Chapter 67: Chapter Sixty-Seven: Primordial Great Sun Divine Light

Several days later.

Hongye Island.

Inside a side chamber.

Chen Hang’s body surged with spiritual energy; each inhalation and exhalation through his nose and mouth emitted sharp cracks like bursting candle flames, then grew louder still, as if a thunderclap were slowly coiling, ready to obliterate every obstacle before him—crushing, collapsing, destroying all in its path!

For a time,

the entire room trembled faintly; vermilion beams shed barely visible clouds of ash, and on a table a few steps away, white porcelain teaware vibrated and clinked with a tinkling sound like a mountain stream.

Fortunately, each side chamber bore a sound-dampening seal, so the commotion did not disturb the others’ rest.

And just as the sighing grew louder, until faint threads of lightning finally appeared in the air,

it abruptly collapsed, peeling away layer by layer…

In just a few breaths, Chen Hang’s qi sank from the heavens to the abyss, its fierce, unrivaled intensity replaced by a quiet, lingering flow—like water seeping unseen through a ravine.

After several breaths, his entire qi settled into stillness; his breathing became nearly imperceptible, almost negligible.

Yet at the peak of silence, it suddenly stirred anew—like spring floodwaters arriving, ice melting, river levels rising.

Gradually, the thunderous sound of his breaths returned faintly within the chamber.

In this rhythm of movement and stillness,

Chen Hang’s qi rose and fell unpredictably—sometimes seeming to summon clouds and exhale mist, sometimes vanishing, hidden, concealed.

His body’s acupoints continuously aligned with the Qi-Refining precepts, guiding the flow of his meridians, shifting and transporting energy to refine external pure spiritual energy into his own embryonic breath, enhancing his Dao cultivation.

Thus, another half-day passed.

Chen Hang slowly withdrew from stillness, opened his eyes, gathered his entire qi, and his expression revealed a touch of deep reflection.

“What an extraordinary method—the *Moving and Still Thunder Sound Guiding Art*! With its aid, my spiritual energy refinement has saved at least half the effort I once needed. This trip to the Golden Valley Market was truly worth it—those disciples of the great sects are clearly no ordinary lot!”

Chen Hang rose from his meditation cushion, stretched his limbs casually, and felt every part of his body light, nimble, and free—as if walking upon clouds and mist, utterly at ease.

His spirit felt complete and comfortable, as if he had shattered the confines that once hemmed him in, growing ever more attuned to the empty heavens and earth.

This cultivation session finally advanced his cultivation from Qi Condensation Level Three to Level Five, drawing him close to Level Six.

Not only had his embryonic breath increased several-fold, but his combat power had multiplied accordingly.

Chen Hang judged that even though his cultivation remained at Qi Condensation Level Five, still far from the Ninth Reversal’s perfection,

within the vast Golden Valley Market, even conservatively speaking, fewer than ten fingers’ worth of Qi Condensation cultivators could surpass him—perhaps even fewer.

Should he face another demonic tide like the last, he would handle it far more calmly, no longer as helpless as before, retaining more reserves of strength.

…

“If I could attain True Qi before descending into the Abyss, transforming my embryonic breath into ‘Primordial True Essence,’ my chances of survival would increase further.”

Chen Hang shook his head.

Each Qi Condensation level requires a different quantity of embryonic breath, and the higher the level, the greater the demand.

His newly acquired *Moving and Still Thunder Sound Guiding Art* clearly stated this in its opening passage:

If Level One requires a small cup with a narrow mouth, easily filled, Level Two is a water sack, Level Three a pottery basin, Level Four a soup cauldron, Level Five a spring pool…

Each level demands more embryonic breath than the last, piling up layer upon layer.

By Level Nine, it is like a lake or river—requiring countless embryonic breaths to fill completely.

And that is merely for ordinary True Qi; Chen Hang’s ‘Primordial True Essence’ is supreme, of the highest rank.

If ordinary True Qi requires a lake’s worth of embryonic breath, then ‘Primordial True Essence’—needless to say—can only be compared to the Northern Abyssal Ocean.

Chen Hang sold nearly all his talismanic artifacts at Baojuzhai, keeping only three mid-grade talismanic items—the Thunderfire Pearl, the Purple Gold Shatter-Evil Hammer, the Canhe Cart—and one Qiankun Bag.

Even the Liuxiao Ruler and the Qing’e Painting were abandoned.

The talisman coins he gained were used almost entirely for Qi Condensation cultivation, save for one-tenth reserved to purchase a flying sword.

Yet even so—

it only advanced him from Qi Condensation Level Three to Level Five, crossing just two tiers.

Had a common Qi Condensation cultivator obtained this sum of talisman coins, they would surely have reached Level Seven or Eight, if not achieved full Level Nine—without doubt.

At this thought,

Chen Hang felt a pang of regret.

The merchant guilds of the Southern Region had been terrified by the Huzhao Sect’s bloody methods, and when purchasing Dao arts, they were exceedingly cautious, fearing they might fall into a trap.

This caution stifled his Yizhen Fa Jie’s full potential.

The *Moving and Still Thunder Sound Guiding Art*, for instance, is a Dao art that regulates breathing rhythm, activates the five zang and six fu organs, and accelerates spiritual energy refinement.

Without this method, Chen Hang could never have refined so much talisman coin in just a few days.

He acquired this Dao art on the very day he returned to Hongye Island from Baojuzhai, when he happened upon a delegation from Wu Guang Sect come to pay respects.

Among them was a Qi Condensation disciple visiting with his sect elders, and Chen Hang casually copied his Dao art, simulating it within his Yizhen Fa Jie.

After killing the Wu Guang disciple dozens of times, most of his techniques had been dropped, but the one most useful to Chen Hang remained—the *Moving and Still Thunder Sound Guiding Art*.

By regulating breath rhythm to activate internal organs, in movement and stillness, it became a vast, grinding mill, crushing and pulverizing gathered spiritual energy into refined essence compatible with the human body—

Such a Dao art, if sold, would be worth no less than a mid-grade talismanic artifact with fifteen prohibitions, perhaps even more.

In recent days, besides Qi Condensation cultivation, Chen Hang had wandered the Golden Valley Market, drawing countless Qi Condensation cultivators into his Yizhen Fa Jie, accumulating countless Dao arts.

Yet the Southern Region’s guilds, fearful of repeating the fates of the Wanbao Tower and Liuhe Society, had cut off this path to wealth.

Added to which, Chen Hang did not wish his whereabouts exposed, so he had to set it aside for now.

“Yesterday I acquired forty-three lower-tier Dao arts, but only one mid-tier—one called ‘Luo Jie Tongxin Lock.’ I don’t know which elder created it; clearly meant for lovers to chat by night—useless to me, a waste of effort.”

Chen Hang walked to the window, pushed open the half-closed carved wooden shutter, and gazed across the rippling water, shimmering like an ocean.

At this moment,

the moon hung high in the heavens.

His chamber lay at the far southwest corner of Hongye Island; standing by the window, he could see a vast lake, ten thousand hectares wide, smooth as a mirror. Faintly, several red-tailed golden carp, over a zhang long, leapt from the water, shattering the moon’s reflection and stirring the clear waves.

This lake was called Fuyu Lake because, when sunlight struck its misty glow, the water shimmered and undulated like shattered jade—hence the name.

Though no sun now shone, the moonlight was clear and bright, the Milky Way pristine, the lake’s glow a piercing azure, revealing a beauty entirely distinct from daylight.

“Though I’ve acquired many Dao arts lately, few are truly useful. As Master Hao Qingyan of Baojuzhai said, most lower and mid-tier Dao arts lack power compared to talismanic artifacts, and are less convenient—”

Chen Hang stood by the window, silently pondering.

These lower and mid-tier Dao arts not only lacked the power of talismanic artifacts, but demanded immense effort to cultivate—step by step, from minor mastery, to medium mastery, to ultimate perfection.

Though Chen Hang possessed the Yizhen Fa Jie, which equated to “one day in the real world, ten days within the realm,”

he had no intention of spending time perfecting these mediocre Dao arts to their ultimate state.

He would merely dabble slightly, merely to broaden his knowledge, so that if he encountered them later, he could easily counter them.

After all, the Yizhen Fa Jie could only offer “one day in the real world, ten days within the realm”—not infinite time.

He had heard that within the Eight Sects and Six Clans, there existed “Cave Heavens,” which could also alter the flow of time, sharing a similar marvel with his Yizhen Fa Jie.

…

“What suits me best are those perilous, upper-tier Dao arts—so dangerous a single misstep means instant death, yet possessing formidable power…”

Chen Hang gazed at the cold, serene lake scene outside, thinking to himself:

“Unfortunately, the only upper-tier Dao art I’ve acquired so far is the ‘Ultimate Light Great Escape’ left behind by Tu Shan Ge’s former master, a Huzhao Sect technique—but without Qianyin Star Ore as a catalyst, I cannot cultivate it.”

Qianyin Star Ore is refined from the essence of celestial stars, always exceedingly precious.

Only True Persons, at the very least, can break through the atmospheric barrier to harvest stellar essence from beyond—making Qianyin Star Ore all the more rare.

In recent days, Chen Hang had quietly inquired about Qianyin Star Ore, and every answer was the same.

This substance is sold only occasionally in the Northern Region, where Huzhao Sect resides; a piece the size of a fingertip costs thousands of talisman coins, and even then, it is rarely available.

Hearing this, Chen Hang could only set the matter aside for now, focusing instead on seeking out Qi Condensation cultivators to draw into his Yizhen Fa Jie for Dao arts.

Yet despite acquiring many lower and mid-tier Dao arts, few were useful—and the most beneficial to him remained the Wu Guang Sect’s *Moving and Still Thunder Sound Guiding Art*.

As for upper-tier Dao arts,

he had not seen a single one…

At this thought,

Chen Hang could not help but shake his head slightly.

At that moment, the door next door slammed violently, followed by a heavy thud, and within moments, a snore louder than thunder erupted.

“Isn’t that Sister’s room? What was that noise?”

Chen Hang blinked, then opened his own door.

He saw a round, chubby girl, like a little pig, lying sprawled in the corridor—unaware she had been thrown out, snoring loudly, drool pooling on the floor.

“Qingzhi? Was she kicked out for snoring too loudly?”

As if sensing movement, Qingzhi instinctively reached out to grasp—Chen Hang stepped back, and the girl grasped nothing.

Finding nothing to hold, Qingzhi mumbled sleepily, rolled over, and sank back into unconscious slumber.

“Your snoring is unbearable. I have no other choice.”

Her snore was even louder than his own use of the *Moving and Still Thunder Sound Guiding Art*; had the chambers lacked sound-sealing seals, no one in the entire building would have slept.

Chen Hang shook his head, took a deep blue crane-cloak from his Qiankun Bag, draped it over her, and left her be.

He closed the door.

The thunderous snoring was now muffled beyond it.

The full moon still hung high in the heavens; the night was deep and quiet.

Chen Hang sat upon his meditation cushion, drew out another talisman coin, and resumed refining it.

Only when morning light blazed and the warm sun rose high did he gather his qi and rise from the cushion.

It’s time to visit the various marketplaces and see if fortune smiles—perhaps today I’ll still encounter emissary delegations from the major sects here for the ceremony; if any Qi-Condensation disciples are among them, that would be ideal.

From among dozens of masks in his Qiankun pouch, Chen Hang selected one different from yesterday’s, then altered his aura with the Scatter-Form Concealment Technique before pushing open his door and striding out.

In the corridor, Qingzhi was still fast asleep, wrapped in his deep green crane-feather cloak.

Chen Hang chuckled, stepped over her feet, and once outside the inn, transformed into a white streak of light that shot southwest, vanishing from sight.

Shortly after his departure,

Wei Lingjiang also stepped out through the door.

Seeing Qingzhi still snoring loudly in the corridor, she sighed in exasperation—then her gaze fell upon the deep green crane-feather cloak draped over her, and she froze slightly.

“This is...”

Chen Hang’s door next door was already tightly shut.

Wei Lingjiang hesitated repeatedly, her hand lifting to knock—then lowered it, silently retrieving the crane-feather cloak.

When Qingzhi was finally shaken awake with force,

the girl, seeing she had slept in the corridor, flew into a rage—until Wei Lingjiang promised her two extra meals today, at which point her anger turned to delight.

“But... I slept here last night, didn’t I...?”

Qingzhi’s face twisted with suspicion: “Why didn’t I feel cold at all?”

“Probably because your skin’s thick as leather,” Wei Lingjiang said without blinking.

Qingzhi angrily slammed her head into her—but Wei Lingjiang sidestepped, then pulled her into her arms.

“Wait—is this going out to play?”

Seeing Wei Lingjiang carry her toward the inn’s exit, Qingzhi’s eyes lit up:

“Let’s go eat those deer-meat buns from the day before! Buns! I’m starving!”

“I just had a sudden intuition... it seemed...”

Wei Lingjiang merely frowned slightly: “It seemed going southwest might bring something?”

“Fake it! Your spiritual body is only Qi-Condensation level—it’s not your true body, which is Cultivation Level Three of Dongxuan!”

Qingzhi burst into laughter—but before she finished a few words, Wei Lingjiang clamped a hand over her mouth.

Then, a streak of blue light also shot skyward, heading likewise toward the southwest.

Jiyan Island.

Crowds bustled everywhere.

Before a large fish stall,

Chen Hang, having wandered for some time, suddenly halted, his gaze fixed on a scaleless white fish.

He had merely scanned the surroundings unconsciously with Mahāshengmi Guangding.

Yet he hadn’t expected—

to see this thing.

[Superior Dao Art: Primordial Solar Divine Light]—

The scaleless white fish swam freely in the living water; even with embryonic breathing, its entire body was purely flesh and bone, with no trace of anything unusual.

Yet clearly—

“Sir, you’ve been staring a long time—are you buying this fish? This is a Baisha Spirit Fish—its flesh is the most tender and delicious, with hardly any bones.”

At that moment, the stall owner—a young man just sprouting a beard—came over, lifting the fish from the water:

“If you want it, just half a talisman coin!”

Meanwhile,

on the other side,

Wei Lingjiang held a rusted iron pot, her expression dazed.

“This—”

“This pot was left by my late wife; they say it was once a talisman artifact with two sealing runes—now it’s useless!”

The pot’s owner was an old man with white hair; he set down his pipe, grinning with yellow teeth:

“If you’re sincere, half a talisman coin and it’s yours!”

“Isn’t the price too low?”

Wei Lingjiang hesitated.

For a moment, she felt a strange impression—as if the old man’s manner while speaking resembled a senior from her own sect?

But the feeling came and went swiftly; even Wei Lingjiang didn’t dwell on it.

“Not low, not low!”

The old man grinned again: “I only sell this to those with destiny!”