Refining the Spiritual Root

The refining process was long and tedious. Xuanqing sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and devoted himself completely to refining the Banana Tree. He released Xiao Hei from his Sleeve Universe. Xiao Hei obediently lay beside him, keeping a wary eye on their surroundings.

His Double Merit Fortune proved immensely useful at this moment. It not only doubled the efficiency of his purification divine ability, but also earned the Heavenly Dao's tacit approval of his refining, and even its secret blessing. The lotuses in the Lotus Pond seemed to respond to the call, slowly unfurling. Seven-colored rays of light fell around Xuanqing and the Banana Tree, enveloping them in a profound and harmonious scene.

Time once again lost all meaning.

Spring passed and autumn came; flowers bloomed and withered. The Tribulation winds shifted across Honghuang, and the struggle between the Wu and Yao grew ever fiercer. Yet atop Mount Buzhou, Xuanqing remained undistracted, immersed in the mysteries of refining the Spiritual Root. He seemed to have become a stubborn stone, merged with heaven and earth; only the faint green glow proved he was still there.

Several thousand years passed in the blink of an eye.

When Xuanqing opened his eyes again, his aura had merged with the Banana Tree's, until they were indistinguishable from one another. Its branches and leaves were even greener, and the spiritual energy it gave off was purer. The four leaves containing the elements of creation now gleamed brilliantly, as though they might fall at any moment and transform into Innate Spiritual Treasures.

Xuanqing gazed at the Banana Tree before him with satisfaction. His several thousand years of hard work had finally paid off.

He slowly rose to his feet, and an even more tremendous aura than before poured from his body. His physical strength had once again made a qualitative leap. He felt that he could summon the power of heaven and earth with every gesture.

"Now it's time to claim my spoils."

Xuanqing's lips curled into a faint smile. He raised his right hand and beckoned.

"Bzz—"

A lush green leaf trembled on the Banana Tree, the veins of the earth clearly visible upon it. It slowly fell and transformed into a simple, unadorned fan, landing in Xuanqing's hand. It was the Earth Banana Fan!

Next, a fiery red leaf fell and transformed into the Fire Banana Fan.

The third was the blue-green Wind Banana Fan.

The three Banana Fans lay quietly in Xuanqing's palm, each giving off its own distinct aura. Every fan contained the utmost power of a creation element, its might boundless.

"Earth, fire, wind... What a pity the Water Banana Fan hasn't matured." Xuanqing felt a little regretful, but soon let it go. Obtaining three Innate Spiritual Treasures was already an immense stroke of fortune. As for the Water Banana Fan, if fate allowed, he would come across it someday. He couldn't force it; he would leave it to fate.

He stored the three Banana Fans in his Sleeve Universe and turned his gaze back to the Lotus Pond.

Though he had taken three leaves from the Banana Tree, its main body remained rooted in the Lotus Pond, full of life. Xuanqing didn't take everything for himself.

After all, he was a Merit Spiritual Root and knew how to act with restraint. Besides, the Banana Tree had grown here, and its origins were closely tied to Pangu's Legacy at Mount Buzhou.

If he needed to, he could always return for the final Banana Fan leaf.

At the foot of Mount Buzhou, near Kunlun Mountain, a killing aura filled the air.

Jumang, the Wood Ancestral Witch, was tall and imposing, his skin a blue-green like the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. Two horns sprouted from his head, and his limbs were long. He held a wooden staff wrapped in vines, his eyes as sharp as a hawk's.

Behind him stood tens of thousands of Witch Clan warriors clad in animal hides, their muscles knotted. They gripped bone blades and stone axes, letting out low growls.

Facing Jumang stood Jimeng, a Demon Saint clad in dark armor and wreathed in water vapor. Two horns grew from his forehead, and his face was fierce. He held a trident and glared ferociously. Behind him stood tens of thousands of Demon Soldiers of all shapes and sizes, their Demonic Qi soaring into the sky. The two vast auras clashed.

Jumang swept a contemptuous glance over Jimeng, then looked at the Demon Soldiers behind him. "Did those two feathered beasts, Dijun and Taiyi, send only a Golden Immortal Realm Demon Saint to die here? Seems they truly look down on my Witch Clan!"

Jimeng flushed with rage. "How dare you! You're nothing but an Ancestral Witch, yet you dare insult my Demon Emperors! Today, I'll show you that I don't need the Demon Emperors to take this territory!"

He stepped forward sharply. The laws of water condensed into countless ice spikes that hovered in the air, radiating a bone-chilling cold. "I alone am more than enough to slaughter every last one of you barbaric Witches here!"

Jumang laughed scornfully and tapped his staff against the ground. Countless vines burst from the earth and instantly wrapped around the ice spikes, hissing as they melted.

"Big words! Today, my Witch Clan will reclaim our Father God's land! If the Yao Clan objects, then bring it on!" The Witch Clan warriors behind him shouted in unison, their cries shaking the valley.

High above, Auspicious Clouds and auspicious mists swirled.

Dijun wore the Nine Dragon Emperor Robe and a crown, his face full of authority. He stood with his hands behind his back, profound light glimmering in his eyes. Eastern Emperor Taiyi stood beside him, wreathed in the fierce aura of the Golden Crow, with an apparition of the Chaos Bell circling him. He looked arrogant and unruly.

Not far from them stood Dongwanggong in white robes, bearing an immortal's air. Several Loose Immortals followed at his side, their expressions respectful. Watching the standoff below, Dongwanggong furrowed his brow.

He turned to Dijun and cupped his hands. "Demon Emperor, the battle below is growing tense. The Ancestral Witches are powerful. Isn't it a little overconfident to send only one Demon Saint, Jimeng, to face them?"

Dongwanggong was in a rather awkward position. Hongjun Dao Ancestor had named him the leader of the male immortals. It sounded like a lofty title, but he had neither an Innate Supreme Treasure to stabilize his fortune nor a powerful clan to support him. Though he had many Loose Immortals under his command, most acted independently, making it difficult to unite them. He had a title but no real authority, and the only ones he could rely on were his allies in the Yao Clan's Heavenly Court.

Dijun's expression remained calm, though a flicker of disdain passed through his eyes. He was courteous on the surface, but inwardly looked down on Dongwanggong, a "leader of the male immortals" who was all title and no substance.

"Daoist Dongwanggong, you're worrying too much," Dijun replied evenly, with an air of unshakable confidence. "Jimeng may be a Demon Saint, but he's highly capable and more than a match for them. Besides, this is only a small test, not a Decisive Battle."

He paused, then continued, "Every warrior of my Yao Clan is brave and skilled in battle. How could they compare with those fools of the Witch Clan, who know nothing but brute force? This battle is simply to show them that Mount Buzhou belongs to my Yao Clan in the end!"

Eastern Emperor Taiyi was impatient by nature and couldn't stand Dongwanggong's "praising others at his own side's expense." He snorted and cut in, "Hmph! Those fools of the Witch Clan have nothing but tough bodies. What other abilities do they have? One Golden Immortal of my Yao Clan can match several Great Witches! So what if they have Ancestral Witches? They're only relying on their innate advantages. Without my Yao Clan's cultivation methods, they'll be eliminated sooner or later!"

He glanced at the Loose Immortals behind Dongwanggong, his tone openly scornful. "As for those Loose Immortals... They spend their days cultivating in their caves. When a battle comes, all they can do is watch from the sidelines. My Yao Clan doesn't have that many idlers!"

Dongwanggong's expression shifted, but he couldn't bring himself to lash out. Though Eastern Emperor Taiyi's words were arrogant, they were partly true. The Loose Immortals lacked organization and struggled to stand against mighty clans like the Yao and Witch Clans.

All he could do was force a laugh to cover his embarrassment.

Seeing this, a trace of amusement flashed in Dijun's eyes. He knew Taiyi had gone a little too far, but he had also achieved his aim of putting Dongwanggong in his place.

"Taiyi!" Dijun chided softly, though there was no real reproach in his voice. "Daoist Dongwanggong is only concerned about the battle. There's no need to be so harsh."

Eastern Emperor Taiyi snorted and said no more, but his eyes remained defiant.