Chapter Sixteen: A View That Stretches to the Horizon

The next day, at dawn.

The great sun rose from the distant horizon, unleashing boundless golden light that melted away the chill from the vast mountain ranges.

“Rooaaar…”

A faint yet powerful ape’s roar emanated from the figure sitting cross-legged inside the small chamber, deep and majestic.

Chen Xuan focused intently, cultivating the Little White Ape Art.

A stream of snow-white immortal energy coursed within his body, racing rapidly along a peculiar trajectory. Occasionally, sharp golden-white sparks flared from the energy, stirring some mysterious power, but quickly subsided…

“This art… is so difficult to master?”

Chen Xuan opened his eyes in frustration, furrowing his brows tightly. This was his first time encountering such a technique, so he had spent the entire night studying it carefully. Only after feeling a complete understanding did he confidently begin his practice.

He had expected it to be a natural progression.

But reality struck him hard; the progress was agonizingly slow, barely reaching the initial stage.

“No wonder the Great Monk practiced for years without making any headway, ending up weeping in the rain in despair.”

Chen Xuan muttered to himself, reflecting for a moment before whispering, “The problem lies in this body’s constitution… my innate talent is somewhat lacking.”

He had always believed himself to be a prodigy, but now he doubted himself.

He clearly comprehended the art thoroughly and understood how the immortal energy should flow through his meridians, yet his body failed to respond swiftly enough to resonate, causing the slow progress.

“If my physical constitution were up to par, I would only need to run through the Little White Ape Art once to master it…”

Chen Xuan sensed the limit of his body’s aptitude: “At least ten days. It will take a minimum of ten days to barely complete this art.”

Undoubtedly, he was still a prodigy far surpassing the Great Monk and the burly Huang Fatty. Mastering an art in ten days was an astonishing feat anywhere.

But it stopped there; he could go no further.

If not for the hindrance of his innate constitution, he could have done much better!

Chen Xuan pushed open the door and looked up at the sky, an unprecedented sense of melancholy welling up inside him.

“Is this the peak of my talent…”

He had trained martial arts in Willow Town for three years, and everyone considered him a genius—any fist technique, he only needed to see once and could immediately understand and perform it.

Yet now, even the innate constitution he once took pride in increasingly proved insufficient in the realm of immortal energy cultivation.

A sense of disparity took hold—not frustration, but a clear and absolute awareness.

Cultivating immortal energy was a longer path than martial arts, but with his constitution, he feared he would never reach the end—one day, he would come to a complete halt.

“Master Wang… I’ve collected all the belongings from the four immortal energy cultivators. See if any of it is useful.”

In the courtyard, a middle-aged man with a broken leg named Chen Ganshui approached timidly, holding a pile of items.

Chen Xuan glanced over: the weapons of the Zhengtu three brothers—simple broadswords—the jade Buddhist prayer beads from the Great Monk, and a silk-weave kasaya robe, all stripped away…

“What about the four bodies?” Chen Xuan asked.

“They’ve been moved outside the courtyard. Some bodies were beyond repair…” Chen Ganshui answered softly, then stole a glance at the young cultivator before him, faintly familiar, voice similar.

But this was not the same person; the cultivator claimed the surname Wang.

The young boy who had left the village three years ago and resolutely ventured into the wilderness hundreds of miles away was likely long dead in some forgotten corner…

Yesterday, this so-called Immortal Wang had unleashed a slaughter here, like a demon or god—impossible to be the bright, sunny youth he once was.

“Oh.”

Chen Xuan nodded, then drank the breakfast meat porridge brought by a young woman in one gulp. Rising, he said, “Move them to the village entrance, hang them from the tree—no need to bury.”

“Ah…”

Chen Ganshui was stunned.

Chen Xuan was already walking outside but suddenly turned back at the door, as if recalling something, and said:

“If anyone has objections, let them come find me.”

…

A moment later.

Chen Xuan entered a wealthy household and found Chu Firestick, asking bluntly:

“How long did it take you to master your art back then?”

The three Chu family members were eating breakfast. Chu Firestick chewed on some coarse grain, glancing sideways at Chen Xuan, pride brimming:

“After I ascended to immortal form, I mastered the ancestral Little Firebird Art in just over half a year, shocking half of Red Crow City. Who didn’t call me a young genius?”

“So that counts as genius?”

“...Little Wang, you’re rude!”

Chu Firestick grew angry, glaring fiercely:

“In my time, apart from a handful of six-thousand-pound immortal geniuses, who could compare to me? Even that sneaky old man from the Li family was beaten by me in his youth!”

Recalling his youthful glory, he wanted to boast, but the young man’s insolence soured his mood.

Chen Xuan pulled out a small bamboo stool, not even knee-high, sat down, and leaned toward the table, asking:

“And those geniuses? How long did they take to master their arts?”

Chu Firestick thought for a moment, then grumbled:

“Only a few months. Humph! Little Wang, although I admit your talent is slightly better than mine was at your age, you might not surpass theirs!”

Those were the darlings of a generation. Chu Firestick had fallen just short in youth, and that small gap caused him to be left far behind in later years…

“Well…”

Chen Xuan scratched the back of his head, about to say “it’s just so-so,” but seeing Chu Firestick’s annoyed expression, he thought better of it.

The gap between geniuses was often more exaggerated than that between an ordinary person and a genius.

By now, Chen Xuan was clear in his mind: even with limited constitution, in this region of Red Crow City, he was still far ahead, unmatched by any.

“There might be ways to enhance one’s constitution… At the first time of feathered robes’ blessing, the body undergoes a thorough refinement and cleansing, greatly improving aptitude.”

Chen Xuan muttered to himself, confidence growing. Then he fixed Chu Firestick with a low voice:

“Old Chu, I have a treasure to trade with you.”

Chu Firestick rolled over from the table, pricked up his ears.

“What treasure?”

“An art…”

Chen Xuan whispered a few words. Chu Firestick’s eyes lit up immediately. Turning to the nearby young girl, he said:

“Qingling, fetch paper and pen from the bag. Young Master Wang has a good thing for me.”

“Ah, Young Master Wang… grandpa?”

Chu Qingling blinked her peach blossom eyes, confused. How did Young Brother Wang become her grandpa? The family hierarchy was all tangled up.

Chu Firestick urged repeatedly:

“Hurry, hurry. Little Wang is my good brother, very powerful. Yesterday he displayed great might, suppressing a band of villains. Such a true hero deserves to be treated as my peer!”

Soon, Chen Xuan wielded his brush with sweeping strokes, drawing half of the energy flow diagram for the Little White Ape Art.

“Trade or not?”

Chu Firestick whispered, “Where did this art come from?”

Chen Xuan explained:

“A few years ago, I met a monk in the mountains who passed down this immortal energy method to me… I’m just a wild cultivator from the mountains, with little insight, not knowing the value of things. These days interacting with you, I realized this must be the legendary art…”

Chu Firestick was stunned:

“Last time you said it was from a Taoist…”

“…Will you trade?”

“…I will!”

Chu Firestick had no reason to refuse. Their small family had struggled for generations to obtain one art, guarding it like treasure. Now someone offered another art freely—unless he was a fool, he wouldn’t give it up.

Before long, Chen Xuan traded for Chu Firestick’s fire-element red immortal energy art, the Little Firebird Art.

“Little Wang, you really are my lucky star! Every time we meet, good things happen!”

Chu Firestick was in high spirits. Their first meeting was on a snowy day with fire and meat; the second, Chen Xuan saved his life; now their third encounter brought such a grand gift. How could he not be delighted?

He then shared some cultivation insights:

“The five elements generate and overcome each other. Fire-refined true gold energy conflicts greatly. If you want to cultivate both white and red immortal energy, be prepared to know when to retreat…”

Fire-element red immortal energy seeks “to burn mountains and boil seas, dissolving the three thoughts.”

Metal-element white immortal energy pursues “the great path as vast as the heavens, all methods as one sword.” Some Buddhists, sword officials, and certain warriors prefer this path.

Those cultivating red energy tend to be fiery-tempered, vengeful, and unwilling to suffer loss. Those cultivating white energy are cold and aloof, to the point of seeming obsessive, never turning back once a decision is made.

The former see the latter as soulless and inhuman. The latter lack emotion but strike decisively when provoked.

This shows why red and white immortal energy are hard to combine.

“I understand the limits,” Chen Xuan nodded. He had a clear self-awareness of his constitution and believed that while the other “geniuses” of Red Crow City might be daunted, he could still advance further…

He had spent three years training mundane basic fist techniques—was he afraid of these difficulties?

Then, in return, he shared some of his preliminary insights on the Little White Ape Art with Chu Firestick.

Soon after, he left and returned to his dwelling to carefully study the two different arts, ultimately deciding to continue focusing on the Little White Ape Art and began secluded cultivation.

But that very night, chaos suddenly erupted in the small courtyard.

“Roar! Roar!”

In the darkness, a crooked-mouthed, slanted-faced bronze horse burst into the quiet courtyard, jumping anxiously and loudly calling for Chen Xuan.

Pushing open the door, Chen Xuan first told the Chen Ganshui family next door, who had been awakened, not to leave their home. Then he asked the bronze horse:

“I told you to hide outside the village. Why did you come out here? All the cultivators saw you.”

“Roar! Roar!”

The bronze horse ignored the warning, raising its hooves excitedly, urgently telling Chen Xuan that something big had happened outside!!!