Mortal World True Immortal
The wind Cang Xuan Mountain, carrying the lingering decay of the Loose Immortal immortal, swirled among the jagged rocks, whipping up a few blood-stained blades of grass. As the wind brushed against one's cheek, it carried a faint, almost imperceptible, stench of decay, as if recounting the demise of three thousand years of obsession. Ren Xiaoyao sat cross-legged on a blue stone already soaked in blood. A layer of dark red scabs had formed on the stone's surface, and undried Black Blood was embedded in the crevices. A touch of his fingertip would cause it to turn into fine dust and fall away—the last trace left behind when the Loose Immortal immortal's body was shattered by lightning.
He held the dim Immortal Crystal between his fingers. Its surface was covered with fine, spiderweb-like cracks, much like the furrowed brow of Loose Immortal who hadn't relaxed for three thousand years. Each crack held the despair of failing to break through to the Earth Immortal realm. The Immortal Crystal was icy to the touch, and the remaining faint immortal Immortal Essence trembled gently within it, like a candle flame flickering in a cold night. Each pulse carried a subtle vibration, as if whispering three thousand years of resentment: resentment at being stuck in the Loose Immortal Realm, unable to advance an inch; resentment at watching Mortal Realm cultivators touch the threshold of the immortal Immortal Domain that he so desperately sought; and resentment at ultimately perishing on the Mortal Realm peak, never even touching the edge of Immortal Registry.
Ren Xiaoyao lowered his eyelids slightly, his long eyelashes casting faint shadows beneath his eyes. Following the method recorded in the "Spirit Absorption Chapter" of the <Creating Immortal Technique>, he concentrated his mind and calmed his breath, and a faint golden glow slowly emanated from his fingertips. That glow was not the martial arts aura commonly seen by cultivators in the mortal realm, but rather the "Immortal-Born Light" that had fused with the power of the immortal embryo in his dantian—the light threads were as fine as the silver threads spun by silkworms, as soft as the thawing water of early spring, yet they carried an undeniable purifying power, even the lingering putrid air in the air became thinner near the glow.
He slowly pierced the radiant light into the Immortal Crystal, a subtle tremor emanating from his fingertips, as if conversing with the remnants of the Loose Immortal immortal's will. The radiant light, like a fine needle probing into mud, carefully stirred the Immortal Essence within the crystal, peeling away the mixed energy—a mixture of the scattered Loose Immortal's resentment, the stench of decay, and the power of Heart Demon —little by little from the pure immortal power. The moment the mixed energy came into contact with the Immortal-Conceiving Light, it emitted a sizzling burning sound, transforming into wisps of dark gray smoke, interspersed with tiny, sharp whistles, like the wails of wronged souls. Swept away by the mountain wind, they dissipated into the vast sea of clouds. The remaining pure immortal power, like an awakened stream, slowly flowed into his meridians through his fingertips, carrying a faint warmth that contrasted sharply with the chill within his meridians.
The cracks in his meridians still throbbed with pain, old wounds left from his previous Nine Heavens Tribulation. Every wisp of immortal energy flowing through them felt like a scorching hot iron slicing through frozen wounds, causing fine beads of cold sweat to trickle down his forehead. The sweat slid down his cheeks, dripping onto the bluestone, spreading a small damp patch before being quickly dried by the mountain breeze. But he clenched his teeth, his lower lip bearing deep teeth marks and oozing blood, yet he never uttered a sound. He clearly remembered the maxims in the "Foundation Refining Chapter" of the <Creation Immortal Art>, the words still seemingly floating in his mind. "It is easy for the Mortal Realm cultivators to attain the Immortal Embryo, but difficult to refine the Immortal Foundation. They must temper their bodies with external force and nourish their souls with internal force; only by combining the two can they achieve immortality."
Although this Loose Immortal's three thousand years of Immortal Essence was mixed, its strength lay in its profound foundation, making it a rare and valuable material for body refinement in the Mortal Realm. He concentrated his mind and calmed his Soul Power to guide his immortal energy to flow repeatedly through his meridians like a stream—from the Hand Taiyin Lung Meridian to the Foot Shaoyin Kidney Meridian, leaving no meridian untouched. The black energy embedded deep within the cracks and the residual lightning power from the heavenly Heavenly Tribulation were forced out one by one under the cleansing of the immortal energy: the black energy dissipated upon encountering the Immortal-Conceiving Light, turning into Void; the lightning power, however, was gradually assimilated by the immortal energy, losing its ferocity and transforming into a warm current with a subtle numbing sensation, which instead became an aid in nourishing the meridians. In less than half a day, the edges of those spiderweb-like cracks gradually began to show a faint, luminous white luster, as if wounds were slowly healing.
This refining process lasted for three full days. For the first two days, the mountaintop was shrouded in dark clouds, with occasional light rain. The raindrops fell on Ren Xiaoyao, but were blocked by the Immortal-Conceiving Light surrounding him, and his robes remained dry. On the morning of the third day, when the first ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds and the golden sunlight fell on the Immortal Crystal, the dim crystal finally succumbed to the pressure and turned into dust, which scattered like snowflakes on the mountaintop, merging with the clouds and mist.
Ren Xiaoyao slowly opened his eyes, a faint, shimmering white light flashing within them—a sign of abundant immortal power. He looked inward at his Immortal Embryo and saw that his previously dull Immortal Embryo had regained its lustrous sheen, like the finest white jade. Three faint Golden Patterns swirled around it, like flowing ribbons of Golden Patterns, slowly rotating as if coating it with a thin layer of gold. These Golden Patterns were called "Immortal Foundation Pattern Immortal Embryo," a symbol of the complete stability of his "Indestructible Foundation." Each Dao Patterns contained pure immortal power, capable of automatically resisting external erosion even without using Cultivation Method —if he were to encounter a sudden attack like the one he had faced with Loose Immortal, the protection of the Immortal Foundation Pattern alone would buy him time to react.
But he didn't get up. Instead, he reached out and dragged the White Bone Staff that had fallen to the side to his front. The Bone Worm on the White Bone Staff had long since turned to black ash, leaving only seven thick vertebrae. Each bone had an old, yellowish tinge and was engraved with strange runes, which retained a faint Evil Qi. The joints were connected by chains that gleamed with a dark light, and hanging from the chains were three small skulls, no bigger than a fist, with empty eye sockets containing faint black energy. If you listened closely, you could almost hear the whispers of wronged spirits, recounting the pain of being devoured by Loose Immortal.
Ren Xiaoyao flicked his finger, and the Creation Spear at his waist suddenly emitted a clear, light sound, like a dragon's roar. The "Life" pattern on the spear instantly lit up, and Seven-Colored Rosy Clouds, like living things, coiled around it, spreading along the shaft to the White Bone Staff. The moment the light enveloped the White Bone Staff, a faint cracking sound came from the joints. The fragments of the Immortals and Gods attached to the bones, like morning dew touched by sunlight, separated one by one from the bone crevices—the fragments were translucent blackish-red, filled with the Loose Immortal's three thousand years of obsession: The fragments contained the heart-wrenching agony of failing to ascend to the Earth Immortal, even showing the horrific sight of Loose Immortal struck by a Heavenly Tribulation; the yearning gazed upon the Heaven's Gate of the Immortal Domain, the greed in the eyes almost overflowing; and the disdain and envy towards the Mortal Realm cultivators who "ascended to heaven in one step," especially when the thought of Ren Xiaoyao triggering the Heaven's Gate without even undergoing Lesser Heavenly Tribulation caused the fragments to tremble violently, radiating intense malice. All these emotions intertwined, forming a distorted, blackish-red mist that struggled within the rosy light, attempting to escape.
"Unresolved obsessions eventually Heart Demon; without eliminating Heart Demon, it's difficult to attain True Immortal." Ren Xiaoyao sighed softly, his voice tinged with Bei Min. He had seen too many cultivators fall into the Demonic Dao path because of their obsessions; the fate of Loose Immortal was merely another warning. A radiant glow flowed from his fingertips as he slowly guided the fragment of his soul into his brow—the sea of consciousness, the most fundamental place for a cultivator, now shimmered with a faint golden light, like a calm lake.
The most exquisite aspect of the "Creation Immortal Art" lies not in the methods of "absorbing spirits" and "refining the body," but in the true essence of "refining the heart." The book states. "The path to True Immortal lies not in isolating oneself from the mortal world, but in Mind-Guarding Power within it. One must use the mortal world as a furnace, and obsession as fuel, tempering one's soul in the raging fire of the seven emotions and six desires, only then can one distinguish truth from falsehood and achieve the state of True Immortal who is untouched by the mortal world." He intends to use the obsession of this Loose Immortal to actively trigger the "Mortal World Immortal Tribulation"—a necessary tribulation for the Mortal Realm cultivators to achieve Mortal World True Immortal mortal world. Unlike the violent Heavenly Thunder Heavenly Tribulation, the Mortal World Tribulation uses "emotion" as its blade and "desire" as its edge, requiring one to personally experience birth, aging, sickness, death, joy, sorrow, and separation. If one is not careful, one will be trapped within it, never to escape.
The thought had barely formed when his mind trembled violently, as if a boulder had been thrown into a lake. Ren Xiaoyao felt the world spin before his eyes; the sounds of the wind and the waves of the sea of clouds vanished instantly, replaced by the hustle and bustle of the marketplace—he had become a scholar in plain clothes, wearing a faded blue cloth robe with patches on the cuffs. On his desk lay a stack of scrolls over a foot high, and in the flickering candlelight, he was studying late into the night for the imperial examination three days later. The words on the pages were densely packed; he could even smell the ink and feel the warmth of the candlelight. Everything felt so real, as if it weren't an illusion.
On the eve of the imperial examination, hurried footsteps suddenly sounded outside the window. Several officials in black robes burst in, chains in hand, and pinned him to the ground without a word. The lead official threw out a "secret letter of treason," the handwriting of which was identical to his own, even mimicking the distinctive pauses in his strokes. He was dragged into the Heavenly Prison, the cold chains binding his wrists, chafing his skin painfully. The shouts of the jailers, the sound of rain outside the cell, and the worried cries of his parents through the cell door flooded his ears like a tide. Disappointment and grievance entwined his heart like vines, tightening more and more, almost dragging him into the abyss of despair. He could even smell the musty odor in the cell and hear the rustling of rats scurrying around the corner.
Before he could recover from his despair, the scene changed abruptly again. This time, he was clad in black Mysterious Iron armor, still stained with dried blood, and held a long spear in his hand, standing atop the border city wall. Beneath his feet lay blood-stained yellow sand, the wind carrying the stench of rust and blood. Before him stretched a dark mass of the Barbarian Tribe cavalry, their scimitars gleaming coldly in the sunlight, like a steel forest. Behind him stood three thousand soldiers, all brothers who had fought alongside him through thick and thin, their faces filled with determination, their eyes shining with the light of defending their homeland. Beside him stood his childhood friend, Lin Feng Lin Feng, who patted him on the shoulder and said with a smile, "Brother, today we must drive back the Barbarian Tribe and show them the might of our Dajing!"
But as the Barbarian Tribe charged, Lin Feng suddenly turned his horse around, his longsword pointing directly at Ren Xiaoyao's back. The blade sliced through the air with a sharp sound, and Ren Xiaoyao could even feel the chill of the wind it carried. "My family is in the hands of the Barbarian Tribe, I have no choice!" Lin Feng's roar echoed across the battlefield, filled with despair and pain. The moment the longsword pierced through the armor, Ren Xiaoyao's heart felt as if it had been struck by a boulder. Anger and a sense of betrayal surged in his chest like magma, almost overwhelming his reason. He watched as his soldiers fell one by one, watched as the Barbarian Tribe cavalry trampled the corpses of his compatriots, his spear trembled slightly, and he wished he could tear Lin Feng to pieces immediately.
Then, the scene of his twilight years came into view. He had become a farmer, his hair long since white, like snow in the dead of winter, his face covered with deep wrinkles, the marks etched by time. In his hand he held a worn-out hoe, its wooden handle worn smooth and its iron tip rusted. He tended a small, meager plot of land, the rice seedlings growing unevenly, clearly neglected. The thatched hut beside the field was dilapidated, its roof leaking holes and its walls riddled with cracks. On the wooden table inside, the memorial tablets of his wife and children remained, the Incense Ash in the burner before them long since cooled.
He sat on the threshold, watching the sunset, the orange-red afterglow painting half the sky. He recalled his wife's dying words, "Husband, live well and watch the children grow up," and the scene of him collapsing in the field when news of his son's death on the battlefield arrived. Loneliness and grief, like icy river water, completely overwhelmed him. He could even feel his body aging—with each step, his bones creaked as if they might fall apart at any moment; his eyesight was gradually blurring, and he could no longer clearly see the rice seedlings in the field; his hearing was also failing, and he could only hear sounds nearby. As night fell, the area around the thatched hut was completely silent, save for the sound of the wind and the chirping of insects, a loneliness that made his heart tremble.
The Mortal World Tribulation surged in wave after wave, each life's joys and sorrows felt incredibly real, as if he had truly lived countless lives: he was once a wealthy merchant, almost betraying his conscience to sell counterfeit medicine in the face of enormous profits; he was once a healer dedicated to saving lives, but also considered retreating in the face of a spreading plague; he was once a skilled craftsman, almost cutting corners and ruining his reputation in order to meet deadlines... All sorts of emotions, like venomous snakes, coiled around his soul, trying to drag him into the abyss of depravity.
Several times, he almost succumbed to it—in the Heavenly Prison, he touched the dagger dropped by the jailer, its cold gleam reflected in his eyes, and the thought of killing the accuser surged in his heart. If he took one more step, he would fall into the path of killing and never be able to turn back; at the border, he watched the fallen soldiers and the arrogance of the Barbarian Tribe cavalry, and his spear was almost pointed at the old, weak, women and children of the Barbarian Tribe. He was just a step away from becoming a bloodthirsty Asura and being devoured by his Heart Demon; in his old age, he looked at the empty thatched hut, felt the decay of his body, and even thought about picking up a hoe to end his life and give up this lonely and helpless remaining life.
At these times, the Immortal Embryo within his dantian would glow with a warm golden light, which would spread along his meridians to his sea of consciousness, temporarily suppressing those negative emotions. Simultaneously, the "Immortal" runes of the Creation Spear would tremble gently in his sea of consciousness, transmitting the maxims of the "Heart Refining Chapter" of the <Creation Immortal Art> into his mind. The voice was like an aged sage whispering in his ear, "Refining the heart in the mortal world is not about abandoning emotions, but about Mind-Guarding Power. Emotion is the boat, desire is the oar; go with the flow and you cross; go against the flow and you capsize. Only then can you reach the Beyond the Shore True Immortal."
The voice was like a wake-up call, instantly sobering him up—he wasn't truly a scholar, a general, or a farmer; he was Ren Xiaoyao, the successor of Senior Cang Xuan, a cultivator destined to protect the Mortal Realm. If he couldn't even guard his own heart, swayed by emotions and desires, how could he protect others, how could he uncover the secrets of the Immortal Domain?
He gradually realized: to remain steadfast in adversity is the mark of a gentleman; to maintain benevolence in anger is the mark of a good general; to remain calm in grief is the mark of a wise man. In the Heavenly Prison, he abandoned the dagger and instead meticulously searched for evidence—he recalled his habit of pausing slightly at the end of the stroke in his handwriting, while the stroke on the secret letter was unusually smooth. Ultimately, he used this detail to prove his innocence before the examiner and clear his name; at the border, he captured Lin Feng but did not kill him. Instead, he pressed him for the location of the monks being imprisoned and led his troops to infiltrate the Barbarian Tribe. In the Barbarian Tribe camp, after overcoming numerous hardships, they rescued the kidnapped civilians and resolved the conflict between the two nations. After the war, Lin Feng committed suicide to atone for his sins, entrusting his family's military treatise to him before his death, his eyes filled with remorse and gratitude. In his later years, he suppressed his grief and passed on all the farming and health preservation techniques he had learned throughout his life to the children of the village—teaching them how to distinguish good from bad crops, how to cope with drought, and how to maintain their health. Watching the children run and play on the field ridges, listening to their clear laughter, a long-lost smile appeared on his face, and the loneliness in his heart gradually dissipated.
As the memories of his final life receded like the tide—in that life, he was a schoolteacher, watching his students become upright officials, physicians, and generals, protecting the people of their region— Ren Xiaoyao suddenly opened his eyes. A dazzling golden light burst forth from his sea of consciousness, piercing through the clouds and illuminating the entire mountain peak. The obsessions of those Loose Immortal had been completely refined by him, transforming into pale red lines, like cinnabar imprinted on his soul. These were the "Mortal World Pattern," proof of having passed the Mortal World Tribulation; each Dao Patterns represented a test of the heart.
At this moment, the weather on the mountaintop suddenly changed. The once clear sky was suddenly filled with dark clouds, but these were no longer the purplish-black Thunder Clouds of the Heavenly Tribulation; instead, they were "Immortal Tribulation Cloud" tinged with a faint red glow. The red glow, like flowing silk, slowly unfolded within the clouds, its color ranging from light red to deep red, with distinct layers. There was no violent lightning, only a gentle yet profound celestial light, which fell softly upon Ren Xiaoyao like a fine rain. The celestial light touched his skin, carrying a warm and soothing sensation, like a mother's hand gently caressing him, dispelling all his fatigue.
The moment the immortal light seeped into his body, Ren Xiaoyao felt a warmth in his dantian. The Immortal Embryo within his dantian suddenly expanded, transforming into a phantom about ten feet tall. The phantom wore the same blue robe as him, its long hair flowing in the wind. In its hand, it held a miniature Creation Spear, the four patterns "Life-Annihilation-Devour Immortal" on the spear tip lighting up simultaneously. Seven-colored light intertwined, resonating with the spear in its hand, emitting a buzzing sound that pierced the clouds. Amidst the buzzing sound, the cracks in his meridians were completely healed under the nourishment of the immortal light, replaced by a "Mortal World Immortal Meridian" gleaming with a golden-red luster. The immortal Immortal Vein was several times thicker than before, and what flowed within it was no longer ordinary Immortal Essence, but "True Immortal Power" containing the essence of the mortal world. This power possessed both the sharp edge of Immortal Essence and the warm and profound nature of the Mortal Realm, combining strength and gentleness, just like the mortal world itself, encompassing all things.
"The Mortal World Immortal Tribulation, today I, Ren Xiaoyao, will cross it!" Ren Xiaoyao let out a long roar, his voice echoing like thunder across the mountain peak, causing the surrounding strange rocks to tremble slightly, and fragments of stone to fall from the cracks into the sea of clouds. He leaped into the air, his robes fluttering in the wind like outstretched wings, the Creation Spear in his hand pointing straight at the sky. The crimson Immortal Tribulation Cloud seemed to be summoned, transforming into streams of golden-red light that flowed down the tip of the spear and then along the shaft into his dantian.
The illusory image of the Immortal Embryo gradually merged with his own body, and the golden-red glow around him surged, dyeing the entire Cang Xuan Mountain into a magnificent spectacle—the rocks were golden-red, the sea of clouds was golden-red, and even the air seemed to have turned golden-red. The distant sea of clouds, illuminated by the glow, resembled a burning ocean, vast and breathtakingly beautiful.
The cultivators at the foot of the mountain all looked up, their eyes filled with awe and reverence. Standing at the Foot of the Mountain, they gazed up at the figure atop the peak, at the golden-red glow, at the illusory image of True Immortal emerging around Ren Xiaoyao —behind the image, the myriad aspects of the mortal world flowed: the bustling marketplace, the vendors' cries seemingly right beside them; the border's endless flames of war, the soldiers' shouts deafening; the pastoral songs of the countryside, farmers leading their oxen along the field ridges; the sound of children reciting their lessons in the school, holding their books and reading attentively; the benevolent heart and skillful hands of healers, their focused attention as they took patients' pulses and examined them... All these scenes unfolded like a scroll in the glow of the sunset, slowly flowing—this was the unique symbol of a "Mortal World True Immortal"!
The old cultivator gripped his broken sword tightly, the cracks on the blade seemingly shimmering, tears welling in his eyes—he had lived for nearly a hundred years and never imagined he would witness the birth of Mortal World True Immortal; the young cultivators trembled with excitement, some even cheering aloud, knowing that the Mortal Realm finally had a true Guardians, a True Immortal who had stepped out of the Mortal Realm Mortal Realm and was willing to protect it!
As the last ray of rosy light merged into his body, Ren Xiaoyao slowly landed on the bluestone. The rosy light around him gradually subsided, transforming into a faint golden-red halo that enveloped him like a thin veil. His aura was completely different—no longer bearing the naivety and immaturity of a mortal cultivator, nor the aloofness and arrogance of Immortal Domain cultivator. Instead, it carried a warm, earthy charm, as if he were merely a traveler who had experienced many vicissitudes yet possessed a kind heart, making people want to get close to him.
With a gentle flick of his fingertips, a wisp of True Immortal Power transformed into a golden-red lotus flower in his palm. The lotus was layered upon layered, its petals shimmering with subtle light and shadow: the hustle and bustle of the marketplace, the wind of the borderlands, the dew of the fields, and even the laughter of children—in the shifting light and shadow, one could almost see the Wan Family of the Mortal Realm and hear the joyful voices of the people. This was the power of Mortal World True Immortal mortal realm, originating from the mortal world and returning to one's true nature; every wisp of power carried the warmth of the Mortal Realm and the intention to protect all living beings.
He looked down at the Creation Spear in his hand. Next to the "Immortal" pattern on the spear, a faint Mortal World Pattern had appeared. The two Dao Patterns intertwined, like the fusion of immortals and mortals, inseparable. The spear tip gleamed with a golden-red luster, more lively than before, as if it had its own consciousness, trembling gently, as if celebrating him, or as if resonating with him.
In the distance, the previously closed Heaven's Gate Heaven's Gate reappeared in the sky, this time several times wider than before. The mythical beast patterns on the gate frame were even clearer—the scales of the Qilin shimmered with fine golden light, as if it were about to leap out of the gate frame and arrive on clouds; the feather patterns of the Immortal Crane were clear, and the illusory clouds clinging to the tips of its wings fluttered in the wind, making it seem alive; the eyes of the Spirit Deer shone with a warm glow, and its antlers were wrapped with tiny rays of light, each Dao Patterns gleaming with a warm golden light, as if forged from the Nine Heavens Gold Crystal. The rosy light poured down from the Heaven's Gate, even more magnificent than before, like a spectacular waterfall. Clear celestial music came from behind the gate, no longer the previous imposing summons, but with more reverence, as if welcoming a worthy True Immortal. Even the clouds around the Heaven's Gate became docile.
Ren Xiaoyao looked up at the Heaven's Gate, his eyes showing no urgency, only calm. He knew that stepping through the Heaven's Gate would grant him access to the Immortal Domain, allowing him to explore its hidden secrets; but he also knew that there were still people in the Mortal Realm who needed his protection. He turned to look down the mountain—the cultivators who had fought alongside him against the Ink Nightmare and protected the continent were now kneeling towards the summit, their eyes filled with reverence and gratitude. The old cultivators' beards fluttered in the wind, their faces radiant with satisfaction; the young cultivators' eyes shone with hope, as if they could see the future of the Mortal Realm; even children, holding flowers, stood on tiptoe, calling out towards the summit, "Immortal! Immortal!"
He recalled the last sentence on the last page of the "Creation Immortal Art," a comment personally written by Senior Cang Xuan. The handwriting was vigorous and powerful, as if carrying the senior's expectations. "True Immortal are not those who look down from above, nor those who are isolated from the mortal world, but rather those who protect the peace of all living beings and guard the lights of the Mortal Realm."
"The secrets of the Immortal Domain, the conspiracy of Immortal Domain cultivators to obstruct the ascension of the Mortal Realm —I will investigate them all." Ren Xiaoyao murmured to himself, his voice soft yet carrying a resolute strength that resonated throughout the mountain peak. He slung the Creation Spear behind his back, the shaft resting lightly on his shoulder, and turned to walk down the mountain. With each step, a golden-red lotus flower bloomed beneath his feet, landing on the mountain path and transforming into a golden-red road that meandered down the mountain, drawing the rosy light from the summit to the foot of the mountain, as if paving a protective path for the Mortal World True Immortal, leading them to the Mortal Realm and to all living beings.
The Heaven's Gate atop the mountain remained open, its rosy light still pouring down, as if awaiting his return, or perhaps bidding him farewell. Ren Xiaoyao's figure gradually disappeared into the mountain mists, leaving only a resolute silhouette as he walked towards the depths of the mortal realm—he wanted to first protect the land for which he had once shed blood, to protect those who trusted him, to ensure the Mortal Realm would no longer be harmed by the likes of Ink Nightmare and the Loose Immortal immortals, before he could seek the truth of the Immortal Domain.
This is the path that Mortal World True Immortal should take.