Chapter 77: Many Wandering Cultivators in Rain Mountain Monastery – Qi Condensation Complete Today
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Yu Xian concealed his aura, making it impossible for the man to discern his cultivation level. However, the sword that had just beheaded the corpse fiend now hovered beside Yu Xian, radiating cold light and deadly intent—ready to strike at any moment. This alone terrified the man beyond reason.
Even though that corpse fiend hadn’t yet fully advanced to a true zombie, its hide was already incredibly tough. Normal Qi Condensation–stage spells, especially early-stage ones, couldn’t possibly harm it. Even mid-stage cultivators would struggle to deal damage, let alone kill it in one strike.
But this young-looking cultivator before him had done just that—one strike, and the monster was dead.
The man instantly collapsed to his knees, trembling violently.
“Se–senior! Please don’t kill me! I’m willing to be your servant, your slave, just spare my life!”
Yu Xian stepped forward and said coldly, “Answer my questions. No nonsense. What county is Xihe County part of? Which kingdom? And what’s the largest cultivation sect in the area?”
The man hesitated but, under Yu Xian’s icy glare, quickly answered,
“Y–yes, Senior! Xihe County belongs to Tianhe Prefecture, which is part of the Great Liang Kingdom. As far as I know, the greatest sect in this entire region—the one countless dream of joining—is none other than the Tianyuan Sword Sect!”
As he spoke, the man glanced at the fearsome sword by Yu Xian’s side. His voice trembled even more.
“Senior, could you be… a sword cultivator from the Tianyuan Sword Sect?”
“So I’m still in the Eastern Continent…” Yu Xian relaxed slightly.
Although the Tianyuan Sword Sect was far from his own White Cloud Sect, even a Core Formation cultivator would take five or six days of full-speed flight to travel between them. Still, as long as they were in the same continent, Yu Xian was confident he could make it back—no matter how long it took.
If he didn’t, his master might go seek revenge on Gu Hanfeng and Lü Dan, an act of suicide more than justice.
The man was still rambling,
“S–senior, if you spare me, I can tell you many secrets…”
But before he could finish, a cold flash of sword light reflected in his pupils.
Shing!
The Heaven-Shaking Sword drew an arc across the air, severing the man’s head cleanly. Yu Xian calmly recalled the sword to his side, executed a Soaring Cloud Technique, and vanished into the air.
The man died with wide eyes, blood pouring from his neck—just like the corpse fiend he had created.
Yu Xian didn’t return to Liu Village. Once the villagers ventured to the cemetery the next day, they’d discover the dead corpse fiend and draw their own conclusions.
Descending Little Donkey Mountain, Yu Xian followed the road southward at high speed with his Windstride Technique. According to what he’d read back in the White Cloud Sect, the Tianyuan Sword Sect lay south of them, so heading south was the right choice. Still, it would be better to get a map of the Eastern Continent to avoid detours.
As dawn approached, a massive city appeared in the distance.
Tianhe Prefecture’s capital city.
Flying during the day would draw too much attention. The cultivation world was full of hidden dangers, and discretion was always the better part of survival. He decided to enter the city to rest for a couple of hours and do some body cultivation with the Great Pill Body Tempering Technique.
He’d leave in the afternoon, buying a horse to travel at mortal speed. For now, that was more discreet than flying.
As he approached the city gates, a massive crowd was already gathered. People from surrounding villages and towns waited for the gates to open—traders, travelers, livestock herders, and returning merchants.
Yu Xian cancelled his Windstride Technique and mingled quietly with the crowd. Though he had hidden his cultivation and behaved like a regular person, four eyes in the crowd locked onto him.
He could feel it—like a beast suddenly aware of being hunted.
Still, he remained calm and didn’t look back, choosing to enter the city as inconspicuously as possible.
Inside the city, he passed bustling market stalls, livestock being led into side gates, and hawkers setting up for the day. Spotting an inn, Yu Xian approached the door but hesitated.
He realized something important—he had no silver.
In the past, silver coins had brought him joy. Hunting, foraging, selling—he’d treasure a few dozen copper coins. But now? He had none.
Spirit stones?
Sure, but would the innkeeper even accept them?
Just then, a cheerful voice came from behind.
“Friend, why not go inside?”
Yu Xian frowned slightly. He thought the man was just another passerby, but now he was speaking directly to him.
Turning, he saw a man in his thirties, dressed in luxurious robes, with a jade belt and fan—clearly a young master type.
The man smiled warmly.
“Lack silver, perhaps? It’s a small matter. When traveling the world, friends make the road easier. Here—thirty taels, take them.”
He held out two large silver ingots.
Yu Xian glanced at him and said coolly,
“No need for theatrics, fellow Daoist. You took those from a storage pouch. Are you testing if I’m blind?”
The ingots were heavy—about three jin each. No way someone could just carry them in a sleeve or robe. The man had used a storage artifact.
So even though his aura was suppressed, Yu Xian could immediately tell—this man was a cultivator.
The man chuckled.
“Sharp eyes, my friend. I won’t hide it—I’m Zhang Yuxing, a cultivator from Rain Mountain Monastery here in Tianhe Prefecture. And you are?”
Rain Mountain Monastery…
Yu Xian had heard of this name back in Liu Village. The villagers had mistaken him for one of its immortals. Clearly, this monastery was a notable power in the region.
But compared to the Six Immortal Sects of the Eastern Continent, it was nothing more than a bug next to a kunpeng.
Still, Yu Xian didn’t show arrogance. He simply nodded.
“So you’re from Rain Mountain Monastery. I’m Xu Haoming, a wandering cultivator. I’ve no background. I only wish to reach the Tianyuan Sword Sect to see if I’m worthy to join.”
Zhang Yuxing sighed dramatically.
“Ah, Xu Daoist… you think joining a great sect will guarantee your rise to power? You’re still young. Big sects are rife with internal strife. Outer disciples are treated like servants, their every effort only benefiting the inner disciples. Is that the freedom us cultivators seek?”
He then smiled again.
“Why not join my Rain Mountain Monastery instead? We’re small—just over a hundred disciples—but the land is rich, resources plentiful. Far better than being a servant in some mighty sect.”
Yu Xian smiled but shook his head.
“I appreciate the offer, truly. But if I don’t at least try for the Tianyuan Sword Sect, I’ll regret it forever. If they reject me, I’ll gladly seek out your monastery afterward.”
Zhang Yuxing’s eyes flickered slightly, but he smiled.
“Fair enough. Everyone has their path. Oh, do you still need the thirty taels?”
“Of course,” Yu Xian replied, “but I dislike owing favors. Could I exchange some spirit stones instead? What’s the rate for a lower-grade spirit stone?”
Zhang Yuxing paused, then laughed.
“Xu Daoist, you’re generous indeed. But we cultivators hardly lack silver. We have all sorts of tricks to earn mundane wealth. Save your spirit stones—they’re far too valuable. Just take the silver.”
He placed the silver ingots into Yu Xian’s hand and left with a wave of his fan.
As Yu Xian watched him walk away, his smile faded. He weighed the silver in his hand, then entered the inn.
Far away, six sets of eyes that had been watching Yu Xian dispersed into the crowd, spreading out to monitor the inn.
Zhang Yuxing, meanwhile, was soon accompanied by several stunning female companions, laughing and flirting like a carefree young noble.
He paused at a fish vendor’s stall and asked with a sly smile,
“Boss, how’d you catch these fish?”
The old fisherman smiled.
“Cast a net into the river this morning, young master. Want one?”
“Cast a net, huh? Then these fish are really stupid. Jumping into a net is just asking to die. Xiao Lan, buy the biggest one. Let’s have it red-braised for lunch.”
He chuckled softly, but his tone was laced with coldness.
—
Inside the inn, Yu Xian only rented a room for one day, even though the silver he paid could’ve covered six months. The innkeeper was annoyed but had no reason to argue. He handed Yu Xian a large ten-tael ingot, two small ones, and a pouch of coin change.
Yu Xian took the silver, headed upstairs, and entered a quiet suite.
Below, several people entered the inn, each taking a table in strategic positions, ordering food and drink while keeping an eye on Yu Xian’s room.
It was like a net tightening around a fish that had swum straight in.
Inside the room, Yu Xian sat cross-legged, calm and unbothered.
He knew he was being watched.
A nameless, seemingly naive young cultivator with no background? Of course he looked like easy prey. Even Yu Xian would’ve targeted someone like himself in the same situation.
But let them watch. He wasn’t afraid.
After all, his inventory of talismans and treasures was extensive.
Most importantly… he had the Spirit God Shield, a Grade-5 defensive artifact. Not even a full-power strike from a Foundation Establishment cultivator could easily harm him.
That was the confidence that came with gear.
As spiritual energy gathered, drawn in by his supreme-grade storage pouch, the air around him became ten times denser in energy than outside.
Soon, his dantian was full again. The pool of spiritual energy in his sea of qi had thickened to the point of being semi-solid, like mercury or tar.
He took out a red spiritual fruit—the Scarlet Pearl Fruit, the core ingredient in a Grade-4 Essence-Nurturing Pill. Normally, it would be refined into pills with other herbs, but he didn’t need to.
Even if he lost 30–40% of its efficacy, the remaining power was enough to push him to Qi Condensation Great Perfection.
No time to waste.
Without hesitation, he bit into the fruit.
A wave of fiery medicinal energy surged through him, and sweat poured from his skin. But he calmly circulated his cultivation technique, guiding the energy through his meridians and into his dantian.
His qi sea expanded—three zhang across.
The liquefied spirit energy solidified into a crystalline core, gleaming green like a gem of glass.
Qi Condensation Great Perfection—accomplished.
He took out two mid-grade spirit stones and began refilling the newly emptied parts of his qi sea.
Within, a single green crystal—yet to be carved with formation runes, yet to receive heaven’s baptism—floated gently among clouds of spirit mist.
“Done.”
Yu Xian opened his eyes, and his cultivation surged.
The **Longevity Wood Spring Art, Level Seven—Wood Qi Forms a Sea—**had reached perfection.
The room briefly lit up with green light. Every wooden surface in the room—from bed to beams—shuddered as if about to sprout leaves.
But the phenomenon faded quickly.
Outside, those watching thought they saw a faint green glow from his window—but it disappeared too quickly to be certain.
Yu Xian sat calmly, his power settled, his foundation firm.
He had made it.
