Chapter Fifty-Three: The Enchanting Spirit Smoke Vessel

With a sweep of his divine sense, Lei Xiang quickly locked onto the motionless figure of Chen Zhi below. With a light tap of his toes, he sped down nimbly.

To his surprise, Chen Zhi was still alive.

Lei Xiang carefully examined Chen Zhi’s body. His vital signs were exceedingly faint, as if he were already at death’s door. Yet Lei Xiang still sent out a gentle thread of divine thought: “Elder Chen, if you have anything to say, please speak.”

Chen Zhi’s lifeless eyes drifted to Lei Xiang’s face. He replied in a weak mental voice: “Lei Xiang, first I thank you for avenging me. I now bequeath to you the treasured Windfire Boots of my Immortal Ape Sect. In a moment, I will teach you how to activate them. Also, I have a final request: please bring me back to the Immortal Ape Sect. If I must die, let it be there.”

Lei Xiang gave it some thought. “Elder Chen, I have other matters to attend to and cannot carry a living person such as yourself.”

Once more, Chen Zhi’s divine sense flickered, now even more fragile: “Our sect possesses a secret art, which keeps the body pliant after death and shrinks it to a tenth of its size. Here are the incantation and the Windfire Boots’ method of refinement. You may study them at your leisure. If you are willing to return me home, all the materials required for the ritual are in my storage pouch. I cannot hold on much longer. Farewell!”

With these words, Chen Zhi’s eyes closed, and his life left him.

Lei Xiang gazed at the two jade slips floating before him, his mind lost in thought.

A few days later, fully recovered, Lei Xiang sat atop his jet-black flying steed, a fiery jade slip pressed to his brow as he immersed himself in the secrets of the Windfire Boots.

After careful consideration, Lei Xiang decided to help the old man. Fortunately, the ritual for the secret art was not complicated, and Chen Zhi had left all required materials. In just a few days, the ritual was complete. Chen Zhi’s body had become mummified and shriveled, now scarcely a foot tall.

Lei Xiang placed Chen Zhi in a large storage pouch and continued his journey, making the most of his time to study the Windfire Boots.

With his strong mental focus, Lei Xiang mastered the method within half a day. He then took out the Windfire Boots for closer inspection.

The Windfire Boots looked like ordinary leather boots—dull gray in color, with only occasional flashes of dark red symbols upon their surface. Aside from this, nothing seemed remarkable.

But from Chen Zhi’s jade slip, Lei Xiang learned that these were a replica of an ancient treasure. Though they offered little advantage on land—being merely light and comfortable—once on water or ice, their true power emerged: they allowed one to glide across the surface without leaving a trace, covering thousands of miles in a single day. They were, without doubt, a formidable auxiliary artifact.

However, due to Chen Zhi’s circumstances, the boots were damaged and required repair to unleash their full power. Lei Xiang grinned, a bold idea forming in his mind.

He looked down at a few lonely hills below, the spiritual energy there clearly thin and sparse.

The flying steed descended before one of the hills. Lei Xiang decided to rest here and take the opportunity to reforge the Windfire Boots. Though the area lacked spiritual energy, Lei Xiang possessed the Violetwood and Weakwater spirit roots, enough for his needs. “If I were at Hengyang Mountain, and could draw on its grand spirit-gathering array, that would be perfect,” he thought with a shake of his head.

He tossed out a dark iron spike. Under the sunlight, its black surface gleamed, and it began to expand until it was as thick as a water vat. With a gesture, Lei Xiang pointed at the mountainside. The spike hummed and spun, drilling into the rock with a roar.

Amid the flying dust and debris, a one-man-high tunnel soon appeared in the mountainside. Lei Xiang set up a few illusion arrays at the entrance and walked into the mountain’s heart. From the outside, the hill remained as unremarkable as ever, all stone and low shrubs, without a hint of human activity.

Inside his newly carved temporary cave, Lei Xiang sat cross-legged, rummaging through the storage pouches looted from Ouyang Dingdang and his brother. Chen Zhi’s mummified body, meanwhile, was sealed in another room, hidden with an imprisoning spell—Lei Xiang was not about to let anyone discover his secrets.

He tossed the two storage pouches into the air. With a flash of white light, dozens of items hovered before him: offensive magical tools, spirit stones, materials, and several talismans.

Counting the spirit stones, Lei Xiang found two thousand in total. Clearly, the Ouyang brothers had not only looted Chen Zhi but had also robbed many others. Lei Xiang cared little about the details; quietly amassing wealth was the true path.

After putting away the spirit stones, he examined the magical tools one by one and was disappointed to find none could compare to his treasured Eightfold Dragon Lance in attack, nor did any defend as well as his homemade beast-skin tent. They were, in short, useless trinkets.

Fortunately, among the materials were several pieces of refined iron—perfect for repairing the Windfire Boots. After storing away the useful items, only a single ceramic bottle remained floating in the air.

This bottle was peculiar. Small enough to fit in the palm, it was shaped like the upper body of a beautiful woman, crafted with exquisite detail. The red lips seemed almost alive, half-parted as if about to speak. Only the chest was smooth and worn, polished flat by countless touches.

“The Ouyang brothers truly were a pair of lecherous fiends,” Lei Xiang muttered to himself.

He then focused on the bottle’s head—the cap—where several blood-red talismans formed a glowing seal.

After a moment’s thought, Lei Xiang spoke a strange phrase: “Bo po mo fo, de te ne le.”

What did that mean?

At once, a deep, dragon-like voice sounded in his mind. “Boy, why have you disturbed this old man again?” It was Zhu Chi, with whom Lei Xiang had arranged a secret code to contact him in his slumber.

Lei Xiang pointed at the ceramic beauty. “What is this? How do I break the seal on it?”

“Bring it closer so I can see.”

Following the instruction, Lei Xiang took the small bottle in his palm and pressed it against his temple. A cool sensation spread through his body—immensely soothing.

From within his consciousness, Zhu Chi exclaimed, “If I’m not mistaken, this is the Beauty’s Spirit Smoke Flask, a rare treasure of the Infinite Continent. Its only function is to store spiritual energy—over ten thousand years’ worth! With this flask, no matter how depleted your own reserves, one whiff under your nose will restore you instantly. Boy, you’ve struck it rich!”

“Ten thousand-year spirit energy?” Lei Xiang frowned. “Senior, how is spirit energy classified by age?”

Zhu Chi’s laughter echoed. “Foolish child, spirit energy comes from spirit veins. If a vein is over a million years old, it can produce ten-thousand-year spirit energy—though it’s extremely rare and cannot be harvested by ordinary means. Like fine wine, the older the energy, the more potent and fragrant.”

Lei Xiang grinned, baring his little tiger teeth. He knew he’d found a treasure. “Senior, how do I open it?”

Ten hours passed. Lei Xiang wiped sweat from his brow—he had tried more than twenty methods, but the seal on the Beauty’s Spirit Smoke Flask remained unbroken. Even Zhu Chi was stumped; the seal was simply too complex.

Holding the bottle before his eyes, Lei Xiang scrutinized it. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. His thumb touched the smooth chest of the beauty and gently pushed upward. Miraculously, the vivid red lips parted slightly, as if about to speak. Startled, Lei Xiang’s thumb slipped down, and the lips closed again.

In that fleeting moment, Lei Xiang sensed a trace of vigorous spirit energy. Not daring to waste a drop, he quickly absorbed it—after all, ten-thousand-year spirit energy was a rare treasure in this world, and would greatly aid his future cultivation breakthroughs.

“So even lechery has its uses, it seems,” Zhu Chi teased.

Lei Xiang smiled faintly. “What of it? You’ve said yourself my heart is strong. So long as my cultivation is high enough, there’s nothing I can’t unravel. Go back to sleep for now—soon, I’ll have another surprise for you.”