Chapter 50: Arduous Cultivation

Outside the prison cell, the air was thick with heat. Though not actual flames, the temperature felt unbearably scorching. Meng Qi felt his skin burning as if fire had licked it, and sweat poured from his body. It dripped from his forehead, ran down his cheeks and lips, and merged with the sweat from his upper body.

Dizzy and with a throbbing head, Meng Qi struggled to focus, maintaining the energy flow of the first stage of Golden Bell Shield. He was extremely grateful for his prior foundation in Iron Shirt; otherwise, his skin would have already been “burned,” his body severely dehydrated, and he would have collapsed long ago.

This was a thousand times worse than a sauna!

As his internal energy continued circulating, Meng Qi felt his muscles slowly “dissolving” and “reforming” from the inside out, complementing the Golden Bell Shield’s transformation of his body.

In his dantian, the process of refinement began anew.

Sweat steamed off his body, blurring his vision. The world before him seemed to waver—this was part of the Golden Bell Shield’s training that affected the eyes. Of course, for the first stage, he only needed to keep his eyes open for ten breaths in this environment.

The unbearable torment made Meng Qi instinctively glance toward the cage, as if begging the Fire Crane inside to move slightly away, to reduce the searing heat just a little.

The Fire Crane, covered in red feathers, seemed to sense Meng Qi’s gaze. It blinked its eyes, then edged closer, intensifying the heat even further!

Damn that bird! Meng Qi silently cursed, not daring to look at the Fire Crane again, fearing it might move even closer.

After ten breaths, Meng Qi closed his eyes tightly, trying to forget the scorching heat, the pain in his muscles, and everything around him, fully immersing himself in the Golden Bell Shield cultivation.

He didn’t know how long had passed when the sound of “Amitabha” reached his ears, coinciding with the end of one full cycle of his cultivation.

“Master.” Meng Qi opened his eyes and saw Xuan Bei standing before him.

Xuan Bei nodded slightly: “That’s enough for today. I must admit, I didn’t expect you to last a whole day.”

“A whole day?” Meng Qi asked hoarsely, astonished inwardly. Had he really endured an entire day?

At the same time, he ended his meditation and slowly stood up, feeling aches all over and his legs trembling. He longed to immediately find a cool place to lie down and sleep.

A rare smile appeared on Xuan Bei’s usually melancholic face: “Originally, I thought you could endure only two hours at most, but you lasted five. Your perseverance is commendable. You’re not as impulsive and restless as you appear.”

Sometimes I just try to find joy in hardship to relieve stress. Deep down, I understand everything… Meng Qi silently defended himself. But as soon as he took a step forward, he nearly collapsed, the heat, dizziness, and exhaustion overwhelming.

Xuan Bei flicked his sleeve, and a sudden breeze rose from nowhere, steadying Meng Qi and preventing him from falling as he walked out of the Fire Crane’s cell.

Coolness rushed over him, clearing his mind. Instantly, he felt like he had come back to life!

“Still, don’t push yourself too hard. Five hours are enough; pushing further could injure your body,” Xuan Bei said casually as he walked ahead. “At this rate, you should complete the first stage of Golden Bell Shield in half a month. The first three stages combined won’t take more than three months.”

Three months… Meng Qi frowned. He had no idea how long it would be until the next cycle mission. If it was a year or so, he’d be fine. But if it was like last time—only a month—he’d barely manage the second stage of Golden Bell Shield, which wouldn’t offer much improvement.

At least I have the Plum Blossom Needles for protection!

That was all Meng Qi could think. Golden Bell Shield was a foundational martial art—powerful but slow to progress. Normally, it would take at least a year to reach the third stage. Even with his prior foundation in Qi Accumulation, he’d still need six or seven months. Now, completing it in three months—what more could he ask?

Without another word, Meng Qi dragged his weakened body back to Xuan Bei’s courtyard, rushing straight to the water vat. He grabbed a wooden ladle and drank two full ladles before finally alleviating his thirst.

Inside the meditation room, Meng Qi saw Zhen Hui sitting in deep concentration, smiling faintly, fully immersed in his cultivation, exuding a serene aura.

Is this guy actually suited for practicing the “Flower-Picking Finger”? Meng Qi was stunned for a moment, then took out a Ginseng Qi Replenishing Pill and swallowed it. He then sat cross-legged, entering meditation to recover his energy and internal force.

At dinner, Meng Qi displayed his strongest appetite ever, eating so much that even he was surprised.

After a full meal, exhausted from a day of harsh training, Meng Qi felt extremely tired and wanted nothing more than to collapse on the communal sleeping mat—Shaolin emphasized ascetic practices, and even in a senior monk’s private courtyard like Xuan Bei’s, there was little difference from the common dormitories. If not for the need for secrecy and convenient training, even a private courtyard would be unlikely.

“Senior Brother, I’m going back to meditate,” Zhen Hui cheerfully said to Meng Qi before darting back into the meditation room, showing no reluctance at all toward his practice.

At the sight of this, Meng Qi sighed and stepped into the courtyard. He picked up a monk’s saber and, under the cold moonlight, began practicing the “Blood Saber Technique.”

I can’t slack off! The cycle mission could begin at any moment!

The Blood Saber Technique emphasized footwork and attack angles, stressing unpredictability—striking from the front, then suddenly appearing behind. This made the saber technique extremely strange, with each slash coming from an impossible position. It complemented Meng Qi’s “Divine Steps” perfectly, and practicing them together enhanced both skills.

After several rounds of saber practice, a tired Meng Qi stopped to catch his breath, planning to rest for a while.

At that moment, he noticed from the corner of his eye that Xuan Bei was standing at the meditation room’s entrance—how long had he been there?

“Master.” Meng Qi quickly clasped his hands together.

Xuan Bei nodded, showing a rare expression of satisfaction: “Very good.”

Then, he turned and entered his meditation room.

Meng Qi felt a surge of pride, adjusted his breathing for a moment, and resumed practicing the saber technique.

…

Day after day, Meng Qi repeated his routine between the Fire Crane’s cell and Xuan Bei’s courtyard. He felt the Golden Bell Shield growing smoother with each practice, and his body was subtly changing. On the thirteenth day, he successfully completed the first stage.

That day, Meng Qi sat cross-legged in front of the Fire Crane’s cell, his sweat now sparse and tinged with a faint golden hue.

Though the heat remained, he felt much less discomfort. His head was no longer spinning, his skin no longer burned, and his internal energy was more balanced.

Suddenly, a golden glow emerged from his dantian, accompanied by a faint sound.

After the sound faded, the golden glow disappeared, and Meng Qi opened his eyes, satisfied as he stretched his neck.

On the twenty-ninth day, he had completed the second stage of Golden Bell Shield! The dantian refinement was complete once more!

Xuan Bei seemed to have been waiting there all along and nodded slightly upon seeing this: “Good. Starting tomorrow, you’ll begin the third stage.”

“Master, will the third stage still be here?” Meng Qi asked, standing up.

By now, the post-training exhaustion had improved significantly—he no longer felt so weak that he might fall while walking.

“The cell outside,” Xuan Bei indicated with a glance.

Meng Qi followed his gaze and saw the cell he had previously noticed—this one exuded coldness, with frost covering the ground.

Previously, it was heat. Now, it would be cold.

Xuan Bei spoke slowly: “Inside is the ‘Cold Turtle.’ You will use the icy aura it emits to cultivate the third stage.”

“Yes, Master.” Meng Qi looked at the cell, seeing a giant turtle with a pale blue shell inside. Snowflakes drifted, and ice crystals covered the ground, sharply contrasting with the Fire Crane’s cell just a wall away.

Back at the courtyard, Xuan Bei handed Meng Qi a token: “You should be familiar with the route by now. From now on, you can go there on your own. Inform me once you’ve completed the third stage.”

Meng Qi nodded in agreement. For the past month, his master had stayed by his side during every training session, sacrificing much of his time. Now that Meng Qi had completed the second stage and was familiar with the environment, it was time for him to train independently.

…

The next day, Meng Qi, holding the token, smoothly entered the Stupa and reached the first floor where the “Cold Turtle” was imprisoned.

As soon as he stepped inside, he felt an icy chill that pierced his bones, colder than any winter he had ever experienced—like his marrow itself was freezing.

As usual, he sat bare-chested, trembling, and began cultivating the third stage of Golden Bell Shield to resist the cold.

This time, Meng Qi did not look at the Cold Turtle or plead with it to move back, fearing the opposite effect.

However, as he trained, the cold intensified, making him feel as if his third-stage cultivation had been in vain.

Opening his eyes, he saw that the Cold Turtle had silently moved to the iron bars.

Damn this monster! Meng Qi gritted his teeth, cursing silently.

“Haha! Foolish human! Don’t you know how vengeful this cursed turtle is? It flooded an entire city and has been imprisoned here for decades. Do you really think it would look kindly upon humans?” A noisy voice came from across the way.

Meng Qi was in the middle of eye training and, through the cold mist, saw a small bird perched on the cage.

It was very ugly—its body was round like a ball, its wings short and covered in black feathers. It had no beak, only a fish-like mouth.

“What are you staring at? I go by the Daoist name ‘Chuiyizi,’ and I am a descendant of the Kunpeng race!” The bird hopped around. “You must be wondering why I didn’t talk to you earlier. Do you think a proud Kunpeng like me would casually speak to humans?”

Meng Qi ignored it, closed his eyes, and focused on his cultivation.

“Tsk, little monk, what’s the point of cultivating with this dead turtle’s cold aura? You should find a Cold Dragon instead! Haha! Then you’d freeze into ice dust, so dead you couldn’t even die more!” The bird, Chuiyizi, continued chattering without a care for Meng Qi’s training.

“Your posture is so ugly. You humans have no taste at all…” It criticized Meng Qi from head to toe, non-stop for an entire hour.

“Little monk, what’s the point of practicing this turtle-shell martial art? Why not release me? I’ll give you great rewards…”

Meng Qi felt the noise invading his ears, making his heart restless and his breath uneven. He wanted to jump up and stuff something into the bird’s mouth—it was too loud, too talkative! Didn’t it know that silence was needed during cultivation?

“Speaking of rewards, my Kunpeng race has passed down countless generations. My grandfather’s grandfather’s grandfather once…” The bird became even more talkative, launching into a long tale about its ancestors. At this rate, it could talk for three months!

After completing one full cycle, Meng Qi abruptly stood up, ready to silence Chuiyizi’s mouth. But the bird was extremely alert—it darted back into the depths of the cage the moment Meng Qi moved, smugly declaring:

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know when you finished a full cycle?”

“Haha! You might as well listen to me obediently!”