Cultivating for a hundred lifetimes to ascension Chapter 1497 - 810: Inverted Mountain (Part 2)

"Huff, next... next time... I'll surely grab even more... I'm... heading out." Zhao Sheng uttered those words while breathing raggedly, cheeks burning red, and once the fragmented speech ended, his frame stopped battling the outer world's push.

Right after his voice faded, he dissolved into nothingness.

...

Right before the first light of dawn broke, darkness gripped the night at its deepest.

In a hidden nook, a compact silhouette materialized from empty space.

Bang!

The ancient Ten-thousand-year-old Xuan Iron slipped from his grasp, slamming hard onto the earth.

Zhao Sheng's cheeks glowed crimson as his Divine Sense surged wildly through every limb, frantically directing the rush of Spiritual Energy along his meridians, zealously channeling it into his Core Energy Sea.

The Divine Sense fragmented into innumerable strands of awareness, scattering across the Qi Sea Void, while the Spirit Power Vortex ballooned swiftly, whirling like a tempest, absorbing and purifying the incoming flood of Spiritual Energy.

Third Layer,

Fourth Layer,

Fifth Layer,

...

Eighth Layer,

Ninth Layer,

Great Perfection!

Within mere instants, the Spirit Power Vortex had ballooned to several times its prior size, and the Dantian Qi Sea brimmed with thick, fog-like Spiritual Energy.

By now, Zhao Sheng's cultivation had soared to Qi Refining Perfection.

At the same instant, his Divine Sense's reach expanded explosively.

Twenty zhang,

Thirty zhang,

...

It stretched onward until it hit over a hundred and eighty zhang, marking the true boundary of his Divine Sense's span.

This extent outstripped a standard Early-stage Foundation Establishment Cultivator's by seven or eightfold.

Whoosh!

Zhao Sheng gradually reined in his energies, expelling a lengthy stream of murky gray-black vapor. Now, his entire form was coated in a sheath of murky red, stench-laden grime.

Facing this mess, he stayed silent, swiftly shedding his robe and summoning a Spiritual Fire to incinerate it into cinders.

Next, he cast the Dust Removal Technique repeatedly, a full ten times, cleansing every trace of impurity from his skin.

Zhao Sheng bent down to inhale, catching no odd odors, and gave a pleased nod.

Afterward, he extended his Divine Sense, hoisting the Ten-thousand-year-old Xuan Iron lodged in the soil.

His silhouette blurred in a flash, blending seamlessly into the shadows, vanishing completely.

...

Seasons shifted from spring to autumn, and suddenly three years had slipped away.

On that particular day, the area around White Stone Square thrummed with clamor, crowds dispersed across the east, south, west, and north, forming over a dozen distinct clusters—the biggest boasting fifty or sixty folks, the tiniest just seven or eight.

Through three years of relentless Cultivation, the Magic Battle had unfolded six times already. The hierarchy among the Lower Six Courtyards stood firmly defined.

Among those six courtyards, the dominant force, dubbed the Vigorous Alliance, drew from the Ding, Wu, and Ji courtyards, totaling over seventy members. The feeblest remained the Hundred Skills Association, with under ten participants, yet each excelled as a master in some Cultivation art, earning respect from all outsiders.

At that instant, more than three hundred figures dotted the square's edges, all eyes locked on the heart of the arena, where a chaotic brawl hurtled toward its peak.

Puff!

A youth clad in Cover Armor, sporting slim elongated brows, got bashed by a staff, hurled backward fiercely, and couldn't stop a gush of blood erupting mid-flight.

"Alas, Chan Fei's getting savage! Even Zhou Sheng folded after one blow." The onlookers let out collective sighs and buzzed with chatter.

The Chan Fei they referenced was a massive brute almost a zhang in height, with a girth spanning ten bei.

Without the touch of innocence on his features, folks might mistake him for a peerless fighter, charging battlefields like an unstoppable gale.

Chan Fei gripped the Kanglong Stick inverted in one fist, his fierce tiger-like eyes scanning the fray, until they fixed on a squat, shadowy, weighty Turtle Shell Shield.

The Turtle Shell Shield's wielder was a dashing, lofty young man, positioned loosely at the square's edge, observing the chaos with idle curiosity, as if he were just an audience member savoring the spectacle rather than a fighter.

"Zhao Sheng, face me in combat!" Chan Fei focused his thoughts and bellowed abruptly, hoisting his Kanglong Stick as he charged ahead.

"Ha, eat this!"

Chan Fei dashed forward with blinding speed, closing into two-zhang proximity in a heartbeat, then vaulted upward, gripping the Kanglong Stick two-handed, and hammered down on the Turtle Shell Shield with immense, thousand-jin might.

A thunderous crash echoed as the Kanglong Stick rebounded skyward, Chan Fei's hands split open and bled, flinging him back three zhang.

The Kanglong Stick escaped his hold, soaring far past the square's bounds.

Chan Fei hauled himself upright from the dirt, staring at Zhao Sheng in shock and crying out, "You... you're cheating!"

Yet the accusation of "cheating" lodged in his throat, gulped back unwillingly.

He figured he understood Zhao Sheng thoroughly—if it was artifact refining prowess, this guy ranked elite among peers, but in straight-up fights, he lacked flair, scraping into the top ten only thanks to his crafted Mystic Turtle Shield.

He never imagined that in under half a year, the rival had upgraded the Mystic Turtle Shield once more, weaving in a rebound-style Magic Prohibition. That twist had genuinely tipped the scales against him.

"Haha, you big oaf, you've been beaten! From now on, quit chasing me down—it just wastes your time," Zhao Sheng strolled closer, grinning at Chan Fei, while the Mystic Turtle Shield twirled merrily before its owner.

Chan Fei's complexion shifted from red to pale, then he sprang to his feet wordlessly, spun on his heel, and melted into the throng in a blink.

Zhao Sheng shifted his attention, surveyed the area, and noted thirteen fighters still lingered in the square.

"Time to wrap this up!" he mused inwardly, then shaped hand seals, infusing threads of spiritual power into the Mystic Turtle Shield.

The Mystic Turtle Shield flared with radiance at once, a subtle black glow cloaking its face, weighing down the nearby air noticeably.

Fifteen minutes passed, and three more combatants buckled, forced to exit the square.

Following that, from east, west, and south, three figures crept in to encircle Zhao Sheng quietly.

Zhao Sheng grinned at their approach; these three were "familiar foes" from the Vigorous Alliance.

Last round, they'd ousted him just like this, and here it came again!

"Fine, you three take the victory!" Zhao Sheng had no urge to hog the stage, so he conceded cleanly, stowed the Mystic Turtle Shield, and pivoted to depart the square.

"Brother Sheng, they're ganging up too unfairly! If they've got spine, they should face us solo," Chen Polu pushed through the masses to reach him, face twisted in indignant fury.

Zhao Sheng eyed him briefly and remarked, "Foolish! When foes swarm you down the line, you think they'll square off alone?"

"But this isn't... this isn't..." Chen Polu grumbled, reluctance clear in his tone.

"Quit sulking; observe how pros handle threats—you've got plenty to pick up," Zhao Sheng gestured toward the action, dropping a subtle cue.

At Zhao Sheng's prompt, Chen Polu peered over and spotted Wu Chengsi brandishing a foot-long golden shortsword, darting fluidly across the field, bursts of blade gleam slicing through clustered attacks effortlessly.

"Tch, just leaning on that Magic Sword's edge. Give me a prime Magic Sword, and I'd dominate too," Chen Polu's stare clung to the gleaming blade, skepticism lingering.

Hearing that, Zhao Sheng jabbed back, "He hit Qi Refining's Fourth Layer half a year back. You're scraping by at the Third. No clue where your nerve comes from to match him."

Chen Polu froze, then leaned in to murmur, "I can't rival Alliance Leader Wu, sure, but you, Brother Sheng? Without holding back on purpose, you could've claimed a top-three slot—why hand the glory to Wu?"

After three years of constant companionship, Chen Polu knew his leader's enigmas better than most.

For those three years, he'd gained endless guidance from his chief, allowing his Five Spirits Roots talent to push past the Third Layer of Qi Refining barrier.

Besides his leader, fellow Five Spirits Roots peers were trapped at Qi Refining's Second Layer, far from the Third Layer's gateway.

"Little Chenzi, the nail that sticks up gets hammered first! No need for me to spell out that wisdom. Plus, remember our place. Focus on hitting Qi Refining's Fourth Layer in two years," Zhao Sheng warned once more.

Chen Polu, caught in the thick of it, couldn't grasp the harsh reality that Lower Six Courtyards dwellers were mere livestock or expendable pawns.

Every five years, fresh recruits flooded the Lower Six Courtyards, enduring five years of molding into fresh herds, herded by the Three Extremes Zhao Family.

Those herds might dream of Foundation Establishment, but Golden Core formation was a pipe dream, since Scripture Storage Tower techniques had been rigged long ago, blocking any uprising from the flock.

Chen Polu, still youthful and green, hadn't yet fathomed the Cultivation World's savage cruelty.

"Leader, two years from now when we exit the courtyards—which hall are you eyeing?"

Within the Three Extremes Zhao Family's ranks, divisions split into Outer Eight Halls, Inner Five Houses, and Secret Three Halls typically.

Inner Five Houses and Secret Three Halls stayed exclusive to Zhao Family blood, while "foreign" talents from Lower Six Courtyards, such as Zhao Sheng, got funneled to Outer Eight Halls for grueling labor with scant rewards ahead.

"Foreign Affairs Hall, Artifact Refining Hall, or Dan Ding Hall—pick one of those three."

Chen Polu's gaze sparked with zeal, hastening to propose, "Leader, join Foreign Affairs Hall with me. Word is, it offers heaps of perks, plus tons of outer missions—teaming up, we'll carve out fame for sure; then..."

Zhao Sheng held quiet, his eyes gliding over Chen Polu's features, spotting nothing but eager ambition burning there.

That day, the Magic Battle wrapped up with Zhao Sheng clinging to the top ten's tail end, earning a hundred Spirit Stones and a vial of Yunyuan Pill.