The Treasured Body Reborn

Over the past two years, Xiao Chen’s cultivation had taken a peculiar turn. His spiritual perception had reached the Fifth Heaven of the Spirit-Treasury realm, yet his physical power remained stagnant at the Third Heaven. It seemed that absorbing the essence of the earth’s bloodline had accelerated his advancement too quickly, causing a plateau. The chubby youth Niu Ren, however, was unaffected. The elders of the Pure Land probed deeply into his body and discovered that the true cause was not that—it was rooted in his sharply diminished lifespan and his declining constitution.

Xiao Chen’s perfected body had nearly collapsed from this strain, but in the end, it stabilized. Neither the elders nor Xiao Chen were overly worried, for within his divinely transformed acupoints lay a vast treasure of primordial essence. If he could one day unleash it, his physical cultivation would instantly catch up to his spiritual realm.

Today, he broke through three barriers at once. His physical power and spiritual perception both entered the Sixth Heaven of the Spirit-Treasury realm. His lifespan was restored, and his constitution underwent a dramatic improvement—a true metamorphosis. His body transformed before the naked eye. The organs that had aged regained their vitality; when he looked inward, his viscera seemed reborn, glowing like crystal jade carvings. His bones became like diamonds, the loosening marrow gradually condensing, growing denser and denser. The slightly slack skin smoothed out, becoming as supple as a newborn’s, gleaming with a crystalline luster.

This was more than a simple recovery—it was a qualitative leap, a true refinement of the treasured body. Xiao Chen felt every inch of his flesh brimming with explosive power, as if a single wave of his hand could prop up heaven and earth.

“Cultivation is also cultivation of the heart. It seems I must walk the entire world.” This insight brought him profound realization. The word ‘Dao’ was profound and mysterious; his path was still long. Zhuangzi, a man whose spiritual level approached that of an Ancestral God, had taught Xiao Chen the best lesson.

When Xiao Chen awoke from the transcendent state, he found that the cultivators who had been battling in the sky had all vanished. The vast grassland was empty—tens of thousands had retreated, leaving only himself. The Nest Celestial Palace had completely shattered, falling from the heights, leaving a field of ruins. The rare treasures had been taken by the strong. Regrettably, legendary figures such as the Evil King and Zhang Sanfeng had not made a move.

Gazing at the empty sky, Xiao Chen fell into deep thought. Compared to Kong Xuan, even the Fallen Angel, the Suanni, or the Yazui, how far behind was he? A single major realm encompassed nine heavens. If they had already reached the realm of Deathless Longevity, then the gap was at least a dozen or even several dozen heavens. Yet this did not discourage him. Experts walked the path of bitter cultivation; weakness was an inevitable stage.

Without any lingering attachment, Xiao Chen unfurled his Undying Wings and flew toward the distant Great Shang Empire.

Heavenly Emperor City in the Southern Wastes now seemed somewhat desolate. Many of the younger generation had already journeyed north to the Central Plains. Figures who once appeared only in legends had been emerging constantly over the past two years, stirring longing in countless young hearts. Whether naive dreams or grand ambitions, many had indeed set out northward in the last two years.

For three years, the Undying Sect Leader had remained in Heavenly Emperor City. Three years ago, it was he who struck that breathtaking sword strike, saving Xiao Chen from his predicament. Two years ago, the same old man struck again, severing the imprint of the Demon-Seed God-Planting Art within Yan Qingcheng, helping her through her crisis with peerless sword energy.

Yan Qingcheng’s master, Liu Qingfeng, looked solemnly at the Undying Sect Leader and said with a trembling voice, “Elder Brother, thank you. Are you truly…”

“I am fine. I wanted to ascend to the next realm anyway, and I helped Qingcheng along the way.” The Undying Sect Leader’s expression was calm, betraying none of the unprecedentedly peerless sword light. It was hard to imagine what realm this old man had reached.

Liu Qingfeng was somewhat dazed. His elder brother had actually begun cultivating the Demon-Seed God-Planting Art indirectly, transferring Yan Qingcheng’s divine seed to himself. It was difficult to fathom what realm he would achieve once he broke through—perhaps a second Evil King. Of course, the method the Undying Sect Leader used to continue the Demon-Seed God-Planting Art was already different from the original demonic art. It required no external cauldron; he used himself as the cauldron and his own heart as the furnace. It was equivalent to replanting a divine root—a further advancement of the Demon-Seed God-Planting Art. Only two people in history had cultivated it: the Demon Sect Founder and the Undying Evil King, who chose this path more dangerous and arduous than the original to seek a breakthrough.

The Undying Sect Leader’s entire figure appeared hazy as he gazed at the stars and said, “When Qingcheng left for the Central Plains, she seemed to have also chosen the method of replanting the divine root.”

“That girl has no idea how high the heavens are!” Liu Qingfeng cursed angrily.

From the Drunken Beauty Palace, the sound of a flute rose again, mournful and distant. An old woman with a sorrowful expression put down her jade flute and said desolately, “That wounded Azure Dragon King has already been sent away and should have recovered. And my grandson, Liu Mu…”

At the Hai household, Hai Yunxue had already entered the Central Plains. Hai Yuntian was also talented in cultivation, but three years ago he had suffered a Qi deviation. Since then, he had been forced onto a different cultivation path. The demonic chapter of the Lotus Canon was etched into his memory, and he had already been in seclusion for three years. Today, rays of golden sunflower light flickered outside his secluded chamber. With a thunderous roar, dust and smoke shot skyward, sunflowers bloomed everywhere, filling the sky with floral shadows, and Hai Yuntian emerged from seclusion.

Fatty Zhuge, though extremely shrewd in business, was ultimately not a direct descendant of his family and eventually traveled far to the Central Plains. Hoffmann, the second-generation wastrel of the Ligen family, unwilling to see his peers all depart, was also plotting to make his mark.

As for Dugu Jianmo, Yu Wenfeng, and Qilao, they were already in the Central Plains. Before them, there was Zhao Chongyang, the only top young expert of the Southern Wastes generation who had not yet fought Xiao Chen.

Shang had established its capital at Yin. One of the five hegemonic kingdoms, it spanned hundreds of millions of square kilometers, vast and boundless, located in the southwestern part of the Central Plains. One month later, Xiao Chen arrived at the incomparably prosperous capital of Yin-Shang. Cultivating amidst the mortal world, he felt deeply—his state of mind was completely different from before.

At the Spirit-Treasury realm, not only did great divine powers emerge, but various minor arts also surfaced from time to time. Changing one’s appearance was a minor technique that came with cultivating a perfected body—merely a rearrangement of flesh and blood, nothing significant. Unworried about being discovered by the Tiger Clan, Xiao Chen had already spent half a month in Yin Capital. Today, he came to the Moon-Viewing Pavilion within the city. This pavilion was famous; legend said that the peerless sword immortal Li Bai once got drunk here and wrote a hundred poems, making it not only a treasured place for literati but also a sacred ground for cultivators.

On ordinary days, many youths from the great noble families of the Shang capital gathered here, and traveling cultivators passing through Yin never missed it. The nine-story Moon-Viewing Pavilion was one of the tallest buildings in Yin Capital, with distinguished guests visiting every day.

On the ninth floor, several young noblemen were talking loudly.

“I heard that the Pervasive Heaven Overlord obtained an Ancestral God’s supreme treasure. Who got the other stone dagger?”

“Legend has it that the Martial Sage took it.”

“That’s unlikely. The True Lord Allah and the master of the Seven-Treasure Wondrous Tree both have heaven-shaking abilities. Even if the Martial Sage’s soul power defied the heavens, he couldn’t withstand a pincer attack from those two, could he?”

“One of the three was bound to get it. What’s so strange about the Martial Sage obtaining it? You must know that in his day, the Martial Sage rode across the ten directions, sweeping the world undefeated, taking enemy heads from amidst a million troops as easily as reaching into his pocket—he feared group battles the least.”

“Those people are far too distant for us. Let’s talk about the outstanding figures of the younger generation in recent times.”

“The Central Plains is blessed with outstanding people and gifted land. The experts who have emerged in recent years are mostly within the five hegemonic kingdoms. What’s there to mention? Pick any random young expert from our Yin Capital and they could sweep away their peers from the Southern Wastes, Western Frontier, Northern Desert, and such places.”

A cold snort rang out. A youth by the window looked stern, clearly displeased by their words. “A pack of idlers dares to prattle on about the world’s young experts?”

The young experts from the great families were unimpressed, only casting him a cold glance before continuing their conversation, ignoring him entirely.

“But you can’t say that—there are plenty of beauties from outside the Central Plains, haha!”

“Right! The Southern Wastes boasts the famed Twin Pearls, matchlessly beautiful! What a pity—one of them has already married into the Tiger Clan. That bunch of tigers is not to be trifled with.”

“What’s there to fear? She’s a widow now; she might remarry, haha! Oh, I hear that Yan Qingcheng has also entered the Central Plains. She might have already reached Yin Capital, hehe.”

“Mm, the Northern Desert and Western Frontier also have stunning women. They might be in this very pavilion.”

Several young men laughed bawdily, constantly eyeing the private rooms.

“Lone Wolf of the Northern Desert requests a bout!” The youth by the window, angered by their words, waved his hand and sent a blade of energy cutting through the air toward the Yin Capital youths.

“A mere spark dares to rival the moon?” One of the noble youths waved his hand lazily. Infernal flames burst forth, and a terrifying spirit art engulfed the youth in an instant. The black fire blazed violently, and in the span of a breath, the man called Lone Wolf seemed to evaporate—not even a drop of blood or flesh remained, refined away by the infernal flames.

The manager of the Moon-Viewing Pavilion, long familiar with the youths’ identities, did not even send anyone to inquire. Finally, he dispatched two young attendants who hurriedly and silently swept away the ashes.

“Hmph, this is not my fault—he struck first.” The spiritist showed no remorse, continuing to laugh and chat with his companions. One of his friends said, “Yinfeng, your infernal flames have improved. You must have reached the Fifth Heaven of the Spirit-Treasury realm by now, right? With such skill, it is enough to sweep away young experts from the Southern Wastes, Western Frontier, and such. Yet those barbarians sit in their wells and look at the sky, thinking they are number one in their little region and truly fit to roam the world—how laughable!”

These words immediately made many on the ninth floor change expression, including experts from the Southern Wastes. Yan Qingcheng and Qilao had traveled together to Yin Capital.

“They are too arrogant!” Even though Yan Qingcheng was a woman, she was furious.

The blue-haired Qilao shook his head. “These few are indeed strong. Let’s ignore them.”

In another private room, the wild, beast-like Southern Wastes expert Yu Wenfeng was grinding his teeth, his icy pupils shooting two terrifying beams of light.

“I feel like someone is cursing us?” One of the noble youths looked toward Yu Wenfeng’s room and muttered, “Don’t sit in a well and look at the sky. You may dominate in your own place, but when you come to the Central Plains, your past pride and honor will be trampled into nothing.”

Yu Wenfeng shoved the table aside and strode out. “Fine! Let Yu Wenfeng of the Southern Wastes test your mettle!”

But just then, a waiter sent a note to Yu Wenfeng. On it was only one sentence: Come over for a talk.

“Hmph! I’ll fight you another time!” Yu Wenfeng flicked his sleeve and left.

“Heh, take care, no need to see us off. That was someone saving you, afraid you would die at our hands,” one of the noble youths taunted mercilessly. “The Southern Wastes… are there any experts? I have never heard of any.”

“No, there is one. Only one.”

“Oh? Does the younger generation of the Southern Wastes have an expert?” The noble youth laughed brazenly.

The person beside him explained, “Indeed, there is only one, but he is most likely already dead.”

“Only one person, named Xiao Chen. The rest are merely so-so. But that Xiao Chen seems to be short-lived—if nothing unexpected happened, he probably died three years ago.”

“Oh, oh, I remember! Three years ago, that night of blood in Heavenly Emperor City! This man was still somewhat of a figure. If he were still alive, he might be able to fight a bout with our Yin Capital experts. Other than that, there is not a single one. It is pathetic—the great Heavenly Emperor City of the Southern Wastes…”

Xiao Chen listened in a private room, his expression calm. He had no intention of revealing himself. With a slight smile, he finished his drink, paid the bill, and slowly left the Moon-Viewing Pavilion.