Chapter 88, Cultivating on the Lakebed

Translator: StarReader

 

Su Chen galloped towards the Vastest Lake, his face as cold as ice, his thoughts as heavy and oppressive as lead. He had once sneaked into Daoist Qinghe’s room and seen a talisman on the desk. When he went back later, it was gone.

 

This meant that Daoist Han Shan must have crafted talismans at some point. Having been a Grandmaster for two to three decades, he had ample time to collect spiritual materials.

 

If Daoist Han Shan harbored ill will towards him, then the outcome was pretty much sealed.

 

“The martial world is treacherous; friends and foes, victory or defeat are unpredictable,” Su Chen mused. “The Whale Gang’s leader has been scheming for decades with small-scale skirmishes. Now openly plundering official grain and challenging the court shows his ambition—he’ll be a formidable opponent.”

 

But would Daoist Han Shan consider him an enemy? And where did the other five Grandmasters stand?

 

Last time, he gambled with Li Kui and four senior brothers. Win or lose, it was merely banishment to the Errand Hall—a trivial matter for him.

 

But Ah Chou, driven by his aspirations, refused to leave. This time, Su Chen went to his rescue, but if he lost the gamble, everything would be at stake. Not only would he fail to save Ah Chou, but his own life would also be jeopardized.

 

Under the starlit night, with only a handful of bright stars twinkling in the deep sky, Xikou Town lay far ahead. The small town was peaceful, filled with martial disciples’ laughter around the bonfires, showing no signs that a storm was brewing.

 

This storm might still be in its infancy, hidden beneath the surface during the Wu Region’s first martial competition, unnoticed by common disciples.

 

Su Chen arrived at the edge of the Vastest Lake, gazing at Xikou Town. His thoughts were as turbulent as the lake waters.

 

The last few hours ticked away, leaving him with a choice as profound as life and death!

 

Su Chen had been driven from his home by his rare affliction. He’d wandered Gusu City, nearly met his end in the jaws of a colossal fish monster on Vastest Lake, and now he wasn’t about to throw away his hard-won life on a whim.

 

His steed slowed to a halt at Vastest Lake’s shore. In that moment, Su Chen’s mind was eerily calm. Deep within him, a strange pulsation stirred, an inexplicable urge drawing his perception outwards under the starlit sky, sensing the spiritual energy of the world.

 

Vastest Lake stretched out before him, thirty-six thousand acres, its shoreline vast and dotted with islands. The reeds by the lake’s edge rustled softly, punctuated only by the chirps of crickets. Occasional carp broke the surface, bubbles popping before they darted back into the safety of the weeds.

 

Su Chen dismounted, giving his steed a slap to send it galloping towards Gusu City. He wouldn’t risk losing such a fine horse to the lake’s pirates. Instead, he walked alone along the shore until he found a secluded spot untouched by human presence.

 

“The foundation of martial arts lies in the lower, middle, and upper Dantians,” he mused. “My Lower Dantian and Middle Dantians are complete; there’s no further growth there. But my Upper Dantian…”

 

He paused, recalling that fateful moment when a wisp of consciousness had ventured into his spirit, granting him extraordinary perception and propelling him into the Grandmaster Stage.

 

“I’ve been cultivating The Mayfly Chapter from Wanderer’s Journey for three years,” he continued. “Yet my Upper Dantian’s spirit hasn’t shown any signs of improvement.”

 

He hesitated, then decided, “Perhaps I should chance another exploration…”

 

After much deliberation, Su Chen resolved to delve into his Upper Dantian once more.

 

Entering the Upper Dantian was no easy feat. Even a Grandmaster might only stumble upon it by chance once, with little hope of repeating the experience.

 

Su Chen remembered his last foray vividly. He’d been bitten by the golden-banded viper king on the mountain, his breath ragged and body nearly paralyzed. At the lakeside, he’d wept bitter tears as he squeezed venom from the wound. Then, unconsciousness claimed him, and he sank into the lake’s depths, swallowed whole by a monstrous fish. Only then did his six senses shut down, granting him entry to the Upper Dantian. The exact cause remained uncertain.

 

Su Chen ventured into the heart of the lake’s reeds, the water rising around him, engulfing his knees, thighs, waist…

 

He took a deep breath and plunged beneath the surface, descending yards below.

 

There was no other way. He had to reenact that day’s conditions, sealing six senses for a single moment.

 

Starting with the simplest step, he relied on the lake’s depths to isolate his senses from external stimuli. In the murky water, Su Chen sat cross-legged, surrounded by dense reeds above. He began cycling Turtle Breath, his expression tranquil.

 

Closing his eyes, he held his breath and focused his mind, shutting off his six senses completely. All his concentration went into honing his extraordinary perception.

 

He sought to re-enter the Upper Dantian, to understand the spirit residing there.

 

If entering his Spirit Mountain proved impossible this way, Su Chen would have no choice but to embark on another perilous adventure. He’d need to capture a golden-banded viper, just as he did three years prior, to aid in sealing his six senses using the Turtle Breath. Of course, golden-banded vipers were notoriously venomous; it was a desperate measure, one that could easily spell death.

 

Should that fail, Su Chen’s final recourse would be to find the colossal fish monster again and let it swallow him whole, recreating the scene from years ago. But that was essentially suicide.

 

Su Chen took a deep breath and began meditating in the lake. In the water, his nostrils were sealed, and breath was impossible. After a stick of incense, his other senses gradually faded too, leaving him in utter darkness.

 

There, at the bottom of the lake, covered by waterweeds, Su Chen sat motionless like an immovable rock. Six senses severed from the world above, not even a ripple disturbed the silence. Meanwhile, on Vastest Lake’s shore, the reeds swayed gently, croaking frogs and leaping fish breaking the quiet with their playful antics.

 

…

 

The Vaulting Mountains loomed high next to Vastest Lake.

 

Nearby lay the small town of Xikou, bustling even at this late hour with thousands of Wu Region group disciples. They gathered around campfires, roasting wild boar and sharing stories, laughter filling the night.

 

Amidst it all stood an impressive courtyard, once belonging to the town’s wealthiest landowner. Now temporarily seized by Gusu County’s constable, it served as the venue for this Wu Region inaugural martial competition.

 

The expansive courtyard of the grand estate was surrounded by rows upon rows of burly men in vibrant attire. They were representatives from each major group, numbering in the hundreds, encircling the courtyard with vigilant eyes. These warriors were seasoned and formidable, first-rate and second-rate masters of their respective groups.

 

Torches and firepots cast a bright glow over the estate, illuminating the night for the inaugural Wu Region Martial Competition, organized by Gusu officials and led by Grandmaster Daoist Han Shan. Yet, each group’s leaders, veteran martial artists accustomed to caution, insisted on deploying their own elite guards to patrol and protect.

 

Within the courtyard stood a vast plaza, adorned with scores of master chairs for the attendees. As dusk fell, smaller groups’ leaders arrived first, exchanging pleasantries among themselves before taking their seats at the back. The atmosphere grew lively as more arrived.

 

These lesser leaders understood martial etiquette; they knew to arrive early and not keep the four major groups waiting. Their status dictated their timing—higher ranking meant arriving later.

 

The Five Major Groups were distinguished by their territory size. They controlled all thirteen counties in the Wu Region, with thousands of disciples in each group. Conversely, smaller groups held territories in mere cities or villages, their disciple numbers sometimes as few as fifty.

 

Amidst the chatter and laughter, a hush fell over the crowd as four figures entered the courtyard. They were the leaders of the Four Major Groups: Iron Fist Li from the Iron Fist Group, Vanguard Wang from the Vanguard Group, Jade Pearl Hu from the Jade Pearl Group, and Whispering Breeze Zhou from the Zhou Clan.

 

Each leader commanded respect, their auras filling the space around them. They walked towards their designated seats at the front of the stage, acknowledging the assembled leaders with nods or slight smiles.

 

Of course, the Wu Region’s grand meeting had only one county skipped over—Lou County. This city was controlled by the White Lotus Society, fortified by its Daoists, and impenetrable as a fortress. No groups could establish a foothold there. Even the great groups of the Wu Region, including the Whale Gang, couldn’t root themselves in this small Lou County. The White Lotus Society was uniquely elusive, avoiding official notice and martial conflicts, despite being suppressed by the court. They were estranged from the Han Mountain Daoist Temple.

 

Unsurprisingly, the White Lotus Society’s leader wasn’t invited to the Wu Region’s martial competition. Based on territory, only the main groups qualified: Whale Gang, Heaven Falcon Group, Caravan Guards, Iron Sword Group, and Medicine King Group. The Whale Gang, though powerful, was an assembly of pirates wanted by the authorities. They were also absent from this competition.

 

Numerous smaller groups, like the Leaping Thunder Gate in Yangxin County or the Saltwater Help in Haiyan County, weren’t invited either.

 

“Presenting Medicine King Group’s leader, the renowned Grandmaster Sun Baihong!” A burly doorkeeper shouted excitedly as an elderly man, dressed in a magnificent embroidered robe and carrying an eight-trigrams gourd at his waist, strode into the courtyard. He was the first major group leader to arrive.

 

“Ah, Medicine King, you’re finally here!”

 

“Sun, old friend, it’s been ages! Once we’re done here, we must drink and reminisce.”

 

Several smaller groups’ leaders eagerly greeted him, their warmth rivaling that of family reunions.

 

“Revered Medicine King, Sun Baihong, commands immense respect and influence in the Wu Region’s martial world. In his late seventies, he’s an elder among the gathered clan leaders. His uncanny medicinal skills have saved countless lives, earning him harmonious ties with all major and minor factions.

 

Martial artists couldn’t avoid the blade entirely; it was part of their life. The Medicine King Group monopolizes most pharmacies in the Wu Region through its disciples’ expertise in medicine and body-tempering herbs.

 

While large factions maintained independent supply chains, smaller ones relied solely on Sun Baihong for medicinal needs, making him an object of their affection.

 

“Gentlemen, forgive my lateness.” Sun Baihong greeted the assembled leaders with a bow and a smile before taking his seat at the head of the great hall. The grand courtyard settled briefly as everyone awaited the arrival of other faction heads.

 

The night grew darker.

 

Han Ya, Han Pingshan, Li Shuo, and the legendary Wu Region’s transcendent Grandmaster Daoist Han Shan were expected to join them soon.