Chapter 117: Danxia Cave Heaven

The place where he stood was a valley, with steep cliffs on both sides, jagged peaks rising almost vertically. Liu Xiaolou gazed upward for a long time before finally realizing the sky was not ablaze with flames—it was crimson clouds. The clouds reflected upon the earth, casting a faint red glow on every face.

Su Zhi led the way up the mountain. Until today, Liu Xiaolou had never witnessed his cultivation firsthand; his wide sleeves fluttered as he drifted upward along the cliff face like a butterfly, so smoothly that one could not tell how he moved—he simply rose.

Su Xun followed closely behind. He wore no loose robes, so Liu Xiaolou finally saw the truth: he was not floating. His toes tapped the cliff wall every few zhang, seemingly using the recoil of true qi to propel himself upward.

This was how a Jin Dan high cultivator moved. Though not flying, to Liu Xiaolou it was nearly the same.

Next came six Foundation Establishment cultivators: four were senior elders of the Su family, two of the same generation as Su Zhi and Su Xun, and two even older; Su Wuniang and Su Jiuniang were the brightest among the younger generation.

All three Foundation Establishment cultivators of the Su family’s younger generation were women; one had married far away in Yuezhou, a loss that still pained Su Zhi as head of the family.

The six Foundation Establishment cultivators did not float as gracefully. Though they used no hands, their feet firmly stamped the cliff face every few zhang, climbing upward with a swift, rhythmic scraping sound.

The Su family claimed to have declined, but their decline was only relative to their former glory. Two Jin Dan and six Foundation Establishment cultivators in one family remained far beyond the reach of ordinary clans or minor sects—this was the foundation of the Su family’s thousand-year legacy.

Finally came the Qi Refining cultivators, and here the mundane world showed clearly: several elder uncles at the peak of Qi Refining climbed like geckos on walls, their speed not much slower than the Foundation Establishment; younger disciples like Su Long used hands and feet together, occasionally flipping midair in dazzling acrobatics.

The most grounded of all was Liu Xiaolou—not because he lacked the desire to glide gracefully, but because the cliff was too steep, too high, too slippery. At his Qi Refining fourth layer, he could only cling tightly to the rock face and climb laboriously. Compared to his past, he had improved greatly, but compared to the elite of the Su family, he looked clumsy indeed.

He had never climbed such a steep, towering cliff. When he reached two-thirds of the way, he was the only one left on the wall. Su Jiuniang leapt down from above, landing beside him, grasping his arm and flinging him upward—he soared like riding clouds and mist to the summit, where the entire Su family had already followed Su Zhi far ahead.

He turned and smiled at Su Jiuniang: “Thank you, Jiuniang!”

Su Jiuniang gave him a withering look: “Keep up.”

Above the cliff, there were no more precipices—only dark red hills rolling gently, stretching for miles in every direction, an open plain.

These hills were barren earth mounds, with only occasional shrubs scattered among them. The plain grew only one kind of tree—some tall, some short; the tallest towered into the heavens, the shortest still stood three to five zhang high, spaced a hundred zhang apart, each crowned with a broad, thick canopy like giant umbrellas.

Looking back at where they had come from, it was no valley at all—it was merely a crack in the earth, a depression in the plain.

Liu Xiaolou caught up with the Su family, gazing around at this strange landscape, often looking up at the crimson clouds above, feeling a constant dread as if countless flames might rain down and engulf him—his heart trembled with awe: Is this the Danxia Cave Heaven?

After traveling for an hour within this cave heaven, the trees grew denser—not only trees, but also streams wound and meandered between the red earth hills, flowing ceaselessly with a gentle murmur.

A green oasis.

The air carried a faint fragrance of herbs and trees, a cool, damp breeze, and an invigorating scent—this scent was as fresh as spirit rice, as fragrant as spirit wine, as alluring as spirit stones!

The aura of spiritual power filled every inch of space around him, embraced every inch of his skin, accompanied every breath he took…

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For the Su family, this was commonplace—they had no shortage of spiritual power for cultivation, only the insights needed for advancement. But for Liu Xiaolou, this was a vast fortune. He drowned in the thick aura, intoxicated and unable to tear himself away.

He no longer cared about attending the grand ceremony—he only wanted to find a quiet spot, sit down, and fully embrace the spiritual power. He tried absorbing it through his technique, converting it into true qi, and found real progress—but such cultivation, while feasible, was far less efficient than absorbing spirit stones, even less than drinking spirit wine, barely better than eating spirit rice. At this rate, a full year’s cultivation would yield only the equivalent of four or five spirit stones.

Cultivating solely here might be sustainable long-term, but the pace was far too slow, inconsistent with the wonders of a cave heaven. There must be better places—perhaps the legendary spirit eyes.

Looking around, at the center of this oasis stood a square, block-like hill—more accurately, a massive stone. The hill stood twenty zhang tall, roughly a li in diameter, its top flat and smooth, as if carved by human hands.

Around this stone mound grew a dozen strange, twisted banyan trees, not tall—only about one zhang and five chi—but from their crowns hung countless aerial roots, plunging into the soil, branching out again to grow anew, forming hollow, natural tree-houses.

Su Jiuniang appeared beside Liu Xiaolou again, without warning, and asked: “Do you know what kind of tree this is?”

Liu Xiaolou asked curiously: “It seems like a banyan, but I’ve never seen one grow like this.”

Su Jiuniang said: “These are lightning-struck banyans—the ideal retreat for practicing the Danxia Sect’s Five Thunder Orthodoxy. Each lightning-struck banyan grows beside a spirit spring; spiritual power seeps from the spring and gathers within the tree-houses, making one feel as if surrounded by piles of spirit stones. By the way, the Danxia Sect’s spirit stones also form beneath these trees, at the spring sources.”

So the spirit eyes were right beneath these trees. Liu Xiaolou’s heart leapt—he had never been this close to a spirit stone formation before. He blurted out: “Might I have the chance to enter one?”

Su Jiuniang said: “Even I don’t have the qualification. How could you?”

Liu Xiaolou was astonished: “Even you don’t have the qualification? Who does?”

Su Jiuniang sneered: “Didn’t I just tell you the name of this tree?”

Liu Xiaolou finally understood: “Lightning-struck banyan… struck by lightning?”

“Of course. Otherwise, how would you practice the Five Thunder Orthodoxy?”

“So practicing the Five Thunder Orthodoxy means getting struck by lightning? When can one begin?”

“Only at Jin Dan can one barely withstand it—and only then may one begin training.”

“I see… Jiuniang, how many spirit stones do these lightning-struck banyans produce?”

“Each lightning-struck banyan condenses one to three spirit stones per day. The exact number? Hard to say.”

Liu Xiaolou calculated: twelve lightning-struck banyans in this oasis meant the Danxia Sect produced five to ten thousand spirit stones annually. He had never heard of spirit stones counted in the thousands—his mind reeled at the news.

If one day a grand summons were issued to break open this cave heaven… the image… he dared not imagine, dared not imagine…

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