Chapter 52: Chapter Fifty-Two: Starlight Qi, Dense and Majestic

“Friend, why are you so late…?”

Gazing at the figure within that white aura.

Rong Tuo’s wrinkled face twitched; he snatched up his robe from the ground, hastily draped it on, and bowed to Chen Hang.

Chen Hang smiled faintly, descended from the cloud, halted at the steps, and walked slowly into the hall.

As he drew nearer, Rong Tuo’s body hairs stood on end, a chilling dread seizing his heart and flesh.

The newcomer was tall and slender, clad in plain white robes and a white cap; though his face was veiled by bamboo and wood, he must be a youthful Daoist of extraordinary grace.

Yet he radiated an indescribable aura—merely standing still, the very air around him tightened, terrifyingly potent, utterly unlike ordinary cultivators.

Rong Tuo was already at Qi Condensation Eighth Layer, close to forming true qi and achieving Foundation Establishment.

But with his Qi Condensation cultivation, facing Chen Hang, his spiritual sense trembled incessantly, his blood surged like a torrent, piercing every inch of his body with pain.

Such an uncanny sensation, he had felt only once before—on the corpse of the Grand General Tong Gaolu.

Both men were like towering ancient mountains; in motion or stillness, they carried the grandeur of dust obscuring the sky and boulders rolling with sand flying—anyone who faced them felt like a snake or rabbit confronting an eagle, and unless their will was unbreakable, they could not even summon the will to resist, let alone survive—crushed into pulp with a single blow!

“How is this possible? Could he have acquired Tong Gaolu’s external body cultivation technique?!”

Watching Chen Hang draw ever closer, Rong Tuo’s brow dripped sweat; internally he screamed:

“But that technique was never meant to be transmitted! How could he have reached Tong Gaolu’s former realm in just a few days? His eyes gleam with jade light—nearly ready to leap free of his body!”

Rong Tuo could no longer conceal his trembling fear; with only three zhang between them, if Chen Hang wished to strike and kill him, it would be as easy as flipping his palm.

He longed to ignite his aura and smash through the hall’s roof to flee—but feared appearing cowardly, his mind a tangled knot of conflict.

“It seems this hall of yours is quite hot?”

As Rong Tuo hesitated, Chen Hang halted his steps, smiling faintly.

“…”

Rong Tuo froze, wiped his brow—and realized his robes were drenched in cold sweat.

He knew Chen Hang had sensed his hidden intentions the day he killed Tong Gaolu; this was deliberate aura pressure meant to humiliate him.

But Rong Tuo, old and cunning, felt no shame.

He steadied his spirit, swept his sleeves with boldness, smiled warmly, and invited Chen Hang to sit, as if nothing had happened, personally pouring wine for him.

About half a watch passed.

Several more Qi Condensation cultivators from the Rong clan entered the hall; upon seeing Chen Hang, each displayed shock.

Among them, Huang Zaichen, the Rong clan’s patron, was most affected—he turned pale as death the moment he laid eyes on Chen Hang.

This man had fought Tong Gaolu twice.

The first time, only two of the five Rong patrons survived; the rest were torn apart by brute force. The second time, Tong Gaolu roared once, and Huang Zaichen’s internal qi spiraled into chaos, his breath control shattered—he nearly lost his aura mid-flight and fell to his death.

Even after Tong Gaolu was executed for treason, Huang Zaichen suffered sleepless nights, haunted by dreams of his body ripped open, bleeding to death—jolting awake in terror.

Now, entering the hall, he saw Chen Hang seated calmly, his aura vast and subtly overwhelming, like a mountain piercing the sky, a river flooding the earth.

If not for his form, he might have thought Tong Gaolu had returned.

His spirit trembled; his composure shattered—he turned instinctively, ready to flee.

Had Rong Jin not acted swiftly and grabbed him, the scene would have become a greater farce.

After these men took their seats, each with private thoughts, Chen Hang remained calm and composed, his gaze serene.

Only when Rong Tuo noticed the atmosphere had grown heavy did he raise a toast, recounting tales of romance and idle gossip, slightly loosening the tension.

Among them, Chen Hang learned that the mortal Sima Yu had died of terror and hemorrhage after being frightened by Tong Gaolu, and the Imperial Guard would now choose a new commander for the Dragon and Tiger Generals.

Each had their own fate; he treated it as idle chatter, felt no sorrow, and let it pass.

After three rounds of wine, seeing Rong Tuo still chattering, Chen Hang lost patience, set down his jade cup, and spoke directly:

“Of course, of course—the matter of the ‘Jade Mother Pool’ was bound by a magical covenant; how would I dare neglect my duty to you, Daoist?”

Rong Tuo’s face flickered with embarrassment; he forced a smile:

“The covenant stipulated three terms. First, Tong Gaolu’s wealth belongs to you—this has been settled. Second, my Rong clan shall present one thousand talisman coins as tribute…”

At this, Rong Tuo clapped his hands.

Soon, two beautiful palace maidens entered bearing a large jade tray—upon it lay exactly one thousand talisman coins, glowing with radiant spiritual energy like a floating torch; Rong Jin and the others gazed with envy.

“These two women were gifted to us last year from Dan Su—they are born with warm, smooth skin and an exotic fragrance—”

Before Rong Tuo finished speaking, Chen Hang waved his sleeve, and the thousand talisman coins vanished into his Qian Kun pouch; he said simply:

“Thank you.”

Rong Tuo’s remaining words choked in his throat—he could neither swallow nor spit them out.

Finally, he could only gesture wearily for the maidens to leave, sighed deeply, and drained a bitter cup of wine.

“Of the three covenant terms, two are complete. Only one remains.”

Chen Hang said: “Have you forgotten?”

“…”

On the main seat, Rong Tuo fell silent—truly silent.

The “Jade Mother Pool” was built by the founding ancestor of the Rong state, and had been passed down for over three hundred years, nurturing generations of Rong clan cultivators. For a small family like theirs,

the “Jade Mother Pool” was as vital as a spiritual vein—a treasure worthy of inheritance!

When Tong Gaolu had pressed them relentlessly, Rong Tuo, in desperation, chose to trade the “Jade Mother Pool.”

But after Tong Gaolu’s death, he had begun to regret it.

…

“Enough! Enough! It’s only a few days of cultivation… Besides, I’ve already arranged for Xuantao to prepare everything—when the time comes, you’ll vomit up every drop you’ve taken! No one has ever taken advantage of the Rong clan and lived to boast of it!”

Bound by the covenant, yet fearing Chen Hang’s technique,

after much hesitation, Rong Tuo feigned agreement, gestured vaguely toward Chen Hang, then transformed into a long streak of aura and soared into the sky, vanishing within a few breaths.

Chen Hang smiled faintly, bowed to Rong Xuantao and the others in the hall, then moved—his body becoming a pure white aura, following after.

After the two departed,

the attendants in the hall wore complex, varied expressions.

Rong Xuantao’s face was grim, his gaze cold as a blade, faintly tinged with anxiety; Rong Jin was uneasy, clenching and unclenching his fists, restless.

As for Huang Zaichen, he was left with nothing but envy and jealousy.

The “Jade Mother Pool,” also called a minor spiritual vein,

contained spiritual energy so dense it had liquefied—cultivating within it for one day equaled one month outside. Truly a paradise for Qi Condensation cultivators.

The “Jade Mother Pool” had fourteen tiers; the lowest was merely a crude prototype, only slightly better than ordinary external qi absorption.

But the Rong clan’s founding ancestor was a Foundation Establishment Third Layer cultivator, one step from opening the Purple Mansion—his excavated “Jade Mother Pool” was naturally mid-to-lower grade, even mid-grade.

Unfortunately, Huang Zaichen had never experienced the taste of cultivating within the “Jade Mother Pool.”

His heart held only disappointment and simple envy—not the tangled thoughts of Rong Xuantao and Rong Jin.

“Are we truly going to let that man enter the ‘Jade Mother Pool’ and just watch?”

Seeing Rong Xuantao remain still, even with three-tenths fear of Chen Hang, Rong Jin could not help but whisper: “Didn’t our founding ancestor leave behind several artifacts? Do any of them still work?”

“Big brother has already taken the ‘White Lion Illusionary Play Map’ and kept it on me. When the moment is right, I’ll rush into the underground palace and kill him beside the Mother Pool.”

Hearing this, Rong Jin first rejoiced, then wavered.

The White Lion Illusionary Play Map was powerful, but whether it could even defeat Tong Gaolu was uncertain—let alone Chen Hang.

“Didn’t the founding ancestor leave behind more treasures? Could we not retrieve a few more?”

Rong Jin asked cautiously.

Rong Xuantao glanced at him, sighed, and said nothing.

Seeing Rong Xuantao fall silent, Rong Jin, though inwardly frantic, could only force himself to calm down.

On the other side,

the two descended into an underground palace; after Rong Tuo repeated his warnings, Chen Hang smiled faintly and opened a heavy stone door.

As soon as the door shut, Chen Hang felt a strange sensation—as if his body were about to float upward.

Before him lay a magnificent pool, built entirely of gold, jade, and agate, seven zhang long and wide, as tall as a pavilion; countless spiritual energies had been condensed into liquid, surging and splashing, sometimes hard, sometimes soft, alternating between motion and stillness, myriad forms intertwined.

The stone door behind Chen Hang also bore talismanic seals; once closed, golden runes crawled across its surface, harmonizing with the pool’s material, locking the pool’s vibrant spiritual energy in place, ensuring its endless generation.

At first, when the golden runes appeared, Chen Hang suspected the Rong clan was plotting something—but seeing no ill effect, he realized his own ignorance.

“No matter what scheme you devise, it is useless.”

Chen Hang swept his sleeves and sat cross-legged on the ground, smiling: “I only hope you will keep your word and be wise—do not seek death on your own.”

The covenant only stipulated that after Tong Gaolu’s death, the Rong clan must lend him the “Jade Mother Pool” for five days of cultivation—it said nothing about how they must behave during that time.

Their covenant differed from Chen Hang’s with Tu Shan Ge—it was far more lenient; even if broken, it would not kill him, though his cultivation base would inevitably suffer.

When Tong Gaolu died, Rong Tuo had secretly entertained the idea of eliminating Chen Hang too—but hesitated, fearing Chen Hang’s false identity as a disciple of a great sect, and intimidated by Chen Hang’s display of true qi.

During the wine feast, Rong Tuo’s eyes had repeatedly revealed killing intent—but he had forcibly suppressed it.

As for this,

Chen Hang did not dismiss it lightly, but he did not treat it as a dire threat.

Even Tong Gaolu alone had forced them into helplessness; regardless of his breath control, his Tai Su Jade Body realm alone was sufficient to escape with ease.

Moreover, after five days of cultivation in the “Jade Mother Pool,” his cultivation would advance further—even if the Rong clan still possessed secret treasures and talismans, who would prevail remained uncertain.

…

“What a divine paradise! To encounter such fortune beneath the earth—what great fortune is mine.”

Chen Hang drew a deep breath, feeling his nose and mouth refreshed and soothing; as he guided the air into his internal organs, his body felt lighter, his mind joyful.

This was truly the dwelling of a Qi Condensation cultivator!

If even the "Jade Womb Pool" is this way, what wonders must lie within the tenth-rank spiritual veins and spiritual caves? It fills one with longing.

Chen Hang immediately ceased his hesitation, quieted his mind, and activated the method from the "Tai Su Yu Shen," beginning to nourish his body.

The reason he chose the Tai Su Yu Shen over Qi Condensation was not without cause.

Even within just five days, even if he had no trouble gathering qi, it was impossible for him to exhaust the pool’s spiritual energy.

After all, refining spiritual energy and strengthening the fetal breath was a complex and tedious process.

Even though he cultivated the "Shen Wu Shu Hua Dao Jun Shuo Tai Shi Yuan Zhen Jing," one of the most supreme Qi Condensation scriptures in the Nine Provinces, in five days he could raise his Qi Condensation cultivation by only one level—from Level Three to Level Four.

But the Tai Su Yu Shen was different.

This flesh-becoming-saint technique, created by the Tai Su Zhangren, required only the absorption of spiritual energy—it was exceedingly simple.

In five days, the Tai Su Yu Shen could not only fully absorb all the spiritual energy in the pool, but with this boost, his realm would rise at least several steps from Xuan Realm Level Three.

Leaving aside the obvious combat power increase from an immensely strengthened body,

merely draining this pool’s spiritual energy was already a stroke of fortune for Chen Hang.

"Rong Tuo, you were the first to act unjustly—don’t blame me for being unrighteous."

Chen Hang closed his eyes, his hands slowly forming the "Shi Fa Yin" seal according to the scripture’s instructions in the Tai Su Yu Shen.

The stone chamber, once filled with dazzling radiance and swirling auspicious mists, gradually dimmed, each moment darker than the last; the sound that had once resembled surging waves also grew fainter.

About two days passed.

Chen Hang ended his cultivation, quietly sensing the changes the Tai Su Yu Shen had wrought upon his body; his pupils shimmered with jade light as he looked up.

Inside the "Jade Womb Pool," only a shallow puddle remained—if he didn’t focus, he might easily overlook it.

Chen Hang chuckled, took out paper and ink from his space bag, and wrote a letter with a soft scratching sound.

Then he returned before the "Jade Womb Pool," stood in silence for a moment, and carved words into the stone with his fingers, leaving a line of bold, swirling characters like dragons and snakes in flight.

Only after completing this did he calmly shake open the stone door and step out of the underground palace.

Outside, several officials had already been waiting; seeing Chen Hang leave the "Jade Womb Pool" before five days had passed, they were both startled and delighted.

But before they could approach to ask, Chen Hang tapped his toe, his fetal breath coalescing into a cloud that instantly bore him soaring into the azure heavens.

"Thank you for your trouble—no need to see me off."

Only a distant, echoing laugh remained in the high air; the officials stared at each other, unsure what to do.

Until a cup of tea’s time had passed.

Rong Tuo finally rushed over in a panic; he paid no heed to the officials bowing to him, shoved his hands forward, and leapt into the stone chamber.

The moment he looked—

The sight before him stunned him into utter disbelief…

The once magnificent scene of swirling auspicious mists and radiant auroras was now entirely gone.

No shimmering hues, no gurgling waterlight, no mist or vapor remained.

The once-full pool of spiritual energy now held only a thin film of moisture, no wider than a child’s palmprint.

"How could this be…"

Rong Tuo muttered dazedly, pacing aimlessly around the "Jade Womb Pool," until his fingers brushed against deep and shallow grooves.

He looked closely—and felt his blood surge from his soles to his skull.

There were several bold, iron-pen strokes: fluid, powerful, rhythmically dynamic, soaring and unrestrained, written in one continuous stroke, as if a celestial immortal had brushed the heavens with boundless freedom.

"Thirty-six peaks hold long swords; starlight and aura surge, fierce and majestic."

Rong Tuo trembled as he read; at the end of the line, a name remained—clearly, "Chen Hang."

"Aaaah! Arrogant! This brat is utterly arrogant!"

Rong Tuo could no longer contain himself—he roared in fury, then blacked out.