The moment the pill dissolved in his stomach, a surge of vital essence rushed upward from his abdomen. Warmth rippled through his whole body, and vapor steamed from his skin as though he were boiling.
Every aperture in Chen Heng's body seemed to spring to life.
Had he been able to look within himself, he would have seen countless threads, reddish and whitish, darting through his blood and bones. Like a woven net, they bound the Cold Dipper True Qi that rampaged like a maddened dragon.
Yet that true qi seemed to possess a will of its own.
With one violent surge, it broke free of its bonds and fled elsewhere.
The pill threads refused to let it escape, pursuing it and winding around it in dense layers.
Amid this struggle, Chen Heng's face alternated between red and white. His chest shuddered, and he abruptly opened his mouth to spit out several mouthfuls of black blood.
"As expected of a potent yang medicine... it really does work."
Rather than alarm, the sight filled Chen Heng with delight.
He took another Small White Sun Pill from the porcelain bottle, dissolved it in water, and swallowed it before continuing to meditate and regulate his breathing on the cushion.
Three days passed in this fashion.
Inside the cave abode, Chen Heng suddenly opened his eyes where he sat in meditation.
He moved his arms and legs a little and felt as though a lingering illness had been swept away. His blood and qi, once stagnant as dead water, had become considerably more vigorous. With each breath, his spirit settled and his mind grew peaceful.
The strand of Cold Dipper True Qi within him had now been bound fast by the pill threads, like a silkworm cocoon. For the time being, it lay quiet and motionless.
"With these two bottles of Small White Sun Pills, suppressing the Cold Dipper True Qi for half a year shouldn't be difficult. Half a year from now will be the time to enter the earth abyss. If I die, everything naturally ends there. If I'm fortunate enough to survive, I should have found a Qi Cultivation Method and entered the Qi Cultivation Stage by then."
In this world, Xudu Heaven's nine ranks and thirty-six grades of true qi had clearly defined tiers.
Only true qi of the seventh rank or higher could establish a solid Dao foundation, paving a broad, unobstructed Dao Path toward a Golden Core and even a Primordial Spirit in the future.
However.
Qi-Refining Methods capable of producing high-ranking true qi were difficult to find.
Never mind the Mysterious Truth Sect having no such hidden inheritance-even across the vast Southern Territory of Eastern Maitreya Province, they were likely as rare as phoenix feathers and qilin horns.
Such extraordinarily precious methods were recorded only within the Immortal-Demon Great Sects and the Mystic Gate Clans, and even there, they were secrets never passed to outsiders.
Someone with ordinary-or perhaps downright poor-aptitude like Chen Heng could hardly catch the eye of those immortal sects that perched upon lofty cliffs of pride.
Although he wanted to cultivate true qi of the upper three ranks, if it truly proved beyond his reach, Chen Heng would have to find some Qi Cultivation Art and enter the Qi Cultivation Stage simply to stay alive.
Even if it yielded true qi of the lower three ranks, he could no longer afford to be so particular.
"Still, although high-grade true qi is important, its absence doesn't mean one can accomplish nothing on the path of cultivation.
"According to the Daoist books, True Person Yan Xi had low-ranking true qi, an inferior Dao foundation, an inferior Purple Mansion manifestation, and the lowest grade of innate golden mercury. Yet he still achieved a Golden Core and a Primordial Spirit, and eventually entered the Return to Emptiness Realm. He established the 'Shunlie Biyun Yuangu' grotto-heaven in the Eastern Sea, and even elders of the Eight Great Mystic Sects sought his friendship."
Chen Heng swallowed another Small White Sun Pill and thought to himself:
Dwelling on those stories won't help. What matters now is attaining embryonic breathing qi sensation and crossing the threshold of the immortal path as soon as possible, so I can gain some means of protecting myself.
Attaining embryonic breathing meant leaving the mortal body behind.
A single sweep of one arm possessed divine strength that even three horses could not surpass.
The bones were cleansed and the marrow transformed, the body became like metal and iron, and one's lifespan more than doubled that of an ordinary mortal. Only upon reaching the limit of a hundred and fifty years would one's blood and qi begin to decline.
Among mortal martial artists, the Embryonic Breathing Realm was revered as Martial Dao Innate, the utmost limit and final realm of worldly martial arts.
Martial artists who attained the Innate realm were hailed as Grandmasters.
If such figures donned sturdy armor, wielded keen blades, and had several spirited horses and a squad of elite retainers to support them...
With their terrifying strength, fighting a thousand men was nothing-they could likely carve their way into an army of ten thousand and back out again, enough to sway the outcome of a battle.
Thus, if a Grandmaster who had attained Martial Dao Innate agreed to enter official service, the court would never begrudge them land and a marquisate. Wealth and the scarlet and purple robes of high office lay within easy reach.
Yet this utmost limit and final realm of mortal martial arts was merely the first threshold of the immortal path. Those martial artists tempered their muscles and bones and seared their internal organs through decades of training. Only one in ten thousand attained the Innate realm, and in old age they were still left with bodies riddled with injuries, illness, and strain.
How could that compare with a single morning's enlightenment on the immortal path, where success came as naturally as water flowing into a channel?
"Worldly martial arts? I wonder whether there are other kinds of martial arts."
Chen Heng stopped dwelling on it. He took a recently purchased longsword down from the cave wall and held the Golden Cicada firmly in his hand.
The cicada-shaped jade carving shone with a faint glow.
Its craftsmanship was exquisite beyond measure. Its face, feelers, plated back, legs, and claws were rendered in the finest detail, lifelike in every respect. Its pair of wings gleamed golden, radiant and dazzling.
On the cicada's belly were four tiny, fly-sized characters in seal script-"One True Dharma Realm"-so small they were barely visible.
With a stir of Chen Heng's intent, vital essence drained from his entire body. His face turned pale, and the Golden Cicada instantly pulled him into a wondrous space.
All was murky and obscure.
There was no sky, sun, moon, or stars above, nor grass, trees, or loose earth below. East, west, north, and south could not be distinguished, and there was no knowing how vast it was or where its boundaries lay.
It seemed that even if one exhausted lifetime after lifetime, one could never reach its edge.
"Although I learned all its functions the moment I held the Golden Cicada in this world, seeing it with my own eyes is still indescribably astounding."
The place was empty and boundless, with no landscape in sight, leaving him feeling as though he had fallen into clouds and mist.
Chen Heng picked a spot at random and sat cross-legged, laying the longsword he had been holding across his knees as he spoke in admiration.
This universe was called the One True Dharma Realm, and it had two functions.
The first was that, upon entering this Dharma Realm, it would simulate a mind image identical to oneself in every respect. Both one's cultivation realm and every item currently carried could be replicated in full.
After leaving, all the insights the mind image gained through cultivation within the Dharma Realm could be transmitted to the real body outside.
More precious still, the death of the mind image within the Dharma Realm would have no effect whatsoever on the real body outside. It would neither damage vital essence nor deplete blood and qi.
Under the rule of "one day in the world, ten days in the Dharma Realm," this meant Chen Heng had ten times as much cultivation time as ordinary people. In that respect, it was no different from the great grotto-heavens inhabited by accomplished immortals.
"If entering the One True Dharma Realm didn't require the Golden Cicada to draw out my vital essence, a loss my body couldn't withstand, why would I have had to wait until now?"
Chen Heng surveyed his surroundings with keen interest.
Had he not obtained the Small White Sun Pills to restore his body and bind the Cold Dipper True Qi, he would never have dared activate the One True Dharma Realm.
In the preceding days, before he had taken the pills, whenever he held the Golden Cicada and tried to enter the Dharma Realm, a profound sense of terror would repeatedly rise within him, sounding a warning in his heart.
Only after taking the pill today had that terror faintly receded, though he still felt exhausted and drained of strength.
"And there are other people's mind images..."
Chen Heng lightly pointed a finger. Thirty feet ahead of him, a Daoist with handsome, resolute features and a sword on his back appeared out of nowhere.
A page of golden writing hovered above the Daoist's head. With a beckoning motion from Chen Heng, it flew into his arms.
Although the cheat has a Buddhist name, this book won't be tangled up with Buddhism like the previous one. This mainly concerns a plot sequence added at the end of the outline, so I won't spoil it...
Still, I have to say that the Great Collection of Scriptures and the Daoist Canon really know how to spin wild nonsense. When those two clash, it might well be the earliest version of the Wang Bar's beast battles. But considering how early Buddhism absorbed quite a few Hindu ideas, when it comes to sheer grandeur, I'm unilaterally casting my vote for our Indian bros.
Before you continue