Chapter Three: The Place Where Zhou Severed the Yin

Chen Heng straightened his robes, stepped to the side of the door, and opened it.

Outside, a Daoist carrying a qin on his back finally saw Chen Heng emerge. He let out a long sigh of relief, the anxious look on his face easing just a little.

“I heard that as soon as you were released from the water prison, you accepted the talisman edict to descend into the Abyss. Is that true?”

“It’s true.”

“But how could you—”

The Daoist, who called himself Xu Zhi, became so agitated upon seeing the red cord exposed at Chen Heng’s wrist that he instinctively reached out to remove it. Yet halfway through the motion, he remembered Chen Heng’s former cold and distant temperament.

His hand froze awkwardly in the air—he could neither advance nor retreat.

“Um, I…”

“Thank you for coming to warn me, Senior Brother. If you don’t mind the humble surroundings, please come in and have a seat.”

Chen Heng smiled faintly, cupped his hands in salute, his expression perfectly composed.

“Oh, well—of course…”

Xu Zhi, startled, seemed even more uneasy than before. He stole a cautious glance at Chen Heng, pinched himself to make sure he was awake, and, seeing Chen Heng’s calm demeanor, shrank his neck and tiptoed inside.

Once they had taken their seats as host and guest, and Chen Heng had taken the initiative to start the conversation, Xu Zhi’s ghost-stricken expression finally faded a little, and a smile appeared on his face.

“To think you’d return from the brink of death changed for the better—it’s wonderful, truly cause for celebration! I’ve wanted to say this for a long time: brooding over grievances harms not only one’s health but also impedes cultivation.”

He raised his teacup. “Seeing you like this puts my mind at ease.”

Chen Heng glanced at him.

This Daoist, Xu Zhi, had striking, ink-dark brows and starry eyes, his bearing elegant and handsome—a man difficult to dislike. Unfortunately, there was always a shade of hesitation in his expression, which made him seem needlessly timid.

Chen Heng thought for a moment before recalling the connection between Xu Zhi and his predecessor.

Xu Zhi had been considered outstanding among the disciples of the Xuan Zhen Sect—well-versed in alchemy and the teachings of the Yellow Emperor, his compiled pharmacopeia had once been popular in the nations below the mountain. On top of that, his swordsmanship was exquisite, nearly reaching the pinnacle of mortal martial arts.

Because of this, he had been accepted as a direct disciple by Daoist Gu Jun, one of the sect’s three Grand Elders, who taught him the classics. For a time, Xu Zhi’s future seemed limitless.

But good fortune was fleeting. During a demon-slaying mission, he made a grave mistake, damaging the meridians in his right hand, rendering him unable to wield a sword again.

For reasons unknown, Daoist Gu Jun flew into a rage, expelled Xu Zhi from his tutelage, and smashed the alchemical furnace he had personally gifted him, subjecting him to harsh humiliation.

At that time, Chen Heng’s predecessor had already been brought to the Xuan Zhen Sect by Yan Zhen.

Some Daoists, eager to curry favor, recounted Xu Zhi’s misfortune as a joke for his amusement. Thus, Chen Heng learned that Xu Zhi had faltered in battle against the demon, causing the deaths of several fellow disciples and even the only son of his master, Daoist Gu Jun.

After this, Xu Zhi’s spirit collapsed. Not only did his cultivation stagnate, but he also abandoned his alchemical studies. Many who had once envied him took the opportunity to kick him while he was down, treating him as a scapegoat.

Out of a vague sense of shared misery, Chen Heng’s predecessor had made Xu Zhi one of the musicians in the Hall of Benevolence. This action deterred those who mocked Xu Zhi, and they eventually scattered.

His predecessor had never thought much of this, nor could he clearly remember Xu Zhi’s appearance. Yet, in this dire moment, Xu Zhi was the first to come visit him.

“This Senior Brother Xu is indeed someone worth befriending,” Chen Heng thought.

“But, forgive me for being blunt—this matter of the Abyss—” Xu Zhi set his teacup down, intending to persuade him, but Chen Heng shook his head.

“The Abyss is a place I must go, Senior Brother. There’s no need to say more.”

“You’ve read the Daoist texts. Don’t you know the Abyss leads to the Netherworld and the Yellow Springs, a place of utmost darkness, where countless demons and malignant spirits are sealed? In ancient times, even that corpse-transcending immortal from beyond the heavens fell into the Abyss, and for five days, blood rain fell across Eastern Mi Prefecture!”

Xu Zhi grew agitated. “The sect’s edict sends disciples to the Abyss to gather Shadow Steeds and Human-Faced Fungus. The rewards are generous, but the price is your life! If you die down there, there’s not even a chance for reincarnation—you’ll be tormented forever. Isn’t this exactly what Elder Yan and Yan Ping want?”

The Abyss was a passage beneath Eastern Mi Prefecture that connected to the Netherworld and the Yellow Springs. Not just in Eastern Mi, but in each of the nine prefectures, such abysses existed.

Though these were places of burial, danger, and baleful yin, they also spawned many resources for cultivation—such as the Shadow Steed and Human-Faced Fungus.

The Shadow Steed could be used as a prime ingredient in forging the “Dragon and Tiger Furnace Cauldron,” the first step to the Dongxuan realm. The Human-Faced Fungus, when ground into incense, could dispel the illusions caused by demonic interference, preserving clarity of mind. And these were only the lesser treasures found in the upper layers of the Abyss; what lay deeper was beyond speculation.

While Chen Heng was still imprisoned, the Daoists in the Torture Hall had mentioned this matter, half in jest, half in earnest. Though he sensed their ulterior motives, he remembered it. As soon as he was released, he went to the Service Hall and claimed the edict.

He went to the Abyss not just for the reward, but because it was his only hope of survival—

“Xu Wei’s Frost-Fighting True Qi is overwhelmingly fierce. If I can’t find a powerful yang medicine to stabilize my body, within half a month I will die.”

Chen Heng looked at Xu Zhi and said calmly, “But I have no wealth to buy such medicine. While Yan Zhen lived, I never took anything from her. After her death, as you see, the Hall of Benevolence was confiscated, and both I, as its music master, and you musicians, are now ordinary Daoists.”

“But with the sect’s talisman edict for the Abyss, every disciple receives two bottles of Minor White Sun Pills and eight hundred talisman coins before departure. The coins aren’t much, but with those pills, I can suppress the Frost-Fighting True Qi for at least half a year. Senior Brother, if I want to live, this is my only way.”

In truth, Chen Heng had another reason he did not speak of.

The talisman edict to the Abyss was the direct command of the Xuan Zhen Sect’s leader, who was only a step away from the Golden Core. Even someone as unruly as Yan Feichen would have to obey. As long as he held the edict, Yan Feichen couldn’t move against him—at least not openly. To do so would be to challenge the authority of the sect master himself.

Because of this, even though he knew the Torture Hall Daoist had deliberately let him overhear, Chen Heng had no choice but to act accordingly.

“This, this…” Xu Zhi opened his mouth as if to protest, but in the end, he slumped down and sighed.

“You have shown me kindness. How can I just watch you walk to your death?” he said.

“It’s nothing. Once inside the Abyss, I’ll find a quiet place to refine the Minor White Sun Pills and won’t compete for those other medicines.”

Chen Heng lowered his eyes and smiled. “I’m not that corpse-transcending immortal in the ancient books, desperate to die in the depths of the Netherworld.”

Seeing Chen Heng’s resolve, Xu Zhi hesitated, then sighed and pulled two books from his sleeve.

“One is a sword manual, the other a medical text. I have little else to offer,” Xu Zhi explained. “The sword manual is a family heirloom of the Xu clan—a mortal art, but with its own merits. As for the medical text…” He looked embarrassed. “The medical text is just some of my insights—take it to pass the time.”

Chen Heng accepted them with a bow, and only then did Xu Zhi relax. Not long after, as Xu Zhi was about to leave, a thought occurred to Chen Heng.

“Senior Brother, please wait. I have one more question.”

Chen Heng called him back. “How did you first attain embryonic breathing? Besides sudden enlightenment or spiritual inspiration, are there other methods? I read in the Daoist texts: ‘Fear of life and death, and the spirit is realized.’ Can one truly attain the breath of the embryo in the face of life and death?”

“There is… such a saying, but the method is too urgent and risky.”

Xu Zhi, already turning away, paused and thought for a while before replying, “Fire, stone, thunder, drowning—these all can push one to attain embryonic breathing through mortal peril. Embryonic breathing is the true yang inherent in the human body; the younger the infant, the stronger this qi. To use life and death to attain it is to terrify the spirit, forcing oneself into a primordial, infant-like state, as if in the womb—thus making it easier to sense that breath.”

He added, “But this is too dangerous. Just listen to the theory—never try it yourself.”

“I understand,” Chen Heng replied, nodding, his left hand gently stroking the golden cicada, his mind settling.

“So it’s true—I was right.”

A few steps away, Xu Zhi seemed unable to see the golden cicada at all.

Chen Heng had already tested this on others.

No one but himself seemed able to see or touch the jade carving.

Otherwise, when the Daoist from the Torture Hall had extorted him, he never could have kept the cicada.

“There are still some doubts I have about the Daoist texts—might I ask Senior Brother to clarify them for me?”

Without further thought, Chen Heng bowed deeply, showing utmost respect.

His predecessor had never been a devotee of the Dao. Though he’d read some texts while living as a caged canary, he’d never studied them closely and understood little of their essential teachings.

But Xu Zhi was different.

Once a genius disciple of the Xuan Zhen Sect, skilled in sword and medicine, Xu Zhi had even studied under the Elder Gu Jun for a time. In this world, the hierarchy of immortality was clear: Embryonic Breathing, Qi Refinement, Foundation Building, Purple Mansion, Dongxuan, and Golden Core…

What came after the Golden Core was not worth mentioning.

After Embryonic Breathing, Qi Refinement consisted of nine stages—the Nine Returns of Qi Refinement. After the ninth, each of the Foundation Building, Purple Mansion, and Dongxuan realms had three sub-stages, leading up to the Golden Core.

Though Xu Zhi had later given up, he had at least attained Embryonic Breathing and reached the sixth stage of Qi Refinement.

He might not be able to answer the most abstruse questions, but for someone of Chen Heng’s current knowledge, that hardly mattered.

For dispelling doubts, there was no one more suitable than Xu Zhi.

“Of course,” Xu Zhi replied, surprised once more. He had never seen Chen Heng so eager to learn; today’s surprises were already more than enough.

“What would you like to ask?” He looked at the youth, as handsome as a god, and said cautiously, “I’m only at the sixth stage of Qi Refinement—please forgive me if I can’t answer everything.”

“How could I blame you? Senior Brother, I want to ask: Wild birds and horned beasts, in divination, are omens of an enemy’s approach. But in the context of human meridians, what might they signify?” Chen Heng’s eyes brightened as he posed the question.

Xu Zhi frowned, pondering for a long time before answering.

…

…

It was not until the moon hung high in the sky that Chen Heng finally escorted Xu Zhi out of the cave. The discussion had been fruitful—not only had he resolved the doubts festering since his time in the water prison, but he had also, intentionally or not, inquired about the Xuan Zhen Sect’s Qi Refinement methods.

He learned that the advanced methods for refining potent true qi were rare in all of Eastern Mi Prefecture, kept only by the great sects and major factions. It was almost impossible even to hear of them, let alone see them.

“But where there’s a will, there’s a way—who knows what the future holds?”

After closing the door, Chen Heng let out a long breath, feeling as if the fog before his eyes had cleared, the world suddenly vast and open. He could not help but clap his hands and laugh aloud.

“Fear of life and death, and the spirit is realized… I see now, so that’s how it is! With the golden cicada in hand, from today onward, the Embryonic Breathing stage will no longer hinder me!”

He lit a lamp, sat down at his desk once more, and carefully wrote out his thoughts one by one.

…

Two days later.

A clear, resounding chime reverberated through the entire Lesser Gan Mountain, startling all the Daoists of Xuan Zhen Sect from their dwellings.

“So, after all this waiting, it has finally come,” Chen Heng said with a carefree smile, feeling the red cord at his wrist heat up with the sound of the bell. Lifting the hem of his robe, he too stepped outside.