Chapter 150: Acting Within the Rules
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
Under the shroud of night, a massive white peacock hovered midair, its radiance seemingly distorting the surrounding space. The torrential rain dared not approach it. “If they discovered wild rare medicines, why didn’t the elders of the Ancestor Court transplant them?” asked a curious aberrant bird.
The white peacock shook its head. “Human intervention would strip the creatures of their rare blood. It likely has something to do with the unique environment of this plain.”
Meanwhile, within the towering structure drenched in rain, Qin Ming’s body was surrounded by a rich medicinal fragrance. Like drinking divine nectar, his five internal organs seemed immersed in swirling mist, and ethereal vapor danced around him. A fiery qilin’s phantom loomed faintly in the crimson blood he refined.
Qin Ming was intrigued. Within the radiant blood, he traced the lineage of the Fire Lion. “Could its origins lie in a terrifying pseudo-god creature?” he pondered.
He didn’t dwell on the thought, instead focusing on absorbing the refined medicinal essence in one go. It felt like ingesting a divine elixir, and his flesh and blood surged with vitality, significantly enhancing their activity.
Rising to his feet, Qin Ming examined the changes in his body. The improvement to his foundation was unmistakable—he could clearly feel that this process expanded his potential for future cultivation. A contented smile appeared on his face, his joy evident.
“Despite the abundance of aberrant creatures in this region, I haven’t seen many with innate rare blood. Could this be tied to the unique conditions of this vast plain?” he speculated.
This moment deepened Qin Ming’s understanding of the vast forces hidden within the world. The grand teachings of the Ancestor Court, the millennia-old families, the Exotic Lands, and the Secret Sect must all have harvested rare blood at some point. Before this, Qin Ming had never encountered such treasures.
He recalled Cui Chong Xuan, who, during their meeting at Luo Fu Immortal Mountain, had not yet become an Aberrant and was merely strengthening his physique using the Six Rulers Heart Sutra. Not long after, Cui Chong Xuan had stepped into this rarefied domain and was poised to become a core disciple of the Six Rulers Sect.
“A single vial of rare blood consumed Black Roc’s entire fortune—truly a precious commodity. I’ve refined five types of rare medicines now. How much wealth must this amount to? And yet, the improvement isn’t exaggerated. In fact, it’s relatively modest. Most people couldn’t afford this luxury.”
Qin Ming calculated that each rare blood essence had increased his foundational strength by roughly thirty jin. For ordinary cultivators, the cost-benefit ratio was unimaginable. However, for entities like the Ancestor Court and the millennia-old families, it was considered worthwhile.
To them, the thirty jin wasn’t merely a measure of physical strength but represented untapped potential. A single dose of rare blood could elevate a near-Aberrant youth into that realm, granting them even greater benefits during their ninth and final awakening.
Only Aberrants could undergo nine awakenings. The term “Young Aberrant” was used to distinguish those who, during their ninth awakening, achieved an unprecedented level of improvement. This final transformation set them apart from ordinary cultivators.
Qin Ming noticed that the medicinal potency of rare blood was diminishing in its effects on him. “Everything has its limits,” he sighed.
He realized he had underestimated the value of rare blood. Each refinement meant another elder of the Six Rulers Ancestor Court had been “harvested.” Though the rare medicines were still in their infancy and unusable for now, they were invaluable for extending lifespans or aiding treasured disciples and descendants in the future.
Gazing at the rain-drenched world outside, Qin Ming murmured, “I wonder if other regions of the Shenzhang Plains harbor extraordinary creatures with rare blood.”
Turning back, he asked, “The jade-alloy arrows I left at the Wolf Palace—you’ve retrieved them, haven’t you?”
“Yes, they’re all here!” The old donkey nodded hastily, terrified. After all, the other elder demons and the Pseudo-God Association’s second-in-command had all been eliminated. Of all the mountain’s inhabitants, only it, the weakest of the group, had survived.
Outside, Qin Ming practiced his archery amidst the rain, his focus unyielding. The Archery Canon had opened an entirely new realm for him, allowing him to harness the elements of wind, rain, and thunder to imbue his arrows with spirit and energy.
What had once been mere technique was now elevated to a higher level of artistry. With the Archery Canon, the intent of the heart guided the flight of the arrow, achieving unerring precision.
“Just using the Wu family’s archery techniques from Black and White Mountain, I’ve already surpassed you,” Qin Ming thought, recalling how the Archery Canon had been wasted in the Silver Hedgehog’s possession. With the complete canon in his hands, he was determined to bring its potential to full fruition.
The old donkey’s view of Qin Ming changed. No wonder this young human was as terrifying as a demon god—he never stopped honing his skills, even in the storm.
Qin Ming’s archery improved rapidly. Already skilled, he advanced swiftly by integrating the canon’s essential techniques and unique force methods. The Silver Hedgehog’s personal experiences and insights were discarded as irrelevant; they held no value to him. This wasn’t arrogance but fact. Even so-called master-level skills were nothing special in his eyes.
It was like before, when the weasel, a self-proclaimed blade master, had spent decades failing to grasp the Blade Control Technique. Qin Ming, with a complete manual, had mastered it in no time.
Even more challenging techniques, such as the Separation Flame Sutra and Golden Silkworm Sutra, had been mastered quickly, despite being transcriptions rather than originals.
Next, Qin Ming practiced the Blazing Sun Sword Canon, another unparalleled art. He found the Pseudo-God Association’s second-in-command had practiced it crudely. At its pinnacle, the sword should radiate like a blazing sun, illuminating the world and banishing darkness. In the man’s hands, it was nothing more than a flaming sword—an inferior imitation.
After refining the canon, Qin Ming discarded the man’s flawed insights and advanced far more rapidly and effectively. Only original texts, carrying the full essence of their creators’ experiences, held value to him now.
Qin Ming then turned to study the partial Black Roc Sutra.
The old donkey watched in awe. For a moment, it seemed as if Qin Ming had transformed into a human-shaped Roc, dominating the storm. His fearsome talon techniques and swift movements radiated an oppressive aura that sent shivers down its spine.
Having absorbed the rare blood and practiced both the Archery Canon and Blazing Sun Sword Canon, Qin Ming worked up a sweat. Though physically exhausted, he felt refreshed and invigorated. However, hunger gnawed at him.
“Roast Black Roc. I want to try its meat,” he ordered.
Lu Chong Xiao froze, his body trembling. Was he seriously expected to cook his own elder brother?
Late that night, the building was filled with the aroma of roasting meat. Qin Ming sampled the results, finding the hedgehog meat surprisingly flavorful, the Fire Lion’s flesh overly gamey and sour, and the Roc meat and Silver Sparrow wings fragrant and delicious when grilled.
But his favorite was the old donkey’s meat stewed in an iron pot—tender, springy, and perfectly suited to his tastes.
It wasn’t that Qin Ming particularly wanted to “kill the donkey after the millstone,” but the old donkey harbored vengeance in its heart. It had waited a century to exterminate its former owner’s descendants. Deep down, it plotted to outlive Qin Ming, biding its time to destroy his lineage three centuries later.
Qin Ming had long resonated with the old donkey’s turbulent emotions. Understanding its intentions, he decided to send it on its way.
“There’s so much demon flesh here, but I can’t eat it all by myself. What a waste!” he muttered. He refrained from alerting nearby villages to collect the meat. This wasn’t human territory, and traveling such a distance would not only be dangerous but could also provoke retaliation from the aberrant creatures.
The most significant concern was that this frontier region, though sparsely populated, held great agricultural potential. The fiery fields tilled by the border villagers were incredibly fertile, producing abundant crops. If not for the frequent attacks by demons, this place would have been an idyllic home.
“Am I not pioneering this wilderness?” Qin Ming realized that by entering demon territory and slaying countless elder demons, he had already exceeded the requirements for his assessment.
This thought cast a shadow over his heart. Black Roc, the Fire Lion, the Silver Wolf King—these demons had conspired to ambush him, aided by human informants. Could the Six Rulers Ancestor Court be behind this? After all, they had orchestrated this local examination.
If the Ancestor Court had a hand in this, Qin Ming knew he would need to flee immediately. He’d have to subdue a bird demon and make the long journey back alone. But the 40,000-li return trip through the dark, dangerous lands presented countless perils. Common avian beasts wouldn’t make it, easily falling prey to unknown creatures.
After careful thought, Qin Ming concluded that the basic rules of the Ancestor Court still held. “If someone truly had the power to bend all the rules, they’d have come to kill me outright. There’s no way I’d still be alive.”
Relieved, Qin Ming ate his fill, then set out through the rain.
Lightning tore through the night sky, illuminating the vast plains under sheets of relentless rain. The forest stretched endlessly, shrouded in a thin veil of mist. Amid the storm, Qin Ming moved like a transcendent figure, carried by green vapor. Each step took him far, as if he floated above the vegetation. Surrounded by the glow of ethereal wood energy, he appeared otherworldly. The abundant essence of the plains seemed to merge with him, purifying his flesh and spirit.
The battle at Black Roc Mountain had been a turning point. After consuming four types of rare medicines, Qin Ming felt the tangible benefits: extended lifespan, heightened potential, and improved strength. The rewards were so enticing that he decided to act again. This time, his target was the leader of the Pseudo-God Association.
He also intended to uncover whether the Six Rulers Ancestor Court had played a role in these events. “Almost there.”
Traveling fifty li, Qin Ming, propelled by the ethereal wood energy, swiftly reached his destination. The lush aura of greenery carried him, enhancing his elegance and grace.
Before him loomed a great mountain, home to the Pseudo-God Association’s base. It was a treacherous domain, avoided by most due to its deadly reputation. Qin Ming ascended the mountain silently. The inhabitants here were diverse: beasts, bird demons, and humans. Their leader, deep within the Night Fog World, was said to be a “pseudo-god entity.” The organization’s founding purpose remained unclear.
That night, amidst torrential rain, the mountain peak was illuminated by violent lightning strikes. One bolt after another crashed down, splitting cliffs and sending boulders tumbling.
Many members of the association were stunned. “What’s happening?” they cried. Through the blood-red lightning, faint figures could be seen clashing in fierce combat. “The leader is fighting someone!”
Demons rushed to the scene, joined by humans, only to be met with screams of agony moments later.
The battle was grueling for Qin Ming. He had observed from the shadows for a long time, ensuring he understood the leader’s strength before making his move. Still, he found the opponent far more formidable than anticipated.
This leader, Sun Teng, was no ordinary figure. Once a disciple of the illustrious Five Elements Palace, he had been cast out and turned renegade, gaining infamy across the Night Fog World. A long-time Outer Saint, Sun Teng had mastered several top-tier techniques, most notably the Withering and Flourishing Sutra.
Sun Teng’s mastery allowed him to draw upon the essence of grass and wood from the plains and comprehend the yin-yang transformations within withering and flourishing. His abilities were exceptional. He even used the changes in withering and flourishing to obscure his energy, fooling Qin Ming at first glance.
Qin Ming relied on the Overlord’s Legacy, channeling the night’s extreme weather to summon wind and thunder in an attempt to overpower his foe. However, Sun Teng, having grasped the yin-yang duality within the sutra, managed to neutralize some of the lightning strikes.
Without the enhancements Qin Ming had gained from refining the four rare medicines at Black Roc Mountain, the battle would have been evenly matched—its outcome uncertain.
By the end, the mountaintop was a ruin. The ground was cracked and charred, littered with bodies—members of the Pseudo-God Association who had fallen to lightning or Qin Ming’s jade-alloy blade.
“Regrettable. I didn’t acquire the complete Withering and Flourishing Sutra,” Qin Ming muttered. Sun Teng’s unyielding will was extraordinary, explaining his remarkable achievements.
“Great sects truly have deep reserves. Their direct disciples lack nothing when it comes to extraordinary techniques.”
Qin Ming discovered that his exposure had stemmed from a betrayal. On the plains, he had once partnered with a fellow cultivator to kill the Silver Wolf King, only to be sold out. Reflecting on the incident, he recalled aiding the individual by slaying a demon, only to receive this “gift” in return.
Among the bodies on the mountaintop, Qin Ming found the traitor—already cut in half by his blade. “No point delving deeper. This ends here.”
Discarding his tattered clothes, Qin Ming scavenged the area and donned a fresh outfit. Then, carried by the ethereal wood energy, he departed. His flowing sleeves and graceful movements resembled those of an immortal traveling the land.
The next day, Elder Zhou Tao of the Six Rulers Ancestor Court arrived on the Shenzhang Plains, riding a fierce bird. Approaching the white peacock in the sky, he inquired, “The timing is about right. Has there been any trouble? Everything’s still within the rules, I hope?”
He spoke with respect, treating the white peacock as an equal, for its strength was undeniable.
The massive white peacock nodded. “There have been some complications. By the way, they involve you, Elder Zhou.”
“Oh? What happened?” Zhou Tao’s demeanor turned serious.
The white peacock explained, “Your rare medicine has been harvested. Not just yours—other elders’ discoveries have also been taken.”
“What? Who’s breaking the rules?” Zhou Tao’s voice rose.
The white peacock replied, “A certain young man acted entirely within the rules, uprooting several rare medicines in the process.”