Chapter 42: Chapter Forty-Two: The Jade Womb Mother Pool

“...What do you mean by that?”

Rong Tuo forced himself to ignore the crawling sensation on his scalp and asked.

“Easy, easy—I have only three conditions. First, if Tong Gaolu dies, I won’t take a single copper coin of his worldly wealth, but his Qiankun pouch and all other cultivation resources shall belong to me.”

Chen Hang raised one finger and said: “However, if it’s a dao technique scripture, I’ll allow you to make copies—how about that?”

Rong Tuo and Rong Xuantao exchanged a glance, hesitated briefly, then gave a barely perceptible nod.

“Second, I need two thousand talisman coins to compensate for the loss of my fetal breath. The Rong clan has ruled for over three hundred years—surely such a small sum means nothing to you?”

At these words,

Rong Tuo and Rong Xuantao both shook their heads vigorously, waving their hands.

Talisman coins were painstakingly forged from void spiritual energy, and among the 129,600 types of spiritual energy, they belonged to the most harmonized “Yuan” phase—they could restore fetal breath and true qi, and were also used as currency in daily transactions.

As for Golden Core Primordial Spirit True Persons, they used something called “magic coins,” a step above talisman coins.

Two thousand talisman coins—

For cultivators practicing ordinary Qi Condensation techniques, this sum was enough to break through their cultivation base to the next level.

Chen Hang’s own payment for entering the Abyss had been only eight hundred talisman coins and two vials of Little White Yang Elixir, and even that came from the private treasury of the Xuanzhen Sect’s leader... For ordinary hermit clans, two thousand talisman coins were indeed a massive sum.

“You overestimate the Rong clan! The southern region is barren land, spiritually depleted; our Rong state is but a tiny kingdom—how could we possibly spare such blood?”

Rong Tuo chuckled awkwardly: “Could you perhaps reduce it somewhat?”

“This transaction is a matter of give and take—how much do you wish to cut? Speak plainly,” Chen Hang smiled.

Rong Tuo hesitated for a long while, then cautiously named a number—he wanted to further conserve the Rong clan’s resources, but feared cutting too drastically and provoking Chen Hang into killing him outright.

After several rounds of back-and-forth, Rong Tuo finally gave up, bowing with a wry smile.

“Let’s set the second condition aside for now and discuss it later—please, tell us your third condition first.”

“Third...”

Chen Hang’s gaze flickered slightly, like sunlight glinting on rippling water—neither still nor moving, impossible to read—and said:

“The spiritual energy of this mortal world is polluted and scattered, hard to gather—could I borrow your ‘Jade Womb Mother Pool’?”

His voice was calm, yet it struck like thunder—Rong Tuo and Rong Xuantao instantly paled, stumbling back several steps.

“This is utterly impossible!”

Rong Tuo’s voice was unwavering, firm as iron: “That ‘Jade Womb Mother Pool’ is the very foundation of the Rong clan’s survival—please choose something else!”

Seeing their reaction, Chen Hang was unsurprised, only smiling faintly.

There were 129,600 types of spiritual energy in heaven and earth, combining into one Yuan, varying in abundance, with spiritual caves as the ultimate source.

They devoured the void, encompassing five colors, serving as the supreme treasure basins for gathering spiritual energy—the refined grounds where immortals cultivated Qi and ascended.

Beneath spiritual caves lay spiritual veins.

Spiritual veins were ranked into Jia, Yi, Bing, Ding, Wu, Ji, Geng, Xin, Ren, and Gui, corresponding to the Ten Heavenly Stems.

Beneath spiritual veins lay the “Jade Womb Mother Pool.”

Though also a place for gathering spiritual energy, it was not naturally formed—it was man-made.

Made from jade essence, agate, Xuan Ying, Zi Ying, Yun Fu, and milk-like essence, it was sealed in a furnace and nurtured with fire for three years—yin hidden, then yang reborn; thoughts extinguished to sustain the fire, drawing in fresh energy below while expelling old energy above—until white hairs glowed three zhang long, then a Lianshi was summoned to open and activate it, completing a “Jade Womb Mother Pool.”

Spiritual gathering sites—spiritual caves, ten-grade spiritual veins, Jade Womb Mother Pools.

Though ranked last and man-made, not bestowed by heaven, the “Jade Womb Mother Pool” still possessed the function of absorbing spiritual energy.

It could fuse surrounding spiritual energy into a single pool, breathing in and out endlessly, sustaining cultivation.

Yet it could not match even a Ren-grade spiritual vein—least of all, even the lowest Gui-grade vein surpassed it.

Countless hermits across the Nine Provinces and Four Seas, unable to secure a spiritual vein, desperately sought to build a “Jade Womb Mother Pool” as a legacy for their descendants.

The Rong clan’s “Jade Womb Mother Pool” had been built by their founding emperor and had been passed down for over three hundred years, nurturing countless Rong clan Qi Condensation cultivators.

Hearing Chen Hang wished to use their “Jade Womb Mother Pool” for cultivation, regardless of whether he was a great sect disciple, Rong Tuo’s first thought was refusal.

“I only need to cultivate for seven or eight days—I won’t use it long.”

Chen Hang remained composed: “In just a few days, aside from gathering Qi, how many hours could I possibly cultivate?”

His words made even the resolute Rong Tuo hesitate; Rong Xuantao, beside him, visibly stirred.

It seemed...

...reasonable?

Know that for Qi Condensation cultivators, the most tedious part was selecting and filtering from the 129,600 types of spiritual energy.

Gathering Qi often consumed seven or eight tenths of a day’s cultivation—even the sluggish spent nine tenths.

After a day of arduous sitting, they might only strengthen a few strands of fetal breath—better not to cultivate at all.

“Just seven or eight days? That’s...”

Rong Tuo grew more uncertain, frowning deeply—when outside the hall, a furious wind howled, and a swift light shot down into the hall, flooding the room with crimson, like a sea of starfire.

Standing in the red glow was a dashing youth, dressed in brocade and crowned with splendor, sword at his waist, radiating bold and noble charisma.

He first glanced at Chen Hang, a trace of suspicion flickering across his brow—but his composure was deep, and he concealed it well, smiling as he bowed respectfully to Chen Hang.

“Look, my lord—this is our Rong clan’s prodigy!”

The youth’s arrival eased Rong Tuo’s tension—he immediately seized his hand, steering the conversation, introducing him to Chen Hang.

In the exchange, Chen Hang learned the youth’s name was Rong Jin, the current crown prince of Rong state, already at Qi Condensation fifth level, proficient in both civil arts and military strategy.

Rong Jin said nothing, waiting until Rong Tuo finished his lengthy introduction before smiling and inviting everyone to sit. Soon after, he suddenly raised his wine cup and toasted Chen Hang from afar.

“I’ve heard you’re a great sect disciple—today I see you, and indeed your bearing is grand and extraordinary.”

He raised his cup toward Chen Hang: “Please, drink this humble wine!”

Rong Tuo chuckled awkwardly, offering no support; Rong Xuantao lowered his head, silent.

Watching the cup fly through the air, Chen Hang understood—it was a test.

Dueling came in two forms: literary and martial.

This cup was a literary duel—the bottom concealed a strand of Rong Jin’s fetal breath; if one could not subdue it upon grasping the cup, it would instantly shatter, spilling wine and causing public humiliation.

Chen Hang was unafraid—he calmly extended his hand from his wide sleeve and caught the cup in his palm.

Normally, one would use one’s own qi to suppress and then disperse the fetal breath—this tested not only the rank of Qi Condensation technique, but also the subtlety of fetal breath manipulation.

Too much force, and the wine would spill; too little, and the cup would brush against the chest—both were unseemly.

But as Chen Hang prepared to release his fetal breath, his mind shifted suddenly—within him arose an inexplicable suction.

Under this pull, Rong Jin’s fetal breath vanished like a mud ox sinking into the sea, entirely absorbed into his body, then utterly still.

“Wait—can the ‘Tai Shi Yuan Zhen’ phase really do this?”

Chen Hang was startled, yet sensed the fetal breath resting quietly within him, like previously absorbed spiritual energy, ready to be refined at any moment.

His eyebrows twitched faintly, revealing a hint of delight.

“Looks like I’ve found another way to strengthen my fetal breath.”

As his thoughts turned, his actions did not pause.

He caught the cup, smiled faintly, rose to his feet, robes fluttering, standing with an aloof, otherworldly grace.

“This wine is good, but lacks depth. As courtesy demands, I shall return the favor and toast you all.”

Chen Hang smiled lightly, swept his sleeve—and every person at the table instantly paled.