Chapter 91: Mountain God Body Protection Method

In a bamboo hut, someone was again discussing the Dao.

Outside the door, a fallen tree trunk held two young Daoists sitting side by side.

A fox lay atop the trunk, its head resting on Lin Jue’s leg; Lin Jue bent down, running his fingers through the fox’s fur, pretending to search for lice. The fox could only blink, its eyes clear and vacant, unaware of what he was doing—but it made no effort to resist.

The junior sister pretended her legs had grown sore, stretching them out and tapping them with both hands; after a while, she drew her long sword to inspect it for rust.

In truth, both had perked up their ears.

“These celestial energies gather mostly in famous mountains and great rivers. To cultivate swiftly, one must train in such places. We know several nearby deep mountains. But to train in just one place is not ideal—you must frequently change locations.”

“So that’s why! I thought I was progressing smoothly, with no errors, my spiritual power growing deeper—but my cultivation pace kept slowing! Does this mean Daoists who cultivate celestial and terrestrial methods must not cling to one place, but must constantly travel among famous mountains and great rivers?”

“Precisely.”

“Are there any famous mountains near the capital?”

“Naturally, Yushan and Fengshan. Yushan is well known; fewer know of Fengshan.”

“Thank you, Master Daoist, for your guidance!”

“No need for such formalities…”

These people were speaking of celestial and terrestrial methods, the Dao of mountains and rivers.

Yet stones from other mountains can polish jade; since spiritual energy and methods share common principles, listening is beneficial. Places suited for celestial and terrestrial methods are also good for yin-yang methods. Never mind that—even ordinary people living there cultivate their bodies, nourish their nature, and refine their temperament.

“It’s growing late. I don’t reside on the mountain—I must descend to the village below to spend the night, and return tomorrow to seek your guidance, Master Daoist…”

It sounded like they were finished.

Lin Jue and the junior sister exchanged glances.

One’s expression was calm; the other’s was stern. Before the people inside emerged, they rose in perfect unison and walked away without hesitation.

From the left came the voice of a young Daoist:

“As it is said, all things transform without fixed form; human change has no constant shape…”

From the right came the voice of an elder Daoist:

“What the earth carries, within the six directions and the four seas, illuminated by sun and moon, traversed by stars, measured by the four seasons, governed by Tai Sui—all things born of divine spirits differ in form, some perish early, others live long—all are cultivation. Yet only the sage comprehends the full truth; to grasp even a part is to attain the true Dao…”

This place was truly bustling.

It was a grand sacred site for cultivation exchange, where such exchanges were utterly casual, unconstrained by topic, location, or form.

Lin Jue had never witnessed such a scene before, yet he felt as if this—Daoists of spiritual methods, wandering among mountains and waters—was how such exchanges ought to be.

The two kept listening, their stealth intense.

But even if they had listened openly, what difference would it make? They simply found it entertaining.

The junior sister found it entertaining.

Lin Jue accompanied her in the game.

Mist began to rise; smoke curled from the forest.

A narrow path held stone steps, flanked by bamboo groves and numerous stone lantern posts, all glowing.

The lower they descended, the more scattered cultivators appeared—some eccentric hermits of the martial world, others martial artists.

Ahead, several martial figures sat together drinking.

“My long blade was once ordinary—just a fine sword forged by a skilled old smith. But years ago, when famine and bandits ravaged my homeland, I slew over a hundred bandits with it. Since then, at dawn and dusk, when my vision blurs, I always glimpse blood mist swirling around the blade—yet when I look closely, it’s gone…”

A burly martial man boasted, reeking of wine:

“Last year, I slew a mountain demon with it. Since then, the blade has inexplicably grown two taels heavier, whistling with wind as I swing it, cleaving ghosts as easily as men—each strike severs limbs.”

His speech carried the bold spirit of a general boasting of his sword’s kills.

He finished by swinging his blade—indeed, the wind howled sharply.

Lin Jue had heard such tales before.

The junior sister, upon hearing and seeing this, lowered her head, staring at the long sword she had seized.

The man sheathed his blade and sat, continuing to brag.

Nearby, another commotion arose.

When the junior sister tore her gaze from her sword, she found her senior brother already walking toward it; the fox had followed, turned its body toward the source, noticed she hadn’t moved, and looked back at her.

“!”

The junior sister’s expression hardened; she hurried to follow.

Over there, a group had gathered—many people.

The two edged closer, found a gap, and peered inside: in the center stood a middle-aged, muscular man in hemp robes, surrounded by several young martial figures.

The hemp-robed man laughed:

“Since I obtained this ‘Mountain God Body Protection Method’ from Sheshan thirty years ago, I’ve refined it to perfection. If I unleash my skill, I’m three times harder than the toughest stone. If any of you can so much as scratch me, I’ll give you two taels of silver!”

Lin Jue grew interested and leaned forward.

The martial figures clearly didn’t believe him.

“Master, don’t speak rashly. If this sword cuts you and draws blood, fine—but if it breaks an arm or leg, the gods who come here to receive incense and offerings might blame us.”

“Hahaha!”

The hemp-robed man roared with laughter:

“Thirty years ago, I feared blades too—after all, even stone chips when struck by a sword. Had you been among the rare masters of the martial world, wielding divine weapons, I might have feared you somewhat. But you? Even if your cultivation were fully mature, ordinary iron swords and knives would shatter before they could harm me.”

The martial figures exchanged glances.

Lin Jue was intrigued.

It sounded like one of the Five Elements’ protective methods.

Mountain God Body Protection…

More like Earth Element.

Yet I’ve heard before of masters who perfected sword and blade arts to divine levels—one sword could cleave metal and stone, one slash could sever a millstone; there were also archery masters who could shoot ordinary arrows into mountain rock.

The most famous tale was of an ancient general—

The general went hunting at night, dim light obscuring his vision. Mistaking a stone for a crouching tiger, he drew his bow, focused his spirit, and loosed an arrow—into the stone. When he approached and saw it was stone, he was astonished. But knowing it was stone, no matter how hard he shot, the arrows never entered again.

In this world, such tales are even more common.

As expected, the martial figures, upon hearing this, were both amazed and skeptical, and drew their weapons to test it.

“Let’s be clear! If you can’t hurt me, you’ll each drink a cup as punishment!”

“Agreed!”

“Let me gather my energy!”

The hemp-robed man drew a deep breath, stilled his mind.

In that instant, Lin Jue saw the five energies flow through him—the traces of guiding methods from qi-nourishing techniques.

The next moment, from his neck down, the man’s entire body turned to stone—like a stone statue, yet smooth, resembling river pebbles or marble.

“I’ll keep my head unchanged so we can talk—don’t strike my head. Strike my body!”

“Really strike?”

“Go ahead!”

“Forgive me!”

A tall, thin martial man drew his sword with a hiss, stared at the stone-like hemp-robed man, eyes gleaming—but didn’t hesitate, thrusting his blade forward.

The sword carried full force!

Not just arm strength—it began from the feet, twisting the legs and hips to channel lower-body power upward, then rotating the waist and swinging the shoulders in one seamless motion!

All his strength gathered at the shoulder; his arm merely steadied the sword, acting as a conduit for his entire body’s force—clearly a seasoned swordsman. The thrust was straight, swift, no energy wasted, all focused at the tip, piercing straight toward the hemp-robed man’s shoulder.

“Ding!”

A sharp clang rang out.

“Oh no!”

The hemp-robed man feigned surprise, then grinned:

“Forgot to take off my robe!”

The blade didn’t penetrate at all.

The martial man jumped back in shock.

Another martial figure stepped forward.

This one wielded a dao; the hemp-robed man rolled up his sleeves, reverted to human form, then turned to stone again for him to strike.

The martial man still poured all his strength into the blow.

“Dang!”

The long dao shattered.

“Oh no!”

The hemp-robed man feigned alarm, then laughed: “Young brother, you’ve lost a blade. Even a poor one like that must’ve cost two or three taels of silver?”

All the martial figures took turns.

Even the last two, knowing full well they couldn’t harm him, were fascinated by this rare martial art and eager to test it out of curiosity.

All failed to wound him.

The martial figures bowed repeatedly, offering only compliments, humbly admitting defeat, and drinking a cup of wine. One even grinned and bowed, saying he’d happily accept free wine.

Lin Jue’s eyes gleamed. He glanced at the junior sister, then couldn’t help asking:

“Master, may I try?”

All eyes turned toward him.

"You?"

The hemp-clad giant glanced at him; though he carried an iron sword, he didn’t look like a man of the Jianghu—he wore a Daoist robe, likely a Daoist priest, and the giant’s eyes brightened. But seeing his youthful face and apparent youth, his expression returned to ordinary.

"Are you a cultivator?"

"A Daoist from Yishan’s Fuqiu Peak."

"Do you have true transmission? Can you perform spells?"

"A little."

"What spell do you use?"

"I have no spell to break your technique—only wish to broaden my horizons." Lin Jue guessed his purpose.

"No problem. I’ve met Jianghu cultivators who could perform spells," said the hemp-clad giant. "I’ve turned into stone, shielded by mountain spirits—immune to blades and spears, impervious to fire and water. I’ve withstood Daoist fire, lightning strikes, treacherous Daoists’ Poison Dragon Stabs, and Buddhist Golden Light Fingers. Try your best—consider it an exchange."

"Thank you, elder!"

"Lose, and you drink a bowl of wine!"

"Fine!"

Lin Jue stepped into the crowd.

The hemp-clad giant summoned his Qi, and his body turned to stone.

"Elder, do you practice Daoyin?"

"Sharp eye! You truly have ability!"

"You flatter me..."

Lin Jue reached out and touched the stone. It felt no different from ordinary hard rock; he felt nothing within—his ancient book showed no reaction.

"I’ll use my palm."

"No sword?"

"My sword skills are far inferior to those of the previous few."

"Do as you please!"

Lin Jue said no more, gathering pure Yang spiritual power in his palm and slapping it against the stone.

"Snap..."

A sharp crack echoed; his palm went numb.

Lin Jue immediately sensed the elder’s mastery of this technique—

Though the elder had not cultivated spiritual methods and his Qi-nourishing practice was only half-complete, making his Dao attainments modest, he had devoted his entire life to perfecting this technique, likely reaching the Master level.

He had tried to penetrate his power inward, even with great restraint—but over ninety percent of his power was blocked, barely a fraction getting through. The elder also seemed highly resistant to pure Yang energy.

Truly an excellent skill.

"Indeed, you have some ability!" the hemp-clad giant spoke first. "You made me feel warm!"

"Elder, your technique is profound—I am humbled."

Lin Jue spoke thus, unable to hide his regret.

He felt nothing within.

It made sense—the elder’s technique was cast upon himself, not upon Lin Jue. And as the elder activated it, Lin Jue saw no inner workings of the method, so naturally, his ancient book remained silent.

"Which Daoist sect are you from again?"

"From Fuqiu Pavilion on Yishan, Elder."

"Ha! Not much to it!" The hemp-clad giant laughed heartily. "Drink, drink!"

It had been a casual boast, meant to bolster his own bravado for amusement—but no sooner had he finished than a young girl, also wearing a Daoist robe and carrying a sword, stood before him.

"What? A girl? You want to play too?"

Even less expected—the young Daoist, mid-sip, turned and froze in shock.

"Sister! Don’t!"

The hemp-clad giant was left stunned.