The moment he saw the cooldown of the Fiend from Beyond reset, Wang Ping felt as though a crushing weight of a thousand jin had been lifted from his shoulders. His cheat was back; he could run wild once more!
Yet in the very next second, his head grew slightly heavy.
Though he quickly rallied his spiritual sense and cleared his mind, that single instant of dizziness brought a world-shattering transformation to the scene before his eyes.
It was a decrepit cave dwelling.
The formation was ancient and crumbling, the spiritual energy thin and sparse, and the space cramped, yet it was the dwelling of a family of three—this was Ping Jiangzi's home from the memories of his youth.
"What is going on?"
Wang Ping's gaze sharpened, only to discover that his own appearance had changed. He was no longer a middle-aged man, but had reverted to a youth, and even his cultivation had regressed alongside his form.
Immediately after, a gentle and loving voice spoke from his side: "Ping'er, you must be tired from cultivating. Come take your elixir. It will speed up your progress."
Wang Ping turned toward the sound and saw a middle-aged woman gingerly cradling an elixir bottle. Treating it like an invaluable treasure, she withdrew a single crimson pill and placed it into his palm. "Your father toiled for half a month before he could buy this. Eat it quickly, before the medicinal fragrance disperses."
Ping Jiangzi obediently swallowed the pill.
Then he returned to his prayer mat and resumed his efforts to gather spiritual energy. The middle-aged woman did not leave; instead, she sat down right beside him.
"Keep it up, Ping'er, you can do it!"
As the woman encouraged him, her eyes remained fixed on him without a moment's pause, supervising his gathering of spiritual energy as though terrified he might squander even a single second.
"This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
"Don't waste time playing with those children. You were born with a spiritual root; your future lies in entering an immortal sect. Playing with them will only delay your cultivation."
"Don't worry, Mother will never let anyone look down on you."
"You will definitely join an immortal sect!"
"Your father has already volunteered for more dangerous tasks just so he can trade for a better spirit-gathering mat for you. You must work hard. Don't disappoint your father."
"Mother will stay by your side through it all."
"Cultivate well!"
Ping Jiangzi's memories surfaced with vivid clarity. Within the conjured scene, Ping Jiangzi clutched his head desperately, seemingly plunged into immense agony.
Behind him, however, Wang Ping watched with cold detachment.
'An illusion.'
This was evidently a spell targeted at the soul, similar to the Soul Pursuing art he had used against Fairy Yuerou, designed to craft a waking phantasm.
'This Master of Soul-Drooping Study really fights dirty. He was quietly striking even while talking to me, and his methods are clearly a tier above my own. Ping Jiangzi's memories have been thoroughly scrambled, sinking into complete despair. If not for my unique circumstances, I'd probably have been subdued already.'
Wang Ping knew full well that the master's art was formidable.
Very few cultivators could withstand a technique that struck directly at the soul.
Unfortunately for the master, Wang Ping was an exception. After all, the master was attacking "Ping Jiangzi's" memories—what did that have to do with Wang Ping?
As a result, while the master's strike had succeeded brilliantly in striking Ping Jiangzi right on target, it had failed to affect Wang Ping in the slightest.
"Break for me!"
The next instant, Wang Ping decisively seized control of Ping Jiangzi's body within the memory and slit his own throat. The scene before him rapidly faded into darkness and shattered.
*Crack!*
Like sunlight piercing the dark, his blackened field of vision lit up once more. The reality of the Valley of Ten Thousand Spirits reappeared, and Wang Ping regained full consciousness.
Almost at the same moment, the Master of Soul-Drooping Study, who had already turned his back on Wang Ping, sensed something amiss. He whipped around, shock flickering deep in his eyes. He clearly had not expected that "Ping Jiangzi," a mere rogue cultivator whom he had dismissed, could break free from his spell's grasp.
'How is this possible?'
'He clearly took the full brunt of my Dream Grafting. He should be sinking through endless dreams until his consciousness is ground away to nothing. How did he wake up?'
In the span of a spark, the master's thoughts raced.
He knew he had lost the upper hand. Because of his misjudgment of Ping Jiangzi, he had exposed a momentary opening.
'No, there's no need to panic.'
'He's just a rogue cultivator. Even if I show a flaw, he can't seize it...'
Yet Wang Ping promptly shattered his wishful thinking. A brilliant, blazing flame rose from Wang Ping's sea of consciousness.
The Spirit-Gathering Nail!
Wang Ping's response was extraordinarily swift. The keen perception granted by his martial artist's divine intent allowed him to seize the opening without missing a single beat.
The fiery light of the Spirit-Gathering Nail shot forth, moving alongside his will at a speed that bypassed the limits of spiritual sense perception. In the master's eyes, it was merely a blur before that lethal spike descended toward his crown!
In that split second, the master's expression changed drastically.
*Rumble!*
A boiling flare of light swallowed the Master of Soul-Drooping Study, soaring to the heavens and plunging into the earth, manifesting kaleidoscopic rings of color before shattering like glaze one after another.
"..."
Witnessing this, Wang Ping felt not the slightest joy. Instead, he held his breath, focused his mind, and sprinted swiftly toward the master's position.
For he knew in his heart:
'The feedback is wrong.'
The Spirit-Gathering Nail was linked to his spiritual sense, yet the sensation transmitted back was not the clean thrill of piercing through another's mind, but the frustration of an attack exhausted before completion.
What was more, the sense of danger signaled by his martial intent had not dissipated.
Sure enough, an invisible giant hand forcefully swept across the scene almost immediately, snuffing out the boiling flames in an instant to reveal what lay at the center.
The Master of Soul-Drooping Study stood there with an ugly expression. His robes fluttered without any wind, illuminating over a hundred characters of scripture. Each character supported a radiant glow that formed an inverted protective barrier around him, ultimately constructing over a hundred layers of defense.
More than sixty of those layers had been shattered to powder.
The Spirit-Gathering Nail was wedged firmly amid the remaining barriers, unable to advance or retreat. Though it continued to pulse restlessly, it was clearly incapable of breaking free.
"How dare you damage my magical artifact!"
The Master of Soul-Drooping Study was fuming with rage. This Hundredfold Ward Robe was a low-grade magical artifact he had painstakingly refined, inscribed with the Vast Sun Golden Light Body-Protecting Incantation.
Whenever danger arose, the artifact would awaken autonomously to activate the incantation, producing a hundred-layer omnidirectional protective ward. It was supposed to be a trump card meant for saving his life at critical moments, yet through a single lapse in vigilance, Wang Ping had shattered more than sixty layers in one blow!
'Outrageous!'
'Had I reacted in time and channeled my spiritual sense into the robe, an attack of that caliber would have broken thirty layers at most. How many dharma coins will it cost to repair this afterward?'
Even so, facing a powerful foe, the master could not afford to mourn his losses. He reined in his thoughts at once and looked warily at the charging Wang Ping.
Soon, however, a hint of disdain surfaced in his eyes.
'He's just running straight at me like an idiot?'
'He doesn't even know any spells?'
Seeing Wang Ping close the distance and raise a fist, the master nearly laughed at his own earlier panic.
'Could this Ping Jiangzi have moonlighted as a body cultivator?'
Within the immortal sects, there had always been a clear, direct hierarchy of contempt.
To put it simply: true disciples looked down on inner disciples, inner disciples looked down on outer disciples, and outer disciples looked down on rogue cultivators. Once it reached the rogue cultivators, there was no one left beneath them.
And so, over time, the rogue cultivators carved out a separate group from among their own ranks and created a sacred division to place at the very bottom of the chain: body cultivators. These were practitioners who only used arts to reinforce their physical flesh, undertaking the most menial labor for the fewest dharma coins.
Normally, the master considered even laying eyes on a body cultivator an insult to his sight.
Now, all the more so.
Meanwhile, Wang Ping felt not the slightest ripple of emotion. His entire body crashed directly into the breach carved by the Spirit-Gathering Nail, and he slowly extended his palm.
*Smack.*
With his five fingers spread and his palm surging with blood, Wang Ping's hand pressed lightly against a layer of protective radiance surrounding the master.
In the next instant, Wang Ping's movement was so rapid that even the master, who had locked onto him with spiritual sense, froze in place, unable to perceive what he had just done.
Wang Ping's hand seemed to move, yet also appeared motionless. It merely vibrated at an infinitesimally subtle frequency, transmitting that tremor into the barrier before him. What appeared at last was a wave-like ripple of dense fractures spreading outward in all directions—
*Boom!*
Under the master's stunned gaze, that layer of protective radiance exploded, turning into a cloud of scattered light that lost its arcane power and quickly dissolved into the world.
Wang Ping did not pause for an instant.
A second step, a third, a fourth, a fifth... With every step he took, another layer of protective radiance shattered with a deafening blast!
Throughout the entire assault, Wang Ping's expression remained completely serene.
Bolstered by thirteen military arts in the state of the Indestructible Vajra Body, he stood as majestic as a divine statue, exuding a towering, suffocating presence.
Yet his mind was not fixated on the obstacles before him at all; in fact, he had detached from them entirely. In his heart, he recalled the rainstorm he had weathered several days prior, feeling his blood coursing like a torrential deluge and his footfalls echoing like rolling thunder across the sky.
He was recreating that rainstorm.
Outside was the macrocosm of the world, while inside was the microcosm of his body. At this moment, he was attempting to use the microcosm within himself to manifest the wondrous spectacles of the great world!
*Bang!*
A second palm struck, shattering yet another layer of protective light. Cracks had already spread across Wang Ping's hands, and thick droplets of blood seeped continuously from them.
Yet he paid them no heed.
External sounds, colors, and all forms of distraction faded from Wang Ping's perception, leaving only the Master of Soul-Drooping Study before him.
His gaze carried a potent martial intent, and at this range, with every approaching step, it bore down heavily on the master's heart.
Looking into Wang Ping's eyes, the master could practically read his thought:
*I am going to kill you.*
"...Arrogant fool!"
The master's spiritual sense surged. His sleeve billowed open, and a saber shimmering with flowing light leapt out, its tip aimed straight between Wang Ping's brows.
This was likewise a low-grade magical artifact, known as the Dream-Shattering Saber. It had taken thirty-three divorces and the vital blood and souls of thirty-three Dao companions to refine. Designed to complement his Dream Grafting spell, it did not sever flesh, but struck straight at the spirit to shred a cultivator's memories.
In the next instant, the saber sank between Wang Ping's brows.
The world spun.
Wang Ping once again found himself inside Ping Jiangzi's memories, witnessing the very scene that had utterly broken this sect rogue cultivator, hearing that single sentence—
"I apologize, but you are dismissed."
A devastating wave of despair came howling outward.
He had worked hard. He had truly worked so hard. Why couldn't he attain happiness? Or rather, why was his happiness so fragile?
Fragile enough that a single sentence could shatter it entirely.
Had he not tried hard enough?
Was it just bad luck?
"Of course not,"
the Master of Soul-Drooping Study's voice echoed faintly within the memory. "Because this is destiny. Your lot as human cattle was ordained from the very beginning!"
***
Watching Wang Ping freeze in his tracks, the master's lips curled into a slight sneer.
Unlike himself, who remained completely unharmed with over thirty layers of the Hundredfold Ward Robe intact, his opponent had sunk into a dream, unable to control his body.
Which meant... that was right! Victory was his!
*Thud.*
A footstep interrupted the master's triumphant thoughts. Then he watched as Wang Ping, who was supposed to have lost consciousness, lifted his head once more and looked straight at him.
His eyes were bright.
Confusion gripped the master. The feedback from the Dream-Shattering Saber had been unmistakable; Ping Jiangzi's memories should have been shredded by now.
What was going on?
Why could he still move?
Setting aside his doubts, the master struck again. This time, along with the Dream-Shattering Saber, two items appeared in his hands.
The Soul-Slaying Banner.
The Soul-Drooping Bell.
Two magical artifacts corresponding to the Soul Pursuing and Soul Seizing spells. Combined with the Dream-Shattering Saber and Dream Grafting, he was laying bare his entire arsenal.
Almost simultaneously, Wang Ping felt all three spells act upon him at once. He had effortlessly deflected the Dream-Shattering Saber using Ping Jiangzi's memories, but the other two took him by complete surprise—in an instant, he not only lost control of his body, but cracks spread all over his skin.
'This is...!?'
The sudden change instantly reminded Wang Ping of the time before his crossing into the immortal sect, when he had been struck by Dashun's esoteric soul-targeting arts at the Longxing County Yamen.
'It's identical.'
First stripping away control of his body, then directly decapitating him—no, there was a difference. The master had failed to take his head.
Why?
Wang Ping soon saw the answer. In the master's hand, the Soul-Slaying Banner bore his current name written in blood:
Ping Jiangzi.
'The name is wrong! The medium is flawed, so the effect is limited!'
At that realization, a smile broke across Wang Ping's face. Armed with his previous experience, he regained control of his body even faster this time.
As for why the master's methods coincided so neatly with Dashun's esoteric arts, he had no time to ponder it now.
He took another step forward.
Seeing this, the Master of Soul-Drooping Study looked as though he had seen a ghost. He unconsciously took a step back, his voice tinged with disbelief.
"Why won't you die?"
"Why aren't you dead yet?!"
He channeled his artifacts and cast his spells with greater desperation, opening fatal wound after fatal wound across Wang Ping's body, yet it was all in vain.
Courage of the Noble Gentleman!
At this moment, that scroll acquired from the Lin family residence, which Wang Ping had never once activated, seemed finally to meet its conditions, its radiant light flaring to life.
Once the scroll was invoked, no injury could halt Wang Ping's movements or degrade his state unless it was an absolute, decisive death blow. And by the judgment of the scroll, even being decapitated did not count as fatal so long as his head was not pulverized into meat paste!
Besides, you're attacking Ping Jiangzi—what right do you have to stop me, Wang Ping?
Beneath the shattering layers of protective light, Wang Ping finally stepped directly before the Master of Soul-Drooping Study, raising his arm and curling his five fingers into a tight fist.
Only now did the master finally accept reality.
He could not defeat this rogue cultivator.
In a flash, he rebuilt his resolve, decisively casting aside all remorse, indignation, and fury to make the most sensible choice available:
'Retreat for now...'
A radiance began to drift beneath his feet. In just a fraction of an instant, he could ride his fleeing light and escape to safety; there was no way his opponent could catch him.
Yet right at that moment—
"..."
All sound fell away. The roaring explosions of the shattering barriers vanished, and the clamor turned abruptly into utter silence, as though time itself had ground to a halt.
Astonished, the master pushed his fleeing light even harder. Yet to his rising panic, the light that should have soared in the blink of an eye now crept like a turtle, astonishingly slow. No matter how much spiritual sense he poured into it, he could not quicken it by even a fraction.
'Why is this happening?'
'I consulted the Fate-Peering Flesh-Flensing Bone Mirror! My destiny was to sacrifice everyone in blood and successfully forge mana! Why is this happening?!'
In the next second, the master heard a voice.
To be precise, it was not a sound, but an intent carrying tangible power, piercing through the void to communicate with him and make itself understood:
"Why do you believe in destiny?"
A ridiculous question.
"Because destiny was ordained by the immortals! Good fortune in this life is the foundation built in the past; hardship in this life is karmic blessing in the next! Such is the common law of heaven and earth!"
"I see. Now I understand."
The voice continued, "A way to make people abandon resistance and accept their misery with peace of mind, from birth to death, cycling endlessly generation after generation."
"If that is what you call destiny..."
Within his mind, Ping Jiangzi's memories and long life welled up ceaselessly, manifesting inside Wang Ping's sea of consciousness as a graying young man.
His face was devoid of expression, weeping in silence.
Until Wang Ping took his hand in a firm grasp.
At that moment, Wang Ping's mind attained absolute clarity. His voice, brimming with unyielding will, rang out like thunder—not only to the Master of Soul-Drooping Study, but as a proclamation to Ping Jiangzi:
"Then I am one who aspires to transcendence!"
Stand up, you who refuse to be bound by destiny.
Do not weep. Keep moving forward.
March on!
The master's mind shook violently. He felt the rogue cultivator before him had gone completely mad.
"What transcendence?! Destiny was ordained by the immortals! Resisting destiny is defying the will of the immortals! It is rebellion! It is treason!"
"Such ugly words."
Amid the quiet world, Wang Ping's voice rang out, proud and passionate. Corresponding to it was a fist driving straight through the master's abdomen.
"Rebellion? Treason? I call it—"
The martial artist's fist force tore through the cultivator's body, sending blood erupting outward. The master's vision instantly plunged into darkness, leaving only a lingering whisper by his ear:
"—purging the immortal court!"
Chapter 65