Chapter Seventy-Six: The First Whisper of Cultivation

“Would I dare do anything less than give my life in your service?” Haizhou immediately thumped his chest.

“Very well, come with me down the mountain to welcome our guest.”

Hu San rose and left the Lingxiao Hall atop the summit, with Haizhou closely following. Before long, they reached the foot of the mountain. Looking up, they saw Man Xin at the first checkpoint of the stronghold, accompanied by several commanders, speaking with a young cultivator.

Upon closer inspection, the youth had delicate features and appeared no more than thirty. He wore a pale blue Daoist robe adorned with countless droplets the size of elm seeds, which shimmered with a faint blue radiance, lending him an ethereal, otherworldly quality, as if untouched by mortal dust—a being apart from the world.

Across his back hung a sword sheath, within which a treasured sword rested at a slant. Though the blade remained hidden, just a glance at the hilt—carved with nine dragons coiling and chasing a crystal orb—hinted at its extraordinary nature. An aura of sharpness seemed to radiate from it, stabbing at the eyes of any who looked upon it, unconsciously making one’s breath catch.

On his feet were azure cloud boots. Though he walked among mountains, he bore himself as if strolling through a grand hall, his manner calm, his bearing transcendent, no wonder the bandits dared not slight him.

As soon as Hu San and Haizhou appeared, they drew the attention of the young man. His previously genial expression froze for a moment upon seeing Hu San, and a flicker of surprise crossed his face—plainly, he had not expected to encounter such a formidable presence in this remote wilderness.

This aura was not the cultivation of a martial artist, but the raw, powerful force that came from the successive evolution of a living being—something that might escape others, but not a cultivator, who was keenly attuned to such things.

In the young man’s estimation, Hu San’s aura was already incredibly strong, nearly that of a monster on the verge of forming a core. For the first time, his perpetual smile shifted, and something genuine crept into his demeanor.

“You must be the master of Wolfheart Mountain. My name is Chen Hai, eldest son of Chen Zhou, the late second master. Greetings, chief.”

The youth cupped his hands in respectful salute, acknowledging Hu San’s strength.

“So you are the son of an old friend! How rare, how fortunate. Since you have come to Wolfheart Mountain, treat this place as your home, make yourself at ease. As it happens, our new Lingxiao Hall has just been completed atop the peaks. Your arrival could not be more timely; let us go there to enjoy the scenery and converse.”

A single thought flashed through Hu San’s mind. Having cultivated his physical body to the strength of fifteen men, his senses were far keener than ordinary folk. To his perception, this youth was not the gentle scholar he appeared, but a beast poised to devour its prey—though he bared no fangs, he could not conceal his bloodthirsty nature.

“What a fierce young man. It seems I underestimated him before. If we fought head-on, my chances of victory would be less than thirty percent,” Hu San thought to himself, silently relieved that he had already made preparations.

“Haha, you are too kind, chief. I happen to have matters to discuss with you as well. In that case, I shall accept your hospitality.”

The youth did not refuse, nor did he show the slightest concern for his own safety. In his eyes, with cultivation at the fifth level of the Law-Gathering stage, what was a mortal bandit stronghold? Even a national army would be powerless to stop him.

“Please, after you.”

Hu San led the way, Chen Hai following. The two admired the scenery as they walked, exchanging stories of the mountains, and soon arrived at the newly built Lingxiao Hall.

From afar, a solitary peak leaned against a giant mountain, the larger peak like a great canopy, shielding the smaller from the north wind. To the south, the isolated peak overlooked an open sea of clouds, sunlight washing the mist in waves of gold. The cloud waves churned, sometimes revealing the bottomless abyss below, a yawning maw ready to swallow the world. The lone peak stood proud, and upon it, the hall was built, embracing the breathtaking landscape—a true seat among the clouds.

“A magnificent hall—it truly deserves the name Lingxiao,” Chen Hai exclaimed, even his well-traveled eye unable to conceal his admiration.

“Haha, it’s but a humble hall in the wilds. Shall we go inside?”

Hu San gestured invitingly.

“Then I shall intrude upon your hospitality.”

Chen Hai readily agreed. The group followed and soon entered the hall. Though not lavishly adorned, the interior was elegant and orderly, lacking fine carvings but arranged with a rugged grandeur.

Chen Hai voiced his praise again, and the company sat according to their ranks. Haizhou, remembering his tasks, excused himself under the pretext of preparing the banquet.

The rest took their leisure with tea, unconcerned by his absence.

After some time and pleasantries, Hu San finally broached the subject, “May I ask where you have been cultivating, nephew? I perceive an extraordinary aura about you—your cultivation must far surpass my own.”

“Haha, chief, I shall speak frankly. By great fortune, I possess a three-colored spiritual root and was thus accepted as a disciple into the Gentle Water Sect, one of the immortal sects. After ten years of cultivation, I have reached the fifth level of the Law-Gathering stage. Upon hearing of my father’s death, I received permission to come to Qilian Mountain and pay my respects as a son should.”

“An immortal sect? Nephew, what a stroke of fortune. I have heard tales that immortals can fly, vanish at will, and even achieve immortality. Does that mean you may expect to live forever?”

For once, Hu San’s even tone held a note of amazement, and more than a hint of envy. The others were equally stunned by the revelation.

“Entry into the immortal sect is easy, but the great Dao is hard to achieve. In our circles, there is a saying: ‘Though one joins the immortal sect, immortality is but a dream.’ Even flight and invisibility are the province of only the most powerful cultivators. For us, who have only scratched the surface, such feats are far beyond our reach.”

“But even so, that is an extraordinary accomplishment.”

Hu San sighed, privately flattering Chen Hai as he personally refilled his tea. After a pause, he ventured, “The ways of the immortal sect are shrouded in myth. I wonder how much is true, and how the realms of cultivation are divided—especially compared to martial artists. If it is not a secret, could you share some of this knowledge with us, to broaden our horizons?”

At these words, the other commanders eagerly joined in, their flattery and questions flowing without pause.

Though Chen Hai considered himself above them in status, he had been raised from youth in the ascetic life of the sect. His perception was keen from training, but he had never been the object of such open adulation. In the sect, his three-colored spiritual root was neither the best nor the worst, and had it not been for ancestral connections, he would not have been accepted as a disciple at all.

Moreover, Hu San’s formidable aura, no less than his own, made the flattery all the more pleasing to Chen Hai.

With a smile, he said, “Strictly speaking, these are secrets of our cultivation world, unknown to outsiders. However, the chief is not a stranger, and you are all good friends of my late father—there is no harm in sharing.”

“To speak of cultivation realms, there are many paths—some gather the power of the masses as in the imperial dynasties, some practice shamanic body refinement, and there are those like us, the immortal cultivators. The methods vary, yet the standard of measurement is the same.”

“It is known that the human body contains a dragon vein, hidden within the spine. No matter how the path winds, the ultimate goal is to open this dragon vein.”

“The first step is to open the Earth Gate. Once this is done, the cultivator can connect with the earth’s energy, commanding a sliver of heaven and earth’s power, and truly enters the path of cultivation. At this stage, one’s lifespan more than doubles, reaching three centuries.”

“Once the Earth Gate is open, the next possibility is to open the Heaven Gate. If that is accomplished, not only does power increase greatly, but lifespan extends to five hundred years.”

“When both Heaven and Earth Gates are open, the cultivator may attempt to open the Earth Window, granting a lifespan of over seven hundred years. Should one open the Heaven Window as well, legend has it that a thousand years of life are possible.”

“Of course, these are but legends. In the immortal sect, only those who have passed the Foundation Establishment within the Law-Gathering stage have any hope of opening the Earth Gate. If one fails to do so, they will remain stuck at Foundation Establishment their entire life.”

“To open the Heaven Gate requires the formation of one’s Golden Core—not the crude demon core of monsters, but a true core formed from heaven and earth. Only at this level can the Heaven Gate be opened. Without it, one can never progress to the next realm.”

“As for the Earth Window, only ancestors at the Nascent Soul stage can hope to open it. Such people stand at the very peak of the world. Even in my Gentle Water Sect, first among the Seven Kingdoms of Yulin, there is but one ancestor at the Heaven Gate, at the Golden Core stage.”

As he finished, not only the bandits but even Hu San was left dizzy by the complexities, and he interjected, “Nephew, may I ask: is it possible for a monster without a demon core to open the Earth Gate?”

“Absolutely impossible,” Chen Hai replied firmly, smiling. “The formation of the demon core is the foundation for opening the Earth Gate, just as Foundation Establishment is for us cultivators. The difference in power before and after opening the Earth Gate is vast.”

“Then, to what realm does a monster without a demon core correspond among cultivators?” Hu San pressed, genuinely curious about the black wolf he had slain.

“The Law-Gathering stage, the very realm I am in now—the lowest among cultivators. But even this lowest stage is beyond the reach of ordinary martial artists.”

“There are tales of shamans with foundational techniques similar to internal martial arts. Those who trained in such methods could match the Law-Gathering stage, but such practices are harsh and have long been eliminated, leaving only the common martial arts we see today.”

“In fact, martial artists likely arose as a byproduct of those foundational shamanic methods. This was not without merit—not only did it arm the common people, but it produced many martial artists, from whom shamans could select candidates for further body refinement, ensuring that their lineage would not die out.”

Chen Hai smiled, offering a measure of consolation to the martial artists among the assembled bandits.