Chapter 68: Never Let Go

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Although the entire Spirit Realm was rife with hidden currents on account of the impending tribulation of the Emperor Fu, as long as the Emperor yet lived, those undercurrents would never rise to the surface. Zhong Shenxiu continued to immerse himself in the study of his sword arts, and Chen Yang was no less diligent. Since forging the Formless Sword, he had advanced three stages in refining its essence, yet the further refinement of its form had stalled. The scarcity of spiritual materials in the lower realm had delayed his progress, and besides, what he possessed then had sufficed, so he had set the matter aside, no longer devoting effort to it.

Now, in the Spirit Realm, those materials once rare below were perfectly common. With only a few visits to fellow cultivators who too hailed from the lower realm, Chen Yang managed to gather all the necessary ingredients for the second and third refinements. Watching his master refine a flying sword, seeing the Formless Sword shift between presence and absence—at one moment dazzling with myriad colors, and at the next, vanishing altogether—Zhong Shenxiu stood by, deep in thought.

After an indeterminate span, Zhong’s face suddenly lit up, as if he had unraveled some crucial mystery. Without hesitation, he dispersed all the spiritual essences bound within the Hundred Spirits Slaying Immortal Sword he had forged. Chen Yang watched, baffled, uncertain what new whim had overtaken his disciple. Zhong inhaled deeply, drawing in the scattered spirits, and only the pure, refined sword energy, tempered over many years, flowed into his mouth like a school of fish.

His previously pure and untainted primordial qi began to transform, and a sharp sword aura emanated from his body. With this, he rebuilt his foundation, sensed the flow of power, and started refining his qi anew; aided by his abundant primordial energy, the process was completed in a single breath. The primordial qi was transformed into a sword-like talismanic radiance, coursing through his body, opening all three hundred and sixty-five acupoints one by one.

Hundreds of streams of refined sword light, shifting between presence and absence, danced about his body. Yet Zhong Shenxiu’s cultivation did not advance but instead regressed, falling back to the stage of Qi Refinement. Seeing this, Chen Yang could only sigh; leaving the unfinished Formless Sword where it was, he swept his sleeve and enveloped his disciple in a beam of light, soaring into the sky.

Sweeping the land with his spiritual sense, he sought a place deep within the earth’s crust. With a handful of grand five-element divine light needles and a thunderous strike, he blasted open a chasm a thousand fathoms deep, from which streams of baleful yin energy surged forth.

As he cast his disciple down, a sudden thought struck him, and he left the two Divine Magnet Mountains he had acquired in the past as well, before returning to his abode.

Zhong Shenxiu was the one disciple Chen Yang had deemed worthy at a single glance, yet now he seemed more trouble than he was worth. Still, perhaps this was as it should be—there was no reason a disciple must always fall short of his master. If Zhong could truly forge a path of his own, his future would be boundless.

While Zhong Shenxiu devised his own sword arts and began anew the cultivation of baleful energy and astral force, Chen Yang returned to his quiet courtyard to continue refining the Formless Sword.

Unlike the Yuan Tu, which could steadily grow stronger by gathering murderous intent, the Formless Sword—being the consummate flying sword of the True School—required a far more intricate and arduous process. Even with Chen Yang’s formidable power, it was uncertain whether the sword could be refined through nine stages before he attained celestial immortality, let alone complete the final merging of form and essence.

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Yet, compared to the ultimate weapon of slaughter that was the Yuan Tu, the Formless Sword was not an instrument of killing, but a tool of cultivation. Its mystery lay elsewhere; the act of refining it was itself a form of cultivation, a means of verifying one’s understanding of the Dao.

Now, many subtle details within the Formless Sword Qi techniques of the Supreme Purity School, previously overlooked, began to surface in his mind, deepening Chen Yang’s comprehension of the art.

The Daoist methods of Shu Mountain had been developed to a remarkably high degree. Though their cultivation paths were intricate and demanding, once mastered, they were nearly without flaw, and all manner of divine abilities and spells could be summoned at will, requiring no special training.

For this reason, though the struggle between Daoists and demonic cultivators on Shu Mountain was fierce, Emei still maintained the upper hand.

Yet, to eliminate a single enemy often demanded intricate scheming, the deliberate erosion of the foe’s fortune, and sometimes the painstaking creation of treasures specifically tailored to counter them, all in conjunction with the power of heaven and earth, to ensure nothing could go awry.

This was because, among those who bore a name on Shu Mountain, nearly all were cunning old foxes, their methods endlessly inventive. Even if your power exceeded theirs tenfold or a hundredfold, and you seemed to obliterate them utterly, you might only be playing into their hands, unwittingly giving them a chance to wipe clean their reputation.

Take, for instance, the infamous Three Phoenixes of the Purple Cloud Palace; even Emei would wait for them to exhaust their own fortune before striking. As for other veteran demons, which one of them did not command countless tricks?

Consider the Green Robed Ancestor—much-vaunted though he was, he barely ranked within the Demon Sect, yet still required elaborate plotting to bring down. Even the Blissful Master, a Golden Immortal, had to intervene once, ultimately deploying a simplified version of the Two Principles Dust Array to finally destroy him.

For reasons such as these, Chen Yang had never expected Emei to act so recklessly—bringing the full version of the Two Principles Dust Array to West Kunlun, deploying what was arguably Shu Mountain’s foremost demon-subduing weapon, and severing all his avenues of retreat.

It was truly vexing.

The Daoist arts of Shu Mountain, refined and transmitted through generations, had been perfected by countless sovereigns and sages. To confront Emei directly, relying only on the original methods of Shu Mountain, was not impossible, but it was an undertaking of the utmost difficulty.

Though the likes of Qi Shuming and his peers were formidable, Chen Yang did not fear them. But the founder of Emei, the Venerable Longbrow, was truly a figure beyond compare.

Longbrow was one of the rare few on Shu Mountain whose every action spelled doom for even the oldest demons and Golden Immortals, dispatching them to dust with a single stroke.

In the era when Longbrow was still at large, all demons lay low before Shu Mountain; the likes of the Stone God Palace Lord, the Old Demon of Iron Fortress Mountain, the Lord of Celestial Lust, the Dharma King of Xuanyuan, and the Elder of Kshapa—all were left in utter dread.

Even many senior monks and nuns of the Buddhist sects, those who had attained the rank of Arhat or Bodhisattva, counted for little before the founder of Emei.

Before Longbrow, no matter how fearsome a demon, they became docile as kittens.

Had the fate of those old demons not yet run its course, and had they not foreseen the impending decline of the age of immortals—a time that would never see the rise of the Three Heroes and Two Clouds—Longbrow alone, with sword in hand, could have swept the world clean of demons.

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Only those who had truly lived through the era of Venerable Longbrow could comprehend just how terrifying and awe-inspiring was this figure, renowned as the foremost Golden Immortal since time immemorial.

Chen Yang had been fortunate, arriving just as Longbrow’s era drew to its close.

At times, Chen Yang himself felt a sense of hopelessness. Despite his bluster, had he remained embroiled on Shu Mountain, even if he managed to unite the Demon Sect and face Emei head-on, the outcome would likely have been grim.

Yet he could not swallow his anger, nor could he forget the agony of his master, the Primal Ancestor, who had wailed in torment for seven days and nights, begging his disciples to annihilate his very soul.

Thus, even knowing the end would not be favorable, he was determined to oppose Emei to the last.

But now things were different. Having come to this new world, and unable to cultivate Primal Qi due to circumstance, Chen Yang had no choice but to embrace the path of the demonic, much as the Primal Ancestor had first pursued the demonic path before turning to the Dao.

Only, his affinity for the demonic far surpassed that of the Primal Ancestor, and his understanding was deeper still.

After nurturing his inner demon to its utmost, he entered and overcame it, thus fully comprehending the Primal Path.

Thereafter, he set a new course for cultivation, creating a unique method of Pure Yang unity.

This amounted to breaking new ground apart from the Daoist heritage of Shu Mountain, forging a new tradition, and becoming a founder in his own right.

It was only at this point that Chen Yang truly felt confident that, upon his return, he could contend with Emei, with Longbrow, and with all the immortals who stood behind them.

His goal had never changed, nor had he ever let go of his resentment.

Call it obsession, call it demonic possession!

Whether he cultivated the Dao or embraced the demonic, it was all the same.

Such was he—already beyond all change.