Chapter 3: Chapter Three: The Place of Zuo Jue Yin

Chen Hang adjusted his robe and walked to the door to open it.

Outside, the Daoist with a lute slung on his back let out a long sigh of relief upon seeing Chen Hang emerge, the anxiety on his face easing slightly.

“I heard that as soon as you left the water dungeon, you took the talisman to descend into the Earth Abyss—is this true?”

“It is.”

“How could you—”

The Daoist, who called himself Xu Zhi, panicked and, catching sight of the red cord peeking from Chen Hang’s wrist, instinctively reached out to tear it off—only to halt halfway, remembering Chen Hang’s usual cold and solitary nature.

His motion froze abruptly, neither advancing nor retreating.

“That, I…”

“Thank you, Senior Brother, for coming specially to advise me. If you don’t mind the simplicity, please come in and sit a while.”

Chen Hang smiled faintly, bowed in greeting, his expression utterly unchanged.

“Oh, well, very good…”

Xu Zhi’s shock now seemed even greater than before; he cautiously glanced at Chen Hang, then pinched himself hard, wondering if he were still dreaming.

Seeing Chen Hang’s expression remained cool and detached, Xu Zhi shrank his neck and tiptoed inside.

The two sat down, guest and host, and after Chen Hang initiated a few casual remarks, Xu Zhi’s ghost-struck demeanor gradually faded, replaced by a tentative smile.

“After walking through death and life, I never expected you to change so much—this is excellent, truly worthy of celebration! I’ve long wanted to tell you: hoarding gloom in your chest does no good for your health, and it hinders your cultivation too.”

Xu Zhi lifted the teacup on the table: “Seeing you like this, I can finally rest easy.”

Chen Hang glanced at it.

The Daoist named Xu Zhi had dark eyebrows and starlike eyes, a strikingly handsome appearance that made it hard to dislike him—yet his brow always bore a lingering hesitation, dimming his entire presence with an air of timidity.

Chen Hang thought for a moment, then dredged up memories of Xu Zhi’s past connection with his former self.

This man had once been among the most outstanding disciples of the Profound Heaven Sect, proficient in alchemy and Huang-Lao teachings; his compiled pharmacopoeia had once swept through the kingdoms beyond the mountains, and his swordplay was so exquisite it bordered on the peak of mortal martial arts.

Because of this,

he was taken as a personal disciple by Gu Jun, one of the sect’s three Elders, taught its sacred texts, and for a time, his future seemed boundless.

But good fortune did not last. During a demon-slaying expedition, he somehow made a fatal error, his right-hand meridians permanently damaged, rendering him unable to hold a sword again.

And Gu Jun, for reasons unknown, flew into a rage, expelled him from the sect, smashed the alchemical furnace he had personally gifted him, and humiliated him bitterly.

At that time, Chen Hang’s former self had just been brought to the Profound Heaven Sect by Yan Zhen.

Some Daoists eager to curry favor with him turned Xu Zhi’s downfall into a joke to amuse him.

Chen Hang learned that Xu Zhi had fled in fear during the demon-slaying, resulting in the deaths of several Profound Heaven disciples—and even Gu Jun’s only son, who perished in the hands of the great demon.

After this, Xu Zhi’s mind shattered; he achieved no further progress in Qi Condensation, and abandoned alchemy entirely.

Many Daoists who had long resented him now piled on, as if beating a drowning dog.

Out of some inexplicable sense of shared suffering, after the Music Hall was built, the former self made Xu Zhi one of the musicians.

This act made the Daoists who mocked Xu Zhi wary, and they eventually scattered like birds.

The former self never gave it a second thought, barely remembering what Xu Zhi looked like—yet now, in this moment, Xu Zhi was the first to come visit him.

“This Senior Brother Xu is someone worth knowing.”

Chen Hang thought.

“But, forgive me for daring to speak out—this matter of the Earth Abyss—”

Xu Zhi set down his teacup, about to plead, but Chen Hang shook his head to stop him.

“I must go to the Earth Abyss. Senior Brother, please say no more.”

“You’ve read the Daoist texts—don’t you know the Earth Abyss opens directly into the Underworld’s Yellow Springs, the deepest, darkest place, where countless demons, ghosts, and evil spirits are sealed?”

In ancient times, even a corpse-liberated immortal who came from beyond the heavens perished in the Earth Abyss—Dongmi Province was drenched in blood rain for five full days!”

Xu Zhi, desperate, said:

“The sect issues talismans ordering disciples to collect Yin Horses and Face-Root Mushrooms from the Earth Abyss—the rewards are generous, but they cost your life! If you die there, you won’t even get reincarnation—you’ll suffer eternally in that place. Isn’t that exactly what Elder Yan and Yan Ping want?”

The Earth Abyss was a passage beneath Dongmi Province leading to the Underworld’s Yellow Springs.

Not just Dongmi, but all eight other provinces had their own Earth Abysses.

Though it was a burial ground, a place of strangeness and extreme malevolence—the place of Zuo Jue Yin—it also yielded abundant cultivation resources.

Such as the Yin Horse and the Face-Root Mushroom.

The former serves as a key ingredient in forging the first layer of the Dragon-Tiger Crucible in the Daoxuan Realm.

The latter, ground into incense, can temporarily dispel the illusions of the Heavenly Demon’s Confusion, preserving spiritual clarity.

These are merely the outer herbs of the Earth Abyss’s shallow layers; what lies deeper in its darker, murkier depths need not be mentioned.

While Chen Hang was imprisoned in the water dungeon, the Xingfang Daoists had casually mentioned this.

Though he knew it was a trap, he still secretly noted it down, and as soon as his confinement ended, he went to the Service Office to claim the talisman.

He was going to the Earth Abyss.

Not just for the reward—but to save his own life—

“Xu Chuo’s Cold Battle True Qi is ferociously brutal. If I don’t find a Yang herb to suppress my body, I’ll be dead within half a month.”

Chen Hang looked at Xu Zhi, speaking calmly:

“But I have no wealth to buy such a herb. While Yan Zhen was alive, I never took anything from her; after her death, as you see, the Music Hall was seized by the sect, and I, as the Music Director, along with you musicians, have become ordinary Daoists.”

“Yet at the sect, anyone who claims the Earth Abyss talisman receives two vials of White Yang Elixir and eight hundred talisman coins before departure. The talisman coins aside, with those two vials, I can suppress my Cold Battle True Qi for at least half a year. Senior Brother Xu, if I want to live, I have no other choice.”

…

In truth,

Chen Hang had another reason he hadn’t spoken.

The Earth Abyss talisman was an edict from the Sect Master, and collecting Yin Horses and Face-Root Mushrooms was his explicit wish.

Before this Grand Alchemist, who stood just one step from Golden Core, even the defiant Yan Feichen could only bow and obey.

Accepting the Earth Abyss talisman meant that, at least on the surface, Yan Feichen could not strike him before he departed.

Otherwise, he would be openly defying this Grand Alchemist, deliberately provoking his displeasure.

For this reason, though he knew the Xingfang Daoist had deliberately told him this, Chen Hang had no choice but to act as he did.

“This, this…”

Xu Zhi opened his mouth as if to speak, then slumped back, finally closing his eyes and exhaling heavily.

“You once saved me—how can I just watch you walk to your death?” he said.

“It’s fine. Once I enter the Earth Abyss, I’ll find a quiet spot to refine the White Yang Elixir—I won’t compete for those outer herbs.”

Chen Hang lowered his gaze and smiled: “I’m no corpse-liberated immortal from ancient texts—I don’t intend to rush into the deepest depths of the Yellow Springs to die.”

Seeing Chen Hang’s resolve firm,

Xu Zhi paused, then sighed and pulled out two scrolls from his robe.

“These are a manual on swordplay and a medical text. I have nothing else to offer,” Xu Zhi explained. “The swordplay is my family’s ancestral art—though it’s mortal technique, it has some merit. As for the medical text…”

At this, Xu Zhi’s face flushed slightly: “The medical text is just my personal insights—take it to pass the time.”

Seeing Chen Hang bow and accept the scrolls, Xu Zhi relaxed, and shortly before he prepared to leave, Chen Hang suddenly had a thought.

“Senior Brother, please wait a moment—I have another question.”

Chen Hang called him back: “Senior Brother, how did you first attain fetal breathing? Besides sudden enlightenment or divine inspiration, are there other methods? I read in the Daoist texts: ‘Fear of life and death brings forth the divine spirit’—does facing death truly help one realize the sensation of fetal breathing?”

“Yes… there is such a saying, but the method is too dangerous and abrupt.”

Xu Zhi, who had already turned, halted at these words, thought for a moment, then said:

“Fire burns, stone strikes, thunder crashes, water floods—all these can be methods of using life-and-death to attain fetal breathing. You must understand: fetal breathing is the one true Yang within the human body; the younger the fetus, the more easily it retains this sensation.

Using life-and-death to attain fetal breathing is merely terrifying the spirit, forcing oneself into the state of a fetus in the womb—chaotic, dark, and profound—so as to grasp that sensation.”

Here, Xu Zhi added a warning: “This method is far too perilous, Senior Brother—listen to it, but never try it yourself.”

“I understand.”

Chen Hang nodded, his left hand gently stroking the Golden Cicada, his heart steadying.

“So it is—I was right.”

A few steps away, Xu Zhi appeared to see nothing of the Golden Cicada.

Chen Hang had already tested this on others.

Except for himself, no one else in this world could see or touch this jade carving.

Otherwise, when the Xingfang Daoist demanded bribes, he could never have kept the Golden Cicada.

“I still have some doubts about the Daoist texts—could Senior Brother kindly answer them for me?”

Without further thought, Chen Hang bowed deeply to the ground, paying Xu Zhi the most solemn of respects.

The former self had never cared for the Dao.

Though he had read some Daoist texts during his years as a golden cage bird, he never sought to understand them deeply—he knew nothing of their essential teachings.

But Xu Zhi was different.

He had once been a prodigy of the Profound Heaven Sect, skilled in both swordplay and medicine, and had studied under Gu Jun, one of the three Elders.

In this world, the immortal path was clearly divided: Fetal Breathing, Qi Condensation, Foundation Establishment, Purple Mansion, Daoxuan, Golden Core…

What came after Golden Core need not be mentioned.

After Fetal Breathing, Qi Condensation had nine levels, also called the Nine Returns of Qi.

Beyond the Nine Returns, each of the Foundation Establishment, Purple Mansion, and Daoxuan realms had three sub-levels, until Golden Core was reached.

Though Xu Zhi had later abandoned himself, neglecting Qi Condensation, he had still attained Fetal Breathing and reached the sixth level of Qi Condensation.

Some obscure Daoist difficulties Xu Zhi might not answer.

But with Chen Hang’s current knowledge, he couldn’t have asked these questions anyway.

If it’s about answering doubts, right now, no one suits Chen Hang better than Xu Zhi.

“Good… good.”

Xu Zhi was startled again—he had never seen Chen Hang so eager for Dao. Today’s surprises were already too many.

“I wonder what younger brother wishes to ask?”

He looked at the youth, elegant as a celestial god, and carefully chose his words:

“I’m only at Qi Condensation Sixth Layer; if I don’t understand something, younger brother, don’t take offense.”

“How could I? How could I? I wish to ask Senior Brother: in divination, wild fowl with horns signifies the ‘same root’ omen of an enemy’s approach—but if applied to the human meridians, how should it be interpreted?” Chen Hang’s heart leapt, and he quickly sought guidance.

Xu Zhi frowned, pondering for a long while, before speaking slowly.

…

…

Until the moon hung high overhead.

Only then did Chen Hang escort Xu Zhi out of the cave dwelling. This session of questioning yielded great gains: beyond the doubts long buried since his time in the water dungeon, he had also subtly inquired about the Qi Condensation methods of the Profound Truth Sect.

He learned:

The methods to forge high-grade true qi were rare even across the vast Eastern Mi Province, held only by the great sects and major clans.

Not only could one not see them—even hearing of them was exceedingly rare.

“Yet, all things depend on human effort—who knows what the future holds?”

Closing the cave door, Chen Hang exhaled deeply, feeling as if the mist before his eyes had cleared, the heavens wide and the earth boundless; he clapped his hands and laughed heartily:

“Fear of life and death fades—spiritual mastery is attained… I understand. So this is it! So this is it! With Jin Chan in hand, from this moment on, the Embryonic Breathing realm holds no obstacle for me!”

He lit the candle, sat again before the desk, and wrote down each thought on paper.

…

Two days later.

A clear, resonant chime rang across the entire Xiao Gan Mountain; every Daoist of the Profound Truth Sect was startled by the jade chime and golden bell, stepping out of their cave dwellings.

“After waiting so long, it’s finally come.”

Clasping the red cord on his wrist, now suddenly warm with the bell’s resonance, Chen Hang smiled carefree, swept back his robe hem, and stepped out the door as well.