Chapter 84

Chapter 84: A Cultivation Method

Bai Meng Jin had always been fiercely competitive.

When she was young in the Bai Family, she could cultivate day and night without rest just to pass the examinations of the Cinnabar Cloud Palace. After entering the palace, even with a senior brother acknowledged as number one, she had never accepted defeat.

Even when disaster struck and ruined her foundation, she clenched her teeth and endured.

The one thing she never managed—even until death—was revenge. She never got to make those who betrayed their master and their sect pay the price.

In this life, the hardships she once suffered might never come again. But expecting her to wipe away grudges as if they were dust?

Impossible.

She was exactly that kind of person—petty, vengeful, unwilling to let go.

Even if those things belonged to a future that hadn’t happened yet, she refused to forgive.

The World’s Number One Sword Cultivator.

She wanted to see it—once that title changed hands—whether Immortal Lord Ning would still look so untouchable, still be worshipped by everyone.

*

Hua Wu Sheng had barely lain down when she was urgently called up.

“What is it?” She yawned, voice cranky with age. “Old folks sleep lightly. You’d better have a real reason!”

Ling Bu Fei stood there looking almost unreal—light-eyed, airy, as if he were still walking through a dream. “Martial Uncle… if I told you I can cultivate now, what would you do?”

Hua Wu Sheng stopped mid-yawn. “What did you say?”

“I said—”

Hua Wu Sheng flashed forward and grabbed Bai Meng Jin before Ling Bu Fei could finish, fingers tightening like iron. “You found a way? Bu Fei’s Severed Meridians can be healed?”

“Hey, Martial Uncle—” Ling Bu Fei didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’m the one talking. Why are you grabbing her?”

Bai Meng Jin pried Hua Wu Sheng’s hand loose and shook her head. “Martial Uncle, don’t get excited. His Severed Meridians can’t be healed for now…”

Hua Wu Sheng’s hope loosened like a pulled thread.

Then Bai Meng Jin continued, steady and clear, “…but there is a way that can let him cultivate right now. It will just require a lot of suffering.”

“Suffering?” Hua Wu Sheng’s eyes snapped bright again. “So what? What successful cultivator hasn’t suffered?”

She took one step, then halted, suspicion creeping in. “Wait. This method—you’re not talking about something involving resentful spirits, are you?”

Bai Meng Jin’s method had to come from somewhere. And because of her connection to the Yin-Yang Umbrella—and the elder who guarded the Ming River—Hua Wu Sheng couldn’t help thinking of the darkest roads.

Bai Meng Jin’s lips curved. “No.”

Hua Wu Sheng finally let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. She wanted Ling Bu Fei to cultivate. She did not want to buy that cultivation with corruption.

“Then tell me,” she demanded. “What method?”

Bai Meng Jin asked, “Martial Uncle, do you know how devil cultivators cultivate?”

Hua Wu Sheng answered without hesitation. “Back when I guarded the Ming River, I saw many devil cultivators. To put it plainly, they use devil qi instead of spiritual qi. Again and again, they let devil qi corrode their bodies, then heal. Eventually they force their bodies to coexist with devil qi.”

“What Martial Uncle said is right,” Bai Meng Jin agreed, “but there’s another way to understand devil cultivation.”

“Hm?” Hua Wu Sheng lifted a brow.

As an old Divine Transformation cultivator, she was confident in her knowledge. Yet listening to Bai Meng Jin now, she felt as if she were receiving instruction from some hidden senior. “Go on.”

“Devil cultivation is destruction and rebuilding,” Bai Meng Jin said. “Because the human body rejects devil qi, if you want to contain it, you must first temper the body’s strength. In other words—body refinement.”

Hua Wu Sheng’s mind moved fast. “You want Bu Fei to refine his body.”

Bai Meng Jin nodded. “A devil cultivator’s foundation is body refinement. If your body can’t coexist with devil qi, you can’t cultivate devil arts at all.”

Her gaze sharpened. “So what if we use spiritual qi to refine the body instead?”

Hua Wu Sheng frowned, thinking. “That resembles a body cultivator’s path, but the method is different.”

“Right,” Bai Meng Jin said. “Body cultivators use spirit medicines to temper bones and roots. The Young Sect Master can’t rely on his meridians to circulate spiritual qi, but he has enormous cultivation within him.”

She spoke slowly, letting each step land. “He only needs to fuse that spiritual qi into his flesh a little at a time. If his meridians can’t hold it, then don’t store it in the meridians. Store it in the body.”

Hua Wu Sheng fell silent, staring out the window at the Cloudmist Marsh. The water outside was dark and still, but her thoughts churned like storm clouds.

Bai Meng Jin didn’t press. She slipped outside and returned with tea.

Ling Bu Fei followed her out, keeping his voice low. “Can this really work?”

“If it couldn’t, would Martial Uncle need time to think?” Bai Meng Jin replied. “She would’ve rejected it immediately.”

She opened the cabinet and took out pastries. Her hands were steady, her confidence unshaken.

She knew it would work—because she had done it in her previous life.

Back then, when she betrayed the sect, she shattered her core. When she tried to cultivate again, her dantian never recovered. So she switched to devil arts and carved open a new inner realm.

Because the Jade-Tempered Body wasn’t corroded by devil qi, she skipped the earliest step of devil cultivation. She didn’t need devil qi to refine her body.

But that was how she discovered it: forcing spiritual qi into flesh produced the same effect as body cultivators using spirit medicines. Spiritual qi on the outside, devil qi on the inside—unless she revealed it herself, no one could tell she was a devil cultivator.

She hadn’t planned to share this method. But Ling Bu Fei’s sincerity had moved her.

Spirit medicines that could stimulate acupoints and regrow severed meridians were rare treasures. If they couldn’t find them, Ling Bu Fei would never be cured.

Someone like Ning Yan Zhi lived under endless light, while Ling Bu Fei was expected to remain a cripple forever.

Why?

They carried the tea and snacks back inside. Hua Wu Sheng had already finished her silent calculations. When she turned, her eyes were bright with decision.

Bai Meng Jin smiled. “As long as Martial Uncle thinks it’s worth trying.”

Hua Wu Sheng was already constructing the path in her mind. With a flick of her hand, books, jade slips, and scrolls filled the table—devil arts she’d gathered over many years and never once expected to use.

“Body cultivators use spirit medicine to temper bone and root,” Hua Wu Sheng murmured. “That’s often agony. Forcing spiritual qi into flesh should be no different.”

She looked up. “Bu Fei’s physical foundation is decent. He knows basic fist and footwork. If we’re refining the body, we need to choose a weapon to specialize in.”

Before she could even ask, Ling Bu Fei said, “Martial Uncle, I want the sword.”

Hua Wu Sheng didn’t object. “Fine. Bai Li Xu is a sword cultivator and has experience. You’ll learn faster. Your Martial Great-Uncle taught Martial Uncle Yuan; he can certainly teach you too.”

Ling Bu Fei turned to Bai Meng Jin and blinked, as if seeking her approval.

Bai Meng Jin smiled and nodded.

Hua Wu Sheng waved a hand. Ink and paper floated before her. With another flick, the brush lifted into the air and began to write swiftly, stroke after stroke, as if she feared the idea might evaporate if she didn’t pin it down.

Ling Bu Fei had never felt happiness like this. He had been a cripple for eighteen years. Only after meeting Bai Meng Jin did he realize he might have a chance to become normal.

He had thought it would be far in the future.

Yet tonight, hope was right in front of him.