Chapter 408

"The Heart Doctrine truly has vast wealth and boldness!"

Inside the room, Li Yuan toyed with the gold ingot—it was a substantial windfall.

But thinking of the materials needed to advance the Command Scroll, his mood soured slightly.

To elevate the Command Scroll to the ninth rank, one needs five thousand jin of raw gold, three thousand liang of crimson gold, three hundred liang of refined gold, and one liang of hundred-gold essence!

"Converted, the gold and crimson gold amount to eighty thousand liang of gold—barely over twenty liang of refined gold."

Li Yuan calculated in his mind: this windfall, plus the refined gold he had saved earlier, was nearly sufficient—only one liang of hundred-gold essence remained lacking for the Command Scroll's advancement.

"This stuff is expensive!"

Li Yuan pondered inwardly.

Refined gold can be used to forge famed weapons and divine arms, its value high, yet it can still be extracted from ordinary gold—expensive, yes, but not truly rare.

But hundred-gold essence is a celestial treasure.

Only the largest gold mines might produce one or two liang of it; so far, he had seen it only in the hands of Old Master Nie, who used it to forge supreme divine arms.

"To get him to give me one liang, I'd have to help him forge that Pure Yang Sword!"

Li Yuan shook his head inwardly: forging divine arms is difficult enough, let alone supreme ones—even the Four Divine Forgers, working together after long planning, might not succeed in producing Old Master Nie's Pure Yang Sword.

"With my current forging skill, I couldn't manage it."

Li Yuan had a clear sense of his own position: "First, forge my half-finished divine arm, then see how the Four Divine Forgers are progressing."

Wan Chuan and the others had been forging for nearly a month; during this time, he hadn't been idle—he'd used Old Master Nie's materials to forge a prototype of a divine arm.

If not for the recent flurry of affairs, he'd have completed it already.

But he knew well: for ordinary divine arms, he had good confidence; for supreme divine arms—

"If I could master the Art of Refining Treasures, I'd have some chance."

Recalling the essence of the Art of Refining Treasures, Li Yuan shook his head: though the technique wasn't obscure by his standards, actually entering it was utterly impossible.

The reason? He lacked a Spiritual Form.

"Legends say some gifted individuals, through rare fortune, Ningju a Spiritual Form before initiation—but even those cases usually occur only after blood transformation."

Body and qi unite, qi and spirit unite, spirit and heart unite—only then can form combine and transform into a Spiritual Form. Without blood transformation, even supreme talent cannot achieve it.

Li Yuan understood this clearly.

"After marrow refinement, perhaps I could try?"

Closing the door, Li Yuan sat cross-legged on the bed, his thoughts drifting—not cultivating, but visualizing the Split-Sea Mystic Whale Diagram to adjust his state.

Before sunset, Li Yuan sensed footsteps—he rose and opened the door. It was Long Yunfeng: "Yunfeng Senior Brother!"

"Li Junior Brother, Master has sent me to notify you."

Long Yunfeng said.

"Thank you, Senior Brother."

Li Yuan was already prepared—he picked up his hammer and followed them to the Dragon-Tiger Tower.

As evening approached, most of the crowd outside the Dragon-Tiger Tower had dispersed; only a few remained, attempting the tower not for ranking, but to hone their martial skills.

The Dragon-Tiger Tower was an excellent training ground; unless the Dao Trials were held, ordinary inner disciples had no access to it.

"Lost again."

Ba Wanli pushed open the door, his massive frame swaying—he had expended too much strength. He glanced at the stone stele covered in names, and his inner turmoil vanished.

If he couldn't leave his name on it, what was the point of coming here?

Almost immediately after, Fang Bao emerged, also unsteady on his feet, but his face beamed with joy.

"You—you passed?"

Seeing his smile, Ba Wanli's eyes widened; when Fang Bao nodded, his heart sank.

"Divine Arm Valley, Fang Bao, cleared Tower Level One."

The announcer's voice rang out; a few people outside the tower turned to look.

"Fang Bao."

Yue Zhongtian, standing before Level Two, was surprised—he was half a fellow townsman and nearby, so he immediately bowed in thanks.

The feud between Fire Dragon Temple and Divine Arm Valley had quietly faded, thanks to Li Yuan's rising fame—at least on the surface.

"I owe you thanks, Yue Senior Brother."

Fang Bao smiled in return.

"Thank me?"

Yue Zhongtian froze, then his face darkened: "You—"

"Indeed, the guardian this time was none other than Yue Senior Brother. Fang merely got lucky."

Fang Bao's smile wouldn't fade—even though he'd only cleared Level One, his name was now on the Dragon-Tiger Stele, and he was delighted.

"You—"

Yue Zhongtian felt a tightness in his chest, about to lash out—when he saw Li Yuan striding over. He shuddered, then forced a smile:

"With your talent and martial skill, surpassing me is only natural!"

"Why don't I have such luck?"

Ba Wanli's face turned black, his chest aching with frustration—this hurt more than another defeat: "I'll try again."

With a roar, Ba Wanli turned and charged back into the Dragon-Tiger Tower.

"Fang Senior Brother cleared Level One?"

Li Yuan's hearing was sharp—he heard the announcement from afar and turned to see Ba Wanli's back, as if spurred on.

"Junior Brother!"

Fang Bao came forward, while Yue Zhongtian bowed respectfully, addressing him as "Senior Uncle," then stepped back silently.

"Ah."

Before Li Yuan could speak, a loud cry rang out—Ba Wanli had been kicked out of the tower again, even more clumsily than before.

This time he couldn't even stand—he nearly fell flat had Li Yuan not reacted swiftly.

"Why is my luck so terrible?"

Ba Wanli was seething.

"Who did you face?"

Fang Bao asked cheerfully.

Ba Wanli's face was as dark as soot; he pointed off into the distance. Li Yuan turned and saw several large monks escorting an old monk hurrying over.

"You ran into Monk Kong?"

Fang Bao couldn't help but laugh and sigh.

With the preliminary trials underway, the number of names on the Dragon-Tiger Stele had tripled; there were many like Yue Zhongtian who had only cleared Level One.

Yet this giant had terrible luck—every time he faced a strong opponent—

He lost miserably.

"That monk's martial skill is extremely high!"

Ba Wanli looked wary; lately, with the spiritual pills from Gongyang Yu and constant tower attempts, he believed his martial progress had been substantial.

Yet he hadn't even blocked one strike from that fat monk…

"Senior Brother, don't rush. Once your meridians are fully opened, you'll surely clear Level One."

Li Yuan realized he wasn't good at comforting people—Ba Wanli's expression didn't improve at all.

"I'll try again."

After shoving a few pills into his mouth, Ba Wanli scowled and charged back into the Dragon-Tiger Tower.

"Fang Senior Brother, the Dao Master has summoned me to the tower. When I have time, I'll come find you for a chat."

Li Yuan heard the Dao Master's voice and bowed farewell to Fang Bao.

After clearing Level One, Fang Bao was quite satisfied; he nodded and moved to the massive stele to search for his name.

The latter, having reached the first level, felt quite satisfied; upon hearing this, he nodded and moved closer to the giant stele, searching for his name.

A disciple of the Heart Doctrine pointed at Li Yuan's retreating back as he entered the tower, introducing him to Elder Da Ming.

"At first glance, he seems ordinary."

The old monk appeared half-blind, but his eyesight was sharp—he had spotted Li Yuan from afar, yet

He well understood that one cannot judge a person by appearance.

"Dragon-Tiger Temple hides dragons and tigers—a two-thousand-year Dao sect, its depth is truly profound!"

Elder Da Ming sighed inwardly, halted his steps, and his gaze fell on the nearby betting stall—he felt a sudden itch: "This boy's odds are so low, betting on him is useless—I should bet on someone else… Huh? One to ninety-nine? Who is this Ba Wanli?"

Old Master Daming sighed inwardly, halted his steps, and his gaze involuntarily fell on the open betting board; he couldn't help but feel a itch in his fingers: "With such low odds on this kid, even if he wins, it's useless—I should bet on someone else… Huh? One to ninety-nine? Who's this Eighty-Thousand-Li?"

Several large monks turned pale and grabbed his sleeve: "Ba Wanli's a troublemaker. Yesterday he saw Monk Kong bet on himself and, with a scowl, bet on himself too…"

"Dragon-Tiger Temple doesn't play fair!"

The old monk glanced at Monk Kong, who had clasped his hands and recited sutras all the way—he had sworn off gambling.

"Senior Uncle, big gambling harms the body!"

Monk Kong sighed.

"To gamble big, one must have something to bet with—old monk has not even one liang of refined gold left!"

The old monk sighed too—he understood betting odds well; such high odds must be fake, but Dragon-Tiger Temple was too cunning—Li Yuan at one-to-one, betting on him was pointless!

The old monk also sighed; he understood betting boards well—such high odds must be fake. But the Dragon-Tiger Temple was too cunning: Li Yuan at one-to-one odds? Betting on him was a waste of money!

"Big gambling harms the body!"

Monk Liaokong urged again!

"Shut up."

Monk Daming glared at him, hesitated slightly, then pulled out a stack of gold notes from his robe and slapped them onto the table without looking:

"Fifty thousand taels of gold, on Liaokong."

"Master Li, you—"

Liaokong's scalp prickled!

The old monk gasped: "Bet on him third!"

"Third?"

Lin Kai, seeing the group of big monks, felt a sense of familiarity; hearing this, he paused slightly, then accepted: "Liaokong Master third, odds two to one—Master, are you truly placing this bet?"

"I am."

The old monk didn't stutter once, glancing at his junior monks: "Place your bets, but don't go tattling."

"Two to one?"

Several big monks were tempted; only Liaokong frowned deeply, his heart burning with anger—Long Xinglie looked down on him too much!

Could he not even hold third place?

Li Yuan? He might be too strong… but Long Xinglie isn't necessarily my match, let alone anyone else. Third place, two to one—the Buddha will win for sure.

Liaokong quickly calculated in his mind and immediately pulled out a stack of gold notes to bet: "Fifty thousand taels, on me."

Can a sure win even count as gambling?

"I bet too! I bet too!"

Seeing this, the other big monks didn't hesitate—they all placed their bets!

A walking treasure chest.

Watching the monks pouring bets onto the screen, Li Yuan on the fourteenth floor of the Longhu Tower found it both amusing and exasperating—these monks had too much of a gambling streak.

"This old monk's dharma name is Daming, Deputy Head of the Xinyi Sect. He ascended to Heavenly Gang over forty years ago, ranked twelfth on the Hero List. But in my view, his martial skill surpasses Xie Tong's!"