Chapter 110: The Enlightened Master Gan Huan

There is only one kind of person capable of withstanding thunder with a mortal body, and that is a Superior, one who has transcended the boundaries of humanity.

Qing Yuan tightened his grip on his iron rod, his hand resting on the Red River White Night Ghost Carriage hidden in his bag. His expression was grave; he had not expected to encounter a Superior so soon.

The newcomer was an old man, perhaps in his sixties, with hair of mixed grey and black. He wore a neat, brown outer garment. Raising his hands, he clapped them together and smiled. "Sun Wenpeng, this boy was born and raised in Luoyue Prefecture. Having seen little of the world, he foolishly believed that as long as he steered clear of the Shou Zheng Sect and the Huanhua Pavilion, he would be invincible within the Third Heaven. It is not a bad thing for him to receive a lesson from you today..."

As he spoke, he nudged Sun Wenpeng with his foot.

Sun Wenpeng lay on the ground, panting heavily. His eyes held the lingering fear of one who had barely escaped death, yet he was too exhausted to stand.

"I told you long ago that the Sun family is only powerful within Luoyue Prefecture. The world is vast, far greater than this prefecture," the old man said, shaking his head with a sigh. "Before you condensed your Dharma Intent, you were arrogant but at least exercised some restraint. Once you succeeded, you became insufferably conceited. I warned you not to be so blind to others."

Sun Wenpeng gasped, "Uncle Gan, stop lecturing me and hurry up and take him down."

Hearing this, Qing Yuan immediately realized the man's identity. Among the independent cultivators in Mount Fuzhong, there were three who had reached the Fourth Heaven, and one of them was known as Gan Huan. It was said that this Superior had always been on good terms with Sun Yu, the Superior of the Sun family. Furthermore, Lu Yu, who had stolen the Ancient Azure Divine Thunder, was Gan Huan’s own disciple.

Gan Huan stroked his beard and laughed. "Young man, Sun Wenpeng’s skills are inferior to yours, so he could not invite you to follow him. Now, I shall invite you myself. What do you think?"

Qing Yuan took a deep breath and asked, "How does the Senior intend to invite me?"

Gan Huan shook his head slightly. "That is something you need not know."

Qing Yuan chuckled. "If you wish to invite me but refuse to tell me the reason, how could I possibly agree?"

Gan Huan shrugged and sighed. "In that case, let me put it another way: what if I were to capture you?"

Qing Yuan replied in a low voice, "And if I refuse?"

"Then..." Gan Huan’s face broke into a smile, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he repeated the very words Qing Yuan had used earlier, "The Iron God’s Courage... this is how it should be used!"

With a flick of his hand, he drew the Iron God’s Courage from the ground. The iron spikes retracted, and it transformed back into a solid iron sphere. He tossed it into the sky, where it hovered, and then, dozens, perhaps hundreds, of iron spikes burst forth from within, shooting out like lightning.

Countless iron spikes rained down from the sky, each nearly a yard long, moving with terrifying speed. In an instant, it felt as if one were caught in the path of a massive army’s volley of arrows.

Qing Yuan’s expression shifted. He swept his left hand upward. The ground ten yards in front of him surged up, forming a wall three feet thick. Yet, the hundreds of iron spikes easily pierced through it. Using the earth wall to slow their momentum, Qing Yuan retreated, his iron rod knocking away any spikes that came too close.

In the midst of the defense, one spike struck his chest. His Frost Silkworm Silk robe could not withstand it and tore instantly. Qing Yuan felt a sharp, searing pain, but the spike did not penetrate his chest, blocked by the map of the Guangyuan Ancient Industry Heavenly Venerable hidden beneath his clothes.

As the barrage ended, the spikes ceased. A strange look flashed in Qing Yuan’s eyes; he pressed his fingers to his own wound, forced out some blood, and smeared it across the corner of his mouth so that he appeared to be vomiting blood. Only then did he disperse the ruined earth wall, which collapsed into a pile of dust.

As for the other independent cultivator, he had been less fortunate; the spikes had pierced both of his arms. He had been hesitating earlier—wondering whether to join Sun Wenpeng in attacking Qing Yuan to avoid being silenced—but Sun Wenpeng’s betrayal had left him panicked. By the time Qing Yuan unleashed his thunder and Gan Huan intervened, the man had realized who Gan Huan was and had fallen into despair, seeking only a way to escape. He had not anticipated that the two would start fighting so abruptly, leaving him no time to dodge.

After the iron spikes, Qing Yuan remained unharmed, but the other man had lost the use of both arms. Qing Yuan glanced at him once, ignored him, and focused his gaze on Gan Huan.

"How is it now?" Gan Huan asked with a smile. He flicked his fingers, and the countless spikes flew back, returning to the Iron God’s Courage, which transformed back into a sphere and landed in his palm. This was the pinnacle of what the Iron God’s Courage could achieve.

Qing Yuan wiped the blood from his mouth and said, "I understand."

Gan Huan laughed. "Good." He looked at the cultivator whose arms had been pierced, shook his head, and flicked his hand twice. Two gusts of force cut the man’s arms clean off. Despite having the cultivation of the Third Heaven, the man could not endure such treatment. He let out a roar, managed to seal his blood flow with True Qi, and then collapsed, gasping for breath.

"I have severed your arms, but left your legs so you may still walk," Gan Huan said. He stood with his hands behind his back, casting a glance at Qing Yuan, a flicker of surprise hidden deep in his eyes. He had intended to severely wound this young man, but he had failed. Since he had missed, his pride as a Superior prevented him from attacking again; he simply suppressed his shock and maintained his aloof, masterful demeanor.

He flicked a pill toward Qing Yuan, which landed in the young man's palm. "You are an interesting young man, so I will not make things difficult for you. Take this pill, and you will be spared the indignity of being bound."

Qing Yuan’s gaze sharpened. Keeping his hand on the Red River White Night Ghost Carriage, he caught the pill, prepared to activate the carriage at a moment's notice.

"Do not worry, this pill is of little consequence. It merely restricts the flow of your True Qi so that I may keep you under control," Gan Huan said as he flicked another pill into the mouth of the armless cultivator, where it dissolved instantly. "This pill takes effect for three days. Without the antidote, you will surely die. It is a concoction made by that poison-master, Han Yu..."

Qing Yuan looked down at the pill, a flicker of realization crossing his eyes. He recognized this poison. And because he recognized it, he knew how to cure it.

"Since a Superior is present, I have no choice, do I?" Qing Yuan laughed, swallowed the pill, and let it dissolve. It immediately turned into a stream of cold energy that sealed his meridians and began to seep into his internal organs.

Within his Mind-Dharma Tower, the manifestation of "Qing Yuan" turned to face the East. On the eastern wall of the tower, the Azure Dragon of Wood suddenly opened its eyes.

Qing Yuan’s expression remained unchanged. A surge of pure, vibrant energy rose from his Yongquan point, traveled through his Zusanli point, and reached his middle Dantian. This pure energy hovered there. Qing Yuan silently recited the Yellow Courtyard Immortal Scripture in his heart.

There is a saying in Buddhism that reciting holy words three hundred times a day grants one freedom from pain and illness, leading one to the Western Paradise. Daoism has similar methods, and a certain passage from the Yellow Courtyard Immortal Scripture possessed exactly this effect.

The sound resonated within his heart and grew within his middle Dantian, vibrating through his entire body until the cold current began to dissipate.

In the Nine-Story Tower of his brow, the manifestation of "Qing Yuan" turned to the South. A bird’s cry rose leisurely. Flames consumed the remaining cold. The cold poison of the pill was completely neutralized.

And yet, Gan Huan, the great Superior, remained entirely unaware of the change within the young man who had just swallowed his poison.