Chapter Seventy-Seven: Huang Qingyang

Lei Xiang let out a gentle breath. “If these are indeed fragments of a treasure from the Upper Realm, then I must collect them. When I improve my Arrow Immortal Spear in the future, I’ll need the finest materials to enhance its functions.”

“Oh, it’s best that you have such long-term plans. Of course, I’ll teach you the method to cultivate the blue radiance in your eyes. You must practice diligently—perhaps one day, besides the Arrow Immortal Spear, this blue radiance will become a formidable weapon. Later, I’ll instruct you on how to fuse the blue radiance into the Divine Thunder Slash, thus increasing its power.”

Lei Xiang nodded. “I’ve been training intensively these past days. Now I can gaze directly at the sun for a breath. Once we escape from here, we’ll be able to...” Suddenly, Lei Xiang sent a warning thought, and he halted in his tracks.

They were already at the forest’s edge, where the trees grew sparse. Lei Xiang’s gaze fell upon an unremarkable green tree in the northeast corner. The blue radiance in his eyes flashed more intensely than ever—a result of his recent training. He saw the tree more clearly.

No anomalies.

Yet Lei Xiang felt puzzled. Under the upgraded blue radiance, the ordinary green tree revealed nothing strange, but he distinctly sensed a powerful spiritual consciousness sweeping past from that direction. The strength of this spiritual sense was immense, nothing like the cultivation methods of the Green Elves, but somewhat akin to that of human cultivators. Was it possible that another human cultivator existed in this land of elves?

Could it be the leader of the Blood Fiend Alliance?

The Blood Fiend Alliance’s master had appeared near the meteor shower—perhaps he too was sucked in by the spatial rift, and like Lei Xiang, thrown into this place.

At this thought, Lei Xiang’s palm grew clammy. His spiritual power was exhausted; he couldn’t even open his storage pouch. He relied solely on the Arrow Immortal Spear’s single Celestial Crystal bullet—barely any chance of victory. Suddenly, a voice startled him.

“Old man, hurry up and get in here! I haven’t seen a soul in hundreds of years.”

The voice came from within the tree, but Lei Xiang couldn’t locate the speaker.

At that moment, Zhu Chi sent a mental warning. “This person can sense my presence, which means their spiritual sense is terrifyingly strong—likely an old monster of the Nascent Soul stage. I have no physical body and am no match for them. We must flee!”

Lei Xiang blinked. “Can we really escape? Perhaps some powerful restriction was set here, and even that person can’t break through.”

“Stop wasting time—run!” Before Zhu Chi finished, Lei Xiang had already bolted away like a startled duck. The strange voice cackled after him, “You coward! You don’t even dare meet me. How utterly boring.”

By now, Lei Xiang was thirty miles away, far beyond earshot of the mysterious voice. Zhu Chi, still shaken, said, “We must be careful from now on—never get entangled with that old monster.”

Yet the things one wishes to avoid most are often what fate brings. The next afternoon, Lei Xiang had just finished learning the elven language from Mu Qingchun when she led him into that same forest, stopping before the dead ancient tree. Using a branch-shaped instrument, she opened the restriction outside and sent Lei Xiang inside.

Within the restriction, wooden stairs spiraled upward. Lei Xiang climbed, steeling himself even though he wished to avoid this eccentric, for he very much desired the spirit staff. When Mu Qingchun mentioned that this strange person was the only one who could wield the staff—and the only one capable of teaching Lei Xiang the incomplete cultivation method—Lei Xiang came without hesitation.

Inside the ancient tree’s restriction all was silent. The voice from last night did not reappear. Outside, Mu Qingchun tossed in a communication talisman and hurried away, as though she feared this place. The talisman flew straight to the tree’s core, yet no sound came. After Mu Qingchun had left for the time it takes to eat a meal, Lei Xiang reached the tree’s top.

Unlike the Queen’s palace, which pierced the clouds, the treetop stood beneath a gray, misty sky. Atop a misty spell platform sat a heap of bones at its center, nothing else. “Is that strange person here?”

Lei Xiang wondered aloud. In his mind, Zhu Chi sent a reminder: “There are no living beings here—except those bones. They seem to emit a faint spiritual aura. Could it be the work of a ghost cultivator?”

Before Lei Xiang could respond, the cackling voice from last night echoed again, sounding like a flood rushing through dead wood, emerging from the mouth of the heap of bones.

“So, a human cultivator—how rare! Even as I approach death, I can still contribute to humanity. Unfortunate, yet fortunate. Let’s get acquainted. I am Huang Qingyang. The incomplete cultivation method the Green Elves had you learn is my masterpiece. Introduce yourself. Why is there a powerful soul in your sea of consciousness? Which soul is the main one? Who will answer me?”

Lei Xiang was startled. Huang Qingyang, this heap of bones, could see the soul of Zhu Chi in his mind at a glance—clearly not an ordinary person. Judging by his tone, he seemed to bear no ill will toward human cultivators; perhaps he was human himself. After careful thought, Lei Xiang answered truthfully.

“I am Lei Xiang from the Eastern Yue Kingdom. The soul in my sea of consciousness is my master’s remnant spirit, who was harmed by villains and placed under a severe restriction. He temporarily resides in my mind. It’s not a clone or possession. By the way, I’m confused about one thing—since you are so powerful, why have you fallen here? The Queen and her ilk shouldn’t be strong enough to harm you.”

“Nonsense!” Huang Qingyang’s voice surged like a flood. “The Queen is nothing. At my peak, with the incomplete divine art, I could wipe out their entire tribe with ease. My downfall was due to other circumstances. Who told you I am dead?”

Before he finished, a green orb of light floated out from the bones, circled them three times, then vanished.

Lei Xiang was truly shocked. Huang Qingyang was not a ghost cultivator, but a normal one? Then Huang Qingyang spoke again. “The Queen sent word for me to teach you my divine art. Do you know how many elves and other beings have begged me to take them as disciples over the years? I drove them all away. This art cannot be taught lightly—it requires great fate and a brilliant mind. Now, I’ll test you. If you can’t answer, you’ll leave like the rest. The question is simple: How much do you know of my past? Analyze my current situation. Finally, guess whether I will teach you my art, and explain why.”

Lei Xiang pondered. “This question isn’t difficult, but I’m not confident I’ll answer perfectly—I’m not a worm in his stomach. Still, I must obtain this divine art, or I won’t be able to claim the spirit staff...”

Huang Qingyang did not rush him, merely said, “I’ll give you the time it takes for a stick of incense to burn. If you fail, you forfeit your chance. Now, begin.” He raised the right hand of his skeletal remains, and a phantom of sandalwood incense appeared in midair, its tip glowing red, smoke curling upward.

Seeing the bones’ gesture, Lei Xiang’s heart stirred. He bared his tiger-like teeth in a grin. “Senior, I don’t need a stick of incense—I can answer now.”

Huang Qingyang was taken aback, his voice sinister. “Are you certain you want to answer now? Remember, you only get one chance.”

Lei Xiang nodded calmly. “First, I know nothing of your past, but by connecting all the events, I can surmise: you are a human cultivator, at least at the early Nascent Soul stage. Years ago, you learned that the meteor shower was the result of a battle between immortals and demons in the Upper Realm, and that the once-in-ten-thousand-years meteor shower would fall here. You entered, discovered the spirit staff, and while collecting it, were spotted by the Green Elves. The four guardians attacked, gravely wounding you, and the Green Elves imprisoned you.”

Lei Xiang spoke smoothly. The bones’ toothy mouth gaped wider and wider, unable to close. Huang Qingyang’s shock was boundless. Did Lei Xiang possess some secret art to probe memories? Though some details differed, the overall account was accurate.

“Now, your current situation: I believe you are in dire straits. After being gravely injured and imprisoned here, you can never escape. Your power has mostly recovered, but your physical body is destroyed—so only your bones and lonely soul remain. Over the years, you’ve grown ever more isolated, lifeless even.”

The empty skull atop Huang Qingyang’s bones flashed faint light in its hollow sockets. Lei Xiang’s words struck deep. Though some parts were off—he was poisoned, not wounded, and his body was destroyed by the toxin—the rest was spot-on, even his feelings. Indeed, he was weary of life, with no hope left.

Anyone who had lived for centuries as he had would feel the same.

Lei Xiang coldly observed. He sensed his words had thoroughly moved Huang Qingyang, stirring his nerves. So he continued, “As for your last question, that’s even easier. You absolutely wish to pass your divine art to me.”

Huang Qingyang, silent till now, was finally convinced. He couldn’t help but ask, “Why? What’s your reasoning?”

Lei Xiang answered, unhurried, “Because your incomplete divine art is the crystallization of your life’s wisdom. You want it to be passed on. The Queen and others you rejected—you don’t want your enemies learning it. So you’d rather teach it to a human cultivator. And because it was the spirit staff in the meteor shower that led you to this fate, the staff is forever a knot in your heart. You hope to find someone capable of wielding it. If you see such a person, you can die in peace.”

Lei Xiang pointed to his own nose. “I am that person. So you will definitely teach me your divine art.”