan Ping, even if Chen Heng had some tricks up his sleeve, using a genuine Foundation Establishment cultivator like Yan Jia to test his mettle was more than sufficient. The only concern was what kind of life-saving手段 the Xie Tan of the Flower God Mansion might have given him; that could not be ignored.

At this moment, Yan Jia had already entered the craggy stone forest. All around him were tall stone peaks, shaped like swords and halberds, stretching for miles across the wilderness—dark, peculiar, and ominous. Inside the stone forest, it was pitch black, accompanied by the shrill whistling of a chilling wind blowing through various holes and crevices. The sound was like resentment, like yearning, like weeping and pleading, making anyone who heard it shudder to the bone.

Yan Jia withdrew his gaze from the craggy stones below, his brows slightly furrowed. In truth, he felt a prickle of fear, as if countless vengeful spirits were lurking in the silence, waiting for his slightest slip to reach out with ghostly hands and drag him into that ink-like darkness. He swallowed quietly, forcing down the inexplicable panic rising in his heart. Remembering his clansmen waiting to support him behind, and touching the demonic secret treasure passed down through his family for generations hidden in his sleeve, his eyes turned cold.

"As we agreed, beat him half to death, then scatter some moonstone and red river sand on him to attract the ghosts of the abyss to finish him off! That will be the end of it!" Yan Jia thought to himself, a cold smile appearing on his face.

The bright yellow true qi beneath his feet carried him forward dozens of yards more. Once he gauged that he was at a suitable distance from Chen Heng, he tilted his head back, opened his mouth, and spat out a crystal-clear bead the size of a chicken egg, hurling it directly at Chen Heng’s face!

The bead glowed with a brilliant blue light. The moment it left Yan Jia’s mouth, it flashed in the air and transformed into a deep blue wave, thirty yards long and nine yards wide, moving with the agility of a twisting, coiling dragon. This "Floating Water Mirage Bead," a replica of the legendary "Mirage Dragon Pearl," was his prized talismanic weapon. He had refined it for over a decade, allowing him to control its size and movement with ease.

Any cultivator touched by this wave would have their spirit captured by the mirage qi within, dragging them into an endless illusion until they collapsed, never to wake again. Once in that state, they would be nothing more than a walking corpse, their life and death entirely in Yan Jia’s hands. Even for those who were alert and protected themselves with spells and talismans to avoid direct contact, Yan Jia had his ways.

As the "Floating Water Mirage Bead" was activated, a layer of damp, misty vapor had quietly saturated the air, indistinguishable from ordinary humidity. As long as the cultivator inhaled this mist, the accumulated mirage qi would naturally seize their soul and plunge them into an illusion. This method was extremely subtle; the mist was colorless and odorless, and even with spiritual perception, one could not detect anything unusual, assuming it was merely the normal agitation of spiritual energy caused by the talisman.

Relying on this, Yan Jia had murdered many cultivators. Even those a small realm higher than him, if caught off guard, would often fall victim.

The rolling water wave whistled forward, smashing several stone pillars in its path and kicking up clouds of dust. In an instant, it closed in on Chen Heng.

"The water qi seems a bit different..." Chen Heng frowned slightly. His Tai Su Jade Body, at the fifth level of the Profound Realm, had transformed him, placing him beyond the scope of ordinary cultivators, comparable to some innate divine monsters in their youth. The moment the bead was released and turned into a wave, his formidable physical body allowed him to sense the strange change in the water qi, and he promptly held his breath.

He pointed a finger, and instantly, the Thunder Fire Thunderbolt Pearl erupted, shielding his body with heavy flames, while bolts of red and white lightning whirled out to meet the rolling wave.

*Boom!*

Yan Jia’s face changed drastically. He felt the power within the lightning was unimaginably violent, far beyond what human strength could resist. In just a few collisions, the wave was slashed to pieces. Seeing it was about to be broken and the true form of the "Floating Water Mirage Bead" revealed, he quickly formed a hand seal, desperately pumping his true qi to restore the wave, barely managing to block the red and white lightning.

"What rank of Fetal Breath is he at? He is definitely not practicing the clan's 'Ingot Gold True Qi'!" Amidst the continuous roaring, Yan Jia could barely withstand the assault after a few more exchanges. His face flushed, and the shock caused his blood to churn, leaving a sweet, metallic taste in his throat. *How could a mere Qi-Practitioner have such cultivation? Could he have already formed True Qi?!*

This scene not only terrified Yan Jia but also left Yan Ping and the others in disbelief, suspecting they were trapped in an illusion. Just as they were about to rush forward to assist, they saw Chen Heng’s body sway slightly on the stone pillar, and the fierce flames from the Thunder Fire Thunderbolt Pearl began to dim.

"It worked?! He really did fall for my mirage qi!" Yan Jia, who had just escaped death, was ecstatic.

His hand had already reached for the demonic secret treasure in his sleeve, ready to strike a killing blow, but he paused and hesitated, pulling his hand back. He carefully probed the situation a few times, finally laughing inwardly. This demonic treasure, known as the Blood River Chariot Wheel, was incredibly difficult to refine. Not only did it invite hostility from the Orthodox sects, but it also had a limited number of uses; once used, it was gone forever. Having been passed down for generations, it could only be activated four or five more times before becoming scrap metal. Saving a use now was wise; it might save his life in a future battle.

While Yan Jia’s thoughts raced, his actions were swift. Although the "Floating Water Mirage Bead" could capture a soul through mist, direct contact was the most efficient method. He flew toward the seemingly swaying Chen Heng, driving his true qi forward. He surged the water wave, aiming to destroy the remaining fire light shielding Chen Heng and force the mirage qi into his body.

Almost at the moment Yan Jia, full of triumph, came within ten yards of Chen Heng, the man on the stone pillar suddenly flashed a sharp, piercing light from his eyes—like two beams of cold steel that illuminated everything in front of him!

"No!" Yan Jia’s heart trembled violently.

In a split second, a streak of green light flew from Chen Heng’s sleeve, moving with terrifying speed! At this distance, it was too late for Yan Jia to dodge. He felt immense regret, subconsciously reaching for the demonic treasure in his sleeve again.

*Puff!*

The water wave was sliced open in one stroke. Yan Jia let out a shrill scream as all four of his limbs were severed by the Green Law Sword. He fell from the sky, landing in a heap of blood and gore.

"You..." He was mentally resilient; even half-dead, he twisted his body, struggling to crawl away, his eyes filled with terrified confusion. Clearly, his spiritual perception had shown Chen Heng’s energy to be chaotic and his blood flow sluggish—the very picture of someone trapped by mirage qi. He had checked multiple times! How could it be that when he got close...

Just then, he heard a rush of wind behind his ears. Yan Jia looked back in horror to see Chen Heng calmly reach out and snatch the Blood River Chariot Wheel that had fallen from his sleeve. With another motion, Chen Heng pulled him through the air, gripping his throat like a chicken.

"You were clearly trapped by my mirage qi just now. How are you completely unaffected?" Seeing the indifference in Chen Heng’s eyes, Yan Jia struggled, screaming in disbelief: "You tricked me?!"

"The Blood River Chariot Wheel—I’ve heard much about it, but I never expected to encounter it here... If not for it, why would I bother playing these games with you?" Chen Heng smiled faintly, his fingers tightening, and he crushed Yan Jia’s throat.

The sequence of events was as swift as a startled rabbit. Yan Ping and the others had only seen Yan Jia approaching with a smile, only to see him dismembered and falling from the sky in the next instant. Then, with a slight movement of Chen Heng’s lips, Yan Jia was strangled to death. This bloody, brutal scene left them with an indescribable dread.

"He cannot be defeated by force! Forget about using the ghosts to kill him, everyone attack together! Combine our strength and kill him!" Yan Ping shouted through gritted teeth, summoning his White Hut Dharma Sword. It stirred up a dark, murky wind and slashed sharply toward Chen Heng’s head!

The surrounding Yan clansmen also unleashed their various techniques. For a moment, colorful lights exploded, spells flew, and talismanic weapons filled the sky. Chen Heng glanced at them briefly, flicking his finger toward the Green Law Sword. With a thought, the flying sword darted back and forth, blocking every incoming attack, impenetrable as an iron barrel.

*Bang!*

Cold light illuminated the void. After a few rounds of collision, the Yan clansmen were shaken, and Yan Ping’s face turned ghastly. The White Hut Dharma Sword he wielded had been Yan Zhen’s personal weapon; it was of high quality, even among mid-grade talismans. Yet, Chen Heng’s Green Law Sword was of an even higher rank. In their clash, the White Hut sword actually showed cracks, emitting a mournful wail.

"Where did this peasant get such terrifying Fetal Breath, and where did he get such a superior flying sword?!" After frantically recalling his sword, Yan Ping didn't even have time to mourn his weapon before he saw something that shattered his soul.

"You... what evil art have you practiced? Are you even human?" Yan Ping retreated in horror. "No! You are definitely not Chen Heng! That cowardly fool, even with such power, would never have the guts! What kind of ghost or evil spirit has possessed him?!"

He stared fixedly ahead, bloodshot veins bulging in his eyes. Not far away, Chen Heng was pressing his hand onto the crown of the dead Yan Jia, and wisps of residual true qi were slowly flowing from the corpse into his own body. After dozens of seconds, he pulled his hand away, and Yan Jia’s body had withered into skin and bone, unrecognizable.

"True qi... with my current Fetal Breath volume, absorbing the residual true qi from a Foundation Establishment cultivator is no longer difficult." Chen Heng felt a warm spring surging in his chest, making his mind clear and refreshed. He took a white handkerchief from his sleeve to meticulously wipe the dust from his palms, looking down with a faint smile.

When a cultivator dies, their spiritual essence usually returns to the heavens and earth instantly, leaving only a tiny fraction in the corpse. He had already confirmed this with Tong Gaolu in the Rong Kingdom. But Yan Jia was a Foundation Establishment cultivator; his volume was far beyond Tong Gaolu’s, and even the residual qi provided Chen Heng with a slight improvement.

"I know this method cannot be easily shown to others. I cannot leave anyone alive who witnessed this, or once exposed, the orthodox sects will call for my head... In the Huaiwu Cave, I killed many people, including several Foundation Establishment cultivators, and I held back every time, never using it." Chen Heng looked at the wary Yan clansmen and said softly: "Now, in this godforsaken place, I can finally let go and have a good fight."

"Chen Heng! You use evil arts... are you not afraid of divine retribution?!" Seeing him look over with a smile, the group involuntarily took a step back. A dark-skinned Yan clansman shouted, his voice shrill with feigned courage.

"Evil arts? Compared to this Blood River Chariot Wheel, what is my art?" Chen Heng beckoned, and the Green Law Sword returned to his sleeve. He took a slow step forward. "Also, thank you all for sacrificing your lives to help me achieve the Dao. I am much obliged."

He cupped his hands and smiled slightly. With a surge of his Fetal Breath, he unleashed his Innate Great Sun Divine Light—the only superior-grade spell he had mastered, and his most potent weapon!

Suddenly, the air shook, as if a heavenly furnace had overflowed and exploded! Behind him, a curtain of golden fire erupted, vast and mighty, shattering the void layer by layer. It was as if a sun had fallen from the zenith of the heavens, sweeping everything away in a torrent of annihilation. It was blindingly bright, turning the surrounding miles into a crimson inferno!

In the blink of an eye, the defensive measures the Yan clansmen had hastily erected were swept away like sand. Figures were sliced and burned through as easily as paper. The shrill screams that had just begun were suddenly silenced...

Half a cup of tea later, Chen Heng had cleared away the remains and gathered the true qi from the fallen Yan clansmen, replenishing his own diminished Fetal Breath. Without lingering, he took to the sky and pursued the direction in which Yan Ping had fled.

Yan Ping had been struck by the Innate Great Sun Divine Light. Even if he used some protective treasures to survive, the fire essence had entered his body; he would not live for more than a few months. But until he saw Yan Ping truly dead, Chen Heng could not rest easy.

Soon, three days passed. After much chasing, Chen Heng had plunged deep into the abyss, traversing several subterranean caverns. Finally, he slowed his flight and landed atop a small hill covered in grave mounds, looking forward.

In the distance, Yan Ping was tied to a butcher’s block like a slaughtered pig, his limbs removed and his body pinned to iron hooks. Around him, the scene was bustling, as if a village market were in full swing, with people coming and going in a restless, chaotic crowd.