Chapter 49: Zhou Xue’s Methods

Fang Wang kept a distance of thirty feet from the mysterious figure standing over the map. Smoke curled in the air, and the shadow gradually solidified, taking on the air of a specter—its emergence in broad daylight was enough to send chills down one’s spine.

“You… what are you?” the green snake asked nervously before Fang Wang could speak. It was clearly more frightened than he was—both out of genuine fear and concern that Fang Wang might misunderstand its intentions.

The figure remained indistinct, its outline barely discernible.

“Young one, do you seek to lay hands on the true art of the Heavenly Gang Sacred Body?” The voice that issued forth was ancient and heavy, yet calm.

Fang Wang, gripping the Celestial Palace Halberd, replied, “If such a fine technique is not passed down, wouldn’t that be a pity?”

At present, his physique was not his greatest advantage—his ability to fight across realms was thanks to his Xuan Yang spiritual power and consummate mastery of spells. The Heavenly Gang Sacred Body was a legendary constitution from ancient times; even Zhou Xue had praised it highly. Naturally, he coveted it.

“This map does indeed record the place where the inheritance of the Heavenly Gang Sacred Body lies,” the mysterious figure intoned, “but the trial there is harsh. Had you gone without first burning the map and awakening a fragment of my will, you would surely have died.”

Fang Wang raised his brows at these words.

He clasped his fists and bowed. “Please guide me, senior.”

Though the figure was not alive, it was obvious he meant to guide him. Such courtesy was only proper.

The shadow regarded Fang Wang. “First, you must attain the Spirit-Concentration Stage. Second, you must master the Nine Dragons Divine Transformation Technique. Both are indispensable.”

Fang Wang breathed a silent sigh of relief.

It wasn’t too difficult! With his talent and standing in the Grand Abyss Sect, reaching the Spirit-Concentration Stage was only a matter of time; as for the Nine Dragons Divine Transformation, he had already achieved perfection.

“Could you teach my young master the Nine Dragons Divine Transformation?” the green snake suddenly asked.

Fang Wang shot it a glance, finding it unexpectedly agreeable. Though he had already mastered the technique, the snake did not know this—merely raising the request demonstrated, if nothing else, a desire to curry favor.

“My only duty is to remind you of these two points. Destiny lies with the individual. Cultivators, after all, pursue that which is as hard as ascending to the heavens.”

With these words, the mysterious figure vanished into smoke. Fang Wang had no chance to ask his identity.

The map, consumed by Xuan Yang True Fire, crumbled to ash and drifted away on the wind.

Fang Wang and the green snake stared at each other in silence.

After a long moment, the snake sighed. “Had an ordinary person obtained the map and gone directly to seek the Heavenly Gang Sacred Body, they’d have faced almost certain death. Young master, you are extraordinary—instead of seeking, you burned the map and gained the approval of an ancient predecessor.”

Fang Wang felt it was pure luck, but he kept that to himself.

He then began to inspect the five stones the green snake had brought. Channeling his spiritual power through his palm, he took them to the river to wash.

The green snake kept a safe distance.

Once the stones were clean and safely stowed in his storage pouch, the snake spoke up. “Young master, I know a place rich in rare treasures of heaven and earth—but a great demon guards it.”

“How strong is this demon?” Fang Wang asked casually. He had set himself the goal of making a breakthrough within the Great Sage Grotto-Heaven, to forge a second natal treasure spirit.

“It is equivalent to a human cultivator at the ninth layer of the Spirit Pill Realm,” replied the green snake.

Fang Wang eyed it with a smile. “You’re quite something—not an ordinary snake demon, are you?”

“It’s nothing, young master. To survive here for three hundred years, I’ve naturally inherited some legacies. Over the years, many cultivators have wandered in by mistake, so I have some understanding of the human race.”

Fang Wang grew more convinced that this snake was no simple creature; after all, it had survived so long at the hands of the woman in white.

He had rested for half a month. It was time to set out.

“Lead the way, then.”

“At once, young master!”

The green snake slithered ahead, its movements almost cheerful.

Fang Wang watched its undulating form and found the situation almost absurd—was he truly adventuring with a snake?

…

Two days later.

At the mouth of a valley, Fang Wang stood beneath a tree. The green snake had climbed a nearby branch, and both gazed in the same direction.

The foliage here was so dense that sunlight could scarcely penetrate. Even at noon, the woods behind Fang Wang were shrouded in darkness.

“Is it here?” Fang Wang asked, his right hand already resting on his sword hilt.

Over the past two days, he had learned the snake’s name—it called itself Little Violet. For a green snake to call itself Violet, Fang Wang suspected it might be color-blind.

Little Violet nodded. “Yes, that’s it. It once tried to eat me. Be careful, young master—the poison in its breath is deadly!”

Following the direction of the snake’s gaze, Fang Wang saw that the valley ahead was thick with colorful plants and flowers, some reaching over twenty feet high. All manner of bright fruits hung like stars, so abundant that the entire valley resembled a river of wonders, dazzling to behold.

At the center of the valley was a depression filled with water reflecting every hue. There crouched a massive red toad, at least forty feet tall, its back covered in moss and flowers—at a glance, one might have mistaken it for a small hill.

With a metallic ring, Fang Wang stepped forward, drawing his sword in one fluid motion.

Little Violet, still uneasy, added in a low voice, “Young master, its back is incredibly tough—its weakness is likely its eyes…”

Fang Wang took five steps, then unleashed the Soaring Swan Divine Sword Technique, conjuring thirty-six swords of light. Sword energy surged forth, whipping up a furious wind that sent branches and leaves thrashing. The commotion startled the giant red toad, which opened its cold, venomous eyes.

Little Violet fell silent at the sight of the thirty-six sword forms swirling about Fang Wang, its gaze fixed on him in awe.

Without breaking stride, Fang Wang thrust his sword forward. Thirty-six blades of sword energy shot out, converging into one immense, unstoppable force. Flowers and grasses flew as the sword aura tore through the valley.

With a terrible boom, the giant red toad was struck and exploded, flesh and blood scattering in all directions—splattering flowers, trees, and even the distant cliffside with toxic gore.

Little Violet dodged the flying flesh with lightning speed, darting up to a higher branch.

Fang Wang’s steps never faltered. His robes fluttered as he thrust the Azure Lord Sword, then with a flick of his wrist, spun it and sheathed it in a single, fluid motion.

Drawing, thrusting, and sheathing the sword—all in less than a heartbeat.

The giant red toad had been slain in an instant.

Though Fang Wang appeared calm, this blow had been his all; the Soaring Swan Thirty-Six Swords, at his current level, was his strongest technique. The display was meant not just to kill but also to awe Little Violet.

“Go scout around and see if there are any other demons nearby,” Fang Wang said without turning.

Little Violet started, then quickly slipped off into the woods to obey.

Fang Wang took out the Celestial Treasures Record and began to identify the various herbs and rare fruits scattered around. Each had its own method of harvesting—some would lose their spiritual essence if uprooted, others would wither if broken, and some were poisonous to the touch. The sheer variety amazed him when he first studied the manual.

Even as he harvested, he kept his senses alert, always on guard.

After half an hour, Little Violet returned to find Fang Wang still gathering treasures. The valley was so rich in resources that it would make anyone’s fortune—truly, the Great Sage Grotto-Heaven was a land of opportunity. So long as one survived, half a year here could make anyone wealthy beyond compare.

“Young master, there are no other demons nearby,” Little Violet reported, awe in its voice. The reason for its delay was simply to calm its nerves.

Fang Wang was too terrifying for a snake. With such strength, it couldn’t hope to attack him—even if it dared. It could only hope Fang Wang wouldn’t turn on it once it outlived its usefulness.

“Then keep watch from above,” Fang Wang replied, not needing the snake’s help—it hadn’t even assumed human form.

Little Violet immediately dashed away, scaling the cliff in a flash.

It wasn’t until late into the night that Fang Wang finished plundering the valley. His haul was immense; he even obtained a demon core.

That night, by a small stream in the woods, Fang Wang sat by a campfire, sketching a map. His memory was excellent, but before obtaining the true art of the Heavenly Gang Sacred Body, he feared entering the Celestial Palace for training and forgetting the layout—no memory could last centuries after a single glance.

Little Violet curled up quietly on the far side of the fire, not daring to disturb him. Since witnessing the Soaring Swan Thirty-Six Swords, it had grown much more reserved.

Crack.

A twig snapped nearby. Fang Wang glanced over; Little Violet’s head shot up.

Out of the darkness stepped a slender figure. In the moonlight, Fang Wang recognized her and remarked with a strange expression, “Just like when you sought Fang Hanyu. You haven’t placed some kind of mark on us, have you?”

The newcomer was none other than Zhou Xue.

She smiled as she walked over. “One day, you’ll thank me for such methods.”