Chapter Seventy-Four: The Marrow Refining Realm

Chapter Seventy-Four: The Marrow-Refining Realm

The conjectures made by Wu Hong and the Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons were enough to frighten anyone. The old man was extremely excited, for although these were only speculations, combined with what Wu Hong had witnessed in the Visionary Realm, there was a great chance they were true.

The Old Man of Ten Thousand Poisons had roamed the martial world for many years, yet he had always been stuck at the peak of the Postnatal stage, unable to break through, all because he carried unresolved burdens in his heart. He had never known whether the legends were real. But today, during his conversation with Wu Hong, a knot in his heart began to loosen, and he sensed the faint trace of a breakthrough.

Wu Hong, however, was not so concerned about the existence of the Innate Realm. What troubled him was the possibility that, should his father ascend to the Innate Realm, would he still be able to return to this world? So long as his father could come back, all his grievances would melt away, and the shadowy forces that had plotted against him would surface at last.

Yet even now, Wu Hong could not determine who truly caused his father's death. Was it Lady Zhao? She was certainly suspicious. Was it the imposter Wu Hong? He too seemed suspect. Yet Lady Zhao had treated him rather well since childhood. Given his own lackluster talents at the time, it was only because of his father's love for his mother that he was even considered as heir to the throne; even so, that was barely justifiable.

But was that really the reason? Lady Zhao had always looked after the Prince of Martial Might with great care, meekly accepting every hardship. Wu Hong grew ever more perplexed.

As the two discussed the mysteries of the Innate Realm, dawn approached, almost without their noticing.

"Old Sir, it’s probably not safe here anymore! I’m being hunted by a group from the mountain. I need to find a place to hide for a while," Wu Hong said.

"Very well! As for rescuing my disciple, Ruolan, you need not trouble yourself—I'll handle it my own way," the old man replied with an enigmatic chuckle, his expression somewhat sinister, which sent a chill down Wu Hong’s spine.

Wu Hong thought to himself that this old man was no ordinary figure. Not only had he reached the peak of the Postnatal stage, but his reputation as the Master of Ten Thousand Poisons was well-earned. If given the chance to use his toxins, who knew how many would fall victim?

Seeing Wu Hong hesitate, the old man said, "Don’t worry about me. No one in the martial world knows of my relationship with Li Ruolan. They won’t dare touch me. Besides, I’m not someone who can be trifled with."

Wu Hong said no more, but offered a deep bow, sincere and heartfelt. The old man had braved countless dangers to save his disciple—though he spoke lightly, not a soul on Blackwood Cliff was a weakling.

Wu Hong wanted dearly to ask what kind of person his senior disciple, Lady Zhao, truly was, but in the end, he kept the question to himself.

After parting ways with the old man, Wu Hong sought out the most secluded cliffs and precipices, heading toward natural barriers that would protect him. Arriving at a towering cliff a thousand feet high, he was delighted—this place was nearly impossible for an ordinary searcher to find. Even if one stumbled upon it, climbing the sheer face would be almost impossible, for it was surrounded on all sides by a great lake and hemmed in by the dense Blackwood Forest. Even should an expert arrive, scaling this cliff was all but unthinkable. And if a rare few managed to climb so high, Wu Hong, positioned above, could dispatch as many as came.

Satisfied, Wu Hong flashed forward, his feet skimming across the water. With each step, waves surged high into the air. Most martial artists of great skill could run briefly atop the water, but the feat had strict limits; the moment their vital breath ran out, they would sink. Wu Hong, however, had never learned any formal lightness skills—he relied purely on his own might, pounding the lake surface with such force that waves billowed out on either side, killing who knows how many fish and shrimp.

Kun Kun, meanwhile, dove into the water, transforming into a flat, monstrous fish, swimming at high speed—sometimes even snatching up the fish and shrimp drawn near by Wu Hong’s passage.

Soon, Wu Hong reached the foot of the mountain rising from the center of the lake. Though not as tall as the mountains in the Book of Heaven’s miniature world, it was a natural fortress. Without pausing, Wu Hong began to climb with astonishing speed, reaching a massive boulder halfway up in the blink of an eye. With a flick, he drew his razor-sharp butcher’s knife. Though this blade had tasted the blood of countless cattle and should have exuded a murderous aura, both the butcher’s hammer and this knife had changed as Wu Hong’s cultivation advanced. Now, instead of a sinister chill, the blade gleamed with a soft golden light, radiating a faint yellow halo. Though a weapon of slaughter, it seemed almost sacred.

Wu Hong swung the knife lightly, infusing it with a trace of true energy. As the blade touched the smooth stone, it made a sound like tearing paper, slicing through the rock with the ease of cutting tofu.

With deft movements, Wu Hong carved out a sizeable cave halfway up the mountain, golden light flashing in the air with each pass. He avoided using his hammer for fear the noise would draw unwanted attention.

His purpose was clear: before Xiao Dongfang could gather every hero and foe in the martial world at Blackwood Cliff, he must strengthen himself further and reach the Marrow-Refining Realm.

At this level, one’s true energy could leave the body and the physical form could be tempered by the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, greatly increasing strength. Blackwood Cliff was already swarming with the best martial artists, many at the peak of the Postnatal stage and advanced in the Marrow-Refining Realm. Wu Hong could handle five or six such experts at once, but only just. If his true energy grew deeper still, things would be different.

It was said that advancing from the Bone-Refining to the Marrow-Refining Realm increased one’s true energy tenfold. If Wu Hong hadn’t already discovered the method to break through, that would be one thing. But now that he knew, he was determined to push his power as high as possible, so he could rescue Li Ruolan with unwavering confidence.

Wu Hong first performed the nineteen movements of the Great Sun Tathagata’s True Sutra. Once his body was fully restored, he sat cross-legged and began practicing the Golden Vajra Palm’s secret art. Originally, he had thought the nineteen movements would be useless after reaching the Bone-Refining stage, but he had underestimated the Sutra’s mystical power. Even at his current level, the regimen continued to strengthen his physical form with every practice.

Wu Hong closed his eyes, appearing to doze, his hands forming a lotus seal as true energy flowed steadily through his meridians, casting a sacred glow around him.

Suddenly, he unleashed his energy, golden light surging hundreds of yards outward, so tangible that it instantly shook loose the boulders at the cave’s mouth.

He began compressing his true energy, drawing the vast golden radiance back into his body, its brightness only intensifying. The tremendous energy fluctuations nearly brought the entire cave down. Kun Kun, ever vigilant, formed a protective dome around Wu Hong with his small body, deflecting the falling rocks.

Wu Hong was oblivious to all this. In the depths of cultivation, the slightest disturbance could be disastrous—a blow to the head might not kill him, but it could easily throw his energies into chaos.

He had entered a subtle, wondrous state, all self-awareness vanished, his aura fluctuating wildly—at times stretching for hundreds of yards, at times flickering uncertainly.

Kun Kun watched with unblinking eyes, maintaining the protective shield.

Thus Wu Hong meditated for more than ten days without food or water, as the day of reckoning approached.

On Blackwood Cliff, more and more experts gathered under Xiao Dongfang’s summons. Even the Crown Prince, Yang Wei, had arrived at the mountain’s base with ten thousand imperial guards, intent on killing Wu Hong with his own hands.

Blackwood Cliff had long since reached its capacity for people. There were simply too many with scores to settle against the imposter Wu Hong.

Yang Wei, acting on Emperor Yang Guang’s orders, had come because of persistent rumors that Wu Hong had been involved with the emperor’s two newest concubines. The most absurd part was that Emperor Yang Guang, cuckolded, had never even met these two women before! Chosen for their beauty from the common people, they had risen through the palace ranks, yet supposedly had become involved with the imposter Wu Hong before the emperor himself—a scandal of the highest order.

On the vast plaza atop Blackwood Cliff, large enough to hold hundreds of thousands, the most prominent figures of the martial world and representatives of the imperial court stood upon a raised platform.

In their midst stood Xiao Dongfang, tall and commanding. In a little more than a year, she had risen meteorically in the martial world, now the chief instigator of the campaign against the demon Wu Hong. Though others by her side held far higher status, it was she who had summoned them all, and thus none disputed her place at the center of the stage.