Chapter Fifty-Nine: The True Qi of the Grand Formless Eternal Realm

Beneath the Great Celestial Demon, there existed further ranks: the lesser demons, demonfolk, demon scions, demon progeny, demon envoys, demon factions, and so forth. Should a ghost or spirit fall under a demon’s sway, it too would become a companion to their evil. These demons took on a myriad of forms—sometimes sinking, sometimes floating, now visible, now vanished, now gathering, now hiding, now shrouded, now revealed, flitting through cloud or empty caverns, their bodies flickering through five shifting hues, ever elusive, never fixed. Endlessly changing in shape, they brought death upon mortals. Like a locust plague at the end of the Great Way’s final calamity, they acted under the will of the Six Heavens, convened by the Three Heavens, and within their appointed cycles, spread chaos and calamity, luring the living into delusion, unleashing disaster, disordering spirits, and blocking the Path!

The current swarm of celestial demons were but demon envoys and demon progeny, their powers limited; they could not split mountains or move the sun, nor turn stones to dust. Yet as the saying goes, enough ants can bring down an elephant... and these demons, who had known neither hunger nor thirst for ages, now surpassed even insects in their ferocity, charging forth with reckless abandon, fighting to the death at every strike, with no thought for retreat.

The young woman halted in her streak of light, and with a graceful sweep of her hand, her pure silver flying sword split into countless gleaming blades, cascading down like a driving rain! The celestial demons in her path were either impaled midair, bodies burst apart upon the clouds, or shredded to pieces, blood and flesh mixing with shattered scales, leaving not even a complete corpse.

“What’s your plan? Do you still have a hidden move?” she finally shot Chen Heng a cold, sidelong glance, her tone sharp.

At Chen Heng’s suggestion, the two had been fleeing toward the Floating Jade Lake of the Dan Su Kingdom for almost half an hour, slaying countless celestial demons along the way. Yet no matter how many they destroyed, more always came, relentless in pursuit, impossible to shake off. The young woman sensed something was amiss. These celestial demons clung to them like rabid hounds, as if nursing some deep, personal vendetta. Even though the Southern Domain’s spiritual energy was scarce, earning it the name “the barren land” compared to the other four continents, this was still the capital of Xu, in East Huan Prefecture; not only did it host cultivators of the Purple Palace and Profound Cavern realms, but also several grandmasters of Gold Core and Nascent Soul—far from a desolate place. Yet the demons acted as though all spiritual cultivators in the land had perished, as if only a handful of living mortals remained—and they were among them.

“What hidden move could I possibly have? For now, our only hope is to reach Floating Jade Lake as quickly as possible. The ‘Golden Valley Market’ is not far from here. With so many demons running amok, the Master of Comprehension Cavern will not stand idly by,” Chen Heng replied, his voice calm.

The thunderfire pearl above his head pulsed with energy, flames of red and white raging three yards around him, a dazzling barrier. Any demon that dared cross into the fire ring was reduced to sooty ash in mere moments, burned away completely. In his hand he wielded a radiant, many-hued short ruler; if any demon breached the flames, the ruler’s brilliant light would sweep over them, dissolving their bodies into pools of pus.

For the moment, Chen Heng’s defenses were tight as a drum, impenetrable. Though the celestial demons surged in relentless waves, like boiling tides, none had managed to even brush his robes. Yet controlling both the thunderfire pearl and the Flowing Sky Ruler, and doing so for so long, was a great strain. Even with his extraordinary vigor and vital breath, far surpassing his peers, fatigue gnawed at his soul.

To the young woman, however, his composure was remarkable, leaving her inwardly amazed. “He’s clearly a cultivator of the Southern Domain, not of the Eight Sects or Six Clans, and yet his vital breath is so pure and refined. What manner of true qi has he mastered?”

A hundred paces ahead, before her sword could return, a fresh swarm of demons surged forth, dark and dense. She struck again, unleashing six blazing dragons that thundered through the horde, crushing dozens, carving a momentary gap. But soon, more demons of every shape and color flooded in, filling the breach.

She glanced at Chen Heng, catching a glimpse of his command over thunder and flame, and frowned slightly. The Southern Domain, lacking in spiritual energy, had no great sects. Only the Five Radiance Sect, Divine Fire Cliff, and Luofu Sword Sect could barely claim the orthodox mantle. Yet Chen Heng’s vital aura was lofty and upright, imbued with the majesty of sun, stars, and the four celestial beasts—clearly the mark of the purest orthodox lineage. Not even those three sects possessed such a tradition. Compared to her own, his vital breath was at least her equal, if not superior. The Ai clan of Shangyu boasted the Purple Clarity True Qi, a ninth-rank upper-grade technique, its vital breath both profound and splendid, rarely matched in the realm.

“To have such vital breath here, in the Southern Domain, and yet...” Her thoughts turned, her eyes shining as if she had grasped the answer. “Could he have inherited that wandering cultivator’s legacy? Of course—he was born here, after all, and before leaving for the Eastern Sea, the master left behind several treasures unsuited to his own use. This is known to all.”

She summoned her sword to her side, its song ringing clear, protecting her body. “Still, I must test it myself to know the truth.”

As she fell silent, the green-robed girl tugged at her sleeve, her round face hesitant as she whispered through spirit speech.

“Miss, it seems we can’t escape. If my spirit body dies, so be it, but you...” The girl scratched her head, frustration clouding her features. She’d secretly read the Daoist’s divination, which was full of strict conditions: her spirit body’s arts, cultivation, and tools all limited, no revealing identities, no seeking outside help. Only by capturing or destroying the escaped demon prince would their entanglement with the Ai clan be severed, freeing them from future troubles. Moreover, succeeding promised the chance to encounter a fate that could help her mistress survive the three disasters on the path to Pure Yang—a rare opportunity indeed. What exactly that opportunity was, the divination did not specify.

After returning to the Void, a cultivator faced the Pure Yang tribulations: wind, fire, and lightning—the three disasters, each a deadly obstacle. When these struck, survival was slim; countless True Sovereigns across the lands were shattered by them, their very souls extinguished, denied even the hope of rebirth. No matter how gifted, even the true heirs of the great sects would seclude themselves in their caves, sitting in meditation for centuries, honing their powers, daring only to face the disasters when they felt ready. If they prevailed, their path was complete; if not, all was reduced to dust. Even the famed Jade Pivot Sovereign, who once stirred the world and involved the Eight Sects and Twelve Houses in strife, now remained trapped by the three disasters, too afraid to leave his cave...

Such was the terror of the three disasters!

To subdue the demon prince and seize that fateful chance was to gain a treasure beyond compare.

After peeking at the divination, the green-robed girl had longed to help her mistress swallow the demon prince and achieve the Dao. Yet before leaving the mountain gate, her true body had been seized by a colossal hand and stuffed into a cage, leaving her only able to send a spirit body after her mistress. This spirit was but a wisp of pure qi—no cultivation, no bloodline, merely a mortal shell.

“Miss, throw me to the demons and let them eat me. I’d be hard to chew anyway. Use that chance to shake off that cold-hearted youth and run! Get to the market and call for help!” she whispered. “If this body dies, you’ll be bound to the Ai clan, unable to subdue the demon, and miss your chance to ease the three disasters…”

She steeled herself to say more, but the young woman rapped her sharply on the head.

“We grew up together—even if this is only a spirit body, how could I abandon you here? If I let fear take root, how could my Dao heart remain whole?” the woman replied, not looking at her, her faint smile outshining all splendor, her brows serene and noble. “So what if Heaven’s tribulation descends? Even if I fail today, am I, Wei Lingjiang, fated never to survive the three disasters? If Master Junyao of the Jade Heaven Sect could win the last Elixir Assembly, why not I? Am I any less than he?”

“Miss…” the girl murmured.

“And besides…” Wei Lingjiang glanced at Chen Heng, her voice soft, “if I am correct, and he truly inherited that master’s legacy, we may yet have a way out.”

...

Amid the wailing of demons, Chen Heng pointed his finger, and the thunderfire pearl flared with dazzling light, unleashing its mightiest strike! A bolt of red and white lightning shot forth like a burning mountain, sweeping the sky and shattering nearly a hundred demons in his path, their blood mist exploding across the heavens. The ground and hills along the way were scorched and melted, the air thick with the stench of smoke and blood, as if a vast, filthy canopy had been thrown overhead.

The surviving demons, even those fearless of death, now shrank back in rare hesitation, daunted by the carnage. At the same time, Chen Heng’s own energy flagged sharply; even the thunderfire pearl above him dimmed, flickering unsteadily.

“Luck is not with me today—if I do not risk everything now, there will be no hope of survival,” Chen Heng sighed softly. He swept his gaze around; the demons, stunned by his desperate assault, dared not meet his eyes, turning away in fear. With no change in expression, Chen Heng stepped forward. At this, the savage demons yelped and stumbled back, panic-stricken, tumbling over one another.

He took ten steps; the demons retreated ten more.

Though he was clearly surrounded, unable to escape, the scene now looked as though he alone had cornered the whole swarm, forcing them to cower, petrified.

“Truly, like a pack of jackals—so fierce in appearance, yet weak inside,” Chen Heng thought, shaking his head. He dropped his gaze to the boy clinging to his sleeve, asking with a smile, “If today we die here, are you not afraid, child? How is it your face shows no fear?”

The boy, eight or nine years old, wore a single topknot and had a round, moon-bright face—his features radiating an air of good fortune. Chen Heng had rescued him while retreating from the demon horde, and had hardly spoken to him until now. Looking closer, his attire and bearing were anything but ordinary; though his manner was blank, he had not lost his composure despite the carnage they had witnessed, a rare thing indeed.

“Brother, I am not afraid,” the boy replied after a long pause, nodding gravely. “Grandfather once said: those with blood-courage flush red with anger, those with pulse-courage flush blue, those with bone-courage flush white, but those with spirit-courage remain unchanged. I am of spirit-courage—I do not fear, nor will my face change.”

Chen Heng laughed, unable to resist a clap of admiration.

“Besides, Brother, you too are unafraid; if I were to wail, would that not be beneath me?” the boy said solemnly.

“You’re still so young,” Chen Heng chuckled. “But you are wrong in one thing. Though I seem calm, in truth, I am afraid inside.”

He glanced around; the demons, unable to bear waiting, were sharpening claws and salivating.

“I have only just begun to enjoy a peaceful life, and now I face this deadly trap... How could I not be afraid?” he murmured, then lightly lifted the boy by his collar and tossed him toward Wei Lingjiang.

“Sister, please watch over him, and replenish his vital breath as well. I must fight with all I have.”

Once Wei Lingjiang had caught the boy, Chen Heng stowed away all his magical tools. He inhaled deeply, his eyes blazing, and with a thunderous shout, hurled his fist at the demon horde.

In an instant, the air cracked and roared, a tidal wave of power exploding outward, blasting dozens of demons to pulp!

With a mighty crash, Chen Heng did not pause—he shot forward like a falling star, plunging into the swarm, fists flying.

Clouds of dust billowed skyward; through the churning mass of demons, Wei Lingjiang’s pupils narrowed at the sight of his dragon-like form.

“What kind of Daoist art is this?” she whispered.

...

Half an hour later, Chen Heng forced himself upright, back straight, bones crackling, surrounded by scattered corpses and the stench of blood thicker than sulfur.

“So many still remain...” he thought grimly, and was about to rally his breath for another assault when Wei Lingjiang’s voice sounded in his mind.

“You’ve charged the ranks seven times now, but always been forced back. With such strength of blood and body, even the warriors of the outer heavens who practice divine demon martial ways are no better. Yet it’s useless—you cannot break through this demon tide. Lend me your vital breath, let me see it.”

Chen Heng frowned.

“I have a method to save us both,” Wei Lingjiang said, pointing at him. “There’s no use hiding it—you inherited the Daoist legacy from Master Yanxi in the Southern Domain, and now practice the lower-ninth grade True Qi of the Great No-Form Constant Realm, am I right?”

Chen Heng was silent for a moment.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied, shaking his head.