The burly man was momentarily taken aback. Only then did he remember the urgent business at hand. Seeing Li Qinghong's resolute and unyielding posture, he had no choice but to lower his voice:
"Earlier, I was insolent and caused offense. I ask only for a single Wanling Flower! I beg Fellow Daoist to grant this!"
Seeing him yield, Li Qinghong turned her hand, took a jade box from her storage bag, and said amiably, "Saving a life is paramount. Take it and use it, Fellow Daoist."
The burly man was immediately overjoyed. He did not even have time to utter words of gratitude or discuss any compensation; he merely nodded vigorously, received the flower, and swept away like the wind.
Only then did Li Qinghong lower her spear and descend amid flashing purple lightning. Below, Li Xicheng beamed with undisguised delight and smiled.
"Congratulations, Aunt!"
She chuckled softly, stroked Li Xicheng's head, and said gently, "When I entered secluded cultivation on the mountain all those years ago, you were just a toddler who would drop his spear when thunder startled you. Now, in the blink of an eye, you are already thirty years old. I almost failed to recognize you."
Li Xicheng could only chuckle foolishly, unable to suppress his boundless joy. "As long as Aunt has succeeded in her breakthrough, that is all that matters. That is all that matters."
"Where is Brother Jiao?"
Tightening her grip on the spear in her hand, Li Qinghong asked, "It is rare for me to achieve Foundation Establishment—I must have a proper bout with him!"
"Hahaha..."
Laughter echoed from far to near as a man in black arrived riding the wind, his expression brimming with pride.
"Qinghong truly succeeded!"
"Greetings, Ancestor!"
It turned out that Li Xicheng had sent someone earlier to summon Li Yuanjiao from seclusion, and he had already rushed over. The gathered cultivators hurriedly bowed in greeting. Rare for him, Li Yuanjiao's joy was plain on his face as he laughed heartily.
"Good! Wonderful!"
He waved his hand to dismiss all the cultivators of other surnames, and only then did he look Li Qinghong up and down. Meeting her soft smile, he praised, "The *Purple Lightning Secret Origin Method* is truly worthy of an ancient art. With you commanding thunder and lightning, purple radiance swirling about you, your presence is far more imposing than mine."
Li Qinghong smiled and said, "I have formed the Immortal Foundation 'Dark Thunder Pool.' Within my sea of qi, it has already transformed into a thunder pool where purple and silver qi surge upward. Thunder stirs with my every movement; it is quite remarkable."
She brushed back a strand of hair, her expression thoroughly pleased. "I have examined several methods kept by our family. The 'Dark Thunder Pool' is simple and dignified, presumably created back when the Purple Palace Golden Core Dao was first founded. Its mystical qualities differ somewhat from present-day Immortal Foundations."
She held out her hand, palm facing up. Purple lightning surged into view, gradually coalescing into a profound, dark purple talismanic seal that drifted up and down in her palm, enveloped in purple radiance.
Condensing this thunder talisman appeared to drain Li Qinghong considerably, leaving her face slightly pale. She explained, "This is the 'Secret Origin Dark Lightning.' It is best suited for slaughter and slaying demons, already capable of drawing upon the thunderbolts of heaven and earth for aid. When further empowered by the 'Purple Talisman Origin Light Secret Method' from the *Purple Lightning Secret Origin Method*, its might will likely be astonishing.
"This dark lightning is difficult to preserve. It can only be stored—a single bolt—within the thunder pool of my sea of qi by using the 'Purple Talisman Origin Light Secret Method.' When drawn forth during battle, it strikes without warning and poses a tremendous threat."
This dark lightning exuded a palpable aura of deadly peril. Watching it, Li Wushao swallowed dryly and thought to himself, *When the fairy exited seclusion just now, her lightning battered me into steady retreat. I thought her lightning arts were formidable enough, never imagining she still had this dark lightning left unused... In a life-or-death battle, caught unprepared, I might have been struck dead by her in two blows.*
Li Yuanjiao's eyelids twitched as well, joy shining in his eyes. "Though the *Purple Lightning Secret Origin Method* is difficult, the rewards are equally bountiful. This secret method complements it perfectly, raising your combat prowess by several levels outright."
Li Qinghong brought her palms together, drawing the thunder talisman back into the thunder pool of her sea of qi, and continued, "The 'Dark Thunder Pool' also possesses the ability to set up an altar to cast rituals, communing with heaven and earth to call down heavenly thunder."
Her willow-leaf brows knit slightly, and she said with some hesitation, "However, I have heard that the heavens and earth today differ from ancient times, so I do not know if this spell can still be used..."
While the two were conversing, Kongheng came riding the wind. A faint smile graced his fair face, his eyes downcast.
"Kongheng greets Benefactor, and congratulates Benefactor on establishing your Immortal Foundation!"
Li Yuanjiao gave a courteous nod, while Li Qinghong paused briefly before replying, "The Master's cultivation has also made great progress. Congratulations to us both."
"Yes... indeed..."
Kongheng murmured in agreement. Keeping his eyes lowered, he descended on the wind, muttering scriptures under his breath with great diligence. Excusing himself, he drifted downward on his own.
Seeing Li Qinghong frown, Li Yuanjiao explained the preceding events to her in detail. Li Qinghong nodded thoughtfully and remarked, "My method comes from Leiyun Temple, so it seems to share some connection with Liao River Temple... Yet a doubt has lingered in my mind."
Li Yuanjiao tilted his head slightly, prompting Li Qinghong to continue: "Leiyun Temple was plainly an ancient Buddhist order, so why does the *Purple Lightning Secret Origin Method* follow the unmistakable path of the Purple Palace Golden Core Dao? Isn't that like chanting Daoist scriptures while striking a Buddhist wooden fish? It makes no sense at all."
Li Yuanjiao was equally puzzled. Pondering it for a while without finding any answers, he simply made a note of it. "I will find a day to question Kongheng."
Li Qinghong inclined her head gently and accompanied her elder brother down toward the mountain, asking, "During this period when I was secluded away from home, how did our family gain a monster general?"
Li Wushao had kept his head lowered behind them for a long time. Finally finding an opportunity, he said respectfully, "This humble monster, Li Wushao, was originally born in the East Sea and mistakenly entered the Salt Lake. Fortunately, I gained Master's grace and devoted myself to Mount Qingdu..."
"Enough!"
Li Yuanjiao's lips twitched as he listened, and he interrupted, "You've certainly learned how to spin pretty words. Why make it sound so sickening? The Xuanyue Kong clan invited me to take action, intending to kill this monster. Our family was in need of Foundation Establishment combat strength, so I requested a technique to subdue him."
"So that was it."
Li Wushao chuckled sheepishly. Li Qinghong sized him up and remarked, "When you took human form, you didn't even choose an appearance that would put people at ease. You look like a villain—anyone meeting you would have to keep their guard up."
Both Li Yuanjiao and Li Wushao froze. Seeing his younger sister's eyes crinkled in amusement, Li Yuanjiao shook his head helplessly. "You just have to tease me!"
Li Qinghong pulled at his arm, brimming with excitement. "Come, come, let brother and sister have a bout!"
Li Yuanjiao nodded. The two rose upon the wind. Li Qinghong pulled back to create distance, in no rush to draw her spear. A ball of purple magical thunder surfaced in her palm, and with a flick of her wrist, a beam of purple light shot forth at blistering speed.
A greyish-green dragon-serpent materialized around Li Yuanjiao. Having made further progress over the past few years, his dragon-serpent appeared remarkably lifelike, baring fangs and brandishing claws, its whiskers and mane fluttering vividly as it leaped up with a roar.
*Boom!*
The purple thunder struck the dragon-serpent, making it roar incessantly in pain. Dark green droplets of water cascaded like rain, filling the sky with moisture, while Li Yuanjiao closed in with his sword under the protection of his Immortal Foundation.
The 'Jing Dragon King' was highly unique. Aside from abundant true essence, its water-controlling ability could coalesce into a single aquatic dragon-serpent or divide into snakes, shrimp, crabs, turtles, or blades, swords, axes, and halberds. Li Yuanjiao did not need to endure the lightning in person; he simply sprang forward.
Though holding a slight advantage through his Immortal Foundation, Li Yuanjiao felt heavy at heart, facing her as if confronting a formidable foe.
Others who did not know his sister might think closing in on a lightning cultivator would force her to defend rather than cast spells, but Li Yuanjiao knew better. He had not seen Li Qinghong's spear arts in years, and there was no telling what heights she had reached by now.
Sure enough, Li Qinghong merely smiled as she drew the Duruo Spear. A pale purple silhouette of thunder emerged, swift as a lightning bolt, stabbing viciously toward him as spear shadows coalesced into the shapes of birds, swooping down one after another.
*Clang!*
Li Yuanjiao unleashed a dazzling greenish-white sword ray. Li Qinghong, however, did not clash with him head-on; she shifted her strike into an upward deflection, withdrawing to dissipate his force before swinging her spear around to smash heavily against his flank.
*Not good! Little Sister has read our family's sword arts—she knows the Lunar Crescent Sword Arc intimately!*
Li Qinghong possessed greater natural talent with weapons than Li Yuanjiao. With this thrust, deflection, and smash, the purple thunder shattered. Li Qinghong retreated several fathoms in succession, the pale purple spear shadows echoing around her as she pressed closer.
After so many years of cultivation, Li Qinghong was no longer confined to the *Folded Feather Spear* and *Swimming Dragon's Returning Shadow*. Her spear techniques and momentum flowed effortlessly from instinct, blended into a single unified style. Knowing that Li Yuanjiao's brilliance lay only in his opening strike, she closed the distance immediately.
With his weaknesses laid bare, Li Yuanjiao fought with great strain, using sword qi merely to parry back and forth. The momentum of the spear in Li Qinghong's hands accumulated steadily, each thrust heavier than the last, driving him back step by step.
Li Yuanjiao's face grew dark as water. The sword light in his hand flowed out like water, splitting into three pure white streams of light, intensely sharp and dancing with agile grace.
"Threefold Moonstream!"
These three sword qi were dense and heavy, darting through the air of their own accord as though possessed of sentience. Pure white and brilliantly bright, each trailed a tail of light as it swept forward. Li Qinghong recognized them at once. Drawing her spear back, she beamed with delight:
"Brother, you've mastered it!"
Li Yuanjiao did not reply. Seizing the opportunity, he sheathed his sword and drew it once more, adding another Lunar Crescent Sword Arc. Li Qinghong whirled her spear to defend, but those three streams of light danced and leapt nimbly, darting toward the space between her brows and her lower abdomen.
Li Qinghong's eyes suddenly misted over with deep purple. Silver-white and dark purple lightning erupted from her spear, unleashing a tremendous roar in midair. With a horizontal sweep, Li Qinghong forcefully shattered the sword light before her.
From the surging lightning, two pure white sword rays sprang forth, flickering against her wrist before abruptly dissipating.
"If we keep fighting, blood will be drawn!"
Li Yuanjiao smiled. Li Qinghong lowered her spear and sighed with some regret. "I underestimated the *Moon Crescent Sword Scripture*! It is a fifth-rank sword art after all—how could it be overcome merely by using raw force to defeat finesse!"
"Do not be overly modest, Qinghong. It's not as though you couldn't have blocked those two sword rays," Li Yuanjiao said, shaking his head. "I only mastered it recently, which substantially enhanced my strength. Had you returned a month earlier, I fear I would not have been able to harm you in the slightest.
"Besides, I had the advantage in this bout. If you had unleashed that dark lightning from the start, or employed the 'Purple Talisman Origin Light Secret Method' when I closed in, I would have suffered greatly. If I had been wounded before the fight even truly began, I would never have matched you."
Li Qinghong stowed her spear, bowed respectfully, and said warmly, "In the past, I was able to study secret methods and practice spear arts in peace entirely because Brother and Brother Ping bore the burdens of the family. Now that I have achieved Foundation Establishment, I can share your load!"
"It is good that you have this heart, but there is no rush in these coming years."
Li Yuanjiao looked at her gently and replied, "On one hand, look into the Blood Tun Fruit. On the other... spend more time with Brother Ping."
Li Qinghong lowered her head quietly and gave a soft hum of agreement. Both understood the unspoken truth. Just then, a figure hurried up from below and reported respectfully:
"Reporting to the Ancestor, news has arrived from the great desert to the west!"
"Uncle?"
It was rare for Chen Donghe to send word. Li Yuanjiao calculated the days, realizing it was not yet enough time to gather a portion of Golden Yang Huangyuan. His heart dropped, and an ominous premonition arose.
Sure enough, the man knelt and replied:
"It is an obituary..."
***
Guyan Temple.
The weather in the great desert was always dry. Having lived here for over a decade, Chen Donghe had long grown accustomed to it. Waking early in the morning, he called out softly twice as usual, but received no answer.
A Qi Refinement cultivator's eyesight was simply too sharp; even in the dim light, he could see the withered body of the old woman beside him, lying like a pile of firewood upon the bed, devoid of all life.
The man froze, falling silent for two breaths.
"Right. It's time to go home."
He stored the belongings from the desk and against the walls into his storage bag, lifted Li Jingtian from the bed, and walked out into the courtyard step by step. The sand was scorching hot, and Li Jingtian had always insisted that he carry her on his back.
"The sun is quite mild today. It's rare to have such fine weather in the desert. What a pity."
Carrying her on his back, Chen Donghe reflected on how Li Jingtian had intended to wait for such weather to travel north, wishing to pass away somewhere with more rain. Who could have known that she would suddenly stop breathing in the middle of the night, dying in the yellow sands after all?
"Fellow Daoist Donghe!"
Baiyinzi, the master of Guyan Temple, came in person to see him off, tears glistening in his eyes as he whispered, "My condolences... my condolences..."
Chen Donghe's expression remained as usual as he bid farewell to everyone. The cultivators of Guyan Temple felt deep sorrow, looking at him with pity. Chen Donghe dealt with them politely as he always did, then carried his wife on his back, journeying swiftly through the wind.
Crossing the great desert would take several days. Midway, Chen Donghe had to stop to wipe the dew from his wife's face. To the touch, she was rigid; her skin was as hard as cowhide, and a layer of frost had even formed over it, looking quite unsightly.
Li Jingtian had been dead for a long time before anyone noticed.
Chen Donghe had gone out in the night to wait for the setting sun to gather qi, losing track of time. When he hurried back, she was clutching the bedsheet at the edge of the mattress, an uneasy look on her face, having already ceased breathing.
*Tian'er...*
Chen Donghe's mind wandered, and before he realized it, he had reached Mount Xiping. The earth veins on this mountain were meager and its spiritual energy was severed. Though it was draped in drifting clouds and white mist, surrounded by myriad splendors of rosy dawn, it was merely a mortal mountain.
Being a mortal mountain, naturally no one wished to linger here. No matter how towering or perilous Mount Xiping was, no matter how it had single-handedly blocked the southeastern water veins to create the Guyan Desert, still no one bothered to record it.
Yet Li Jingtian had loved it dearly.
Following the familiar path, Chen Donghe landed on the mountain and parted the sparse thickets. Two small black stone platforms had been carved into the mountain summit, appearing remarkably ethereal amid the misty, moist mountain fog. A slight turn of the head revealed the endless sea of clouds beneath one's feet.
Looking east from here, one could not only see the entirety of Lake Wangyue, but also several renowned immortal mountains. Even Mount Lijing and Mount Qingdu flickered faintly in the distance.
This was the place Li Jingtian had loved to visit. But the round trip took several days, and Chen Donghe was not always free. Every visit here had brought her joy that lasted for days, as if celebrating a festival.
Chen Donghe set her down upon a stone platform and exhaled softly. Leaning against the stone wall in utter exhaustion, he rested her head against his shoulder and gazed into the distance without a word.
The mountain wind howled, desolate and cold. Chen Donghe was very calm, just as when she had been alive—if she did not speak, he would remain silent.
In the distance, the boundless white clouds gradually transformed into an ocean of golden red and crimson under the morning glow, rolling and surging, morphing into countless shapes.
The clouds and mist drifted from far to near. The black cliffs slowly vanished into the white clouds, until a pale, rigid corpse and an old man were swallowed up by the damp mist.
"Ooh..."
From within the vast, boundless expanse of white mist, a sound of weeping arose.
The wretched, stumbling, ceaseless weeping of an old man.
Chapter 399