Chapter Twenty-Five: The Rebirth of the Dantian

“Sister, it seems that an extraordinary talent has appeared in the outer sect this time,” Yi Yuan, clad in a blue robe, smiled faintly, his expression unreadable.

“Brother Feng, no matter how remarkable, no one can surpass you. Even our sect leader has passed the Haoran Sword Art to you,” the maiden in white replied, her tone tinged with a hint of jealousy.

Feng Yiyuan laughed and retorted slyly, “Didn’t Uncle Master also teach you the Surprising Luan Sword?”

“That’s just a mid-grade spiritual weapon. How can it compare with the Haoran Sword Art?” The girl in white sounded somewhat displeased.

“Uh, but the Haoran Sword Art is only for men, Junior Sister...” Feng Yiyuan was about to argue when she interrupted him, “I was only joking, Brother Feng.”

“Oh? Oh, ha ha.” Feng Yiyuan was briefly taken aback, then his smile blossomed once more...

In less than an hour, the last group of outer sect disciples exited the Pavilion of Hidden Treasures. Some wore faces of delight, while others looked utterly dejected; the array of expressions could have staged a lively farce on any street.

At this moment, the two elders of the pavilion withdrew inside, and the grand doors—open for just one day—slowly closed.

“Junior Sister, I must take my leave to report to the sect leader,” Feng Yiyuan said solemnly.

“Please, Brother Feng,” the maiden in white replied with a nod. She formed a few hand seals, and the flying lotus leaf craft came to rest upon the peak. A streak of violet light shot skyward, and Feng Yiyuan soon vanished into the clouds.

Master Zhuoran led the disciples onto the immortal boat. When the lotus craft departed, the once bustling square was left empty, save for the drifting smoke that circled in the quiet between the mountains.

From earlier conversations, Lin Feng learned that Helian Ruxue had chosen a high-level sword manual called the Tai’a Ocean-Covering Sword Art, while Du Songsong had exchanged for a fine-grade darksteel Wind-Stilling Blade. Both seemed quite satisfied. Seeing the joy on his friends’ faces, Lin Feng felt a mix of emotions. For his six thousand points, he’d only gotten: a Feng Shui Essence-Gathering Pill he’d long coveted, a useless piece of ice stone, and a fragmentary cultivation manual. The thought stung his heart—he’d made a loss!

He had no mind to enjoy the scenery on the way back. Like some of his peers, he returned to Tianmen Peak in a daze. As he disembarked from the lotus craft, the maiden in white gave him a few lingering, curious glances.

The journey had gone smoothly. Zhuoran exchanged a few polite words with the maiden in white, then kept the group of elite disciples behind.

“Today, you have all witnessed the grandeur of our sect’s Pavilion of Hidden Treasures. I will sum up three points: First, you must remember, never reveal the sect’s secrets to outsiders, not even fellow disciples. Second, whether you walked away with a treasure or empty-handed, you must be inspired to strive harder for the next opportunity. Do not grow arrogant or lose faith. Lastly, I hope that next autumn, more of you will enter the inner sect from here and bring honor to our outer sect!” With these words, Zhuoran gave Lin Feng, Helian Ruxue, and a few others an appreciative glance, completely ignoring the likes of Nangong Ke.

Everyone nodded in agreement. Nangong Ke managed a grim smile, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

With a wave of the sect master’s hand, the elite disciples dispersed, heading down the mountain.

“Junior Brother Lin, you don’t seem very happy,” Helian Ruxue caught up with Lin Feng, concern on her face.

“Heh, it’s nothing, thank you for your concern,” Lin Feng replied with a forced smile.

Du Songsong also hurried over, “Hey, Lin, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, really. What could be wrong? Come on, everyone’s busy heading home, let’s not waste time.” Lin Feng laughed, his gloom vanishing from his face.

“Are you sure?” Helian Ruxue pressed, her face serious.

“I wouldn’t dare lie to you, Senior Sister,” Lin Feng replied, straightening up and looking her in the eye.

A soft laugh escaped her. In the autumn twilight, Helian Ruxue’s fair face seemed all the more beautiful.

When Lin Feng returned to his quarters, he found Wu Zhui so hungry its eyes were shining with golden stars, and he felt a deep pang of guilt.

“I promise, next time I won’t forget to feed you,” Lin Feng swore, feeding it two pieces of steamed bun. Only then did he realize that he, too, had not eaten all day. He split the food with Wu Zhui, half for each.

As night fell, Lin Feng locked his door and laid out all the items he’d acquired on the table for careful inspection.

By the dim glow of his oil lamp, the black ice stone occasionally flashed with a strange light. He propped his cheek in his hand, examining it repeatedly, but saw nothing unusual.

Setting the odd stone aside, he picked up the fragment of “Overlord’s Force” and began to read.

To his surprise and delight, the “Overlord’s Force” used the body as a cauldron, refining fierce energy to confront enemies. Mastered to its peak, one could split mountains and rivers bare-handed. The general preface stated that the manual was divided into five parts: Basic Force Formula, Overlord Sweeps the Land, Sweeping Across Ten Thousand Miles, Turning the Heavens, and Plucking Stars.

The author claimed to have received the “Overlord’s Force” from ancient immortals, inscribed in the Echoing Wind Cave of Mount Void. By chance, he had seen the manual and copied it, making it part of the sect’s collection.

As for why only fragments remained, Lin Feng could not know. In the world of cultivation, many would kill for a secret manual. Every classic that survived was stained with blood, and the black stains on these pages suggested that “Overlord’s Force” had survived untold slaughter to leave these few sheets; the terrible history was long buried.

His heart surging, Lin Feng read the three pages several times, memorizing them thoroughly before resolutely burning them to ash.

He then memorized the “Phantom Cloud Sword Art” and burned it as well.

“Remember, Wu Zhui,” Lin Feng said, patting the confused little horse’s head with gravity, “A man is not guilty, but carrying a treasure brings disaster. Keep that in mind.”

Drinking a cup of cold tea, he gazed at the small porcelain bottle in his hand, a trace of moisture in his eyes, and murmured, “No one in this world can help you, Lin Feng. For everything, you can only rely on yourself…”

This tiny bottle of Feng Shui Essence-Gathering Pill might mean little to inner sect disciples—many could easily exchange for several, and even some outer sect elders of higher rank could acquire them. Yet no one would help him. In ten years, not a single one!

“Grandpa Huo, I finally did it.” Taking a deep breath, he smiled broadly, opened the bottle, and swallowed all the pills inside.

They melted instantly! The Feng Shui Essence-Gathering Pill was a fluid, like a delicate bean curd, flowing straight to his chest and abdomen, cool and refreshing.

Lin Feng closed his eyes, nervous and patient, waiting to sense the effects of the spiritual pill. As the liquid entered his belly, he soon felt a current of warmth stirring in his dantian, sliding through him like a gentle hot spring—most comfortable.

“It’s starting!” He opened his eyes wide, lifted his shirt, and stared at his dantian, hoping to witness the process, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

The warmth surged! Within his lower abdomen, it felt as though boiling water was brewing, gradually heating to a boil, yet still not causing discomfort. The heat penetrated every corner of his dantian, and then, all at once, pain struck!

“Ah…” The agony was sudden and without warning, far worse than torn meridians. When it exploded, Lin Feng nearly fainted.

He gritted his teeth and endured. This was a critical moment—he had to witness his dantian’s restoration. No matter how excruciating, he would not give up!

Within his dantian, it was as if a raging fire was burning, mercilessly testing his resolve. Sweat dripped from his hair, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

With a final crescendo, the pain reached its peak and then vanished. Warmth flooded his dantian; his body felt as though it was soaking in a hot spring, all pores open, comfort returning.

In that instant, pain transformed into gentle current, and he felt as if he had been reborn. At the very edge of endurance, his dantian was reborn in nirvana!

“Wu Zhui! Wu Zhui! I did it!” Lin Feng scooped up the little horse, spinning it around in the air.

“Woof, woof…” Wu Zhui stuck out its tongue, mouth open in what looked almost like a smile.

“That’s right, let’s try gathering qi.” Elated, he could not resist testing the wish he’d yearned for these past eight years.

He sat cross-legged, circulating the Longevity Technique at will, inhaling spiritual energy through the Heavenly Pillar, Regal Canopy, Jade Hall, and Central Altar points—everything seemed normal. Suddenly, the qi shot straight to the blood-red vortex of the Manjusaka flower and was instantly absorbed, leaving nothing behind.

“How can this be? Even with my dantian healed, I still can’t gather qi? Manjusaka, you’ll be the death of me!”

“No—wait!” Lin Feng snapped to attention, eyes brightening. “If I do as I did a few days ago, constantly absorbing spiritual qi to the limit, turning all my meridians red, might I fully refine it? If that works, wouldn’t it kill two birds with one stone?”

Excitement filled his eyes at the thought.

What followed was excruciating physical torment and mental anguish—the kind of agony that would make an ordinary person faint after just one encounter, but here it was to be endured over and over again, a cycle of madness that would move even the hardest heart.

Meridians ruptured, healed, reformed, then tore open again… Over and over, countless times, the process repeated.

A month passed—an entire month. Lin Feng only left his room between bouts of cultivation to buy food. All other time, he locked himself away, subjecting himself to this torment. The shape of the Manjusaka flower shrank steadily, most of it refined and woven into his meridians, leaving only a single purple-red core floating there.

With each cycle of extreme cultivation, his absorption of spiritual qi grew faster. When his meridians doubled in width, they reached their new limit, gradually turning completely red.

He could not tell how strong his muscles had become—there was no time to test his strength. All he could do was seize every second for more training, and more training!

When only a single point of the Manjusaka remained, the spiritual qi of heaven and earth surged into his dantian in a torrent, unstoppable as a flood!