Chapter 4

Xiao Ganshan lies at the junction of the three states of Rong, Dan Su, and Zheng, with eleven peaks, nine precipitous cliffs, and twenty waterfalls and pools; within the vast southern region of Dongmi Zhou, it once ranked among the Four Hundred Southern Mountains.

Its breathtaking natural beauty requires no further elaboration.

As the sect’s main gate, Xuanzhen Sect established its foundation here thirty years ago, setting up five halls: the Punishment Hall, Merit Hall, Service Hall, Spirit Feeding Hall, and Elder Hall, to manage the sect’s affairs.

By the time Chen Hang arrived at the Huiyue Peak Service Hall, the vast square, capable of holding a thousand people, was already sparsely filled with four to five hundred disciples.

In the distance, numerous Daoists were descending from the sky, driving their true qi to land, their colorful auras interweaving and swirling like fire trees and silver flowers—stunning to behold.

“Thank you, Senior Sister, for giving me a ride.” Chen Hang bowed to the graceful female cultivator beside him.

Her entire body was enveloped in brilliant purple-and-blue true qi, her slender, serpentine form flickering in and out of view like flowers seen through mist, enhancing her allure.

From Luoxia Peak, where Chen Hang resided, to Huiyue Peak, even with his own speed, he might not have reached it by nightfall if he started at noon.

Chen Hang had intended to wait for Xu Zhi to give him a lift, but before he took a few steps, the female cultivator had already swept him to her side with a laugh and true qi, leaving him no way to escape.

Fortunately, the beautiful female cultivator meant no harm.

Outmatched by circumstance, Chen Hang resigned himself to going along with it.

“Your smile is truly lovely—no, even when you’re not smiling, you’re utterly beautiful… No wonder Yan Zhen went to such lengths for you…”

Today, Chen Hang wore a pale moon-white robe, and against the biting mountain wind, he had draped over it a black-and-gold crane cloak, its wide sleeves and flowing hem making him stand out like a crane among chickens among the hundreds of Daoists, his bearing utterly unlike that of an ordinary man, exuding an ethereal, otherworldly grace.

The female cultivator gazed at his extraordinary features, her throat subtly shifting, her gaze burning brighter.

“Do you know my name? Remember it—I’m Yu Wanchou. If you can’t hold on in the Abyss, call out to me anytime.”

The noisy crowd fell silent for a moment the instant Chen Hang appeared.

Seeing this, even though Yu Wanchou was reluctant to leave, she still forced a jade communication tablet into Chen Hang’s palm, smiled softly, and departed.

“A communication jade tablet?”

Chen Hang accepted the tablet, then suddenly felt a sharp chill down his spine—as if a predatory beast had locked onto him.

He turned around.

Amid the crowd, a man clad in a yellow robe, with sharp, dagger-like eyebrows, stared at him with unmasked murderous intent, his face twisted in fury.

“Yan Ping?”

Chen Hang glanced at him, coldly sneering.

Yan Ping, enraged by this dismissive attitude, suddenly erupted in true qi, like a storm surging through waves.

Yet before the eyes of hundreds, though he longed to slice Chen Hang into a thousand pieces with his flying sword, he could only suppress his killing intent, his face turning ashen, his lips trembling as he turned his head away.

Chen Hang, uninterested in further confrontation, found a sheltered spot, pulled his cloak tighter, and sat motionless with closed eyes.

Another half incense stick passed.

After nearly all Xuanzhen Sect Daoists who had received the Abyss talismans had gathered, the sky suddenly cracked with thunder, and within moments, a azure heavenly palace descended.

Inside the palace, the three Elders—Yan Feichen, Gu Jun, and Chengji Shangren—took their seats, while at the deepest recess, upon the Xuanhe Cloud Couch, sat a young man of striking appearance.

The young man had a nose like a hanging bell, eyebrows sharp as if carved into his temples, and skin as smooth and pale as a baby’s. He appeared to be around twenty-five or twenty-six, dressed in a jade robe, python belt, and purple-gold tall crown—more like a noble of a secular imperial court than a cultivator.

“Greetings, Sect Master, Elders.”

The hundreds of Daoists below all bowed, offering salutes toward the azure heavenly palace.

“All of you here today received the Abyss talismans from the Service Hall. The Abyss is a place of utter darkness and death; its dangers and taboos are all detailed in the Dao texts—I need not repeat them.”

The young man on the Xuanhe Cloud Couch smiled lightly, and as he moved, it was as if a great sun had fallen from the clouds, radiating divine light that filled the heavens.

To the hundreds below, his voice rang clear as if spoken beside each ear, deep and resonant:

“Today, I have only one thing to say.

Whoever brings me either a Yin Horse or a Human-Faced Lingzhi will be credited with three hundred merits, rewarded with eight thousand talisman coins, eight middle-tier Dao arts, and three taels of jade marrow. There is no upper limit to this reward—it is better the more you bring!”

As he spoke, boundless Dragon-Tiger primordial qi rose from the crown of his head, swirling around him in ceaseless motion—anyone who saw it knew it was extraordinary.

“Go.”

The young man extended a finger, and a fine thread of Dragon-Tiger primordial qi from his crown descended, attaching itself to the red cords tied around the wrists of each of the hundreds of Daoists present.

Chen Hang felt a tremor in his red cord, and a warm, pure, soothing energy surged in, thawing the chill the mountain wind had left on his body.

Even his internal Cold Dip true qi slowed its movement for a moment.

“Marvelous! Marvelous! The Sect Master, born of the illustrious Ai family of Shangxiang, truly carries the learning of a great lineage! This technique of qi transfer—I, this old Daoist, am utterly humbled!”

Inside the palace, Chengji Shangren, whose beard reached the ground, clapped his hands in admiration, his round, plump face beaming with flattery.

Even the proud Yan Feichen paused, his expression flickering with unreadable emotion.

Though he himself had attained the First Stage of Dongxuan—the Dragon-Tiger Furnace.

Yet to split out so many threads of primordial qi at once was still beyond his capacity.

“From this, it’s clear this young man has not merely absorbed the Five Essences—he has likely already condensed his primordial gold-mercury, and the attainment of a Golden Core is not far off!”

Yan Feichen clenched his trembling palm without showing it.

If so, the original plan must be altered in some way.

…

“I have given each of you a thread of my own cultivated Dragon-Tiger primordial qi, embedded in your red cords. With it, ordinary yin spirits and demonic ghosts in the Abyss will fear you threefold.”

The young man swept his sleeve again, and countless beams of light, each containing elixirs and talisman coins, descended from the eaves of the heavenly palace, like a thousand stars falling.

Chen Hang caught the beam flying toward him; upon seeing two white porcelain vials of elixirs inside, he exhaled in relief.

“Next summer solstice, when yang energy is at its peak and yin darkness is at its lowest, I will personally guide you into the Abyss.”

Another thunderclap split the sky.

The azure heavenly palace rose swiftly into the sky, vanishing among ten-thousand-zhang clouds, leaving only the young man’s voice echoing in place, lingering long after.

…

…

Back at his cave dwelling, after bidding farewell to Xu Zhi, who had specially escorted him,

Chen Hang closed the door, sat cross-legged on his cushion, and poured out a single White Yang Pill.

The pill was no larger than a silkworm bean, yet when held in his palm, it emitted a faint scorching heat, and its entire surface radiated an unusual medicinal fragrance, indescribable.

He stared at it for a moment, then without hesitation, dropped it into a cup of clear water and drank it down.