Blood and Yang Energy

Hong Xuanji's unhurried voice rang out. But as the two streaks of sword light flew at him, Hong Xuanji suddenly extended his right hand. His crystalline, immaculate fingers closed around them, and he caught both swords between his thumb, index, middle, and ring fingers. "Bai Ziyue? The fifteen-year-old martial arts prodigy from the Yuantu Bai Clan? He's still too green to challenge me to a duel," Hong Xuanji said proudly. "That is... such fierce, surging yang energy..." The two streaks of sword light flashed over from a hundred paces away. They were the two precious swords carried on the backs of the Taoist priests. Without any visible movement from the men, the swords suddenly flew from their sheaths and slashed toward Hong Xuanji, swift as shafts of light. "No Life Father and Mother... Vacuum Homeland..." But after practicing for a while, Hong Xuejiao put away the book and returned to her room. Hong Yi then heard her tell a maid to heat water for her bath. Hong Xuanji chewed over those words, once more sinking into thought. This blood and yang energy was so overwhelming that Hong Yi's wandering soul could not even enter the room. Now that he understood, Hong Yi did not approach Hong Xuejiao. Instead, he paced to the side of the courtyard and committed her punches and every movement of her practice to memory. Just as Hong Yi drifted into a shadowy corner, two men in black appeared at the other end of the building! As a wandering soul, he could not turn pages, but he could watch Hong Xuejiao practice—and that was even better than reading a book. It was like having a living Martial Master teach him the fist technique. "Hehehe... Hong Xuanji, are you really confused, or just pretending? Bai Ziyue was once one of the Eight Great Demon Immortals of the World... No Life Father and Mother, Vacuum Homeland..." Two sprays of blood burst forth as the swords plunged through the chests of the two black-robed Taoists and emerged from their backs, pinning them stiffly to the ground. Hong Xuanji closed his eyes, his expression grave. Ziyue taught me the Ox Demon Great Strength Fist. It trains the flesh, sinews, and skin, but at most it can take me to the Warrior realm. To advance further and reach the Martial Master realm, I'll need a bone-refining secret. Since the Tiger Demon Bone Refining Fist is right here, I might as well study it. But my soul can't turn the pages... Just then, a voice rang out clearly from inside, reaching Hong Yi's thoughts. As Hong Yi neared the book of fist techniques, Hong Xuejiao suddenly lunged at him, drawing back a fist before punching through empty air with a crack that rang like an explosion. "Wusheng Dao, Xuanye." With a twist of his wrist, Hong Xuanji turned the two swords between his fingers. He jolted his arm, flinging them away. They shrieked through the air, flying twice as fast and striking twice as fiercely as when they had come. In the midst of his searing discomfort, Hong Yi moved his thoughts, and at last his soul drifted away. Seeing the Tiger Demon Bone Refining Fist lying on the ground, Hong Yi was only mildly surprised. Bai Ziyue had told him about the book, and he knew its origins and what it could do. But ever since he had found the Amitabha Sutra in the Martial Classic, secret scriptures and manuals no longer shocked him as much. After a moment, he turned his gaze toward a shadowy corner nearby, but saw nothing there. The two black-robed Taoists each announced their name and sect, then continued, "We've come to kill you!" Only two kinds of people were beyond the mischief of wandering spirits and ghosts: those of righteous heart who understood the ways of spirits and gods and felt no fear, and those whose bodies were strong and whose blood and yang energy burned fiercely. "Hehehe... Hong Xuanji, enjoy your triumph while you can. I hear Bai Ziyue of the Yuantu Bai Clan has arrived in Yujing to fight you. Once you're exhausted from your duel with him, just wait for the endless assassinations of Wusheng Dao and Zhenkong Dao!" "Not good!" "Marquis Wuwen truly is a peerless master of the world, a Martial Saint... He can even sense us watching him..." The two Taoists could hold on no longer. In their final moments, they uttered eight strange words, then died. "Hmm? Which sect are you from? You snuck into my residence in the dead of night and even tried to enter my room by sending your souls out of your bodies. What are you after? If you could enter my room so easily, I'd be no Martial Saint." Hong Yi was startled. A wave of searing heat washed over him. It felt as if he were pressed against a furnace—or as if thousands of needles were pricking him all over. He could barely stand the agony; his soul nearly scattered. "Zhenkong Dao, Xuanzhen." "The Tiger Demon Bone Refining Fist? Isn't that the Great Zen Temple's supreme bone-refining art? Even Ziyue never obtained it. He practiced the Flying Spirit Bone Refining Method instead, and spent three years nourishing himself with Tiger Bone Paste before his bones became as tough as steel. How did this end up here?" Hong Yi was no ghost, but as a wandering soul he was not much different. The moment he heard this, his soul immediately drifted out of Yunting Studio. The two black-robed Taoists were of average height, their hair gathered in tall topknots and held in place with jade hairpins. It was clear that they were Taoist priests. "I finally understand what it means for yang energy to press in on you, for blood to burn hot and strong, leaving no room for ghosts to draw near." He had only just passed through the wall and reached the main gate at the center of the Marquis Mansion when Hong Yi saw what looked like a faint red blaze atop the roofs. It was as though the mansion were on fire. Even as he approached the gate, he felt blood and yang energy bearing down on him. The two Taoists spoke with difficulty. This was purely a matter of martial skill, strength, precision. When their bodies died, two formless, intangible Yin Spirits emerged from them. "I must have been distracted just now. It seems I let a wandering soul escape." "Wusheng Dao, Zhenkong Dao... the Yuantu Bai Clan, Bai Ziyue, the Eight Great Demon Immortals of the World, the white fox in the imperial palace... Something doesn't add up..." Just as Hong Yi's soul was about to turn and drift back, a sudden chill ran through him. He felt a cold shiver, as though someone had fixed their gaze on him. Swish! Hong Yi stared at the faint red glow atop the roofs. He knew it was not really red light, but the powerful blood and yang energy his soul could sense. No matter how secret the scriptures, cultivation had to proceed one step at a time. There was no shortcut to instant success. "A Martial Saint's blood and yang energy can really be this powerful!" Hong Xuanji's gaze flickered, as if he could see the formless Yin Spirits. He suddenly threw a punch at each of them. Boom! The two Yin Spirits could not withstand the powerful blood and yang energy. They were blasted apart, their souls scattered, vanishing from the world. He was none other than Marquis Wuwen, Hong Xuanji! The moment Hong Xuanji appeared at the doorway, Hong Yi again felt just how terrifying his father, Marquis Wuwen, was. The feeling was even more intense than the oppressive fear that had made his legs go weak in the hall that day. "What is Wusheng Dao? What is Zhenkong Dao? What heretical cults are these? In my Great Gan Dynasty, the only orthodox Taoist sects recognized by the court are Taishang Dao, Zhengyi Dao, and Fangxian Dao. There is no Wusheng Dao or Zhenkong Dao. You crooked cultists think you can stir up the people and assassinate court officials, throwing my dynasty into chaos?" Hong Xuanji's voice rang out. At the same time, the main gate swung open, and a man appeared in the doorway. He wore splendid brocade robes and a purple-gold crown, and stood tall and straight, as imposing as a demon god. Hong Xuanji took several steps toward the Taoists. Seeing that they still had a little breath left despite the swords through their chests, he asked with a cold laugh, "What are Wusheng Dao and Zhenkong Dao? Why did you come to assassinate me?" Whoosh! Bang! Bang! "The blood and yang energy of a Martial Saint is terrifying..." "I've only just reached Night Roaming. I can't get close to such powerful blood and yang energy. I'd better go back." "Right, my father has returned. He's a Martial Saint—he must practice his martial arts every day." Hong Yi's thoughts turned, and his soul drifted toward the central mansion in the Marquis Mansion. At that moment, voices rang out and torches lit the entire estate. A great many guards rushed over, including elite Martial Masters clad in Iron Scale Armor and iron helmets, armed from head to toe and gripping fine-steel sabers!