Chapter Thirty-Eight: The True Qi of the Cold Duel

“Are you truly willing to let go?”

By now, daylight flooded the world, and the clouds a hundred feet overhead shimmered with myriad colors, the sun blazing high and brilliant.

Yin Gonghao gazed calmly for a time at the scene of golden waves rippling and dawn birds piercing the gloom. After a while, he withdrew his gaze and fixed his eyes on Zhou Chuyu, who was prostrate on the ground.

“That man saved you from water and fire. Without him, you would still be on that hillock, suffering humiliation and torment. If I asked you to kill him with your own hands, could you bear it? Would you resent me?”

“Teacher, how do you know all this?”

“The gulf between cultivators is greater than that between man and dog. Your little thoughts are plain to me at a glance—I need not probe further. How could you hide anything from Yin Gonghao?”

“He... though he rescued me from misery, he came too late. Now that he’s here, what do those days I endured count for?”

Zhou Chuyu avoided Yin Gonghao’s gaze, unconsciously scooping up a handful of wet, muddy black earth, her fingers digging deep, nails pressed hard into her palm, murmuring softly:

“The more he saves me, the more it seems I must hate him. He’s pure, like clouds in the sky, while I am filthy and tainted, like rot fertilizing the earth… When I look at him, I can’t help but want to drag him down from the heavens, to make him join me, to embrace him passionately, so his whole body carries my scent, impossible to wash away. Until we entwine and die together, our bodies rotting side by side…”

Yin Gonghao laughed heartily.

“Ingrateful as it is, your words come from the heart, earnest and sincere,” he said.

“That’s why I never dared resent Teacher. You paved a golden road for me—only by standing on this path to the heavens can I reach up and drag Chen Heng down into the mud.”

Yin Gonghao narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Never dared resent,” not “never would resent”—such subtle difference, yet her intent was already clear.

But Yin Gonghao did not mind. He’d seen many who fancied themselves extraordinary, but how many could forge a golden core and step into the realm of the spirit?

Even if she truly possessed such fortune and, after attaining the Dao, sought to kill him, Yin Gonghao would only applaud her—because that would mean he had taught her well!

“If you truly can kill him, not only will you be admitted as my disciple, but if you manage to form a golden core within fifty years, I will guide you to a great fortune.”

Yin Gonghao’s long brows twitched. “All the countless true heirs and chosen ones of the eight sects and six schools are eagerly waiting. If you can gain from this, you will have no obstacles in cultivation before the three calamities!”

Zhou Chuyu raised her head, smiling charmingly, her eyes and brows radiant, revealing a hint of allure.

“But those are things for later. I’ll give you only one month. If you haven’t finished within a month, I will reclaim your cultivation and cast you down to the body of a beast.”

“The mortal world is vast. If I fail to find Chen Heng’s whereabouts, or if he suffers misfortune and is killed before I reach him, how will this be counted?” Zhou Chuyu asked.

“It will count as your loss.”

Yin Gonghao, with a faint smile, hands behind his back, said indifferently:

“Be content. My trial for you is simple. When my master tested me for eligibility to enter his tutelage, he deliberately disguised himself as me and slaughtered half the cultivator sects of a realm. Then he threw me into that realm and made me survive for a month before considering me worthy.”

“When the month ended, I’d already been stripped to the bone, skinned, and even my soul was lit as a lamp in a furnace of ghostly fire. Luckily, those fools wanted to torment me and spared my spiritual source, so I managed to pass through by cunning.”

Zhou Chuyu took a deep breath and silently rose from the ground.

“You’ve only received one cultivation scripture from me. In haste, even if I gave you techniques, you wouldn’t amount to much—better not to learn them.”

Yin Gonghao pondered for a moment. From the crown of his head burst a circle of pitch-black light; a giant white-boned hand reached out from the wheel, grasping into the void, seizing several practitioners in apricot-yellow robes—both men and women, their auras fluctuating, clearly all at the seventh level or higher.

“S-senior…”

Among them, one in the lead forced down his fear and spoke tremblingly.

They had been deep in cultivation in their sanctum when suddenly a skeletal hand reached out, effortlessly crushing the protective array. A few elders tried to stop it, but before they could even approach, their bodies were shattered, reduced to pulp in midair.

“We are disciples of Flame Rock Mountain—my father once had dealings with Master Zhang of Luofu Sect. I don’t know—”

Before he could finish, Yin Gonghao grew impatient. The skeletal hand clenched tightly, killing them all in an instant, blood raining everywhere.

“What nonsense Flame Rock Mountain—I’ve never heard of it. And Luofu Sect dares presume before me? My Banner of Corpse Response lacks a few spirits—sooner or later, I’ll invite them all to join!”

Yin Gonghao dismissed them with disdain. He pointed to the pile of fresh blood and mud, instructing Zhou Chuyu:

“Go, pick out the talismans and artifacts you favor. With your cultivation at the third level, you’re capable enough to wield them.”

Once Zhou Chuyu had carefully picked through the blood and mud, Yin Gonghao said no more, waving her away.

Zhou Chuyu knelt respectfully, knocking her head three times before turning to leave the valley.

“I’ve gained the method—finally, I’ve obtained it…”

A streak of gray-blue light soared into the sky, shooting up a hundred feet before halting.

Flying, wrapped in prenatal breath, Zhou Chuyu covered her face, laughing and crying:

“Mother, did you see from below? Today your daughter has found her immortal fate.”

…

…

Within the True Law Realm.

Chen Heng’s breath faltered, then suddenly his throat burned with pain—a burst of cold pierced through, shredding his larynx, then his organs froze, and even the blood flowing out was a dark blue.

“Mistake again. I should have slowed down just now.”

As the end came, this thought flashed through Chen Heng’s mind.

When this incarnation finally ceased to breathe, light and shadow flickered, and another Chen Heng was condensed anew.

…

Refining the Cold Dipper True Qi was indeed difficult.

Even when it was dormant, it tormented Chen Heng to the brink of death. Having achieved cultivation, his prenatal breath had grown immeasurably, enough to protect his organs and spare him the agony of freezing. But to truly refine it remained a formidable challenge.

Cultivation at the breathing stage meant constantly strengthening the innate prenatal breath within, layer upon layer, until it was sufficient to condense true qi.

During this process, depending on the method practiced, the prenatal breath would evolve in myriad ways.

For example, those practicing Gold Ingot True Qi, as their cultivation deepened, their prenatal breath would gradually reveal the properties of the Gold Ingot Qi—manifesting traits of “metal” and “sharpness.”

Chen Heng, relying on the “Primordial True Source” with its “Dragon Heaven’s clarity, all truths encompassed” properties, had allowed his prenatal breath to absorb some of this nature, thus daring to attempt the refinement of the Cold Dipper True Qi.

Yet, the quality of true qi surpassed prenatal breath; despite his exceptional attributes, complete refinement was no easy task.

“Let’s try again.”

Steeling himself, Chen Heng sat once more upon the ground.