The Path

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Shen Hui first regulated his breath for a moment. Once his breathing steadied, he sank his mind into the Parchment Interface.

[Dao Xing]: 1465 (Available)

He stared at that number for a while, weighed it in his mind, and quickly reached a decision.

His fire techniques had now reached minor mastery. Though his other four elements were only at the entry level, they were more than enough to handle ordinary monsters.

But while his methods were sufficient, his cultivation base was truly a bit too low.

With that thought, he moved his mind, and all 1,465 points were poured into the realm column.

In an instant.

A surge of heat rose from his dantian, like a bursting dam, flooding into his limbs and bones in a flash.

Those meridians and acupoints that had always felt slightly blocked were opened one by one. Spiritual energy surged and coursed through his body's channels, flowing more than twice as fast as before.

He closed his eyes and looked inward, seeing that the once-thin threads of qi had now gathered into a trickling stream, slowly winding through his meridians.

This sensation lasted for about the time it takes to finish a cup of tea before gradually calming down.

He opened his eyes and looked at the interface again.

[Realm]: Qi Induction (3361/10000)

He silently calculated.

If the Qi Refining realm was divided into three minor stages—early, middle, and late—each stage required roughly over 3,300 points.

Now, with 3,361 points, he had just barely crossed the threshold from early Qi Refining into the middle stage.

"Third Senior Brother and Fourth Senior Sister are only at Qi Refining middle stage too."

He muttered to himself, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly before he quickly pressed them down.

Don't get arrogant, he warned himself inwardly.

Then he collected his focus and turned his attention to the very bottom of the interface.

[Corpse Liberation Wheel]: 1 (Available)

He pondered for a moment, figuring this was probably some kind of lottery or draw.

"Corpse Liberation..."

In Daoist teachings, there is the concept of corpse liberation—where an enlightened person abandons their physical body to ascend as an immortal, leaving behind only clothes or a corpse. That is called corpse liberation.

But this wheel was called the Corpse Liberation Wheel. Could it help someone become an immortal?

He hesitated for a moment, then concentrated on it.

Suddenly, the scene before him shifted.

The ancient, parchment-like interface vanished, replaced by a circular wheel. Its shape resembled a compass, but not quite the same.

The wheel was a dull bronze color, its edges heavily worn, carved with patterns he couldn't quite understand—like worm-eaten marks.

The surface was divided into many fan-shaped compartments, each inscribed with characters. But the writing was too small and blurry, impossible to make out clearly.

At the center of the wheel was a raised button, and a blood-red pointer—also made of bronze—was polished shiny, as if it had been pressed many times before.

"It really does look like a lottery wheel," Shen Hui muttered.

He took a deep breath, gathered his mind, and pressed down on the button.

Creak—

The wheel began to spin.

But it turned with great reluctance.

It was like a rusted iron axle grinding with effort, letting out a harsh, grating screech with every rotation.

Shen Hui couldn't help but frown, feeling as if the wheel might fall apart at any moment.

The wheel spun faster and faster, until the characters in the compartments blurred into a smear of light and shadow.

After a while, the wheel gradually slowed.

Creak... creak...

Each sound was slower and heavier than the last.

Shen Hui's heart tightened with every noise, afraid it would shatter right before his eyes.

Finally, the wheel stopped.

The pointer landed steadily on one compartment. The characters inside slowly became clear, as if ink were seeping out from within.

Shen Hui focused his gaze.

Six large characters danced across the space, bold and unrestrained:

[Dao Path: Corpse Condensation Sword Refinement]

Shen Hui sat frozen on the edge of the bed, staring at the new line of text that had appeared on the interface, unmoving for a long time.

Dao Path?

There was indeed a column on his panel called [Destined Path], but it had always remained in an "unrevealed" state.

He had also tried to sound out his master on the matter, asking what exactly a "path" was.

The old Daoist told him, "A 'path' is the foundation of a cultivator, the great Dao root that supports future Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, and even Nascent Soul."

Some people are born with a path, while others need years of cultivation to gradually awaken to it.

And this "Corpse Condensation Sword Refinement"...

He muttered these four words over and over again, his brow gradually furrowing.

Could this be some kind of heretical, evil method?

The wheel on the interface slowly dissipated, reverting to its old parchment-like appearance.

Shen Hui stared hard at those four words, and no matter how he looked at them, they seemed to exude a sinister aura between the lines.

He tried to focus his attention on them, and the words immediately glowed faintly, then a line of small text appeared.

[To condense the three destined swords, the corpses of cultivators are required as catalysts.]

[Bone Sword • White Skeleton] Foundation Establishment cultivator (0/1)

[Blood Sword • Crimson Calamity] Golden Core True Person (0/1)

[Flesh Sword • Rotten Life] Nascent Soul True Lord (0/1)

[Insufficient materials...]

The corner of Shen Hui's mouth twitched.

Sure enough, it was no proper method!

He had still harbored a sliver of hope, thinking that "Corpse Condensation Sword Refinement" might be a typo for "Spirit Condensation Sword Refinement," or perhaps an alternate name for "Qi Condensation Sword Refinement."

But the result was truly "corpse" condensation sword refinement...

And at the very least, it required the corpse of a Foundation Establishment cultivator. Where was he supposed to get a Foundation Establishment cultivator's body?

Was he supposed to dig up someone else's ancestral grave? Or kill someone?

Digging up ancestral graves gave him a slight advantage, since he had no ancestral graves in this world and thus couldn't be targeted.

But he was now a member of Clear Wind Temple. If he actually did that, the ancestral tablets enshrined in the temple's hall would be at risk of retaliation.

Although he felt it wouldn't be a big deal, his master would probably be compelled to clean house at that point.

As for killing someone...

He hadn't even reached the late Qi Refining stage yet. Going after a heretical Foundation Establishment cultivator would be walking right into a trap, just asking to die.

He felt a bit speechless, fell silent for a moment, then reached up to rub his brow.

"I'll just feel things out tomorrow."

He muttered to himself, "Master is well-traveled and knowledgeable; maybe he's heard of this 'Corpse Condensation Sword Refinement' method. Also, I need to ask about the origin of that Jadeite Gourd."

He lay down, staring at the pitch-black roof beam.

Too many things had happened today—killing the White-headed Macaque, killing the Old Man, burning the mountain and burying the ashes, and then drawing out this thing.

He turned over, feeling his mind in a mess, like a tangled ball of hemp thread with no end in sight.

"Stop thinking."

He closed his eyes, pulled the blanket up, and for once, tried to sleep.

The fireball hovering in midair let out a soft crackle at that moment, then abruptly extinguished.

But he lay there for a long time, unable to fall asleep.

He tossed and turned on the bed, throwing off the blanket and pulling it back on, the wooden planks creaking endlessly. Anyone listening might have thought he was up to some old habit.

In truth, his mind kept involuntarily flashing back to the day's events.

One moment it was the eerie sight of the Old Man retracting his head into his abdomen, the next the shrill wail of the White Banner as it burned in the fire.

One moment it was the Black Wind sweeping through withered trees, bones littering the ground, the next the pile of minced flesh he had chopped so finely.

He opened his eyes, stared at the indistinct roof beam above, and let out a long sigh.

Could cultivators suffer from insomnia too?

Forget it.

He sat up, crossed his legs, placed his hands on his knees, and closed his eyes.

Since he couldn't sleep, he might as well cultivate.

After half a year of cultivation, sitting in meditation and refining Qi had long become a habit.

Fortunately, Shen Hui didn't find this a hardship.

Calming his mind, he sensed strands of spiritual energy seeping into his body, bringing with it an indescribable sense of peace.

The spiritual energy flowed slowly through his meridians, gradually filling them.

Those chaotic thoughts also settled down with each breath, like muddy water left to stand until it became clear.

The chirping of insects outside the window gradually grew sparse, and from the distant forest came the occasional cry of a night bird.

He didn't know how long had passed when the first pale blue-white light appeared on the eastern horizon. The morning bell hadn't rung yet, but he opened his eyes, got up, and washed.