Gateway of Immortality

Inside the wooden hut.

She had used her spiritual power to cleanse the room countless times, but it still seemed as if the scent of another person lingered.

Fairy Chenyan sat upright on a mat, her clothes neat and orderly. In front of the mat hung a portrait of a person, though it wasn't Dong Yangbo.

According to her cultivation art, she was supposed to enter closed-door cultivation immediately, using this evil art and the yang essence she had obtained from this person to search for a slim opportunity to break through.

Yet, she remained sitting there, her eyes vacant, gazing at the portrait. Her expression was peculiar, as though she were struggling with something. Finally, she murmured to the portrait, "Master, I’ve been cultivating this evil art, harming innocent people... have I made a mistake?"

The portrait was just an inanimate object and naturally gave her no answer.

The wooden hut was silent.

After a brief moment, Fairy Chenyan suddenly straightened her posture, the confusion in her eyes dissipating, replaced by firm resolve.

She abruptly opened her palm, revealing over a dozen fine silver needles as thin as strands of hair.

With a flick of her hand, the needles scattered in all directions. They gleamed coldly, and a faint chill emanated from their tips, causing the temperature in the hut to drop sharply.

The silver needles hovered in mid-air, each pointing toward different acupoints on her body, with the majority aimed at the ones on her head.

Next, her hand formed a series of complex seals, sending mysterious symbols onto the needles. The silver needles grew even more crystalline and translucent, with runes flowing across them, giving off an air of profound mystery.

Swish! Swish!

One by one, the needles embedded themselves deeply into her acupoints. She remained expressionless, seemingly unfazed by the pain. When the last needle was about to pierce the Baihui acupoint on the top of her head, Fairy Chenyan hesitated, as if recalling something.

The silver needle hovered just above her head, unable to move further.

With a flick of her finger, she summoned a piece of paper from thin air using her spiritual power. The paper automatically folded into a paper crane.

In the dimly lit wooden hut, the paper crane flapped its wings, scattering tiny sparks of light as it circled around Fairy Chenyan. It emitted a crisp crane's cry, as if joyfully acknowledging its creator.

Seeing the playful crane, Fairy Chenyan suddenly smiled and playfully tapped it on the head.

Her smile was fleeting, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. Her face turned expressionless once more as she leaned close to the paper crane's ear and spoke decisively, "I don't want anyone to die because of this evil art."

The paper crane nodded its head, chirped softly, and flew out through the window lattice.

…

At the peak of Shaohua Mountain.

The towering solitary peak seemed to pierce through the heavens, its slopes blanketed in snow.

At the summit, where the spiritual vein of Shaohua Mountain converged, the air was thick with spiritual energy. But atop the snowy mountain, there was only one cave dwelling—this was the secluded cultivation spot of Shaohua Mountain's Spiritual Infant grandmaster, Dong Yangbo.

Apart from the constant howling of the cold winds, there wasn't a single other sound. No disciple of Shaohua Mountain dared to disturb the grandmaster in this place.

Suddenly, a speck of starlight flew in from the distant horizon. Within the starlight was a palm-sized paper crane, struggling against the fierce winds as it made its way to the cave dwelling. The door to the cave opened silently, and a large hand formed of spiritual power reached out, pulling the paper crane inside.

Inside the cave dwelling.

"Soft-hearted?"

Dong Yangbo crushed the paper crane between his fingers, a playful glint in his eyes.

…

Qin Sang had just stepped out of the wooden hut when the scenery before him suddenly shifted. Without any resistance, he was teleported outside the island.

Moments later, he watched as clouds rose from the small island, enveloping it in an instant. Mysterious light flickered within the mist, and soon the entire island vanished from Qin Sang’s sight.

All that remained was the tranquil, rippling water. The island was nowhere to be seen.

Qin Sang knew the island’s owner had activated a grand formation, sealing the cave dwelling completely.

He looked down at his reflection in the lake, seeing how much older he had become, decades having seemingly passed. A bitter smile crept onto his face.

The night before had been anything but romantic. What lingered most vividly in his memory was the helplessness and fear at the end, when his vital energy had poured out of him like a dam breaking. He could do nothing but watch, powerless to resist.

Fortunately, his opponent had shown mercy, stopping just as his Jade Liquid was about to run dry. She had even helped him lock away his yang essence, stabilizing his Jade Cauldron.

His cultivation was on the verge of collapse, but there was still a chance to recover.

Feeling the tiny amount of spiritual power left in his Qihai, and the overwhelming weakness throughout his body, Qin Sang barely managed to gather his remaining strength. He was just about to activate the Sky Shuttle and head to a desolate island to refine the Nine-Yang Pill.

A flash of silver light caught his eye. The flying boat from the night before had reappeared, hovering before him.

Qin Sang's expression shifted slightly.

Last night, when he realized that Fairy Chenyan had replaced Sage Mawu, he had sensed something was amiss. Even the sect leader didn’t know the full details. As the only one who knew the truth, would he be silenced?

Fairy Chenyan was a high-level cultivator on the verge of becoming a Spiritual Infant cultivator, capable of killing him with a single finger. Yet not only had she spared his life, but she had also kept her promise not to destroy his foundation entirely.

If she had wanted to silence him, there was no need to go through such trouble. This thought slightly reassured Qin Sang, but he still didn’t dare to gamble with his life. His plan was to find a secluded spot, take the Nine-Yang Pill, stabilize his Qihai, and then retreat to his cave dwelling for secluded cultivation, observing the situation before making any decisions.

But he hadn’t expected the flying boat to be waiting for him outside the island. In his current state, he had no chance of escape. There was no time to think.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

He boarded the flying boat and returned to Shaohua Mountain.

The boat dropped him off at his cave dwelling and then disappeared into the distance.

Sect Leader Yu arrived swiftly, like a cat that had caught the scent of prey. Upon seeing Qin Sang’s face, he was startled and hurriedly said, "Junior Brother Qin, you must quickly refine the Nine-Yang Pill!"

Qin Sang’s heart filled with suspicion as his gaze swept over the sect leader’s face. Seeing no signs of deceit in his expression, he finally relaxed. Too exhausted for pleasantries, he weakly muttered, "Apologies."

With that, he dove into his cave dwelling and swallowed the Nine-Yang Pill.

The moment the pill entered his stomach, it transformed into a warm current, surging from his throat down to his Qihai. His depleted vital energy was swiftly replenished by the pill’s yang energy. Little by little, the medicinal power spread throughout his body, and the weakness gradually faded.

As his vital energy recovered, his appearance naturally returned to its youthful state.

The Qihai that had been on the verge of collapse slowly began to function again. Spiritual qi from the cave dwelling gathered around Qin Sang.

Sensing his cultivation gradually restoring, Qin Sang breathed a silent sigh of relief.

He hadn’t felt anything strange about his primordial spirit, indicating that the Jade Buddha had helped him avoid the greatest danger of becoming a furnace cauldron. His only lingering worry was that his hard-earned Foundation Building cultivation might have regressed.

Fortunately, the Nine-Yang Pill didn’t disappoint. His Qihai was recovering faster and faster until his spiritual power was fully replenished.

Yet Qin Sang couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

The miracle he had hoped for didn’t happen. His Qihai had shrunk by over ten percent compared to before.

If it couldn’t be restored, he would always have ten percent less spiritual power than other cultivators at the same level. This would ensure that in any future battles with cultivators of equal strength, he must never engage in a prolonged contest of spiritual power.