Chapter 15: Tongming Spirit Liquid and the Fragmented Sword Light

The Daoist solemnly picked up the emerald gourd, caressed it for a moment, then reluctantly handed it to Wang Yu:

“Qiu Ye, listen well. Though I founded Baiyun Temple, I’ve taken only you and Qing Feng as disciples—hardly a true cultivation sect. In truth, I was born into the Li family of Liangzhou in Wu Kingdom, thousands of miles away. Later, I offended a powerful enemy over a Foundation Establishment spiritual item, was ambushed, and lost most of my cultivation, forcing me to flee here to Huangshi City for refuge. But I never imagined my enemy was so powerful—he sent men to track me down and bribed Huangshi City’s rogue cultivators to strike. I used only half of the Foundation Establishment item I acquired; the other half is here. Keep it safe.”

“Master, what is a Foundation Establishment spiritual item? And what is Foundation Establishment?” Wang Yu took the gourd, his face filled with confusion.

“Both I and Qing Feng are only in the first major realm of cultivators, the Qi Refining Stage. The Yin Water Technique has twelve layers, and the Qi Refining Stage is divided into twelve minor levels. If you cultivate it beyond the tenth layer, you may attempt to break through to the second major realm, Foundation Establishment. Only then do you truly tread the path of immortality, and your lifespan extends to over two hundred years.”

“For cultivators, the earlier you break through to Foundation Establishment, the better. If you wait until old age and your vital energy wanes, your chances of success plummet.”

“As for Foundation Establishment spiritual items, they are auxiliary substances used by Qi Refining cultivators when breaking through. They are exceedingly rare—otherwise, I wouldn’t be reduced to this state because of one. Remember: do not open the gourd until you are ready to break through. The ‘Tongming Spirit Liquid’ inside dissolves upon contact with air—you’d waste it utterly.” The Daoist’s expression was grave as he warned.

“Tongming Spirit Liquid”

Wang Yu murmured the name, unable to resist touching the emerald gourd. Its surface felt warm but incredibly hard; the stopper sealed the mouth tightly, revealing not a trace of its contents.

“Yes, this gourd is called the ‘Tongming Gourd’—itself a rare spiritual material, suitable for crafting into a magical artifact. But gourds that produce Tongming Spirit Liquid are one in ten thousand. By the way, here are my notes. The first half records common knowledge of the cultivation world; the second half contains the twelve-layer cultivation method of the Yin Water Technique and several useful herbal formulas—including the Blood-Refining Decoction.” The Daoist paused, then pulled the black-leather book from his satchel and handed it to Wang Yu.

“Thank you, Master.”

Wang Yu’s spirits lifted slightly as he took the black book. With it, his understanding of the mysterious powers of cultivators would deepen further.

“These last two items: the jade pendant is my family’s token. If you ever get the chance, deliver it to the Li family. As for this box, in a certain sense, its value exceeds even this half-gourd of Tongming Spirit Liquid. It was prepared by a friend who came to see me off. Huang Daoist, didn’t I say right? You’ve followed me this long—how troublesome.” As the Daoist lifted the iron box covered in talismans, he suddenly turned and spoke coldly toward the cave entrance.

Hearing this, Wang Yu jumped in fright, hastily tucked the gourd and black book into his chest, drew the silver slender sword with a “shhh,” and stared tensely at the entrance.

The entrance was dim, yet utterly empty—no one there.

Wang Yu glanced suspiciously at the Daoist.

“At this point, Huang Daoist, will you still not show yourself? Then I must be rude.” The Daoist ignored Wang Yu, raised one palm, and slowly slapped it toward the entrance.

“Puh”

A vast wave of white, frigid mist surged from his hand, engulfing the corridor.

“Ah, why must you be so stubborn, Chongyun?” A faint, flickering figure emerged from the freezing mist, sighed, then erupted in crimson flames that swept outward, vaporizing all the cold air and raising the cave’s temperature to unbearable heat.

“So it is you, Huang Daoist. When I was attacked, I wondered: without Huang family permission, how could those rogue cultivators dare openly join forces against me?” The Daoist stared at the new figure, expressionless.

The man wore a yellow robe and had a pale face—it was the “Huang Shu” who had visited the temple not long ago. But now, flames danced around him like a god or demon, making one’s spirit tremble.

“Chongyun Daoist, though I am Lord of Huangshi City, I no longer hold true authority in the Huang family. The decision to ally with that person was made by the clan—I could not defy it. But I did not join Lao Xu and the others in attacking you. I followed only because of our old friendship, to help you settle your affairs.” The yellow-robed man replied calmly.

“Hmph. Help me settle my affairs? You want the treasure that man desires.” The Daoist’s gaze cut like a blade as he sneered.

“If you don’t believe me, I can’t help it. But I never imagined the treasure that drove you far from home was the famed Foundation Establishment item—Tongming Spirit Liquid. I’ve heard that though inferior to Foundation Establishment Pills, it still grants a ten percent chance of success. Many have used it to break through.” The yellow-robed man replied vaguely, then his gaze shifted to Wang Yu, his greed now unmistakable.

Hearing the man was Lord of Huangshi City, Wang Yu was stunned. Seeing his hostile gaze, he gripped the silver sword tighter.

Seeing this, the Lord of Huangshi City’s eyes flashed coldly, yet his voice remained gentle as he spoke to Wang Yu:

“Kid, this soft sword in your hand is a special weapon forged by my Huang family. It seems my nephew met his end by your hand. That’s interesting. My nephew had Qi Refining Stage Level Two cultivation. Though he hadn’t yet formed a spiritual root, he mastered a couple of low-grade spell techniques and carried the ‘Xuan Feng Fan’ as protection. Very well—if you hand over the Tongming Spirit Liquid, I’ll spare your life.”

Wang Yu thought, “I believe your lies like I believe ghosts,” and ignored the yellow-robed man entirely. He was surprised to learn the white-clothed youth he killed was his nephew. But now, with Master Chongyun gravely wounded and this man arriving with clear malice, disaster loomed.

“So you’re done pretending, Huang Daoist? Good. Then I won’t hesitate to kill you.” Chongyun Daoist, watching all this, showed disgust. He swept one hand over the iron box; the talismans on its surface glowed white and fluttered down.

“Qiang lang lang”

A soft, clear chime emerged from the box, melodious as celestial music.

“A spirit sword singing? Impossible! You’re a family outcast—how could you possess a spirit sword? Even if you did, with your cultivation, how could you control it?” The yellow-robed man’s face changed. He stared fixedly at the box, now on full alert.

“Try it!” Chongyun Daoist sneered, pressing his finger against a corner of the box.

“Gak!” A mechanical click sounded as the box slowly split open.

“Soo”

The Lord of Huangshi City, who had been standing at the entrance, turned and fled into the corridor without looking back.

Wang Yu blinked, stunned.

Who just said he didn’t believe it?

“Master, he…”

“Don’t speak.”

Wang Yu had barely opened his mouth when Chongyun Daoist waved him silent. He still held the iron box, expressionless, staring at the entrance.

Wang Yu stood frozen, daring not move, but his eyes involuntarily glanced into the box—his expression turned strange.

Inside the box, there was no sword—only a worn, ordinary scabbard, no longer than half a foot, charred yellow, riddled with holes.

Chongyun Daoist had been playing the Empty City Stratagem.

Time passed slowly.

At the cave entrance, a shadow moved. The Lord of Huangshi City reappeared, his towering form now wreathed not in red flames but a faint golden glow. In his hand, he held a small, black iron shield, no more than a foot long.

“Golden Light Talisman”

Chongyun Daoist’s eyebrows twitched slightly as he saw the golden glow.

“Chongyun old friend, I nearly fell for your trick. If you truly had a spirit sword, why would you have let me leave just now? Even if you had one final strike, with my Golden Light Barrier and this artifact shield, what could you do? Surrender now.”

No sooner had he spoken than the Lord of Huangshi City raised the shield before him and strode forward. In three steps, he reached within a zhang of the Daoist, muttered incantations, opened his palm, and grasped the air. Five fingers blazed with fire; a swirling ball of flame formed in his palm.

“Heh heh, Huang Daoist, farewell.” The Daoist chuckled, bit his tongue, and spat a spray of blood onto the broken scabbard.

“Pong”

The scabbard trembled slightly, then a white, inch-long blade shot out, spun once, and transformed into a three-foot silver light that swept toward the yellow-robed man.

“Sword Light”

The Lord of Huangshi City’s entire body turned icy. He abandoned the Daoist, slapped his shield with one hand. Three white patterns on its surface glowed, forming a thick white barrier that rushed to meet the sword light. But the man himself retreated—not forward, but backward, flying straight toward the corridor’s entrance to flee.

“Qiang lang lang”

The three-foot silver light flashed once, piercing the iron shield as if it were air, then chased down the fleeing man with lightning speed. It circled his body once.

The yellow-robed man screamed in terror. His golden glow shattered, then erupted into a roaring pillar of fire. But the silver blade spun around him several times, swallowing the fire whole. Only a mangled corpse remained—cut into pieces, intestines spilling across the ground, gory beyond words.

The silver light circled low once more, then reverted to its white blade form, flying back and vanishing into the broken scabbard.

“Pu”

The moment the white blade entered, the broken scabbard turned to ash.

Wang Yu stared, dumbfounded.

“Good, good, good! To witness the power of a spirit sword—even just a fragment of its sword light—is worth every bit of my fortune! Hahahaha…” Chongyun Daoist laughed wildly, then his head tilted sideways, his breath gone. A faint smile lingered on his face.

“Master, don’t scare me—don’t tell me you’re really gone!” Wang Yu, thrilled that the enemy had been easily slain, now jumped again at the Daoist’s stillness. He rushed forward and pressed his fingers beneath the Daoist’s nose.

After a moment, Wang Yu’s expression turned deeply strange.

He thought, then grabbed the Daoist’s wrist, sensing carefully for a pulse—none.

Chongyun Daoist was truly dead.