Chapter Nineteen: Pretending to Be Supernatural, Driving the Tiger to Devour the Wolf

Fang Zheng carefully examined the condition within his body, naturally discovering the situation inside his Purple Palace Qi Sea. Upon seeing this, he felt more surprise and delight than anything else. To think that his moment of insight during the day had actually allowed his cultivation to step into a new realm—Core Condensation!

By now, Fang Zheng already understood the precise divisions of cultivation realms. For a cultivator, the first step was to sense spiritual energy and then attempt to absorb it. However, at this stage, the amount of spiritual energy one could absorb was extremely limited. Only through continuous accumulation could the absorbed spiritual energy gradually nourish the Purple Palace within, until it reached a certain threshold and the Dantian Qi Sea could be conceived. Afterward, one had to continue accumulating energy until enough was gathered, then break through the Dragon Gate. Once the Dragon Gate was opened, spiritual energy could form a simple cycle within the body, thereby enhancing the speed of absorption. At this point, one could be considered to have truly stepped onto the path of cultivation. Most people could reach this stage as long as they possessed the appropriate cultivation methods—the only difference lay in the speed of progress.

However, the first major challenge faced afterward was the Celestial Gate. "Once the Celestial Gate is opened, immortality follows." This old saying in the cultivation world illustrated just how crucial the Celestial Gate was for those seeking the Immortal Path. Opening the Celestial Gate required an even greater amount of spiritual energy, and it was during this process that differences in one’s natural endowment—bone structure and innate talent—became most apparent. Someone with superior bone structure could absorb several dozen times more spiritual energy in a single day than someone less gifted. Even their capacity for storing spiritual energy differed vastly. To use a simple analogy, a person with good bone structure was like a sturdy basin placed under a fully opened tap; it would naturally fill quickly. Conversely, a person with poor bone structure was like a leaky basin under a slowly dripping tap. That was why so many people spent their entire lives unable to pass this threshold.

Between the Dragon Gate and the Celestial Gate, there was another vital process: nourishing the Purple Palace Qi Sea. The newly formed Purple Palace was like an infant, requiring constant nurturing by the cultivator to gradually grow stronger. Once the Dragon Gate was opened and the internal cycle formed, the Purple Palace matured from an infant to a youth. Although the rate of spiritual energy absorption increased at this stage, the "youthful" Purple Palace’s appetite also grew, and only by drawing in spiritual energy from the outside world faster than it was consumed could the cultivator continue to foster its growth—until it matured and conceived an "inner core," thus entering Core Condensation! Fang Zheng felt this process resembled a cycle of life’s inheritance: from infant to youth to adulthood, then producing offspring to continue the lineage.

Fang Zheng was now in this very process of "gestating the core." To him, it was akin to a mother carrying a child for ten months, waiting for the moment when the fruit would ripen. Though, for a grown man like himself, this metaphor felt somewhat odd.

Time always passed quickly. By the time Fang Zheng had sorted out the state of his body and completed his daily cultivation routine, it was already deep into the night. On this fifteenth night, the full moon hung bright and round in the sky, casting its radiance over the quiet hills and fields, adding a touch of desolation to the serene wilds. Even the sounds of insects seemed barely audible. Fang Zheng felt a trace of melancholy. Was the moon here the same as the one on Earth?

Traveling was always somewhat tedious. Even the beautiful scenery along the way lost its novelty after being seen so many times. The weather was gradually growing hotter, and the midday sun was already quite fierce. The caravan’s guards were all drenched in sweat, and that odd old Taoist was cursing under his breath, utterly lacking the demeanor of an "otherworldly master." His snow-white Taoist robe was now soaked through with sweat, clinging to his thin frame. Fang Zheng, however, felt not the slightest heat. Since opening his Celestial Gate in Shen Family Village, changes in external temperature no longer affected him at all. This was one of the benefits of spiritual energy’s transformation of the body—immunity to heat and cold.

As for the little girl, Fang Zheng was even less concerned. Zhao Muwan’s carriage was like a treasure trove, seemingly holding every conceivable item. Not long before, Fang Zheng had been wondering if the little girl might be suffering from the heat inside the carriage, when she suddenly came running out, carrying a cloth bag, and hurried over to him. When the little girl opened the bundle and revealed a brick-sized piece of "chilling jade" radiating cold air, Fang Zheng was astonished! It turned out Zhao Muwan, afraid Fang Zheng would be too hot, had sent her maid to deliver it to him. According to the little girl, there was just such a piece in their own carriage, making it refreshingly cool inside—never hot at all! Fang Zheng could only marvel once more at the wonders of the world. Clearly, the Zhao family was no ordinary household. Smiling, he declined Zhao Muwan’s kind offer, patted the little girl’s head, and told her to return the chilling jade to the carriage. This scene made the surrounding guards look on with envy.

As the sun set and the group was once again preparing to make camp, sudden howls of wolves echoed from the forests ahead. Hearing the varied and sharp cries, Zhao Zhong immediately grew tense. He had encountered wolf packs before—their savagery and utter fearlessness had left a deep impression on him. As he was about to order the guards to form a defensive line, the white-robed old Taoist’s excited voice rang out:

"Ha ha ha! Wolves! Excellent, excellent! This Immortal Master was just lamenting the lack of amusement on this journey—nearly bored to death! Now, at last, it’s time to show my skills! You there, little one, don’t be nervous. A mere pack of wolves—this Immortal Master can wipe them out with a flick of the hand." The latter part was directed at Zhao Zhong.

Hearing the wolf howls, Fang Zheng was also a bit on edge. Instinctively, he moved closer to the little girl’s carriage. Wolves were the most ferocious of creatures, willing to risk life and limb for food. Unlike people, they had no concept of single combat; they would attack en masse. Even if Fang Zheng himself was unafraid, he could not possibly protect everyone at once. If the wolves truly attacked, the caravan would surely suffer heavy casualties. Upon hearing the white-robed Taoist’s words, Fang Zheng was surprised. Could this man truly be a "hidden master"? He began to doubt his earlier judgment.

Just as the old man’s words faded, Fang Zheng saw dozens of pairs of green-glowing eyes in his vision, followed by agile, muscular shapes—the wolves had arrived!

"Ha ha ha! They’re here, as expected! This Immortal Master can hardly wait!" The old Taoist pulled a talisman, the size of a palm, from his sleeve, recited a few words of incantation, and threw it forward. At once, a miraculous scene appeared in the clearing ahead. First, a thunderous tiger’s roar split the air, then a massive tiger materialized out of thin air, over three meters long, its body striped in black and yellow. Nearly as tall as a man, it exuded an overwhelming sense of menace. One roar silenced the forest, even causing the wolves several dozen feet away to halt, pacing restlessly in alarm with low whines. The members of the caravan were dumbfounded. Although they had previously seen Fang Zheng catch a rain of arrows with his bare hands, that had not made as great an impression as this. To conjure a fierce beast from a piece of paper—this was magic as they had always imagined it.

Fang Zheng, too, was astounded. But it was not the "talisman-beast conjuring" that surprised him, but that even as the old Taoist cast his spell, Fang Zheng had sensed no fluctuation of spiritual energy from him. This defied everything Fang Zheng had learned. Could something recorded in "The True Explanation of Transformation" be wrong? Or did the old Taoist truly know some legendary technique for concealing spiritual power? This display only left the already half-trained Fang Zheng even more puzzled.

He had no time to ponder. The scene changed again. Though the conjured tiger was awe-inspiring, the wolves did not retreat. At a high-pitched howl, the pack surged toward the group. The old Taoist hastily commanded the tiger to attack. The huge beast was no mere apparition—slashing and biting, it felled four or five hungry wolves in moments. The onlookers’ anxiety eased somewhat, and Fang Zheng watched intently, trying to glean some clue from the tiger’s behavior. But before he could discern anything, the old Taoist suddenly cried out in alarm. The mighty tiger abruptly transformed back into a talisman and fell amid the wolves. Glancing at the old Taoist, Fang Zheng saw his hair disheveled, white robe drenched, as if doused with a bucket of water, and blood seeping from the corner of his mouth—he was clearly gravely injured.

"Zhao family brat! Tell your guards to retrieve my Immortal Talisman! If it’s damaged, none of you can pay the price—not even with all your lives!" the old Taoist shrieked, ignoring his own injuries, sounding as though he had lost a wife. Fang Zheng frowned in secret. But Zhao Zhong had no time for the Taoist’s tirade. After the tiger vanished, the wolves hesitated only for a moment before spreading out in a fan shape to surround the group. Zhao Zhong shouted orders, arranging the guards in a defensive circle with Zhao Muwan’s carriage at the center. Even the elderly man surnamed Zhang got down from his carriage, using it as a shield at the perimeter.

Fang Zheng, though full of questions, knew this was no time for investigation. Drawing his sword, he dismounted and instructed Zhao Zhong, "Commander Zhao, guard the carriage carefully—do not act rashly. I’ll go and have a look." Without waiting for a reply, Fang Zheng advanced toward the wolves, sword in hand.

A few steps brought him face to face with the fierce beasts—he could see the drool dripping from their jaws. The few hungry wolves before him, sensing a threat, crouched low, tense and watchful, growling menacingly. Fang Zheng was about to strike when he noticed, atop a low hill behind the pack, a giant white wolf standing like a king, its gaze fixed on him. When Fang Zheng met its eyes, he detected a flash of human-like doubt and surprise—as if it had not expected to be discovered. At that moment, two words flashed in Fang Zheng’s mind: "Alpha Wolf." He remembered hearing that every wolf pack was led by an alpha, much like a general in a human army. Now it seemed to be true.

"Capture the king to subdue the bandits"—a principle valid everywhere. Ignoring the wolves before him, Fang Zheng gathered his energy, pushed off with his left foot, and soared into the air, leaving a footprint an inch deep in the ground. His figure streaked through the night like lightning, heading straight for the white giant wolf over ten yards away. As he landed, his sword "First Blossom" had already pierced the giant wolf’s throat...