Chapter Seventy-Four: In the Midst of Myself

The “Celestial Realm” is indeed in dire straits these days. That fragment’s collision has stirred its spiritual energy into unrest, a tumult that refuses to settle. Now, Luo Ancestor can only probe it with his spirit, not daring to enter bodily, for he would face a bizarre “blade storm.”

To dispatch a fleshly avatar inside would mean its swift obliteration, reduced to nothing but scattered gore. Those who ascend from the mortal world would be like Mu, left to cry out desperately, “Do not ascend, do not ascend.”

Yet Luo Ancestor need not worry about the reputation of the “Celestial Realm,” for without his guidance, no mortal can reach it. After all, it is impossible for them to shatter the void at their current level—and even true immortals likely lack that ability. Only a Celestial Immortal might touch the fabric of space and perform the feat of breaking through the void. As for Yang’s arduous pursuit and his so-called Golden Elixir, Luo Ancestor would never lead him to the “Celestial Realm.”

Luo Ancestor could disperse the Golden Elixir now and summon heavenly might directly if he wished.

“So this Golden Elixir… does it serve any purpose?” Luo Ancestor mused, conjuring the Golden Elixir once more.

This time, it was not composed of the five elements, but solely of fire.

Yet the Golden Elixir remained perfectly round, enveloped in a thin layer of crimson flame, like a cloak.

“It can be produced from pure true energy, but it cannot be considered a realm in itself,” Luo Ancestor reflected.

For the cultivator’s own strength did not leap forward as a result.

To Luo Ancestor’s mind, a breakthrough in realm must entail a fundamental transformation—other techniques and arts may be refined over time, but one’s capacity for spiritual energy, wisdom, and soul should be renewed, as though a new generation of the mind’s ‘cpu’ had been installed.

But the Golden Elixir does not accomplish this; it is merely a pure condensation of true energy, not even a true crystal, for it still wavers between the real and unreal, liable to dissipate at any moment.

More precisely, Yang’s true breakthrough occurred before the Elixir formed—when the five divine abilities were mastered. The Golden Elixir was but the outward manifestation.

Having grasped this, Luo Ancestor’s mind cleared. Yang had indeed reached a new realm and was riding the crest of the era.

Regrettably, Luo Ancestor could not directly access Yang’s thoughts; else he would earnestly savor Yang’s current state.

Yang too was in a freshly-broken-through condition, still needing time for his realm to stabilize.

Luo Ancestor resolved to monitor and record these changes.

The furnace was set aside, as was the hefty tome used for recording iron-smelting data. Luo Ancestor began to observe Yang’s bodily transformation remotely.

About seven days later, Yang’s condition finally stabilized. When he emerged, his ghost immortal form had undergone a drastic change from before.

He realized that the Golden Elixir was but a surface phenomenon; the true metamorphosis was within himself.

Yang demonstrated his arts before the Five Visceral Lords, spinning the five elemental techniques, transforming water into fire, fire into earth, wood into metal—each shift seamless and unimpeded. The Five Visceral Lords were struck with disbelief: “This is impossible, how can this be?”

But the facts were undeniable.

“It is merely the transformation of true energy,” Yang replied with a smile.

Easier said than done. The nature of true energy is determined before a spell is cast, and once cast, how could it change at will? That is already a spell, not raw energy. How could an ordinary person manipulate a spell’s fixed essence, turning fire into water?

Such things defy common sense.

Yang explained, “Fellow Daoist, one must make the five elements serve oneself, not oneself serve the five elements. Only then is this possible.”

“Speak plainly,” the Five Visceral Lords demanded, impatient and glaring.

“Make the five elements a part of oneself, and it becomes easy,” Yang said.

His words sounded as if it were effortless.

The Five Visceral Lords were speechless, but Luo Ancestor saw no falsehood.

Both shadow and light spirits are constructed of spells and techniques; thus, to wield these arts is second nature. But to freely switch between the five elemental techniques involves the resonance between true energy and the spiritual energy of the world—a difficult feat.

Yet for Luo Ancestor, it was not difficult. One glance sufficed for him to comprehend Yang’s current state.

“Time waits for no one.”

Luo Ancestor withdrew all attention from his pocket universe.

He adjusted the flow of time within the pocket universe to match that of the primordial world.

Having finished these preparations, he returned to his true form, corrected the temporal discrepancies between the two realms, and began to ponder the stage above “Refining the Spirit and Returning to the Void”—namely, “Merging the Void with the Dao.”

According to his original deductions, the yang spirit would reach pure yang, then extreme yang would give rise to yin, thereby blending yin and yang, which produces the primordial spirit.

But now, observing the outcome—though the result is still the forging of the primordial spirit—it is not strictly necessary to harmonize yin and yang, nor to assume the stance of the Supreme Polarity.

In the mountain cave, Luo Ancestor sat cross-legged, immersed in deep thought. At last, his yang spirit emerged, hovering above his head. It then expelled one hundred and nine Daoist arts, each transforming into a spherical Golden Elixir.

Each perfectly round Golden Elixir was the crystallization of Luo Ancestor’s Daoist arts. At this moment, these art-formed elixirs devoured pure energy pouring forth from the void.

That energy was none other than what Luo Ancestor had accumulated in his pocket universe over the years. The myriad beings absorbed the essence of sun and moon, of which Luo Ancestor collected ninety percent for himself, storing it in the pocket universe’s sun and moon. Now he drew upon thirty percent of his long-held reserves.

Each art absorbed the energy, propelling it from the third tier to the fourth.

Fourth tier was not the end. With his mind divided into one hundred and nine parts, Luo Ancestor used the energy to push them towards the fifth tier.

Not enough—the process continued to the sixth tier, reaching the apex of “Refining the Spirit and Returning to the Void.”

This transformation lasted a full day and night. Should any “Cave Dweller” come to seek counsel, Luo Ancestor would send a message: he was in seclusion, unavailable for now, please leave questions at the door or remember them for later.

The clansmen knew this was a critical moment for Luo Ancestor and dared not disturb him, quietly departing.

When all one hundred and nine arts had advanced to the sixth tier, Luo Ancestor’s yang spirit, stripped of its arts, reverted to the form of three souls and seven spirits.

Yet at this moment, Luo Ancestor’s divine essence had merged with the one hundred and nine Daoist arts in the course of their advancement.

Thus, in the next instant, both his soul and flesh broke into smiles.

“Success! Success!” Joy radiated from him.

The cave was filled with dazzling lights. The formation born of the previous fusion of one hundred and eight Daoist arts now arose once more—not for combat, but for proof of the Dao.

I spent the afternoon watching subscriptions, anxious and distracted, so things stalled a bit. But today there are seven updates, the remaining three will come tonight.