Chapter Forty-Three: The Black Dragon Roars Through the Nine Heavens

Within the holy land, a world apart, the vaulted sky suspended luminous pearls that ceaselessly cast golden sunlight and silvery moonlight. Liu Wenchang and several other prisoners had been subdued by the drought demoness, who ordered them to gather morning dew and evening frost for Ji Feichen’s cultivation each day.

At dawn, as thick mist lingered, Liu Wenchang dragged his weary body through the flowerbeds, collecting drops of dew in a jade vial. Emptiness gnawed at him, and after half an hour, he felt barely able to continue.

“My powers are gone, as weak as any mortal,” Liu Wenchang muttered bitterly. “All because of that man—he made Her Highness strip me of every trace of my magic. Now I couldn’t even tie a chicken, let alone gather dew.”

After filling half the vial, he left the sea of flowers to find Ji Feichen.

“Wait,” called another elder, Zhang Hai, also a prisoner from the Immortal Lock Tower. Zhang Hai stopped Liu Wenchang, saw the half-full vial, and shook his head. “You’re cutting corners. If his cultivation fails, won’t he blame you?”

“Hmph!” Liu Wenchang scowled, refusing to answer.

Zhang Hai sighed. “We bow because we must. Now that Her Highness has made us fireworkers and laborers, it’s better than being struck dead by those two demons. Think about it: Her Highness is an earth immortal—by her side, we can study the Dao, far better than being an ordinary disciple. Besides, we’re all guilty; the sect would never trust us. Losing your powers is a calamity, but isn’t it better than losing your life? That fiend won’t stay long. The sooner he leaves, the better for us both.”

He handed his own vial of dew to Liu Wenchang. “Take it to him. Her Highness wants you to aid her, hoping to resolve the karma between you two. Help him cultivate, give him your powers. If he achieves human immortality, he’ll owe you a favor. Once he attains the Dao, you can ask for some spiritual medicine to restore yourself.”

“True, but seeing my power refined away day after day leaves a bitter taste.”

“Foolish! If we cultivators can’t see through such grudges and obsessions, how can we ever reach the Dao? If you let go, your mindset will advance. Ask for medicine later, and you’ll return to the path of immortality.”

Persuaded, Liu Wenchang felt a slight change of heart and went to find Ji Feichen with the jade vial. Ji Feichen sat cross-legged beside the Yin-Yang Jade Bamboo, eyes closed, with the dual energies swirling around him like dragons and serpents.

Three precious pearls lay before him. These were spiritual medicines from the Northern Domain and the immortal essence he’d drawn from the Moon Sun Courtyard and Liu Wenchang. The pearls shimmered with pure energy, forming three ethereal flowers above his head. The pearls shared the same origin as his own baleful energy; once fused, he could cultivate the Primordial Unity.

Yet Her Highness, upon seeing the Jade Bamboo, devised another plan: she ordered daily dew and frost, to be taken with the red bamboo fruit. This fruit was the essence of the bamboo, gathered from the world’s energy, a treasure of Yin and Yang. Not only would it help Ji Feichen quickly form the Primordial Unity, it would greatly advance his cultivation.

Hearing footsteps, Ji Feichen opened his eyes. “Brother Liu.”

“Hmph—‘Brother’? I am not worthy.” Liu Wenchang replied sullenly. “Here is today’s dew; tonight I’ll bring you the frost.”

Morning dew and evening frost served as catalysts, fully unleashing the bamboo fruit’s effects.

Seeing Liu Wenchang’s displeasure, Ji Feichen merely smiled and accepted the dew, continuing his meditation. As the beneficiary, he cared little for Liu Wenchang’s feelings. Once he ascended to human immortality, he would no longer fear a trace of resentment.

Liu Wenchang lingered, watching as an inky cloud rose above Ji Feichen’s head—murky mist, baleful energy surging.

“The demon sect is always the demon sect,” Liu Wenchang scoffed. Unlike the pure, luminous aura of the orthodox sects, the demon sect’s power was turbid and chaotic; only earth immortals could return to true simplicity. The black mist Ji Feichen produced was his own power manifest—dragon energy twined overhead, three ethereal flowers drifted, pure and impure energies entwined.

Liu Wenchang’s gaze fell on the blue flower at Ji Feichen’s left temple—like azure glass, pure and brilliant, proof of firm immortal roots. Now, a thread of immortal energy rose from its heart, purifying the baleful energy within the black mist. This was Liu Wenchang’s own power, transformed; and each time he witnessed it, his heart twisted.

“Enough. Old Zhang was right. Brooding over this breeds inner demons, and the Dao will never be attained.” Resolute, he left. Once he was gone, Ji Feichen opened his eyes.

“You and I are bound by karma—purity and impurity. If we do not resolve it now, calamity will come, and neither will survive. But for now, our lives are preserved. When the time comes, I’ll grant you a chance.”

With that, Ji Feichen plucked a bamboo fruit, paired it with the dew, and swallowed it. The fruit resembled polished rice; once ingested, it transformed into Yin-Yang energy coursing through his body, finally condensing in his core as a Dao seed.

This seed suppressed Yin and Yang, preventing immediate conflict between pure and baleful energies within him.

As the energies circulated, each movement drew both pure and impure energy, transforming it into primordial Qi. Within his core, a Taiji Yin-Yang fish appeared.

Yet the conversion brought needle-like pain to his flesh. The demon sect valued physical cultivation; their bodies adapted to baleful energy, rejecting immortal Qi. Now, with immortal energy present, side effects were inevitable.

Ji Feichen remained calm, immersing his mind in the image of the Old Lord, envisioning the Divine Dragon soaring the world, and gradually forgot the pain.

The cycle repeated; after eighty-one rounds, dusk approached. Liu Wenchang brought another vial of frost. By then, the fruit’s power had fully dispersed.

Ji Feichen swallowed the frost; a chill swept through him, activating the lingering medicine and further refining Yin-Yang energy, purifying his power. Not until midnight did he fully absorb the fruit’s essence.

Next morning, he took another fruit. Nine cycles later, after nine days, the baleful energy within him had completely fused with the immortal essence; the cloud above his head now glowed deep blue, pure and tranquil, free of any evil.

Moreover, Ji Feichen felt his power had grown. Every gesture now held strength many times greater than before.

“Nether Spirit Poison Water!” Ji Feichen raised his hand, and his power formed spiritual water, swirling to create a miniature river of darkness beside him. At this point, the Nether Spirit Poison Water was less poisonous, more akin to the weak waters of the underworld. Counting carefully, exactly ninety thousand drops—this was the limit of his cultivation in the “Profound Baleful Demon Dragon Scripture”.

“The key to fusing the Dragon Pearl with a hundred thousand drops was deliberately omitted. Though I can now ascend to human immortality, I rank only in the upper middle tier—not perfect, leaving a gap with the scions of the holy lands.”

One hundred twenty thousand drops of true water—no easy feat. Even Qin Wu of the Tai Xiao Palace had not achieved it. Nor had the other heirs of the holy lands. To perfect the Mortal Shedding stage required ten times the effort, and only then could one dominate peers after becoming a human immortal, upholding the honor of the holy land.

Ji Feichen naturally set his sights on the holy land heirs; he would not fuse the Dragon Pearl yet. Breaking through now would only make him equal to ordinary human immortals, sufficient in the Nether Sect, but unable to withstand three moves from the heirs.

He took a deep breath. Suddenly, his bones crackled; a dragon’s roar echoed through the sky. From his Yin-Yang spiritual aperture, a three-zhang black dragon emerged.

Her Highness was lecturing several Daoists in the palace—prisoners from the Immortal Lock Tower, now fireworkers and laborers, bound by oath never to betray. Her teachings propelled their cultivation by leaps and bounds. To hear an earth immortal expound the Dao was a rare blessing.

Suddenly, the demoness paused, stepped outside, and looked north.

The black dragon soared, shaking heaven and earth, clouds and thunder gathering. Its two whiskers glowed with Yin-Yang, and with a flick, a distant mountain was shattered.

“Well done, boy—the Yin-Yang dragon whiskers are taking shape.” The drought demoness’s face darkened, recalling the immortals of Cloud Pavilion in years past. “Cloud Pavilion was a grand sect, boasting the Supreme Tradition, surpassing even the current Taiqing Sect. Yet before the holy land, they could not resist. If this boy cultivates Cloud Pavilion’s arts, he will still have little hope against the holy lands.”

At that moment, the black dragon transformed into a nine-tiered Divine Dragon Tower of black gold. As the tower formed, heaven’s energy froze; for a moment, even the demoness felt her heart race.

The remnants of dragon corpses and dragon energy in the holy land resonated, dragon shadows appearing beside the black dragon.

“Is this Dao technique? Treasure? Divine power?”

The tower was like the sovereign of heaven and earth, suppressing the holy land of the monster clans.

Tu Shan, busy refining the immortal medicine, suddenly opened his eyes. Beside him, the jade tiger trembled. “Master, this tower... it’s the supreme divine power that once destroyed the holy land’s defenses!”

The jade tiger, though born later, possessed the holy land’s legacy, and memories of the tower lingered. The tower belonged to the dragon clan, wielded by the clan chief himself. It was the dragon chief and allied cultivators who smashed the last monster holy land.

Tu Shan felt chills as he watched the dragon clan’s divine power. Yet his will was firmer than the jade tiger’s; he stroked the tiger’s fur. “Don’t worry. Even if things turn sour, he wouldn’t dare act wildly in the holy land now.”

Ji Feichen withdrew his power. The black dragon slipped into the palace, transformed back to human form, and bowed before the drought demoness.

“Your Highness, I have a question. How can one’s power be refined into the unity of the One?”

Without cultivating “One Power,” Ji Feichen could not challenge the orthodox holy lands.

The others pricked up their ears; the secret of unity was not recorded in any of their sects.

The demoness grew silent, then said quietly, “The ‘Profound Baleful Demon Dragon Scripture’ stems from the ‘Nether River Yuan Luo Heavenly Canon,’ inherited from a mighty demon immortal. If you want answers, why not ask there?”

“The ‘Nether Yuan Luo Heavenly Canon’ is excellent, but not what I seek,” Ji Feichen replied. “I seek the tradition of the Qi cultivators—cultivating the vital energy of heaven and earth, neither pure nor impure, cultivating both life and nature. Refining the dragon body for life, the dragon soul for nature. Eventually, the ‘Supreme Jade Micro True Explanation’ and ‘Profound Baleful Demon Dragon Scripture’ will be discarded. They can be referenced, but not relied upon. After attaining human immortality, I will create my own method.”

At this, the demoness smiled, pointing at Ji Feichen. “See, this is a true cultivator. You circle me these days, hoping I’ll teach you my methods. Yet, know this: the highest seek the Dao, the middling seek methods, the lowest seek techniques. If you cling to earth immortal methods and divine arts, you lose the essence of the Dao.”

“Ji Feichen understands this—he surpasses you all.”

The others fell silent.

Ji Feichen’s journey was never mere luck. Even Liu Wenchang admitted: if he were in Ji Feichen’s place, he would never have thought to rebel against the Blood Parasite Curse. Why not simply be a demon sect disciple? Why risk being hunted by the entire sect? The terror of the demon sect’s blood oath was not something he cared to experience.

Much less would he dare to raid the Three Mountain Tower—sheer suicide! The might of Tai Xiao Palace far exceeded the Nether Sect.