The few martial artists armed with swords and knives paced back and forth outside the inn’s walls, anxiously waiting, hoping the Black Palace or the great cultivation sects would soon confirm that Mr. Su and Miss Jiang were genuine Qi Refiners, so they themselves could gain courage and hope to face the danger ahead.
The five had no mood for conversation, and the atmosphere between them was extremely oppressive. Just as the man with the scar on his forehead could no longer bear the tension and attempted to approach the gate to make an inquiry, they suddenly felt a terrifying pressure descend upon them—an aura that made their bodies tremble, their vision darken, and their thoughts freeze!
Instinctively, they looked up and saw a golden yellow dragon, its claws and fangs bared, soaring through the sky. It stretched over ten zhang in length, and as it coiled its massive body midair, it nearly blotted out their entire field of vision. Swirling white clouds surrounded it, casting an immense shadow over the inn. For a moment, it felt as if the apocalypse had descended, filling their hearts with terror.
The golden dragon shimmered resplendently under the sunlight, its eyes crafted from Sun God Stones and its claws forged from pure Geng metal essence. Its joints were both rigid and exquisitely designed, exuding an eerie blend of lifelessness and antiquity.
“Zhulong!”
“Mechanical Dragon!”
“One of the Thirty-Six Secret Mechanisms of the Black Palace!”
Their eyes widened in shock as they cried out in unison, watching the golden dragon land inside the inn.
“Master Su, Miss Jiang, Old Man Zhu Kui comes to pay a visit,” a cold, emotionless voice rang out from within the walls. It was neither impolite nor arrogant, but sounded like a lifeless stone speaking.
“Zhu Kui?” The martial artists exchanged glances, each seeing astonishment in the others’ eyes.
“Zhu, Zhu Zongzhe himself has come!”
“No wonder Zhulong arrived…”
They struggled to contain their emotions and began whispering among themselves.
To them, a Zongzhe was a figure akin to a deity, someone utterly beyond the reach of ordinary martial artists. A Juezhe was still somewhat relatable—though capable of modifying mechanisms into devastating cannons capable of destroying a house or sweeping an area, such feats still fell within the realm of martial comprehension.
But within the entire Black Palace, there were fewer than twenty Zongzhes. Each had risen from the most elite Juezhes, inheriting one of the Thirty-Six Secret Mechanisms. Depending on the mechanism, they could destroy cities, seal rivers, collapse mountains, or wield unfathomable mysteries and terrifying power. Like the Celestial Masters of the cultivation sects, they were favored by Heaven itself, far beyond the ordinary.
Now such a figure had come in person?
Was it because the ancient Qi Refiner’s inheritance was worth his attention, or was he planning to forcefully suppress and absorb them outright?
Though these martial artists still found it hard to believe that Meng Qi could flick a flying sword away with his fingers, they were both awed and frightened, as if they had seen a monster. Yet the awe of a Zongzhe had lasted for tens of thousands of years, deeply rooted in the hearts of all. Facing Zhu Kui’s arrival, they couldn’t help but tremble, fearing that Mr. Su and Miss Jiang might be in grave danger.
At that moment, they saw a white cloud drifting down, landing at the inn’s entrance. A Taoist priest wearing a bamboo hat and a blue Taoist robe alighted from it. The robe was ancient and elegant, with unique cloud patterns embroidered on the sleeves, leaving a deep impression.
The priest had a thin face and aged eyes, though his hair remained jet black.
“G, Guo Tianshi has come too!” The woman with slightly stern features trembled as she spoke.
Like a Zongzhe, a Tianshi could summon wind and rain, raise soldiers from beans, and command lightning. To them, such a figure was also a divine being.
Even if a martial artist could reach the divine, there was still a gap between them and a god, wasn’t there?
Smiling, the Tianshi approached the guards at the gate. “This humble Daoist is Guo Feihu. I’ve come to visit Master Su and Miss Jiang. Might I trouble you to announce my arrival?”
He appeared completely at ease, showing no sign of embarrassment at personally visiting, and performed the proper etiquette, subtly contrasting it with Zhu Kui’s earlier behavior.
Zhu Kui’s cold voice came from within: “Guo Feihu, if you’re here to visit, just come in. Why the pretense?”
With a creak, the central gate opened on its own, revealing the scene inside.
Because the inn often needed to display large mechanical artifacts, the main gate led directly into a wide plaza paved with stone slabs, clean and neat—in Meng Qi’s words, it was a “parking lot.”
The golden dragon coiled at the center of the square. “Zhulong” Zhu Kui remained seated in the depression on its back, while “Judge” Chang Huan had already dismounted and somehow conjured two platforms nearly as tall as a person, allowing Meng Qi and Jiang Zhiwei to sit atop them, facing Zhu Kui.
The oppressive aura of the Jiao Dragon radiated outward, its eyes—crafted from Sun God Stones—fixated on Meng Qi. The air was thick with stifling heat. Zhu Kui remained silent at first, maintaining a composed stillness. Had it not been for Guo Feihu’s interruption, the atmosphere would have solidified entirely.
Meng Qi was no stranger to such tactics. Some called it a “dismounting threat,” while others referred to it as “demonstrating strength” to suppress another’s momentum, thereby gaining an advantage in negotiations. After all, no one would prioritize the interests of someone who appeared weak and helpless.
It was just like when Meng Qi fought others—clashing in momentum, battling mentally, and suppressing spiritually.
Guo Feihu gave a respectful bow, then summoned another white cloud beneath his feet, floating near the left platform, smiling as he watched Zhu Kui.
With Guo’s interruption, Zhu Kui could no longer maintain his imposing silence and finally spoke in a deep voice: “Two friends, you claim to have inherited the ancient Qi Refiner’s teachings?”
“Yes, on an island in the Southern Sea. But after obtaining the inheritance, the island was swallowed by the sea,” Meng Qi lied with a straight face, his expression sincere.
Cross-legged on the cushion atop the platform, his green robe fluttering gently in the wind, he and the radiant Jiang Zhiwei beside him seemed like figures from a painting.
With the main gate wide open, the martial artists outside and the guards could see everything happening inside, having forgotten to close the gate as they watched intently.
Zhu Kui continued: “But the ancient Qi Refiner’s lineage has been lost for ages. How can we be sure you’re not frauds?”
“Frauds?” Meng Qi chuckled. “If our strength were sufficient, we wouldn’t need to claim to be Qi Refiners to gain recognition. Why would we bother lying about this? We could simply use any extinct sect as a shield.”
“Spoken well,” Zhu Kui said calmly, slowly nodding. “As long as one’s strength is sufficient, the Black Palace will always treat them as equals to our most revered disciples. But that strength must be real.”
He emphasized “sufficient strength” twice, speaking like someone long accustomed to authority.
After a pause, he said indifferently: “Why don’t the two of you strike me with your full power, so I may witness the ancient Qi Refiner’s techniques?”
Perched high upon the dragon, his demeanor was composed and self-assured, his words exuding the authority of one who had always held command.
“Tsk, trying to put on airs in front of me…” Meng Qi gazed at Zhu Kui without expression:
“Master Zhu Zongzhe, are you sure you want me to strike with full force?”
Putting on a show, asking us to attack with full strength?
Does he want to test “Heaven and Earth Shattering,” or “Sword of No Self”?
This is a first for me!
Guo Feihu interjected with a smile: “Actually, determining whether they are Qi Refiners is simple. They refine the five internal energies, unlock the body’s mysteries, cultivate both body and spirit, forming their own internal universe. If Master Su or Miss Jiang can manifest their inner world externally, it will be clear at a glance. Why must we resort to physical confrontation?”
Someone who can deflect a flying sword should be able to manifest their inner world, unless they practice purely physical martial arts.
“Internal universe…”
“Manifesting the inner world externally?”
The martial artists watching exchanged glances. These were unfamiliar, hard-to-understand terms, but at least Su and Jiang wouldn’t have to fight Zhu Zongzhe directly.
Before Meng Qi and Jiang Zhiwei could reply, Zhu Kui made a decision: “That would be better. If the two of you can display the wonders of the Qi Refiner, then I will consider whether to allow you to strike me.”
In other words, if they were indeed Qi Refiners but lacked strength, there would be no need for a fight. He would simply absorb them into the Black Palace, granting them a Juezhe title as another inherited lineage.
Meng Qi suddenly chuckled, his expression teasing as he turned to glance at the martial artists peeking from the gate, making their hearts tighten.
Why is Master Su looking at us?
Meng Qi spoke leisurely: “As the Dao says, the human body mirrors nature, aligns with the stars, and forms its own universe.”
Guo Tianshi nodded slightly. This was one of the foundational principles of Daoism—”Ten Thousand Kalpas, Yin Spirits Cannot Enter the Sacred”—was not said lightly.
“One universe within the body, another outside. Countless mysteries lie therein. Opening the nine natural orifices, refining the five internal energies, forging the body—this is cultivating one’s own universe. Transforming one’s inner universe into the external cosmos is called ‘manifesting the inner world externally,’ the path of Qi cultivation…” Meng Qi spoke fluently, not appearing to demonstrate his inner world, but rather delivering a Daoist sermon.
The martial artists at the gate listened in stunned silence, vaguely understanding what “inner world manifestation” meant, but still unsure of its true marvel.
Zhu Kui frowned, about to interrupt, when suddenly he saw Meng Qi lightly pat the platform beside him. His voice was calm yet resonant:
“Therefore, if I have wind, the heavens and earth have wind!”
As the words left his lips, his body’s orifices seemed to open, and the air trembled.
Then came a roaring sound, as a gale rose, scattering dust into the air.
Whoosh! The wind and his voice reached the martial artists’ ears simultaneously.
Several large trees in the inn’s courtyard shed their leaves, swirling in midair. On the streets, clothes flapped wildly.
Inside the Black Palace, Xie Xian had just submitted his “Talented Scholar Certificate” when a sudden gust blew through the window, scattering the papers into the air.
Zhu Kui’s expression turned grave. He heard Meng Qi pat the platform again:
“Therefore, if I have clouds, the heavens and earth have clouds!”
After the wind, dark clouds gathered in the sky, swirling and shifting, covering the entire city.
Meng Qi slowly stood:
“Therefore, if I have thunder, the heavens and earth have thunder!”
Boom!
The white clouds turned black, and streaks of silver lightning danced across them, their thunder shaking the martial artists’ bodies, snapping them from their daze.
Guo Feihu stroked his beard, sensing the surroundings. If he used his own Dao techniques to summon wind and rain, he could create similar effects. The Black Palace’s “Rain Master” mechanism could do the same. Yet Meng Qi showed no sign of magical fluctuations—his every movement subtly influenced a vast expanse of heaven and earth. Truly terrifying!
Meng Qi stepped forward:
“Therefore, if I have rain, the heavens and earth have rain!”
Xie Xian, gazing at the darkened sky through the window, worriedly asked someone nearby: “Could it be a heavy storm?”
As soon as he finished speaking, the sound of heavy rain poured down like threads, splashing water droplets into the air.
“Therefore, if I will it to be clear, the heavens and earth become clear!” Meng Qi took another step forward, his body’s energy shifting, as if he had become a blazing sun.
The rain stopped abruptly, the clouds scattered, and sunlight bathed the land. The sky was clear and boundless!
The martial artists stared in shock, their bodies trembling—not from fear, but from excitement:
“This… this is the internal universe of a martial artist reaching the divine?”
“This is manifesting the inner world externally!”
“What’s the difference between this and a true immortal?”
Xie Xian looked at the puddles in the courtyard, then up at the blazing sun, feeling as if he were in a dream.
Guo Feihu and Zhu Kui gazed at Meng Qi atop the platform, sensing that every inch of his flesh, every pore, radiated explosive power, like miniature suns pressing against the surrounding void.
Meng Qi took another step forward and declared loudly: “Master Zhu Zongzhe, perhaps it’s your turn to strike me now!”
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