Chapter 36: Chapter Thirty-Six: Lost Immortal Fortune

Tong Gaolu, originally named Tong Dai, was the second illegitimate son of Tong Junjian, Left Middle Secretary of Rong State, and though he could not inherit the family’s estate, he lived in comfort within the capital of Yuanjing.

But good fortune did not last.

Soon.

As Tong Junjian’s crimes—factions, mock executions, stealing public land, leaking confidential court speech, embezzlement, and deliberate negligence—came to light, he was swiftly imprisoned and beheaded; the Tong family’s wealth was confiscated by the authorities, and relatives were implicated, with male and female kin alike expelled from the mansion and exiled to the frontier to fight the Dansu people.

In an instant, the Tong family plummeted from the heights of Yuanjing to the depths.

Yet barely thirteen years later, as Dansu State once again breached the border, Tong Gaolu—the once lowly illegitimate son named Tong Dai—rose unexpectedly, out of nowhere.

He led a force composed of concubinage husbands, convicts, and slaves, marching fifty li overnight to launch a surprise attack on Dansu’s vanguard, personally slaying three of their vanguard generals and retaking Yandang Pass.

The moment this became known, Tong Gaolu’s name shook multiple states.

Thereafter, he rallied the remnants under the title of Martial Grandmaster, fought for two years, and finally pushed Dansu’s forces back to the border marker, where they could advance no further and were forced to withdraw in defeat.

Since then, Tong Gaolu became increasingly uncontrollable.

Step by step, he entered the heart of power, established his own official residence; now, nearly half the nobility of Rong State were his allies, old associates and disciples formed cliques for private gain, and he held both military and civil affairs in his grip—even the Emperor could not restrain him.

It seemed he would soon usurp the throne…

…

“That Tong Gaolu was once merely a lowly stable boy on the frontier, beaten daily by his master; without intervention, he would have died soon. But I heard from Tong Yi that Tong Gaolu, moved by compassion, gave a starving old beggar who had fainted in the sun a bowl of murky water—and from that moment, his fate changed.”

Inside the quiet chamber within the mountain’s belly, Tu Shan Ge sighed heavily, his face filled with worry.

“It seems the beggar was a hidden master, though I wonder what great elixir or divine medicine he gave Tong Gaolu to suddenly grant him the achievement of fetal breathing.”

Chen Hang tapped his fingers lightly against the table and said:

“This sounds like a tale from mortal storybooks. It seems these great cultivators are even more capricious than I thought.”

“It wasn’t any great elixir.”

Tu Shan Ge’s expression turned peculiar:

“When the old beggar woke, he clung to Tong Gaolu, accusing him of knocking him down and demanding silver compensation—or else he’d drag him before the magistrate… Tong Gaolu, though a stable boy, was hot-tempered; right there in the street, he fought back—but he was no match for the beggar’s strength, and the old man spat in his face, slapping him once on each cheek.”

Chen Hang’s fingers fell still.

“That night, back in the hay shed, Tong Gaolu, furious and humiliated, fainted from rage; when he awoke, he felt his strength had surged, his skin hardened like gold and iron—he had achieved fetal breathing, been reborn.”

Tu Shan Ge glanced at Chen Hang and continued:

“He had read many storybooks and knew he had encountered a transcendent opportunity; overjoyed, he first punched his former master into a pulp, then raped and murdered every woman in the household, before scouring the city for the beggar from the day before, begging him to bestow cultivation methods.”

“But the old beggar found his nature unstable; he had intended to take him as a disciple, but now refused—yet unable to endure Tong Gaolu’s persistent Jiuchan , he gave him a few silver coins and told him to buy a few roasted chickens and tender geese from the market as a token offering for Baishi …”

At this point, Chen Hang remained silent.

Even Tu Shan Ge, who had been full of worry moments before, could no longer suppress his laughter:

“Tong Gaolu took the silver coins and had barely reached the market when he saw a beautiful woman waving at him from a brothel.”

“This man was consumed by lust; having been repressed for years as a stable boy, how could he resist? He immediately gave the silver to the brothel keeper, embraced the woman, and was about to rape her when she transformed into the old beggar’s form; ignoring Tong Gaolu’s pleas, she tossed him a Qiankun bag and ascended into the clouds.”

“If I’m not mistaken,”

Chen Hang suddenly spoke: “That old beggar was surely from the Five Lights Sect, wasn’t he?”

“I haven’t even told you yet—how did you know?”

“That boy boasts loudly of having the Five Lights Sect as his backer; once you connect the dots, the beggar must be one of their senior disciples wandering the mortal world.”

Chen Hang shook his head:

“The Five Lights Sect is a sect with a Primordial Spirit True Person dwelling in the world; Tong Gaolu, so utterly careless, lost the gateway to the Dao over a moment of lust—I never imagined such a character… With this nature, he won’t be hard to deal with.”

“There’s no backer at all! Tong Gaolu’s actions have utterly destroyed the beggar’s willingness to support him—how could the Five Lights Sect care about a mortal?”

Tu Shan Ge sighed and shook his head: “After repeatedly interrogating that boy, I learned that while the Five Lights Sect never acknowledged the Tong family, the Qiankun bag left by the beggar contained tens of thousands of talisman coins and three mid-grade talisman artifacts—this is what truly worries me…”

The talisman coins need not be mentioned.

Mid-grade talisman artifacts are devastating weapons—like Chen Hang’s Thunderfire Thunderbolt Pearl: though both Deng Zhongzhi and he were at fetal breathing, the moment Chen Hang unleashed the Thunderfire Thunderbolt Pearl, Deng Zhongzhi was left with nothing but to await death.

Though Qi Condensation is not as advanced as fetal breathing, combat at this level relies not just on talisman artifacts, but also on cultivation techniques and Dao methods.

Yet possessing a few high-grade, suitable talisman artifacts, while not decisive, still offers considerable advantage.

“What is Tong Gaolu’s cultivation level?”

“Qi Condensation seventh layer.”

“Seventh layer?” Chen Hang pondered silently, then smiled: “He has five brothers, doesn’t he? Tell me about them.”

Tu Shan Ge blinked, then answered honestly.

Fetal breathing is not easily achieved; this realm, hailed by martial artists as “Martial Grandmaster,” could not elevate all of Tong Gaolu’s brothers—even with his transcendent encounter, he could not make them all ascend.

Of the five, only Tong Jizhen, the most skilled in military strategy, achieved Qi Condensation third layer; Tong Feng achieved fetal breathing; the other three remained ordinary, never even entering the path of cultivation.

Upon hearing this, Chen Hang nodded, his confidence growing.

“Master, Tong Gaolu has three mid-grade talisman artifacts—what should we do?”

“Better to strike one finger than wound ten; first eliminate Tong Jizhen, the Qi Condensation third-layer man—it will serve as our token of allegiance.” Chen Hang said calmly.

“Token of allegiance?”

“What do you think allowed Rong State to endure? Though the imperial house has declined, why has it not yet been usurped?”

Chen Hang smiled: “He who follows the Dao gains many helpers; he who abandons it gains few. Though this act of snatching grain from fire is perilous, the gains are great…”

Tu Shan Ge frowned, then suddenly understood, and burst into laughter.

Not long after,

a Cloud-Piercing Airship from Yang Mountain shot skyward as a crimson light, heading straight for Yuanjing of Rong State.