Cultivating for a hundred lifetimes to ascension Chapter 1497 - 810: Inverted Mountain (Part 2)

"Huff... next... next time... I’ll surely grab even more... I’m... heading out." With his face flushed red and breaths coming in heavy gasps, Zhao Sheng uttered those words in broken bursts, his form finally yielding to the outer world's expulsion.

His figure vanished from sight the instant he spoke.

...

Right before the break of dawn, darkness blanketed the world at its deepest.

In a hidden nook, a petite silhouette materialized abruptly from nothing.

Bang!

The Ten-thousand-year-old Xuan Iron slipped from his grasp, slamming down onto the earth with a thunderous weight.

Zhao Sheng's cheeks burned crimson as his Divine Sense surged wildly through every limb, frantically directing the rush of Spiritual Energy along his meridians and eagerly channeling it into his Core Energy Sea.

That Divine Sense fractured into innumerable strands of awareness, permeating the Qi Sea Void entirely, while the Spirit Power Vortex ballooned swiftly, whirling like a fierce gale, absorbing and purifying the overwhelming flood of Spiritual Energy.

Third Layer,

Fourth Layer,

Fifth Layer,

...

Eighth Layer,

Ninth Layer,

Great Perfection!

Within mere moments, the Spirit Power Vortex had grown several folds in magnitude, and the Dantian Qi Sea brimmed with thick, fog-like Spiritual Energy.

Right then, Zhao Sheng's cultivation had soared to Qi Refining Perfection.

At the same time, his Divine Sense's reach expanded sharply.

Twenty zhang,

Thirty zhang,

...

It stretched onward until it hit a cap at over a hundred and eighty zhang, marking the true boundary of his Divine Sense's scope.

This extent outstripped a standard Early-stage Foundation Establishment Cultivator's by seven or eightfold.

Whoosh!

Zhao Sheng gradually reined in his energies, releasing a prolonged stream of murky gray-black breath. Now, his entire frame was coated in a layer of murky red, stench-laden grime.

Without a word at the sight, he swiftly shed his robe and summoned a Spiritual Fire to incinerate it into nothingness.

Following that, he cast the Dust Removal Technique repeatedly, a full ten times, cleansing every trace of impurity from his skin.

Zhao Sheng bent his head for a sniff, finding no odd odors, and gave a pleased nod.

Afterward, he extended his Divine Sense, hoisting the Ten-thousand-year-old Xuan Iron free from the soil.

His shape blurred in a flash, blending seamlessly into the shadows and vanishing completely.

...

Seasons shifted from spring to autumn, and before anyone noticed, three years had flown past.

On that particular day, White Stone Square thrummed with clamor, crowds milling about in the east, south, west, and north, neatly split into over a dozen clusters—the biggest boasting fifty or sixty folks, the tiniest just seven or eight.

Through three years of relentless Cultivation, the Magic Battle had unfolded six times already. The hierarchy among the Lower Six Courtyards stood firmly defined.

Among those six, the dominant force, dubbed the Vigorous Alliance, drew from Ding, Wu, and Ji courtyards, swelling to over seventy strong. The feeblest remained the Hundred Skills Association, with under ten members, yet each excelled as a master in some Cultivation art, earning respect from all outsiders.

At this instant, more than three hundred figures dotted the square's edges, eyes locked on the heart of it all, where a chaotic brawl hurtled toward its feverish peak.

Puff!

A youth clad in Cover Armor, his brows slim and elongated, got hammered by a staff, hurled backward fiercely, and couldn't stop a gush of blood mid-flight.

"Alas, Chan Fei grows ever more ferocious! Even Zhou Sheng crumbled under one blow." Murmurs rippled through the onlookers in shared lament.

The Chan Fei they referenced towered as a massive brute, nearing a zhang in height with a girth spanning ten bei.

Were it not for the boyish innocence lingering on his features, one might mistake him for a legendary berserker, charging across warzones like an unstoppable tempest.

Chan Fei gripped the Kanglong Stick inverted in one fist, his fierce eyes scanning the fray, until they fixed on a squat, shadowy, ponderous Turtle Shell Shield.

Its wielder was a dashing young man of lofty build, lounging at the square's edge with effortless poise, surveying the chaos idly as if he were a mere observer savoring the spectacle, untouched by the battle's fury.

"Zhao Sheng, I call you out!" Chan Fei focused his resolve and bellowed abruptly, hoisting his Kanglong Stick as he charged ahead.

"Hah, eat this!"

Chan Fei lunged with blinding speed, closing to within two zhang in a heartbeat, then vaulted skyward, gripping the Kanglong Stick two-handed and crashing it down upon the Turtle Shell Shield with the might of thousands of catties.

A deafening crash echoed as the Kanglong Stick rebounded sky-high, Chan Fei's hands split and oozing blood, flinging him back three zhang.

The Kanglong Stick escaped his hold, soaring far past the square's bounds.

Chan Fei hauled himself upright from the dirt, staring at Zhao Sheng in stunned outrage, blurting, "You... you're cheating!"

Yet the accusation of "cheating" caught in his throat, swallowed down against his will.

He figured he understood Zhao Sheng plenty well—top-notch in artifact refining among his age-mates, sure, but in straight combat, he lagged with scant talent, scraping into the top ten only thanks to his crafted Mystic Turtle Shield.

He never imagined that in under half a year, his rival had upgraded the Mystic Turtle Shield once more, weaving in a rebounding Magic Prohibition that left him sorely outmatched.

"Haha, you big oaf, you're beaten! Don't bother me again next round, spare yourself the pointless hassle," Zhao Sheng strolled up, grinning at Chan Fei, while the Mystic Turtle Shield twirled merrily before its owner.

Chan Fei's complexion shifted from scarlet to pale, then he sprang to his feet wordlessly, spun on his heel, and melted into the throng in a blink.

Zhao Sheng shifted his attention, scanning the area, and noted thirteen fighters still lingered in the square.

"Time to wrap this up!" he mused inwardly, then wove hand seals, channeling threads of spiritual power into the Mystic Turtle Shield.

The Mystic Turtle Shield flared with radiance at once, a subtle black glow cloaking its face, weighing down the nearby air noticeably.

A quarter-hour passed, and three more contenders faltered, forced to exit the square.

Next, from east, west, and south, three figures crept in to encircle Zhao Sheng quietly.

Zhao Sheng cracked a smile at their approach; these three were "familiar foes" from the Vigorous Alliance.

Just like last time, they'd ousted him this way, and now history repeated itself!

"Fine, you three take the win!" Zhao Sheng had no desire to hog the stage, so he conceded cleanly, stowed the Mystic Turtle Shield, and pivoted to depart the square.

"Brother Sheng, they're ganging up too unfairly! If they've got spine, make 'em face us solo," Chen Polu pushed through the masses to reach him, face twisted in indignant fury.

Zhao Sheng eyed him briefly and remarked, "Naive thinking! Should foes ambush you down the line, you reckon they'll fight fair one-on-one?"

"But this isn't... this isn't..." Chen Polu grumbled, reluctance clear in his tone.

"Quit the grudges; observe how pros handle threats—you've got plenty to pick up," Zhao Sheng gestured toward the action, dropping a subtle cue.

At Zhao Sheng's prompt, Chen Polu peered over and spotted Wu Chengsi brandishing a golden shortsword roughly a foot in length, darting across the field, bursts of blade gleam slicing through clustered attacks with effortless grace.

"Hmph, he's just leaning on that Magic Sword's edge. Give me a prime Magic Sword, and I'd dominate too," Chen Polu's stare lingered on the gleaming blade, skepticism undimmed.

Hearing that, Zhao Sheng ribbed him, "He hit Qi Refining Fourth Layer half a year back. You're scraping by at Third Layer. No clue where you draw the nerve to measure up against him."

Chen Polu faltered, then leaned in to murmur, "I can't match Alliance Leader Wu, but you, Brother Sheng? Without holding back on purpose, you could've claimed a top-three slot—why hand the glory to Wu?"

After three years of constant camaraderie, Chen Polu grasped his leader's enigmas better than most.

For those three years, he'd gained repeated guidance from his leader, enabling him to push past to Qi Refining Third Layer despite his mediocre Five Spirits Roots talent.

Besides his leader, fellow Five Spirits Roots peers from the era lingered at Qi Refining Second Layer, far from breaching the Third Layer barrier.

"Little Chenzi, the nail that sticks up gets hammered down first! No need for me to spell out that wisdom. Plus, remember our place. Focus on hitting Qi Refining Fourth Layer in two years," Zhao Sheng cautioned once more.

Chen Polu, caught in the thick of it, couldn't yet grasp the harsh reality: the Lower Six Courtyards' denizens were mere livestock or expendable pawns.

Every five years, fresh recruits poured into the Lower Six Courtyards, forged over five years into fresh herds, herded by the Three Extremes Zhao Family.

Those herds might aspire to Foundation Establishment, but Golden Core formation eluded nearly all, since the Scripture Storage Tower's techniques had been rigged long ago, choking off any path for the herds to rise up.

Chen Polu, still youthful and green, hadn't fully confronted the Cultivation World's savage cruelty.

"Leader, two years from now when we exit the courtyards—what hall do you aim to enter?"

Within the Three Extremes Zhao Family's ranks, divisions fell into Outer Eight Halls, Inner Five Houses, and Secret Three Halls typically.

Inner Five Houses and Secret Three Halls reserved spots for Zhao Family bloodlines alone, leaving "outsiders" like Zhao Sheng from the Lower Six Courtyards to the Outer Eight Halls, mired in grueling labor with scant rewards ahead.

"Foreign Affairs Hall, Artifact Refining Hall, or Dan Ding Hall—pick one of those three."

Chen Polu's gaze sparked with eagerness, urging swiftly, "Leader, join the Foreign Affairs Hall with me. Rumors say it offers heaps of perks, plus tons of outer missions—teaming up, we'll carve out fame for sure; then..."

Zhao Sheng stayed silent, his eyes flicking over Chen Polu's features, catching nothing but eyes brimming with bold dreams.

That day, the Magic Battle wrapped up with Zhao Sheng clinging to the top ten's tail end, earning a hundred Spirit Stones and a vial of Yunyuan Pill.