Chapter 27: The Blackstone Ape

Du Songsong chose a talisman, half a foot square, with a golden silk base and ancient red seal script inscribed upon it.

“Little Pine, what did you pick?” Lin Feng asked, puzzled.

Hong Yang’s eyes lit up, and he laughed, “Brother Du, you have a good eye. This Hundred-Mile Vanishing Talisman can be used by anyone. I exchanged for it last year from Master Jinding of Jiuling Mountain, but never had a chance to use it. I’ll give it to you.”

Usually, the methods for crafting spirit talismans are closely guarded secrets. Only a handful can be used by common folk, such as the Household Protection or Peace talismans, but these are mostly self-deceptions. The genuine talismans require spiritual energy to activate, like the Lightning or Fireball charms, and once triggered, their destructive power far surpasses that of any mystic weapon. Among the Daoist talismans, only a precious few can be activated without spiritual force—like this Hundred-Mile Vanishing Talisman, which works simply by tearing it.

From Hong Yang’s boastful words, Lin Feng drew a clear conclusion: this fellow was a true spendthrift, squandering his fortune without care! Exchanging two rare mystic weapons for a few days of watching a white jade golden-winged finch—what else could that be but prodigality? Thinking deeper, who knows how many precious weapons he’d frittered away for these talismans. Such a person ought to be sent to the streets to live as a beggar, to see if he’d still treat treasures like cabbages, handing them out to all and sundry.

The exchange went smoothly, each party satisfied, and they agreed to meet again in half a month.

“Boss, is he an idiot?” Even Du Songsong couldn’t help himself. On the way back, having profited, he slung an arm around Lin Feng’s shoulder with a grin of pure delight.

“There’s nothing to be done—his father is both rich and powerful, unlike us, who don’t even know who our parents are.” Lin Feng gave a wry smile.

Du Songsong let out a long sigh. Both had been picked up as children, born into poverty and never knowing familial affection. Compared to such privilege, a touch of gloom inevitably crept in.

Sensing Du Songsong’s mood darken, Lin Feng quickly changed the subject. “Don’t dwell on it, Little Pine. In a few days, I’ll catch up to you. If you still haven’t broken through to the ninth level of the Longevity Technique before Senior Sister Helian returns, you’ll be utterly embarrassed.”

Du Songsong was briefly stunned, then grinned. “You didn’t guess it this time! I’ve already reached mid-stage Qi Refining. Look!”

He drew his treasured blade. With a surge of spiritual power, the Wind-Taming Knife gleamed white, its blade aura extending three inches, radiating killing intent.

“How’s that, Boss?” Du Songsong beamed with pride.

Lin Feng gave him a thumbs up. “Looks like I’ll have to work harder and surpass you soon!”

“No problem, I believe in you,” Du Songsong replied with a hearty laugh as he sheathed his knife.

“Great! Let’s both do our best—maybe next year we can make it into the inner sect!” They sealed the promise with a clap of hands and parted ways before their wooden shack.

The Longevity Technique was the foundation for all further cultivation methods; only after reaching the ninth level and breaking through the bottleneck could one channel spiritual power outside the body, infusing weapons or treasures and greatly enhancing their lethality. Once Lin Feng brought back enough food, he shut himself in and began training with care and method.

At first, he circulated his spiritual energy through a single major cycle, then paused to check his dantian for abnormalities. This caution stemmed from a traumatic incident years ago, the memory of which had left a lingering shadow on his heart.

After a day, he attempted two cycles in succession. By then, faint wisps of white, misty spiritual power had settled in his dantian—the vital energy source required for any true spellcasting.

Third level of Qi Refining, fourth, fifth... all the way to the ninth!

What would take an ordinary person a decade or more to achieve, Lin Feng accomplished in just ten days within that shabby wooden hut, perfectly breaking through to the ninth level.

A genius? No—this day should have come eight years ago! Feeling the boundless spiritual power surging within him, Lin Feng’s confidence returned. “Nangong Ke, Zhou Kuigang! You villains—every debt you owe me, I’ll collect with interest!”

A sudden crack echoed through the hut—his wooden bed split in half at the waist, and Lin Feng tumbled into a pile of splinters.

“Damn, this bed’s a piece of junk! Wuzhui, let’s go chop down a big old tree and build a new one!” Climbing out of the wreckage, Lin Feng gathered his valuables, hefted the Snowy Pear Blossom Spear, and headed for the mountains.

The mountains loomed silent and desolate, the trees stripped of all but their bare branches. Thick leaves cushioned each step with a soft rustle.

Lin Feng’s destination wasn’t far—on the southwestern slope of Heaven’s Gate Peak lay a sizable birch forest. Poor disciples often came here to cut birch wood, crafting their own tables and benches, and some mountain folk eked out a living with such carpentry.

As soon as they entered the woods, Wuzhui bounded joyfully ahead, quickly leaving Lin Feng far behind.

“Stupid dog! Chasing souls again?” his master shouted, fuming as he gave chase, but soon lost sight of the dog in the depths of the birch forest. Lin Feng braced himself—if the animal didn’t return, it could starve for all he cared.

The mountain wind whistled with a hint of winter chill; winter had come to the Qiyun Range. The birch trees stood tall and straight, their interlaced branches like swords piercing the sky—an awe-inspiring sight.

He selected a sturdy, ancient birch. Drawing his hatchet, he hesitated. With the Snowy Pear Blossom Spear, why bother with unnecessary effort? One thrust would suffice.

Lunging, he swept the spear in a simple horizontal arc. With a rending screech, the tree snapped clean at the base and toppled with a ground-shaking crash.

“Who would’ve thought—the Longevity Technique combined with the Snowy Pear Blossom Spear is this powerful? If I train in Tyrant’s Strength as well, splitting a ten-ton boulder should be no problem.” Excited, Lin Feng strode over to test his arms.

The birch trunk was about fifty feet long, weighing at least a ton or two. Twisting his waist and focusing his breath, he reached beneath the log with one hand and, with a grunt, lifted it smoothly and effortlessly.

A thousand pounds of strength!

And this was without employing any special techniques—Lin Feng’s single arm now possessed the strength of several thousand pounds.

“Good. Now I should be able to surpass Hong Yang. Who knows what level that guy’s reached—he looks frail but is surprisingly strong.”

It wouldn’t do to carry such a massive log all the way back. Wanting to keep a low profile, Lin Feng cut the log into three sections with his spear, intending to take the widest one and bring Du Songsong to help split and nail it into a sturdy bed.

“Du Songsong’s Gale Blade Technique will handle this log nicely...” Smiling at the thought, Lin Feng’s expression suddenly froze.

The stronger his cultivation, the more sensitive he became to his surroundings. Just now, an odd rustling caught his ear—a muffled, rapid sound like heavy footsteps on thick leaves, but definitely not Wuzhui.

“Someone’s there!” He spun around, eyes narrowing. “Come out! No need to skulk and hide!”

No one answered; only the wind sighed through the trees.

As suspicion crept in—was it his imagination?—a dark shadow slowly emerged from the depths of the birch forest.

“A demon beast!” Lin Feng gripped his spear, focusing intently.

The creature stood nearly twenty feet tall, walking upright, covered in bristling black fur, its face savage and simian, claws and fangs flashing coldly, radiating an aura of violent malice.

A second-tier demon beast—Blackstone Ape!

A month ago, Lin Feng would have fled for his life. Now, seeing the beast, he felt not fear but delight.

Though only a second-tier beast, the Blackstone Ape was highly valuable—its hide could be made into armor, its bones used in medicine. A single specimen could fetch at least three hundred contribution points.

As Lin Feng calculated his prize, the demon beast silently lunged, a bitter wind swirling as it moved with astonishing speed.

“Courting death!” Lin Feng shouted, leaping into the air, spear straight as an arrow, body stretched to its limit. The spear tip sliced the air with three sharp whistles.

Clang!

The spear smashed down on the charging Blackstone Ape’s head with a metallic clang, numbing both his arms. Though struck by the force of thousands of pounds, the ape only paused before raising its head and letting out a guttural, incoherent howl. Its crimson eyes glowed with a strange light, locked on Lin Feng.

Impossible! This spear could split rocks with ease, yet it couldn’t harm this demon beast—it hadn’t even shed a hair! Terrifying!

Using the force of his recoil, Lin Feng leapt back, heart pounding in disbelief.

Could this be a mutated Blackstone Ape? The Qiyun Mountains were rife with spiritual herbs; beasts who consumed them sometimes broke through their ranks. That had to be the answer.

The Blackstone Ape attacked again, fists whistling through the air.

“Take this!” Lin Feng retreated three steps, his white spear darting like a silver flood dragon, swift and sure, each thrust accompanied by a piercing shriek.

The beast fought ferociously, its fur torn in several places to reveal blackened flesh.

No—something was wrong. The wounds didn’t bleed at all!

Recalling the beast’s strange howls—more like a throat being strangled than a normal ape’s roar—Lin Feng suddenly understood.

What kind of monster was this? Before he could think further, the beast lunged again!

Damn! Lin Feng thrust straight at its throat.

The sharp, triple-edged spearhead sank halfway in. Delighted, he relaxed for a split second—but as he pulled the spear loose, the Blackstone Ape gripped the shaft with both hands, locking him in a deadly struggle.

Horrifying! What monstrous strength!

Seeing the emotionless red glint in the ape’s eyes, Lin Feng shuddered and summoned every ounce of strength.

Man and beast wrestled desperately for the spear.

Wait—what was that? From his height below the monster, Lin Feng caught sight of something golden flashing inside the ape’s ruptured throat.

A talisman! In a flash, Lin Feng remembered Du Songsong’s Hundred-Mile Vanishing Talisman. The material looked almost identical!