Chapter 53: Chapter Fifty-Three: The Path to Strengthening the Embryonic Breath

By the time Rong Tuo finally regained his composure, Rong Xuantao and the others had received the message and rushed here in desperate haste.

Upon entering the underground palace and seeing this desolate scene of drained pools and dimmed auroras, each face showed shock, and they all drew in a sharp breath.

“Even a Foundation Establishment third-stage Daoist couldn’t drain this pool dry in just two days…”

Rong Jin’s hands trembled with grief: “It’ll take at least fifteen or sixteen years to restore this pool to its former glory! Is that man a Rakshasa or a Yaksha, just escaped from the Hungry Ghost Realm?”

Rong Tuo had no time to listen to Rong Jin’s complaints; he felt chest tightness and shortness of breath, his strength utterly drained. Only after forcing his cultivation method several times did he regain a flicker of energy.

“That… that’s the ‘Jade Womb Mother Pool’?”

As he gritted his teeth to suppress his rage, another voice spoke up.

Huang Zaichen crept into the underground palace, his head ducked and shoulders hunched; barely had he stepped through the stone gate when his mouth blurted out before his expression of envy could fade:

“Looks no different from the outside world—hardly any spiritual energy here…”

Rong Tuo grew even angrier and turned to glare at Huang Zaichen.

Huang Zaichen realized his mistake at once, lowering his head, too afraid to meet Rong Tuo’s murderous gaze.

“Whelp! Whelp! I won’t rest until I kill you!”

The more he thought, the more enraged he became; Rong Tuo couldn’t help but roar:

“Don’t try to stop me! Whoever blocks me dies! I’m going after him right now—I’ll beat him to death!”

Yet after storming forward several zhang, no one moved to restrain him; Rong Tuo’s face flushed with humiliation. As his foot reached the underground palace’s exit, he abruptly halted, frozen in place.

“Fool! Can’t you read the situation? Come and hold me back!”

Rong Jin, still dazed, was scolded by a telepathic shout: “You’re so blind to the situation—how can I possibly entrust the Rong clan to you?!”

Rong Jin jumped in fright, then understood; he forcibly dragged Rong Tuo back, soothing him with gentle words and repeated reassurances.

Even Huang Zaichen offered a few dry words of comfort.

Only Rong Xuantao paid no attention to this side.

This towering, broad-shouldered old man, six feet tall with arms hanging past his knees, first circled the “Jade Womb Mother Pool,” read the elegant inscriptions on its wall, and sighed inwardly.

Turning his head, he noticed a letter left nearby; he picked it up and saw the ink was still damp—clearly written not long ago.

After reading every word, Rong Xuantao’s gaze grew heavier, and at last, an unexpected hint of quiet joy flickered across his face.

“Elder brother…”

He called out to Rong Tuo in a low voice: “Everyone here is family. Even Master Huang married into our clan—he’s trustworthy. Stop pretending. Let’s speak plainly.”

Rong Tuo, still feigning a martyr’s demeanor, found it impossible to continue.

He shook off Rong Jin’s grip on his sleeve and shouted: “Pretending? When did I ever pretend? Do you think I’m afraid of that whelp?!”

“Old Seventeen, you’ve gotten better at tearing down others’ facades!”

Seeing Rong Xuantao unmoved, Rong Tuo’s face flushed with embarrassment; he sighed and slapped his hand: “All these years, you’ve made no progress! If you weren’t my brother, I’d beat you senseless…”

“By the way!”

At that moment, Rong Tuo seemed to remember something else and roared again: “Didn’t I order you to retrieve the White Lion Illusion Scroll? Once the buildup was complete, you were to kill Chen Hang right here in the underground palace! Why didn’t you act? Was it too late—or was the buildup insufficient?”

“Elder brother probably didn’t dare kill him—I know your nature. If you truly meant to act, you wouldn’t have told me all this; you’d have already pulled out the ‘Chenfang Taiyin Talisman.’”

“How dare you say I won’t kill him?”

Rong Tuo sneered: “What is he? Just a scion of the Lanliang Chen clan! Even if he joined the Xuanzhen Sect, he’s still expendable! Without Yan Zhen, does he still think he’s untouchable?”

The veneer of a great sect disciple on Chen Hang had long been torn off by the Rong clan.

After ruling for over three hundred years, even though forced to nearly flee their ancestral home by Tong Gaolu, they still retained some depth of heritage.

Rong Tuo had long doubted Chen Hang’s identity; seeing Tu Shan Ge, that fox of Yanshan, and recalling past events, he now had his answer.

But they still needed Chen Hang’s help to remove Tong Gaolu.

Rong Tuo dared not speak out, so he chose to pretend ignorance…

“Dare you kill him? Are you not afraid of him? That’s nonsense. I’m different—I don’t dare kill him because I’m truly afraid of him.”

Rong Xuantao, arms crossed, spoke to himself: “Though I don’t know what fortune this concubine has gained, his abilities have already surpassed Tong Gaolu. That’s fine—we still have the ‘Chenfang Taiyin Talisman.’ Even if we bleed heavily, we can still kill him! But what frightens me is his nature—cold, ruthless…”

“Elder brother forgot?” Rong Xuantao fixed his gaze on Rong Tuo:

“How did he come to feud with Tong Gaolu?”

Merely because he killed a Yanshan Daoist, a brother-in-arms of little consequence in Tong Gaolu’s eyes.

To prevent exposure, he immediately severed Tong Yi’s arm.

Afterwards, he traveled a thousand li from Lanliang to Yuanjing, swept up Tong Gaolu along the way, slaughtered him clean, and exterminated his entire family.

Rong Xuantao imagined himself in Chen Hang’s place.

At Tong Yi’s place, he would have done everything to ease tensions between them.

Offered money, gifts, talismans—begged, flattered, bribed… In any case, he would never have severed Tong Yi’s arm, stormed Yuanjing, and murdered Tong Gaolu.

Tong Gaolu probably thought his death absurd.

A mere Yanshan Daoist became the very reason for his demise…

“It seems those three years as a concubine in the Xuanzhen Sect have honed his nature to razor-sharpness—his heart brims with killing intent! Once drawn, his blade wounds! Such a man—even if his abilities were low—I would never dare provoke him. If I fail to kill him, I’ll be the one who suffers. When Chen Hang one day slaughters my entire clan, he won’t hesitate for a moment.”

Rong Xuantao said: “Elder brother, I know you’re hesitating too. The relics left by our Ancestor are precious, but there are only a few. Compared to our clan’s mortal foundation, they are our true essence…”

He pointed to the inscription on the “Jade Womb Mother Pool”:

“This man left these words as a warning—he’s giving our clan face! Don’t feel resentful and pretend you believe your own act of rushing out to die!”

The “Jade Womb Mother Pool” is made of unbreakable material; only the true qi of a Foundation Establishment Daoist can leave an imprint.

Yet Chen Hang deliberately carved his words with his bare hand—what this means is obvious.

Hearing this, Rong Tuo fell silent; Rong Jin grew even more wary; Huang Zaichen remained utterly confused.

“…You have a point. The Ancestor’s relics are few—once used, they’re gone. Even when Tong Gaolu usurped the throne, I hesitated to use them. Compared to this mortal foundation, they are the very lifeblood of our clan.”

After a long silence, Rong Tuo let out a slow, weary sigh:

“I dare not kill him, nor dare to touch the Ancestor’s relics—but I still can’t bear it. He’s just a concubine, yet so arrogant!”

Rong Tuo clenched his fist tightly: “His ancestors for generations served under our rule! They lived only because of us! Yet when I merely showed a hint of killing intent, he retaliated like this—how hateful!”

Rong Xuantao shook his head.

He knew Rong Tuo had already let go in his heart—only a lingering resentment remained, and he’d let him vent.

After Rong Tuo ranted and stomped about some more, Rong Xuantao, seeing his breath had steadied, handed him the letter.

“What’s this?” Rong Tuo took it.

“Chen Hang’s letter,” Rong Xuantao said. “This is what I wanted to tell you.”

Rong Tuo frowned as he read, his expression growing increasingly complex; even the last trace of killing intent faded.

Finally, he couldn’t help but sigh deeply and tucked the letter into his sleeve.

“What did Chen Hang write in the letter?”

Rong Jin asked curiously.

At this moment, Huang Zaichen felt he’d heard too much today; if he stayed any longer, he’d surely be targeted later, so he moved to slip out of the underground palace.

But Rong Xuantao grabbed him by the arm and shook his head.

“He says today’s incident is entirely our own fault—we have no one to blame but ourselves. But if he’s still alive thirty years from now, our clan may come to him with this letter and request one mid-grade talisman.”

Rong Xuantao spoke calmly.

“What? A talisman?!”

Rong Jin’s eyes widened; his heart eased slightly.

If it were truly a mid-grade talisman, today’s loss wouldn’t matter much.

After all, the Rong clan didn’t have many mid-grade talismans.

“What are you yelling about? With such an unstable heart, how will you ever pursue the Dao?!”

Rong Tuo snapped: “Thirty years? Who knows if he’ll even live that long? Does our clan lack talismans?! Even if we wait thirty years, how do you know he’ll have one to give? Fool—no matter how great the benefit, until it’s in your hands, it’s just empty words. Don’t be so crude!”

Rong Jin had no reply.

“There’s one more line at the end: if our clan still feels resentful, he’s currently waiting just outside Yuanjing—come find him if you dare.”

Rong Tuo’s face twisted into a bitter smile; he sighed repeatedly:

“This whelp… this boy has such boldness! Such fierce killing intent!”

“Then what do we do?” Rong Jin asked cautiously.

“Go where? To die?” Rong Tuo no longer played the tragic hero; he glanced sideways at him:

“You’re just eager for the Ancestor to die so you can seize the ‘Chenfang Taiyin Talisman,’ aren’t you? Let me tell you—there’s only one such talisman. Even if you die, you can’t use it!”

“Grandson would never dare!” Rong Jin waved his hands frantically.

Rong Tuo snorted, walked to the Jade Womb Mother Pool, stared at Chen Hang’s inscription, and found it increasingly offensive.

He waved his hand—the pool’s surface rumbled, a golden jade-like radiance spread across it, glowing brilliantly, ready to erase the inscription.

But this act was halted by Rong Xuantao.

“What now? Do you want to make a rubbing and hang it in your study like a decoration?” Rong Tuo snapped.

“I think… leaving it might be fine.”

Rong Xuantao hesitated:

“Elder brother, do you remember when we were wandering cultivators, the story we heard about the Yucheng Sect’s Master Junyao?”

“Master Junyao of the Yucheng Sect?”

Rong Tuo paused, then recalled.

The True Person who won the Dan Yuan Assembly and now had fame across the Nine Provinces and Four Seas—a Golden Core cultivator.

Before his cultivation breakthrough, he too had once faced a similar situation…

He once helped a small sect eliminate a yin demon, but after the deed was done, the sect hesitated to pay the reward, making endless excuses and delays.

In the end, Junyao secretly slipped into the sect’s treasury and took every single fu coin, leaving not a single copper, then carved something resembling “Junyao visited here” onto the mural.

The small sect suffered a silent humiliation, unable to voice its grievance, and dared not even mention revenge, pretending the incident never happened.

But after Junyao defeated countless prodigies from the Eight Sects and Six Clans at the Dan Yuan Gathering and claimed the top prize.

That earlier humiliation became a story to boast about…

The mural bearing Junyao’s inscription was so coveted that True Persons competed fiercely to acquire it; eventually, the Wu Guang Sect paid a huge sum, trading a Ren-grade spiritual vein for it, and enshrined it within their sect gate.

Once this became known, no one failed to envy the small sect’s stroke of luck, wishing they could trade places with it.

Even Junyao, who had already achieved a First-Rank Golden Core, laughed upon hearing this and specially bestowed upon the small sect a painting titled “Red Reflections of Cloudscapes” as a protective foundation for their mountain.

This incident was thoroughly discussed among free cultivators; Rong Tuo and Rong Xuantao were naturally well acquainted with it.

“Do you think he could ever achieve what Junyao True Person did? The Dan Yuan Gathering?”

Rong Tuo chuckled: “Don’t joke! He can’t even be sure he’ll be accepted by the Wu Guang Sect—remember, they don’t take free cultivators.”

“Since only our own people can enter here, seeing it won’t bring shame—keep it. Who knows? It might prove useful.”

Rong Xuantao remained adamant.

Though his appearance was coarse, his mind was exceptionally meticulous.

In past years as a free cultivator, everyone had dismissed him for his blunt speech, unaware this was precisely what Rong Xuantao deliberately displayed—to deceive others’ perceptions.

After pacing back and forth several times, Rong Tuo still could not decide, so he waved his hands and drove everyone out of the underground palace.

When only he remained, he hesitated several times, then quietly preserved the inscription.

“Forget the Ren-grade spiritual vein…”

Rong Tuo muttered: “If I could trade it for three hundred fu coins, I’d be perfectly satisfied.”

—

Meanwhile, outside Yuanjing City, the Mo Yun Airship hung in the sky like a red cloud, from sunrise to sunset, with no pursuers appearing.

“It seems the Rong clan lacks the courage to come.”

Inside the cabin, Tu Shan Ge yawned and glanced at Chen Hang, seated in meditation: “Master, why not exterminate the Rong clan outright and seize the ‘Jade Womb Pool’ as well?”

“You’re quite decisive about killing.”

Chen Hang calmly concluded his practice, glanced at the dimming sky, and said: “A minor punishment and a great warning suffice. Their dynasty has ruled for over three hundred years—they surely have other tricks. As for what you mentioned, I’ll deal with it when the Rong clan catches up.”

“But, Master, will you really give the Rong clan a fu artifact thirty years from now?”

At that moment, Tu Shan Zhuang, chewing on a chicken leg, interjected: “I heard that thing’s quite valuable.”

“If I’m still alive thirty years from now, a single fu artifact is but a grain of rice in a full granary to me. Using it to temporarily calm their nerves and prevent them from panicking and lashing out isn’t a loss.”

Chen Hang smiled: “If I’m still fretting over such trifles then, I might as well just impale myself on my sword and be done with it.”

“As for you two, if you cultivate diligently, you may yet earn a sliver of chance toward Dao attainment.”

Tu Shan Ge and the others were delighted, bowing repeatedly in thanks.

“Enough. I have some matters to attend to—wait a moment.”

Seeing that the Rong clan would not come after all, Chen Hang said no more, leapt from the airship, and landed in a towering wild forest.

The undergrowth and weeds were thick, utterly devoid of human presence. He released his Qian Kun Bag and shook out a mangled corpse.

The corpse was tall and sinewy; upon closer inspection, faint threads of jade light still flowed through it.

This was Tong Gaolu’s remains.

After killing him that day, Chen Hang had secretly stored Tong Gaolu’s body in his Qian Kun Bag. These past days, he had slain Zhou Chuyu, cultivated the Tai Su Jade Body, and used the Jade Womb Pool extensively.

Tong Gaolu’s matter had simply been forgotten for a time.

“Come, let me see—can my Qi Condensation technique truly absorb another’s fetal breath…”

Chen Hang, expressionless, extended a finger and pressed it against Tong Gaolu’s forehead.

Moments later, thin threads of fetal breath flowed from the corpse into his body.

After a quarter-hour, he withdrew his finger; now, his own fetal breath had grown stronger, rolling vigorously through his chest and abdomen, filling his meridians with warmth and comfort.

Tong Gaolu’s corpse, having lost its last vestiges of fetal breath, retained traces of jade light but had withered and decayed significantly.

“After death, most fetal breaths, unbound by consciousness, instantly dissipate into heaven and earth—even within a Qian Kun Bag, they cannot be retained?”

Chen Hang’s gaze turned dark: “Only a few can linger in the body’s acupoints—and even those are scarce.”

Yet.

This was still a path to strengthen his fetal breath. He had no right yet to be picky.

“Still, to others, this practice looks utterly demonic—desecrating a corpse is a grave sin.”

Chen Hang summoned Liu Xiao Chi and swiftly smashed a deep pit into the ground, shoved Tong Gaolu’s body inside, and buried it.

This method was effective, but must never be revealed before others.

If used, it must be done either in utter seclusion—or by killing every witness, leaving not a single soul alive!

If word leaked, it would bring endless trouble.

Only after burying the corpse did he scan the surroundings, then activated his concealment light and returned to the Mo Yun Airship.

Two merged into one.