Chapter Forty-Four: Becoming Stronger

When Chen Jiu uttered the command, the floating lotus platform, shrouded in a faint azure glow, suddenly flared with dazzling light.

A low hum resonated from the trembling lotus, its brilliance so intense that it stung Chen Jiu’s eyes. Yet, in the next moment, the radiance softened, growing gentle and subdued.

Witnessing this, Chen Jiu’s heart brimmed with anticipation. He reached out and lightly cradled the lotus in his palm. The platform, no larger than his hand, floated up and down, sending ripples of blue light outward in gentle waves.

After a brief pause, a torrent of information abruptly surged from the lotus into his mind.

“It’s the method to use the lotus…” Chen Jiu’s eyes glimmered, and he began to focus intently, absorbing every detail.

At last, after the time it takes to finish a cup of tea, he fully grasped the secrets of the lotus platform.

It turned out the lotus possessed not just one divine ability, but several.

When placed in his palm and activated, it could release blue lotus petals that enveloped and shielded the user, rendering them nearly invulnerable. If he expanded the lotus to the size of a meditation cushion, it would gather the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, greatly accelerating cultivation.

Beyond defense and hastening practice, the lotus could also serve as a flying artifact—its speed at least on par with cultivators of the first tier of immortals.

Chen Jiu could barely contain his excitement. His heavy sacrifice had not been in vain!

Gazing at the radiant lotus in his hand, he willed it to activate. At his thought, the lotus burst forth with brilliance, and in a flash, blue lotus petals materialized around him, forming a protective barrier.

To test its strength, Chen Jiu summoned a nearby magic sword and, mustering all his strength, thrust it at the petals. The sword, wreathed in fierce energy, transformed into a blade of light and struck the lotus shield with a piercing cry.

A crisp clang sounded—the sword was firmly repelled by the blue glow, failing even to pierce the petal’s protective film, let alone harm the lotus or its bearer.

Overjoyed, Chen Jiu withdrew the petals, laughing. “Excellent! Truly excellent!”

With this lotus, even the “Suspended Eye” would be hard-pressed to threaten him.

He proceeded to test its cultivation and flying abilities. Seated atop the lotus, he found spiritual energy gathered around him with remarkable speed, and the lotus itself refined the energy, further enhancing his progress.

The chamber was too small to properly test its flight, but he was satisfied nonetheless.

“The only shortcoming,” he realized, “is that these three abilities cannot be used simultaneously…”

This discovery brought a tinge of disappointment. He had dreamed of flying and cultivating at once.

Soon, Chen Jiu shook his head and smiled wryly. “Ah well, nothing in this world is truly perfect. Even so, this has far exceeded my expectations.”

He began the process of refining the lotus, preparing to merge it with his body for greater harmony. This took him half a month.

Afterward, he succeeded—now, with a mere thought, he could summon the lotus from within himself.

Turning his attention to his remaining treasures, Chen Jiu picked up a small banner, seized from the Paper Man. Though diminutive, it could summon wind, rain, thunder, and lightning—a formidable weapon in its own right.

He quickly refined the banner for his own use.

Next was the sword pouch gifted by Yan Chixia. It was just slightly larger than his palm, mottled with bloodstains and pierced with a few finger-sized holes.

The instant Chen Jiu lifted the pouch, a mysterious incantation welled up in his mind.

“Birth, rest, injury, concealment; brightness, death, shock, opening; the sword shatters eight gates, qi surges through a hundred bones…”

As he finished reciting, the tightly sealed mouth of the pouch suddenly opened a crack.

A blast of sword energy erupted, wild and unrestrained, like an enraged dragon breaking free of its bonds, ready to roar at the heavens and shatter the world.

Startled, Chen Jiu hastily sealed the pouch, quelling the raging energy before it could ravage the cave.

He paled, swallowing hard as he fastened the pouch to his belt, still shaken by the near disaster.

The sword energy within was truly fearsome. Just that fleeting release had left him breathless, as if he had stood atop a mountain of corpses amidst rivers of blood. The sensation was both terrifying and gruesomely vivid.

Moreover, the end of Yan Chixia’s incantation revealed a crucial fact: the sword energy was not inexhaustible. It had been accumulated by absorbing the heads of slain foes. Once spent, it could only be replenished by more killing.

For Chen Jiu, this was no easy feat—he did not possess the means, nor the will, to create such carnage.

Though he knew little of Yan Chixia’s past, Chen Jiu himself could never blindly kill to replenish the pouch.

Suppressing his lingering unease, he turned to his final treasure—a blue book. This was the technique “World Within the Sleeve,” gifted by the old man with crimson brows.

“This is exactly what I need,” Chen Jiu mused, remembering with regret the bundle he lost at Mount Tainan. If only he could store everything within his sleeve, it would be a dream come true.

Yet, whether practicing spells or cultivating new arts, mastery could not be achieved overnight. One had to comprehend the principles within and reach insight with mind and spirit alike.

But exceptions always existed. Thanks to the “Heavenly Eye’s” “familiarity” ability, Chen Jiu learned “World Within the Sleeve” with ease.

Half a month later, he emerged from his retreat. Over a month had passed in cultivation, and the longevity tree in his pill chamber flourished more than ever.

Now, all he lacked was an opportunity—a chance to break through his bottleneck, bear fruit, and ascend to the first tier of immortals.

Though a little anxious, Chen Jiu knew that cultivation could not be rushed. One must eat a meal bite by bite, and walk a road step by step.

…

In a room of elegant antiquity, An Huayuan, dressed in brocade robes with a blue sword at his waist, sat in the seat of honor.

“How goes your cultivation, Daoist?” he asked, toying with the waist token Chen Jiu had returned.

Seated beside him, Chen Jiu had a steaming bowl of fragrant tea before him. He smiled politely. “Thank you for your concern, Left Envoy. My humble efforts are mediocre at best, far inferior to the elders of the Anmin Division.”

An Huayuan chuckled awkwardly. “Surely, you know my intentions. I wish for you to stay and assist me.”

Though Chen Jiu had long expected this, hearing it aloud made his heart tighten. This was a difficult favor to repay.

He understood well—being allowed to cultivate in that cave for over a month was an unprecedented privilege. Spiritual energy in this world was scattered and scarce; only natural veins or spirit mountains held enough for true cultivation. The earth-vein caves of the Anmin Division were closed to outsiders—money alone would not grant access.

Chen Jiu coughed lightly, then spoke plainly. “Left Envoy An, I must regretfully decline your request…”