Chapter 16: From Demonic Ways to the Dao, the Supreme Treasure of Pure Yang

When faced with the backlash of myriad demons, whether you respond with weakness and fear or try to suppress them with force—so long as you take them seriously, you have already fallen into the demons’ trap. On the contrary, if you act as if they do not exist, then all the demons are powerless against you. These demons, though known as such, are in truth nothing more than thoughts arising from within oneself.

In the blink of an eye, a year passed and the demonic backlash had long since subsided. The demonic tendencies in Chen Yang gradually faded, replaced by a flourishing Daoist resolve. His very bearing changed dramatically, shifting from unpredictable and aggressive to serene and gentle.

This transformation was not limited to his temperament—his supreme demonic treasure, the Primordial Celestial Demon Banner, underwent an even more remarkable change. Once obviously sinister and evil, the banner now shimmered with colorful clouds, streams of yin and yang energy cascading down, and even the once-blood-red, fiendish incantations now gleamed with golden light. The deities and spirits within the banner had taken on the forms of golden-armored divine generals. Even in this world, or if brought to Mount Shu, few except the most eminent Daoist immortals or resident arhats of the Buddhist and Daoist orders could discern any connection between this banner and the demonic path.

Of course, all this was but appearance. The true essence was that, with his deepening understanding of the Nine Heavens Mysterious Canon, Chen Yang’s insight into the demonic path had grown even more profound. As for why studying a Daoist scripture would advance his knowledge of the demonic way, one would have to ask the founder of the Dao himself. Perhaps, just maybe, there truly were Primordial Heavenly Demons and Supreme Celestial Demons. Or perhaps, whether Daoist, Buddhist, or demonic, all paths ultimately converge upon the same origin—pursuing that first “One” or “Nothingness,” or what is simply called “the Dao.”

“It still won’t do,” Chen Yang muttered, withdrawing from his mystical cultivation, deep in thought.

Now, his body was utterly devoid of vitality; only through the miraculous power of his primordial spirit could he act as if nothing were amiss. No matter how cultivation methods change, they all follow the grand framework: refining essence into qi, qi into spirit, spirit into emptiness, and emptiness into union with the Dao. The demonic path’s focus on thoughts and intentions may seem wondrous, but when it comes down to practice, everything depends on magical force as the foundation. Only with magical force as the medium can one perform all manner of miraculous demonic arts. Otherwise, it would be nothing but a castle in the air. Unless one could cultivate to the point of creating worlds with a single thought, then such limitations would not matter—but that realm is far beyond anything he can hope for now.

After entering the Dao from the demonic path, I can already convert yin demonic force into Daoist magical force. But if I wish to return from death to life, I must kindle pure yang within. Yet, to do so, I must cultivate pure yang magical force—a power possessed only by true celestial immortals, and not those who merely have the power but lack the true attainment.

“This really is a dead end,” Chen Yang sighed. “Gaining celestial magical force might be possible if I sacrificed every cultivator in this realm, but how would I acquire true celestial attainment?”

With a long sigh, Chen Yang rose from his secluded chamber, intending to take a walk and clear his mind.

It was early morning, just as the sun rose. Sunlight poured down, and though his body was devoid of life, the rays brought an illusory sense of warmth. Dew on the roadside flowers and grass shrank and vanished before his eyes, and the plants, bathed in sunlight, shed their languor and began to stretch and unfold.

A sudden thought struck Chen Yang as he gazed blankly at the thriving plants and trees. “Chen Yang, oh Chen Yang, you pride yourself on your intelligence, yet fail to understand such a simple principle? If you could borrow magical force from the demonic path, why do you ignore the greatest pure yang treasure hanging in the sky?”

Right there, he sat down cross-legged, turning his demonic force into Daoist magical force, visualizing the great sun in his mind. Strands of true solar fire were drawn down, entering his organs through his nostrils. It was like pouring cold water onto a pan of hot oil: in an instant, the protective magical force around his body sizzled under the true fire, and his heart, which had not beaten for over a year, gave a resounding thump.

A mouthful of black blood, streaked with golden flames, spurted out.

“It works! It really works!” His laughter echoed through the mountains, carrying for a hundred miles.

Though the sun is the supreme pure yang treasure, it is so powerful that Chen Yang dared only to draw down a few wisps of true solar fire each dawn, when it is at its gentlest, to slowly nourish his body. Though this could not restore him overnight, with steady perseverance for seven or eight years, he would regain the first trace of vitality. Once that was achieved, everything else would fall into place.

On this day, as Chen Yang sat atop the mountain, drawing in the essence of the morning sun to restore his body, Xu the Fat stood respectfully ten zhang away, waiting.

After about a quarter of an hour, the sun had fully risen. Chen Yang slowly concluded his practice, exhaling a breath of hot air.

“What is it?” he asked.

Xu the Fat hurried forward, bowing deeply. “Master, the Baohua Trade Fair will begin in half a month.”

The Baohua Trade Fair was the greatest auction and marketplace on Baohua Continent, held once every thirty years. It was jointly organized by the Four Seas Guild, the Seven Immortal Alliance, the Nine Provinces Chamber of Commerce, and several other major associations. At each fair, many rare treasures appear—items seldom seen in ordinary times, including supreme spiritual treasures and even materials that have aged ten thousand years.

As for the main ingredients of the Pure Yang Elixir, more than a dozen principal herbs were still unaccounted for, and Chen Yang had long since given up hope. Now that he had found another solution, he cared even less, almost forgetting about this grand event—the continent’s foremost gathering for cultivators.

“The primary effect of the Pure Yang Elixir isn’t to restore the body to life; that’s merely incidental. Its true purpose is to help the primordial spirit refine away shadowy residue and to deepen one’s Daoist power. Though I may not need it now, when I eventually rebuild my primordial spirit, the elixir will be a tremendous help. If I can gather even one more main ingredient, it would be worthwhile. Besides, it’s time I prepared to forge a true flying sword.”

With these thoughts, Chen Yang nodded. “Understood. Make the necessary preparations—we’ll depart in half a month.”

Xu the Fat nodded in assent, about to take his leave. Suddenly, as if remembering something, he bowed again and said, “Congratulations, Master, on your great advancement in magical power. May you soon attain immortality and enjoy everlasting blessings.”

Indeed, after these days of nourishing himself with the sun’s true fire, Chen Yang’s complexion had improved greatly; he looked rosy and bright, had grown taller, and now resembled a youth of fourteen or fifteen rather than twelve or thirteen.

Having found a new path to restore and strengthen his body, and with his demonic nature receding and his Daoist resolve emerging, his mood was excellent. No longer was he as prickly and harsh as before, regarding everyone as little more than raw materials.

However, for him, achieving immortality was not such a difficult task—the fat man’s flattery was rather wasted. Chen Yang merely smiled and nodded, accepting the goodwill, then waved his hand. “That’s enough. Go and make the preparations.”

“As you command, Master, I take my leave.”