Chapter Seventy-Nine: When the Iron Tree Blooms

Cultivation knows neither sun nor moon; in the blink of an eye, three months had passed.

For Lei Xiang, these three months had been both fulfilling and monotonous. Each morning, he studied the elven tongue under Mu Qingchun’s guidance. At midday, he basked in the sun, soaking in the Imperial Pool while also cultivating the blue radiance in his eyes. The afternoons were devoted to his arduous training, and come nightfall, Lei Xiang would secretly practice the Divine Spirit Refinement Manual.

Since Huang Qingyang had helped him break through his barriers, Lei Xiang felt his lost spiritual power gradually returning. With his diligent efforts, not only had he fully recovered his cultivation, but he was also on the verge of another breakthrough. After all, the elven lands were twice as rich in spiritual energy as those of the Eastern Yue Kingdom.

His mastery of the elven language had also made remarkable progress. Whereas three months ago he could barely manage simple conversations, now he had complete command of reading and writing. As his teacher Mu Qingchun put it, he had reached a masterful level in the language.

But the true focus of his cultivation—the Azure and Yellow Unification Art—had seen even greater advancement. Lei Xiang had reached the third stage, just as he had suspected back at the Lei Family Fortress when training the Dragon Aspect Divine Art. This technique was indeed a body-forging method, and it was more than ten times stronger than the altered Dragon Aspect Art his grandfather had pieced together. Moreover, Lei Xiang’s body had been tempered by lightning over a decade ago, making him one of the highest practitioners of body refinement. With daily soaks in the Imperial Pool, his physical resilience now rivaled millennia-old black iron; ordinary magical artifacts could no longer harm him.

More importantly, the strength in Lei Xiang’s arms had increased a hundredfold, granting him the power to bear mountains—a solid foundation for claiming the Spirit Rod.

Today was the day to visit the iron tree. Lei Xiang told no one, confiding only in Zhu Chi in his sea of consciousness, instructing him to remain dormant to avoid the spiritual pressure when retrieving the Spirit Rod, which might otherwise harm Zhu Chi, whose injuries had yet to heal. With everything arranged, Lei Xiang set out.

The iron tree stood dark and somber, its branches sparse. For a hundred paces around, no other trees grew, yet beyond that radius lay a dense forest. Lei Xiang stopped ten paces from the iron tree, drew the Eight-Treasure Dragon Lance from his storage pouch, twisted the shaft in both hands, donned his Reverse Scale armor, and hurled the lance with all his might. Like a golden lightning bolt, the weapon struck the iron tree ten paces away.

A metallic clang rang out. The Eight-Treasure Dragon Lance, forged of profound gold, bounced off the iron tree and clattered to the ground. Astonishingly, the iron tree remained unscathed, and even the ground around it—seemingly as hard as forged iron—was unmarred by the lance’s sharp tip.

Lei Xiang shook his head in resignation; he had no time to investigate further. With a leap, he landed beside the iron tree, lifted the ward, and climbed into the bird’s nest.

The nest was just as it had been three months prior—no trace of bird droppings, nothing at all save for the iron ring upon the central platform.

Gazing at the iron ring, Lei Xiang recalled his first visit months ago, when Queen Qing had done all she could to stop him from pulling the ring. He remembered the fear etched on her face and pondered, “Is the Spirit Rod truly so difficult to control? Even someone as powerful as Queen Qing can’t manage it. I’ve only recovered to mid-Foundation Establishment, plus reached the third stage of the Azure and Yellow Unification Art. Can I truly master it?”

With these doubts, Lei Xiang produced a set of formation flags and plates, laying down two layers of restrictive formations within the nest. Activating his Reverse Scale defenses, he formed various seals and directed them at the area around the iron ring. Moments later, spiritual light flared, revealing a miniature formation. Lei Xiang pried eight high-grade spirit stones from its eight cardinal points and stowed them away, causing the miniature formation to gradually dim. Only then did he approach the platform, and after a brief hesitation, resolutely pulled the iron ring.

It was unimaginably heavy.

That was Lei Xiang’s honest impression. Having raised the Azure and Yellow Unification Art to its second stage, his right arm was already wreathed in yellow energy, but he could barely raise the ring a mere five feet. It felt less like an iron ring than an entire iron mine.

He channeled more of the Azure and Yellow Unification Art, summoned his black Swift Step tool, and stood upon it—the Spirit Rod’s length unknown, it would not be lifted without rising into the air.

Rising higher with the help of the Swift Step, Lei Xiang managed to raise the Spirit Rod another three feet, yet the rod seemed bottomless. Had it no end? By now, with the art circulating at the third stage, his right arm shifted between blue, yellow, and transparent hues, its strength surging to tens of thousands of catties—his absolute limit. Even so, the Spirit Rod had only risen about thirty feet, its full length still concealed.

What protruded from the ground was a dull, lusterless black rod, utterly lacking any trace of spiritual energy—just a massive iron bar.

Lei Xiang, vexed, wondered, “Could Queen Qing have been mistaken? Was this really a product of the meteor shower? Why is there no spiritual energy at all, and how long is this rod anyway?” Suddenly, he felt the weight in his hand vanish; the ring that moments ago had felt as heavy as an iron mine was now light as a feather.

Caught off guard by the sudden change, and unable to restrain his momentum, Lei Xiang staggered back and landed hard on his rear. The iron rod, about thirty-five feet long, half-lay across the Swift Step, the other half dangling midair. Staring at the lengthy rod, Lei Xiang sighed deeply, utterly dejected—after all his struggles, all he had to show for it was a big iron stick. It was like a duck trying to hatch a chicken’s egg—utterly futile.

A slender thread of crimson light drifted silently from the dark hole left by the Spirit Rod’s extraction, shooting southeast. Lei Xiang stared in surprise, unable to fathom the origin of this erratic red glow. In the blink of an eye, the red streak had zipped thirty paces away.

He reacted swiftly, his eyes flashing with blue light, and instantly saw the object within the red glow—a blood-red, miniature iron rod, no larger than a toothpick, hurtling southeast at incredible speed.

As the mini “toothpick” flew off, a thunderous rumbling erupted for a hundred paces around. The earth, which the Eight-Treasure Dragon Lance had failed to pierce, now churned violently, transforming as if plowed into soft, black soil. The iron tree that had borne the Spirit Rod burst with a crackling explosion, ultimately blooming into a brilliant, blood-red flower.

This, at last, was the true Spirit Rod!

Delight surged through Lei Xiang—such a phenomenon confirmed the Spirit Rod’s emergence. He flung aside the thirty-foot iron bar and pointed to the Eight-Treasure Dragon Lance, which turned into a streak of golden light and sped after it.

At this moment, the toothpick-like iron rod seemed to collide with something unseen. A deafening crash sounded, and the miniature rod was bounced back. Without hesitating, it turned and shot northeast, only to be repelled again. The tiny rod paused, then suddenly blazed with red light, its form swelling rapidly.

By the time the Eight-Treasure Dragon Lance caught up, the once-toothpick-sized iron rod had grown to a towering sixty feet, radiating crimson light. Even the massive lance now seemed minuscule by comparison.

Within the crimson glow, the Spirit Rod pulsed with spiritual energy, slowly turning its head and swinging at the Eight-Treasure Dragon Lance. Yet the lance was not to be outdone; it transformed into a five-clawed golden dragon, leaping into the air to evade the blow, then striking back with its left claw. Two mighty spiritual artifacts clashed in fierce battle.

From a distance, Lei Xiang watched, his face alight with excitement. He was certain that this “toothpick” was the Spirit Rod he had sought so arduously. With the double-layered formations protecting the area, he was confident the rod could not escape quickly. Now the question was how to claim it. As he pondered, his hand rummaged through his storage pouch.

Unexpectedly, the Spirit Rod’s power proved overwhelming. In a brief exchange, it battered the Eight-Treasure Dragon Lance into utter defeat. The five-clawed golden dragon’s scales were battered and mottled, two claws were wounded, and its body bore more than a dozen gashes—even its horns were askew, leaving it in a pitiful state.

Without hesitation, Lei Xiang activated the dragon’s horn, releasing arcs of golden lightning that lashed toward the Spirit Rod, but all were blocked by its crimson aura. Frowning, Lei Xiang was about to recall the Eight-Treasure Dragon Lance when the Spirit Rod abruptly transformed. A red serpent coiled sinuously around the lance, squeezing tighter and tighter.

“No!” Lei Xiang cried out in alarm, but before he could finish, the Eight-Treasure Dragon Lance wailed and snapped into several pieces, tumbling to the ground. Lei Xiang winced at the loss, yet his anticipation for the Spirit Rod only grew.

Suddenly, the Spirit Rod, now a spiritual serpent, contracted rapidly, reverting to the size of an embroidery needle. It shot straight toward a specific point in the formation, launching a fierce assault.