Chapter 6

【Mahā Śrīmālā Samādhi】

【Name】: Xu Zhi.

【Cultivation Art】: Little Crimson Dragon Sword Scripture (Mastery—One Kill per Ten Steps); Qing Nang Herbal Scripture (Mastery); Land God-Stride Technique (Intermediate Mastery); Falling Demon Talisman (Beginner); Crystal Flame Talisman (Beginner); Water-Parting Talisman (Beginner); Spirit-Seizing Talisman (Beginner); Blood Slaughter Talisman (—)

【Cultivation Base】: Qi Condensation Sixth Layer (Three Qi Illuminating Spirit Technique)

……

“So Brother’s Blood Slaughter Talisman hasn’t even reached Beginner level—no wonder he bled so much that day.”

Chen Hang stared at the golden text and silently assessed it.

As the saying goes: arts are divided into three levels, while immortals have five ranks.

These three levels are Minor Mastery, Intermediate Mastery, and Mastery.

But Chen Hang, for finer distinction, forcibly added a Beginner level before Minor Mastery.

Though it felt somewhat incongruous, since only he could see it, he simply let it be.

“This inner reflection of another is indistinguishable from a True Person—just what level of treasure is Jin Chan? A Dao Artifact? Or has it reached the legendary rank of Immortal Weapons?”

Yet this realm’s name clearly belongs to Buddhist tradition?”

In the Nine Provinces and Four Seas of Xu Du Tian, Dao flourishes while Chan wanes.

Though rumors say the Western Su Province still preserves Buddhist lineages, they are but a handful of cats and dogs, long crushed beneath the Thunder Court—the foremost heretical sect—and suffer constant humiliation, let alone compare with the Eight Dao Sects and Six Demon Clans ruling Xu Du Tian.

If he wished to uncover the deeper mysteries of Jin Chan and the True Realm, he’d have to wait until his spiritual powers reached full mastery, then venture into the boundless heavens to seek traces of great Buddhist schools.

Chen Hang tossed the object into the air; the golden page hovered again above Xu Zhi’s head.

He found it amusing, and with a flick of thought, made the golden book vanish once more.

This was the second function of the Realm.

Besides simulating his own inner reflection, it could also simulate the inner reflections of others.

And through the Realm’s 【Mahā Śrīmālā Samādhi】, it could perfectly mirror the cultivation arts, heart scriptures, and true bodily forms of others.

Once the True Realm successfully simulated another’s inner reflection, no matter how deeply hidden or cunning that person was,

before Chen Hang, they had no secrets left—nowhere to hide…

And being able to simulate others’ inner reflections meant Chen Hang wasn’t merely cultivating in solitude—he could duel with these reflections to hone his skills.

After all, no matter how horribly his own reflection died, it had no effect on his true body whatsoever; combined with the rule “One day in the world equals ten days in the Realm,” it was as if he had an ever-present partner who never rested, endlessly feeding him techniques.

Especially since these reflections never tired, never complained, and were immortal.

That made them all the more precious.

“Yet, after slaying another’s inner reflection, one randomly obtains scattered Primordial Spirits—these carry records of all the arts and heart scriptures the person once learned… Kexi , Brother’s reflection is useless for this; even if it dropped Primordial Spirits, they’d be worthless.”

The Little Crimson Dragon Sword Scripture and Qing Nang Herbal Scripture—both were Xu Zhi’s family inheritance and personal insight; Chen Hang already possessed the original texts.

As for the cultivation base entry—Three Qi Illuminating Spirit Technique—it was the foundational art of the Xuanzhen Sect.

Though the Three Qi Illuminating Spirit Technique could be cultivated from Qi Condensation all the way to the Purple Mansion, the true qi it produced was merely “Dingjin True Qi,” a mid-grade third-tier true qi.

Though it ranked high among the lower-tier true qis, it was still lower-tier.

Moreover, this art posed no great difficulty—any disciple of the Xuanzhen Sect who achieved Tai Xi Qi sensation could request instruction from the Elders at any time, without obstruction.

As for those Beginner talismans, they were merely common fare.

Chen Hang silently lamented—if only he could simulate the inner reflection of a scion from an Immortal Clan, he wouldn’t have to fret over Qi Condensation arts anymore.

Yet such figures—he’d never even heard of them, let alone seen one with his own eyes.

“But my Realm’s ability to simulate inner reflections, though miraculous, isn’t omnipotent—it can only draw in cultivators of the same realm; it cannot indiscriminately imprint every person into the Realm… I succeeded in simulating Brother’s reflection only because he had no guard against me, and because he bled profusely while teaching me to draw the Blood Slaughter Talisman. Without either, such luck would’ve been impossible.”

Chen Hang now recalled this and shook his head.

A few days ago, Xu Zhi had eagerly come to teach him how to draw the Blood Slaughter Talisman, due to the abundance of demons and ghosts in the Earth Abyss.

Human blood qi is supremely yang and fierce; newborn demons and ghosts, when feeding on humans, must first sully this blood qi before they can feast.

Blood-made Blood Slaughter Talismans were even stronger.

Once struck, weaker demons and ghosts instantly turned to ash, their souls scattered.

But Xu Zhi didn’t understand talisman crafting—he hadn’t even reached Beginner level with the Blood Slaughter Talisman, and bled needlessly; Chen Hang finally couldn’t bear it and shouted to stop him.

“Brother, long time no see.”

Chen Hang looked at the expressionless Daoist and bowed: “How is your wound?”

The Daoist gave no reply, his expression perpetually blank and hollow, like a clay statue or wooden idol.

Chen Hang knew this reflection had no emotions, and paid it no mind; he smiled faintly and swept his sleeve:

“Brother, please go ahead—I’ll meet you again once I’ve attained Tai Xi.”

Xu Zhi’s form gradually dissolved into the void, like a water stain fading under sunlight.

Chen Hang raised his hand to press his temples; his long, slender fingers—once trained to play the qin, bone-white and elegant—tapped gently, as clean and beautiful as a brushstroke of ink.

“With this artifact in hand, I’ve already secured more than half of the Four Essentials—Dharma, Companion, Land, and Wealth. The chance to attain the Dao is near.”

Within the Realm:

First, it adjusts the flow of time, granting immortality; second, it can imprint others’ inner reflections, and upon their destruction, obtain their cultivated arts and spiritual powers.

Such a marvel is not even recorded in ancient scriptures.

“Fear of life and death fades; the spirit naturally attains clarity. Heaven and earth are but one finger; all things are but one horse. Having forgotten their traces, and even the source of their traces, one becomes vast and one with transformation, unobstructed—this is the sign of entering True Contemplation.”

He softly chanted the essential verses of birth-death Tai Xi.

Chen Hang lifted the long sword resting on his knees to his throat; it was newly purchased, though forged of mundane iron, it was sharp enough.

After a moment’s gaze, he struck decisively.

Pshhh—

A thin, crimson line appeared on his throat, widening steadily.

Blood gushed like a spring.

……

……

On the other side.

Above ten thousand zhang of clouds, the Azure Heavenly Palace now echoed with the sound of a qin—soft, pleasing, like pearls falling upon a cloud-disk, water striking a pond, mingling with flutes and konghous, layered and lingering.

“Auntie, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Thirty years? You’ve come all the way from Shangyu to Xiao Ganshan—how honored I am.”

On the Xuanhe Cloud Couch, the young-looking Master of the Xuanzhen Sect lounged lazily, two beautiful maidens in gauzy robes standing beside him, offering him spiritual delicacies and fruits.

“Xiao Jian, you’re being so distant—speaking to your auntie like this!”

The beautiful woman chuckled, her ripe, voluptuous figure shifting with playful reproach, making her splendid feathered robe ripple like golden waves.

“Don’t you remember? When you were little, I was the one who doted on you most in Shangyu.”

The woman licked her lips, her coral-tipped fingernails tracing lightly across the jade table: “Had the Ancestor not forbidden it, I nearly would’ve practiced dual cultivation with you…”