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Chapter 64: Nearly Out of Time
🕑 Added 2025-04-29 12:06:23 +0000 UTC~~~
“A true cultivator knows himself above all other matters. He must be wary of his desires, his wants, and he must constantly use the Path to fulfil them.
“Spiritual advancement does not necessarily come from the acquisition of greater techniques, qi pills, or even Divine Viands. Those merely allow the process of your breakthrough. It does not guarantee it.
“The true determining factor is Enlightenment. Acknowledgement. You must look upon yourself. Look deep at that twisted root of decay we call a human soul, and understand this:
“No matter what heights you reach, no matter what fruits of power you taste, you will never be satisfied. You will never be content. You will always want more.
“It is the cultivated truth. It is His design. And it is beautiful.
“Do not forget. Your Hunger is the justification of your existence. Ignore it at your peril.”
— Words of Patriarch Ru of the Decaying Greyroots Sect, directed to his daughter and Heiress, Ru Yunjin
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The Young Master’s wedding approaches!
That was the sentiment that echoed across everyone’s mind through the Phoenix Mountain. It was a sentiment that had been in everyone's thoughts since the Young Master’s engagement was announced over a decade ago.
Talks of the affair — whether they be from disciples, mortals, or Elders — have only grown ever more popular and outlandish as the fated day drew near. Some of it was born out of jealousy at the Young Master’s fortune. Others speak of their concern and condolences at his impending doom instead. The topic of Hei Feng’s nuptials with one of the most sought-after and powerful female cultivators in the Province was all that anyone could discuss.
Especially now, with the marriage less than three weeks away.
It was likely to be the greatest event to occur within the 103rd Outer Province in centuries. Delegations from all across the Four Mountain Sects Group and beyond were arriving in droves, paying tribute to the special occasion with their attendance and gifts.
Exotic Sect cultivators and Clan merchants from neighbouring Provinces were seen treading the grounds of Phoenix Mountain’s Highways for the first time in living memory, and in unprecedented numbers no less. Such a large social event of skilled practitioners offered great opportunities. The ties and deals brokered within those few weeks leading up to the wedding may set the foundations of their Sect’s or Clan’s success for years to come.
Wagons ferried visitors up and down the Imperial Highways of the 103rd Outer Province in such numbers that the dirt trails were becoming clogged with laborious draft animals and colourful wooden carriages.
The Phoenix Mountain saw more activity in those final weeks of preparation than it ever had in decades. Old guest houses were cleaned, with more constructed in haste as the expected influx of visitors proved beyond even the Elders’ wildest estimate. It seemed as if every cultivator of importance within the Northern Outer Provinces had decided to pay a visit to the Beheaded Phoenix Sect, and the monastery must prepare to meet their guests’ expectations accordingly.
Thus did the Sect positively teem with activity, be they of cultivated splendour or mundane banality. People from every corner of the region passed through their monastery gates each day. Performances and refreshments were prepared to entertain their every need, with entertainers and chefs working nonstop throughout the day. Exotic wares from merchants filled the markets, for many had been preparing for years to make the fullest use of this ludicrous influx of prospective buyers.
Yet all paled compared to the main spectacle: the disciple tournament, held in honour of the soon-to-be-married couple. Each day saw the epic battles of talented disciples as they exalted themselves in the hopes of claiming ever greater prestige under the eye of all within the Province. The inns and taverns closest to the arena were at their limit. Some opportunistic Clans had even taken to loaning their rooms and services at extravagant prices, for even cultivators needed a place to rest and recover after a day of constant battle.
It was a time for festivities. A period of opportunities and profit. For many, it was a joyful occasion.
For a certain Young Master, however, he could only feel dread.
~~~
Breathe.
Feng gritted his teeth as pain threatened to break his rhythmic breathing into disrupted pants. His eyes were squeezed shut, his posture hunched over as he sat in a meditative stance. Sweat drops appeared all over his naked torso, only to fizzle out instantly due to the intense heat surrounding him.
His body was boiling, trapped in flames and heat beyond mundane means. An immense volume of Yang qi was surging around him, creating a whirlwind of fire that threatened to incinerate him completely should he lose control. The maelstrom circled and licked at his skin, but rather than flee from the blaze, the Young Master sat in its epicentre and endured.
Placed in front of his crossed legs was an object of great power. A singular artefact that had taken months to acquire, and the source of the unnatural flames that now assailed him.
A lone Phoenix Feather — plundered straight from the Divine Carrion of his Sect, and valuable beyond measure.
A voice cut in from outside the roaring fire, crystal clear despite the gnashing inferno.
“Focus, Young Master. Should you falter, you shall not get a second chance.”
As if he needed a reminder. Feng wanted to snap at the voice, but he could not even afford the slightest lapse of concentration at the moment.
He was almost through. Just… a little… more!
Feng breathed out, and every ounce of his qi exploded forth, joining the Divine maelstrom in an umbral tide. The fire burned ever darker, and the ground beneath him began to crack from the superheated air. The Young Master’s skin crackled as his regeneration faltered without spiritual energy to cannibalise.
That was the easy part. The next step was to be far more painful.
Feng braced himself. A heartbeat passed, and against the cries of self-preservation, he breathed deeply in. The flames roared one final time before they all compressed and surged straight into his lungs.
The Young Master screamed as his insides melted and blackened. Yet even as his consciousness waned, he felt the effects of the Divine fire entering his Spiritual System, bringing with them the astral power of forgotten Stars.
His acupoints were blown open as the impurities within were rapidly scoured from his body. His meridians channelled more qi than they ever did in his life, with the tidal wave of new energy nearly overwhelming him. The veins were forced to enlarge — lest they rupture entirely — thus becoming even stronger.
The three Dantian within him recoiled as the Divine fire gorged new chambers and crevasses within their shapes, expanding their capacity. Feng felt his spiritual reserves steadily increase, until the flooding tide of power finally broke the threshold.
His qi rose. Tempering Realm, Fourth Step.
Not enough, Feng snarled. His mind was blacking out, but enough of his consciousness remained that he directed the heat once more towards his Dantian. Ever more roots and chambers were dug out by the living fire, causing excruciating pain.
Yet the Young Master endured still.
Breathe in… Breathe out!
Divine flames flooded through his meridians and unmade every organ, every bone, every pound of flesh in an instant. His insides were liquefied, then regenerated, then liquefied again. At some point, Feng thought he had lost consciousness, only to be pulled back from the brink as yet more qi entered his Dantian.
More chambers. More capacity. Stronger. Greater. Ever more powerful. Feng harnessed his Dantian’s new form, trapping the energies within, even as the inferno rampaged in his soul.
The fire licked his Cores one final time. His qi surged to new heights yet again.
Once more, he broke through the threshold.
Tempering Realm, Fifth Step.
The flames within him began to die, having used the last of their Divine vitality to fuel his advancement. Feng’s body glowed with power.
When he breathed once more — without the pain or heat burning his lungs — it felt like being reborn. His Spiritual system sucked in more ambient qi than they ever did before his advancement. His meridian rushed with more energy than it could ever channel before.
His Dantian glowed in perfect, rapturous harmony.
Feng was ascended.
“Marvellously done, Young Master.” Someone clapped. The sound of their applause echoed across the cave walls that sealed him in. “Truly, you are an Heir worthy of carrying the mantle of the Beheaded Phoenix Sect. Even I had my doubts you would be able to advance a single Step so soon after your last improvement, let alone two.”
The Young Master tiredly looked up, seeing the approving nod of Elder Jun. The man reached out, presenting a flask of Spirit Wine to the youth.
Feng greedily drank from the bamboo container. When he was finished, the Elder passed him another. Then another.
It was only after the fifth flask that the Young Master stopped — his qi finally stabilised.
“I could not have done it without your aid, Honoured Elder,” Feng thanked as he stood. “Your help in securing the Divine Viands was invaluable.”
The Young Master looked back at the feather — or rather, what little remained of it. It had burned up completely, leaving not even ash to harvest. Only a blackened carter offered the signs of its existence at all.
The two were deep within the Phoenix Mountain, inside one of the secluded tunnels that were sometimes used for isolation training. The air here was slightly richer in energy, for the veins led straight to the Corpus of the Beheaded Phoenix, the very source of all ambient qi around the mountain.
It was an ideal place for Feng to make his ascension, for the walls were well suited to insulating heat and Yang qi.
“Feathers make for poor sustenance, but as burning smoke to be inhaled, they more than suffice,” Elder Jun mildly replied. “I had rather you told me of your request earlier. Two months to procure a Divine catalyst — even one as minor as a tail feather — was no easy task. The Avian Corpse God does not like being disturbed, reduced though it might be.”
“Did it speak to you?” Feng asked curiously.
“Not this time, no.” Elder Jun frowned. “And I am quite glad for it. The last time it did, we lost two prospective Disciples who were in its chamber to take their initiation rites. It took considerable effort to scrub their burnt remains off the cave walls.”
Elder Jun was a cultivator within the first Step of the Nascent Realm. Though his primary job was to supervise the battles within the Sparring Hall, the man also held a secondary role: to secure the Divine Viands necessary for advancing promising disciples.
Divine Viands were necessary catalysts for aiding a cultivator’s breakthrough into higher Realms, for the raw spiritual energies within them were concentrated enough to forcefully ascend a cultivator past the limits imposed by their mortal shell.
Such catalysts need not be solely used for breakthroughs between Realms, however. Should one prove themselves resourceful (or, in Feng’s case, influential) enough to secure additional Viands, they might use them to instantly improve their cultivation standing within their current Realm instead.
A drop of blood was commonly given to new Outer Disciples, who needed to Commune with the Corpus so that they might access the Divine Arts of the Sect — the most important of which was the [Fiery Comet Step] to allow their rapid movement around the monastery.
For the purposes of breakthroughs, a sliver of meat was offered to those who needed to ascend from the Foundation Realm to the Shaping Realm, while shards of feathers were used for those transitioning from the Shaping Realm to the Tempering Realm.
Feathers, in particular, were rather difficult to acquire, necessitating a slew of special procedures and equipment such that one might safely harvest the catalyst from the Corpus. Elder Jun had not been exaggerating when he complained that the process was considered rushed despite having two months of preparation. The advancement rites of new Core Disciples typically only occur once every two years, partly because of the difficulty in securing the needed Celestial agents.
But the Elder had pulled through. And just in time as well.
Feng’s wedding soon approached. It would not do for the groom to be so overshadowed by his bride.
Especially since Lianshi had just broken into the Spirit Realm a week ago.
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Third Realm: Tempering Realm (Body Reinforcement), Part 2
The Third Realm is often wielded as a marker of status among lesser cultivators, for while a mortal may fumble their way into the First or even Second Realm without much effort (given sufficient fortunes, of course), the Third Realm could only be achieved through tremendous labour, often after years of torturous cultivation.
Such individuals — with their strength, beauty, and longevity — are revered as those who might leave behind an enduring mark on an ever-changing world. Not yet Immortal, but perhaps with enough determination — and with a new lifespan ranging in several centuries — these chosen few might one day see the end of the Path.
It is an achievement worth celebrating, and many often do, taking with them their newfound strength and beauty to garner admiration and envy among the lesser mortals. So embroiled in their revelry, some practitioners may even opt to spend months, or even years, away from their Sects and cultivation to celebrate their success. After all, what was a decade or two compared to the centuries-long lifespan they have just earned?
It is a frowned-upon behaviour — and in stricter Sects, it would likely not be allowed entirely. Yet there is some begrudging leniency afforded to the disciple in most places, for the act of having secured a glimpse of Immortality does warrant a degree of wanton debauchery. The practice has even integrated itself as a long-standing tradition across the Outer Provinces, where such a fulfilment of the Path would be a far rarer feat — and therefore more worthy of jubilation.
-– Excerpt from To Those Worthy of the Eternal Banquet
