Chapter 61: Golden Core Tribulation, Fire Reflecting the Nine Netherworld
The metallic clanging from the bottom of the Profound Yin River abruptly ceased. Lu Qingyang’s Dantian chamber glowed with a Glass-colored luster, illuminated by the qingmu spirit pearl. The broken sword box he had dug out from the Ancient Battlefield three days prior was trembling in his palm; the Geng Metal Evil Qi overflowing from its seams condensed into slender snakes, gnawing at his newly formed Void Core.
“Fellow Daoist, what a scheme.” The purple-robed Cultivator strode across the floating ice on the river. The jade pendant at his waist was carved with the unique Xiezhi pattern of the Taiyi Pavilion’s Hall of Punishments. “Using the Nine Netherworld Fire to temper your core truly saves a hundred years of arduous cultivation.” The judge's brush that slipped from his sleeve pointed at the Void Realm, and ink-colored Talismanic Incantations sealed off all escape routes like a spider web.
Lu Qingyang licked away the blood foam from the corner of his mouth. The Earth Evasion Talisman hidden in the sole of his boot had long since frozen into ice shards. The bronze compass in his in arms suddenly vibrated, its needle pointing directly at the opponent’s brow—that was the life-saving Magical Artifact the Old Drunkard had given him before his death, specifically designed to break through the Taiyi Pavilion’s protective Spiritual Qi.
“Hall of Punishments lackey, do you even deserve to talk about schemes?” He flicked open the sword box with a finger, and the rust-covered broken blade clanged out of its sheath. “Last year, on the Zhongyuan Festival, who used Soul-Devouring Nails in Yunmengze to cripple thirty Loose Cultivators?” Before his words finished, the broken blade, wrapped in qingmu spirit pearl, had already pierced towards the Cultivator’s Danzhong acupoint. Where the sword’s edge passed, there was even the strange phenomenon of withered wood coming back to life.
The purple-robed Cultivator flicked his sleeve, splashing out cinnabar ink. The ink, upon encountering Spiritual Qi, transformed into a ferocious ghost general. Lu Qingyang feigned a move, then suddenly aimed the sword tip at an inconspicuous pebble at the bottom of the river—he had deliberately buried a Yin Thunder Pearl there three days ago. In the turbulent waves that exploded, the qingmu spirit pearl emitted a Green Light, condensing the sky-filling water mist into thousands of ice needles.
“Mere parlor tricks!” The Cultivator drew a Talismanic Incantation in the air with his judge's brush, and an ink Dragon, wrapped in Evil Qi, swallowed the ice needles. Lu Qingyang, however, used the recoil to fly backward into the river’s central whirlpool. A jade bottle slipped from his sleeve, splashing out crimson liquid—it was the Phantasmagoria Powder, prepared with the essence blood of a third-rank Yao Beast.
The river water suddenly boiled as if being cooked, and the nine-headed Xiangliu, transformed from essence blood, broke through the waves. Lu Qingyang seized the opportunity to crush the Teleportation Talisman in his in arms, but found that space had been locked down by the judge's brush’s “Drawing a Prison” Restriction. The Void Core in his Dantian chamber spun madly at this moment, and the ancient inscriptions appearing on the surface of the qingmu spirit pearl actually resonated with the broken blade.
“So it was you!” The Cultivator’s pupils constricted. The ink splattered by the judge's brush transformed into chains, wrapping around Lu Qingyang’s neck. “Three years ago, the Eastern Wilderness Ancient Tomb...” Before he could finish, the broken blade suddenly burst forth with dazzling golden light, and the Nine Netherworld Fire dormant in Lu Qingyang’s Void Core ignited along the sword patterns, forming a fire Dragon. The ink chains vaporized the moment they touched the Dragon’s head, and the Cultivator’s protective Spiritual Qi shattered like an eggshell.
A towering water pillar rose from the center of the river. Lu Qingyang stepped on the remnants of Xiangliu and leaped onto the clouds. The Void Core in his Dantian chamber had already condensed into a solid core the size of a pigeon egg, with cracks densely covering its surface, from which azure and Golden Core flames seeped. He suddenly remembered the words of the female Cultivator from the Star Gazing Pavilion seven days ago: “Fellow Daoist’s Golden Core contains Yin and Yang Evil Qi; you need to find Nine Netherworld Cold Marrow to harmonize it.”
Three thousand li away, a roar suddenly came from Falling Star Cliff. Lu Qingyang squinted, only to see the thousand-year-old lightning-struck tree at the cliff’s summit turning into charcoal amidst the thunderclouds. The bronze compass in his in arms spun madly, guiding him to speed towards the northeast—that’s where he had buried his contingency plan half a month ago.
The purple-robed Cultivator’s angry shout pierced through the clouds: “Don’t go!” Twelve ink Talismanic Incantations transformed into a net of heaven and earth, covering him. Lu Qingyang, however, suddenly turned back, thrusting the broken blade directly into his left chest. The vitality emitted by the qingmu spirit pearl wrapped around his heart Meridian, and the heart blood picked out by the blade tip splattered onto the compass surface, actually activating an ancient Teleportation Array.
At the moment space distorted, Lu Qingyang glimpsed a Jade Slip slipping from the Cultivator’s sleeve—it was engraved with Su Li’s portrait. He, as if possessed, flung out his medicinal shovel. The bone-corroding powder hidden in the shovel’s handle drifted towards the Jade Slip with the wind. Before his figure completely disappeared, he heard the sizzling sound of the Jade Slip corroding, and the Cultivator’s exasperated curses.
The teleportation destination was a desolate City God Temple. An unheaded deity statue on the altar held a lamp that burned eternally in its palm. Lu Qingyang stumbled out of the Void Realm. The cracks on the surface of his Void Core had already spread throughout his entire Meridians. He tremblingly took out three black crystals the size of Dragon’s eyes—precisely the cold marrow refined with Nine Netherworld Fire.
“The time to gamble with my life has come.” He gritted his teeth and pressed the cold marrow towards his Dantian. The moment the azure-Golden Core flames collided with the Nine Netherworld cold Qi, the City God Temple’s floor tiles all turned to dust. The unheaded deity statue suddenly opened a vertical eye on its forehead, and the clanging sound of chains being dragged came from beneath the decaying altar.
A bronze coffin rising from underground shattered the remaining walls. The black mist seeping from the coffin lid’s cracks condensed into a ghost face. Lu Qingyang’s Sea of Consciousness suddenly stung. The qingmu spirit pearl automatically protected its master, and the spiritual mist from the medicine field within the pearl transformed into an Azure Dragon phantom, coiling above his head. The ghost face let out a screeching laugh like a night owl, and a skeletal hand extending from the coffin grabbed directly at his Tianling Gai.
“I’ve been waiting for you!” Lu Qingyang suddenly erupted. The Talismanic Incantation paper that slipped from his sleeve ignited into a raging inferno. These Exploding Flame Talismans, drawn with Yao Beast essence blood, did not attack the ghost, but instead plastered themselves onto the four load-bearing pillars—the entire City God Temple collapsed with a roar, and sunlight pierced through the black mist like sharp swords.
The skeletal hand sizzled under the sunlight. Lu Qingyang seized the opportunity to slap the cold marrow into his Void Core. Extreme cold and extreme heat reached a delicate balance within the Dantian chamber, and the cracks healed at a visible speed. He backhanded the broken blade into the coffin’s crevice. The Nine Netherworld Fire absorbed by the blade body burned down into the depths of the earth along the iron chains.
Amidst the mournful ghost wails, the bronze coffin re-sank into the earth. Lu Qingyang spat out a mouthful of clotted blood, and found that a black pattern resembling a chain had appeared on his palm—it was precisely the Soul-Chasing Mark planted by the ghost face before its dissipation. He smiled bitterly and touched the Storage Pouch at his waist. Inside lay half a scroll of the “Yin Talisman Classic” he had taken from the Ancient Battlefield.
A cold wind suddenly swept through the ruins of the City God Temple, and three bronze carriages, adorned with soul-summoning banners, emerged from the earth. The old man driving the carriage had empty eye sockets, but his horsewhip pointed accurately at Lu Qingyang: “Underworld claims lives, living beware!” The carriage curtains moved without wind, revealing densely packed soul lamps inside, each wick flickering with the phantom image of a Cultivator.
Lu Qingyang’s core flames suddenly overflowed uncontrollably. Azure and golden flames condensed into a Taiji diagram behind him. He remembered the first line of the “Yin Talisman Classic,” “The Netherworld is not a land of death; when Yin reaches its extreme, Yang is born,” and suddenly had an epiphany, swallowing all the remaining cold marrow in his in arms.
The extreme cold Qi caused blood to flow from his seven orifices, but the core flames surged three zhang under this stimulation. The old man driving the carriage let out an inhuman shriek, and the bronze carriages melted into molten iron in the firelight. Lu Qingyang seized the opportunity to form a hand seal and escape underground, but he hit a hard barrier—the hundred-li radius had long been enveloped by the Taiyi Pavilion’s “Heaven and Earth Net Array.”
A deep abyss suddenly cracked open in the ground, and nine copper corpses, covered in Talismanic Incantations, emerged from the earth. Lu Qingyang recognized familiar faces among the corpses: the fat shopkeeper who had swindled him in the black market five years ago was now rushing towards him, glaring with crimson corpse eyes. The broken blade carved out a brilliant arc of light among the corpses. With each copper corpse he cut down, the rust on the blade body faded a little.
When the head of the last copper corpse rolled off, the broken blade had restored itself into a long sword like autumn water. The words “Punish Evil” appearing on the sword hilt made Lu Qingyang momentarily stunned—this was actually a replica of the Taiyi Pavilion’s treasured artifact. He suddenly understood why the purple-robed Cultivator had pursued him relentlessly, but the trembling of the qingmu spirit pearl interrupted his thoughts.
Seven blood-colored stars lit up in the northwest sky. Lu Qingyang’s bronze compass in his in arms automatically floated into the air. The needle shattered after violent trembling, and an Eastern Wilderness earth Pulse Chart appeared on the compass surface. A location circled in cinnabar was bleeding—it was the Ancient Battlefield he had left three days ago.
“Karma cycles, huh...” He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, a ruthless glint flashing in his eyes. The solid core in his Dantian chamber was already stable, but the qingmu spirit pearl transmitted a warning at this moment. Lu Qingyang decisively bit his tongue, spitting essence blood onto the Punish Evil sword body. The sword light, like a rainbow, pierced towards a certain spot in the Void Realm.
The purple-robed Cultivator, who had been hidden for a long time, was forced to reveal himself. His judge's brush had been replaced by a white bone umbrella. The hundred ghosts painted on the umbrella surface twisted as if alive, but Lu Qingyang’s sword momentum suddenly slowed—the tassels hanging from the umbrella ribs were actually nine hundred ninety-nine Soul-Binding Ropes.
“Hand over the qingmu...” The Cultivator’s threat was interrupted by the clang of the sword. Lu Qingyang suddenly abandoned his sword and closed in, and the medicinal pestle that slipped from his sleeve heavily smashed onto the umbrella handle. The phosphorus powder that exploded from the hidden compartment in the pestle head stained the ghost face. The Taiyi Pavilion’s specially made evil-dispelling powder actually became a death warrant. The white bone umbrella turned to ash in the eerie green flames, and the Cultivator’s protective Spiritual Qi shattered for the second time.
The Punish Evil sword, sensing its master’s crisis, spontaneously pierced through the Cultivator’s back. Lu Qingyang, however, showed no joy. He clearly saw the communication Jade Talisman the opponent crushed before his soul body escaped into the earth pulse—it was branded with Su Li’s life soul aura.
As dusk settled, Lu Qingyang slumped on the scorched earth, tallying his spoils. The sheepskin scroll found in the Cultivator’s Storage Pouch detailed the Taiyi Pavilion’s three-hundred-year investigation records of the qingmu spirit pearl. When he saw the eight characters “Spirit Pearl Appears, Jianmu Reborn,” he suddenly remembered the sound of chains from beneath the City God Temple and felt a subtle resonance with the “Burial Dragon Abyss” mentioned by the Old Drunkard before his death.
