Chapter 53: The Path to Strengthening the Embryonic Breath

By the time Rong Tuo finally managed to recover his composure, Rong Xuandao and the others had already received the urgent summons and rushed over at breakneck speed.

As soon as they entered the underground palace and laid eyes on the desolate scene before them—the waters dried up, the crimson glow faded—each face was marked by shock, and all drew in sharp breaths.

“Not even a third-tier Foundation Cultivator could drain this pool dry in just two days...”

Rong Jin’s hands trembled with distress. “This will take at least five or six years to restore to its former glory! Was that person a Rakshasa or a Yaksha, just escaped from the realm of hungry ghosts?”

But Rong Tuo had no time to heed Rong Jin’s complaints. He felt stifled, weak throughout his body, and could barely muster his strength. Only after circulating his inner energy several times did he manage to steady himself, his spirits slightly revived.

“So… this is the ‘Jade Embryo Mother Pool’?”

As he ground his teeth and suppressed his anger, another voice sounded.

Huang Zaichen poked his head nervously into the underground palace, his face still bright with envy even as he stepped through the stone door, words spilling out faster than his expression could change:

“It doesn’t look much different from the outside world—there isn’t much spiritual energy at all…”

Rong Tuo grew angrier still, glaring at Huang Zaichen.

Huang Zaichen, realizing his blunder, lowered his head, daring not meet Rong Tuo’s murderous eyes.

“Wretch! Wretch! Killing you wouldn’t quench my hatred!”

The more Rong Tuo thought about it, the more furious he became, and he could not help but shout:

“Do not try to stop me! Whoever hinders me dies! I’ll hunt him down right now and beat him to death!”

But after storming several yards away, it became clear that no one was trying to restrain him. His expression faltered, and as he reached the exit of the underground palace, he halted abruptly, rooted to the spot.

“Fools! Don’t you know how to act with sense? Hurry up and hold me back!”

Still in a daze, Rong Jin received a scathing message through voice transmission: “Such lack of discernment—how can I entrust the Rong clan to you, boy?!”

Startled, Rong Jin quickly caught on, and—despite his reluctance—dragged Rong Tuo back, offering soothing words and repeated comfort.

Even Huang Zaichen managed a few awkward attempts at consolation.

Only Rong Xuandao paid them no heed.

This imposing elder, over nine feet tall with arms that hung past his knees, first circled to the “Jade Embryo Mother Pool.” After seeing the line of elegant calligraphy carved into the pool wall, he sighed inwardly.

Turning, he noticed a letter left not far away. Picking it up, he saw that the ink was still damp—a recent missive.

Rong Xuandao read it word by word, his gaze growing graver with each line, until, quite unexpectedly, a trace of concealed delight flickered in his eyes at the end.

“Elder Brother...”

He called to Rong Tuo in a deep voice: “We’re all family here. Even Venerable Huang has married into the Rong clan—there’s no need for pretenses. Let’s discuss the real matter at hand!”

Rong Tuo, still putting on a front of tragic heroism, found it impossible to continue after hearing this. He shook off Rong Jin’s grasp and shouted, “Pretending? When have I ever pretended? You think I fear that brat?!”

“Seventeenth Brother, you’ve grown ever more skilled at undermining me!”

Seeing that Rong Xuandao remained unmoved, Rong Tuo’s face turned awkward, and he sighed, clapping his hands. “All these years and still no progress! If you weren’t my brother, I’d thrash you within an inch of your life…”

“By the way!”

Suddenly recalling something, Rong Tuo’s anger flared again. “Did I not tell you to take out the White Tiger Illusion Scroll and, once ready, kill Chen Heng in the underground palace on the spot?! Why didn’t you act? Was there not enough time, or were you not prepared?”

“Elder Brother, I suspect you didn’t truly wish to kill him. I know your character well—if you genuinely intended harm, you wouldn’t have given me such instructions. You’d have used the ‘Celestial Saturn Yin Talisman’ yourself.”

“Why wouldn’t I kill him?” Rong Tuo sneered. “Who does he think he is? Merely a son of the declining Chen clan—even if he’s entered the Xuan Zhen Sect, he’s nothing more than a trifle! With Yan Zhen gone, does he still imagine himself unassailable?”

The veneer of a great sect’s disciple had long since been stripped from Chen Heng by the Rong family.

For all their three centuries of rule—though forced nearly into exile by Tong Gaolu—they still possessed some reserves. Rong Tuo had long harbored doubts about Chen Heng’s identity, and upon seeing Tu Shan Ge, that wily fox from Yang Mountain, he felt certain of the truth.

Only, with Tong Gaolu still requiring Chen Heng’s effort, Rong Tuo dared not act rashly and so feigned ignorance…

“Elder Brother, do you truly dare kill him? Do you truly not fear him? I think that’s nonsense. As for me, I do fear him, and I dare not kill him.”

Rong Xuandao folded his hands behind his back and spoke to himself: “I do not know what fortune that favorite has obtained, but his abilities now surpass even Tong Gaolu. Even so, we possess the ‘Celestial Saturn Yin Talisman’—if we bleed for it, we could still slay him! What truly frightens me is his temperament—so cold, so ruthless…”

“Have you forgotten, Elder Brother?” Rong Xuandao fixed his gaze on Rong Tuo.

“How did he come to enmity with Tong Gaolu?”

It was simply for killing a Yang Mountain Daoist—a sworn brother whom Tong Gaolu considered insignificant.

To avoid exposure, he crippled Tong Yi’s arm with ruthless decisiveness.

Afterward, he chased from Lanliang to Yuangjing, uprooting Tong Gaolu along the way, slaughtering his entire family without hesitation.

Rong Xuandao considered what he would have done in Chen Heng’s place.

At Tong Yi’s side, he would have sought to ease tensions—paying money, offering treasures, currying favor by every means. Never would he have gone so far as to cripple Tong Yi, or slaughter Tong Gaolu in Yuangjing.

Tong Gaolu must have died in utter disbelief—a trivial Yang Mountain Daoist had become the reason for his demise…

It seemed that the three years as a favorite in the Xuan Zhen Sect had honed this man’s nature to a razor’s edge, filled him with a murderous aura—his sword drawn, always seeking blood. Such a person, even if not supremely skilled, is one I would never dare provoke. Should I wound him and fail to kill, he would surely return to exterminate my clan without a moment’s hesitation.

“Elder Brother, I know you’re wavering. The ancestor’s relics are precious, but there are so few of them. Compared to our mortal foundation, they are truly our clan’s lifeblood…”

He pointed at the line of script on the “Jade Embryo Mother Pool”:

“By leaving these words, he’s warning us—granting the Rong clan a measure of dignity. Don’t let your pride cloud your judgment and rush off to your death!”

The “Jade Embryo Mother Pool” was hard as stone; only the true energy of a Foundation Cultivator could leave a mark. Yet Chen Heng had carved it with his bare hand—the meaning was clear.

Hearing this, Rong Tuo fell silent, while Rong Jin grew more apprehensive, and Huang Zaichen looked completely lost.

“...You make sense. The ancestor’s relics are few; once used, they’re gone. Even when Tong Gaolu usurped the throne, I couldn’t bear to use them. Compared to our mortal foundation, they are our clan’s true root.”

After a long while, Rong Tuo sighed deeply:

“I dare not kill him, nor risk the ancestor’s relics, but I cannot swallow this insult—a mere favorite, and so arrogant!”

He clenched his fists. “For generations, his ancestors have served under our family! Without us, he’d be nothing! Yet the moment I revealed murderous intent, he retaliated so viciously—how hateful!”

Rong Xuandao shook his head.

He knew Rong Tuo’s heart had already let go, but bitterness lingered—he needed to vent, and so let him be.

After Rong Tuo had vented enough, Rong Xuandao, seeing his breathing calm, handed him the letter.

“What’s this?” Rong Tuo took it.

“A letter from Chen Heng. This is the real business I wished to discuss,” said Rong Xuandao.

Rong Tuo’s expression grew ever more complex as he read, until at last he sighed and tucked the letter into his sleeve.

“What did Chen Heng write?” Rong Jin asked curiously.

At that moment, Huang Zaichen, feeling he’d heard too much already and fearing future consequences, tried to slip away, but Rong Xuandao pulled him back, shaking his head.

“He wrote that today’s events were unavoidable, and asks us to be magnanimous. As compensation, if he survives thirty years, our Rong clan may present this letter at his door to receive a mid-tier energy cultivation art.”

Rong Xuandao spoke calmly.

“What? A mid-tier energy cultivation art?!” Rong Jin’s eyes widened in delighted disbelief.

If it was truly a mid-tier art, today’s loss would be a trifling matter. If only the “Jade Embryo Mother Pool” were larger, he would wish for Chen Heng to return and drain it again.

“What’s with the fuss? With a nature so fickle, how will you ever seek the Dao?” Rong Tuo grumbled. “Thirty years—who knows if he’ll live that long? And even then, who’s to say he’ll hand over the art? You fool, until the benefit is in hand, it’s all empty words. Don’t be so rustic!”

Rong Jin fell silent, abashed.

“There was a final line—if the Rong clan feels wronged, he’s waiting outside Yuangjing City. We can find him if we wish.”

Rong Tuo managed a bitter smile. “That brat… what audacity! What a murderous heart!”

“So, what now?” Rong Jin ventured.

“What? March off to die?” Rong Tuo no longer feigned tragedy, casting him a sidelong glance. “Are you hoping for the ancestor’s death so you can seize the ‘Celestial Saturn Yin Talisman’? Let me tell you, there’s only one such talisman, and even if you die, it’s not yours to use!”

“I wouldn’t dare!” Rong Jin waved his hands.

Rong Tuo snorted, stepping to the pool’s edge. The more he looked at Chen Heng’s inscription, the more it vexed him. With a wave, the pool shuddered, golden light flaring as he prepared to erase the words.

But Rong Xuandao stopped him.

“What now? Do you want to make a rubbing, frame it for your study?” Rong Tuo grumbled.

“I think… there’s no harm in leaving it,” Rong Xuandao replied hesitantly. “Do you remember, when we were wandering cultivators, the story of Master Junyao of the Jade Celestial Sect?”

“Junyao of the Jade Celestial Sect?” Rong Tuo paused, then recalled.

That master, who had taken the championship at the “Pill Origin Assembly” and was now renowned across the land.

Before attaining the Dao, he had once helped a small sect rid themselves of a shadow demon. But after the deed, the sect grew reluctant to pay, making endless excuses.

In the end, Junyao slipped into their treasury, emptied it, and carved something like “Junyao was here” on their mural.

The sect could only swallow the loss, not daring to seek revenge, and pretended it had never happened.

But after Junyao vanquished countless talents at the Pill Origin Assembly and took the crown, this tale of shame became a point of pride.

That mural bearing Junyao’s inscription became highly coveted among the immortals. Eventually, the Wuguang Sect purchased it for a high price—an entire Ren-grade spiritual vein—and enshrined it within their halls.

After that, all envied the small sect’s luck, wishing it had been their own fate.

Even Junyao himself, now a Gold Core master, laughed when he heard the tale and personally granted the sect a “Crimson Cloud Landscape Scroll” as a foundation treasure.

This story was common gossip among itinerant cultivators—Rong Tuo and Rong Xuandao knew it well.

“You think he’ll achieve as much as Junyao? Win the Pill Origin Assembly?” Rong Tuo chuckled. “Don’t make me laugh! He’ll be lucky even to enter the Wuguang Sect—they don’t accept itinerants.”

“Regardless, only our family can enter here—leaving it won’t shame us. Who knows, it may prove useful?” Rong Xuandao insisted.

Though rough in appearance, his mind was shrewd.

During their years as wanderers, he’d let others underestimate him for his blunt words, never suspecting it was all a facade.

Rong Tuo paced back and forth, undecided, then finally waved everyone out of the underground palace.

Left alone, he hesitated, then quietly made a copy of the inscription.

“A Ren-grade spiritual vein is too much to hope for…” Rong Tuo muttered. “If I could get a thousand talisman coins, I’d be satisfied.”

Meanwhile, outside Yuangjing City, the Cloud-Sailing Airship hovered like a crimson cloud from sunrise to sunset, yet no pursuers appeared.

“It seems the Rong clan lacks the courage to come.” In the cabin, Tu Shan Ge yawned and glanced across at Chen Heng, who was seated cross-legged, cultivating.

“Master, why didn’t you simply annihilate the Rong clan and seize the ‘Jade Embryo Mother Pool’ as well?”

“You are certainly ruthless, Daoist friend.” Chen Heng calmly finished his cultivation, glanced at the dimming sky, and said, “A small warning suffices. Their family has ruled for over three centuries—who’s to say they have no other means? As for what you suggest, I can act when and if they ever come for me.”

“But, Master, will you really give them a mid-tier energy art in thirty years?” This time, Tu Shan Zhuang, gnawing on a chicken leg, couldn’t help but interject. “That’s no small gift—the Rong clan must be overjoyed.”

“In thirty years, if I am still alive, such an art will mean nothing to me.” Chen Heng smiled. “If by then I still care for such trifles, I might as well fall on my sword and be done with it.”

“As for you all—if you cultivate diligently, perhaps you too may have a chance at the Dao.”

Tu Shan Ge and the rest were delighted, bowing in thanks.

“All right, I have some matters to attend to. Wait here for me.”

Seeing that the Rong clan truly would not come, Chen Heng said no more. He leapt from the airship, landed in a tall wild forest, and released from his storage pouch a corpse.

The body was large and muscular, still faintly glowing with jade light—it was the remains of Tong Gaolu.

After slaying him, Chen Heng had quietly stowed the body away. In the days since, he’d killed Zhou Chuyu, cultivated the Primal Jade Body, and drawn on the Jade Embryo Mother Pool—leaving the matter of Tong Gaolu aside.

“Let’s see if my energy art can truly absorb another’s primal breath…”

Expressionless, Chen Heng pressed his finger to Tong Gaolu’s brow.

After a few breaths, wisps of primal breath flowed from the corpse into his own body.

A quarter of an hour later, he withdrew his hand. The primal breath within him had grown even stronger, surging through his chest and abdomen, filling his meridians with warmth and vigor.

As for Tong Gaolu’s body, with even the last vestiges of primal breath drained, though the flesh still shimmered with jade light, it had withered, shrunken and frail.

“After death, most of the primal breath dissipates into the world the moment consciousness fades—even a storage pouch can’t preserve it?”

Chen Heng’s gaze was deep. “Only a little remains hidden in the body’s apertures—not much, but it’s something.”

Even so, it was a means of strengthening his own breath, and at this stage, he could not afford to be choosy.

“Yet such methods, to outsiders, are the very image of evil—defiling the corpse, a crime beyond redemption.”

He summoned the Flowing Sky Ruler and quickly dug a deep pit, buried Tong Gaolu, and covered him with earth.

This art was powerful, but must never be displayed openly. If used, it must be in solitude—or else, all witnesses must die. Not a single soul could be left alive.

If word leaked, trouble would be endless.

When the body was finally buried, he surveyed his surroundings, then soared back to the Cloud-Sailing Airship.