Chapter 70: Dancing with Wolves
Chapter 70: Dancing with Wolves
Mu Feng silently returned to Mu Manor before dawn.
Under Ghost Mother’s guidance, his Spiritual Soul had nearly doubled in strength overnight through quiet cultivation. Centered on the treacherous Stone Mountain, every creature within several miles perished almost instantly, their life force completely severed.
Now, even without the shelter of Sandalwood Incense, his Spiritual Soul could venture out freely at night. True freedom wasn’t achieved yet, but as long as it stayed within a kilometer of his body, there was little danger. Sensing his abundant, penetrating Yang Energy, lone, murky spirits no longer dared to approach him.
Yin and Yang countered each other. When Yang Energy was lacking, the Spiritual Soul weakened, inviting wild spirits who might attack. But when Yang Energy overflowed, ordinary lonely ghosts feared to draw near, terrified of being burned by its pressure!
Standing outside his mother’s door, Mu Feng listened intently. Assured she slept soundly with no worsening illness, he crept back to his own room. Sitting cross-legged, he calmly sorted through his cultivation insights, reflecting on the day’s victories and shortcomings.
Summarizing and reflecting were vital—habits he’d learned as a child under his mother’s strict discipline while studying. Everyone made mistakes; their sting wasn’t the problem. Repeating errors was true folly. That’s why constant reflection mattered. Correcting harmful words or actions let you prevent future turmoil.
“Stay humble and watchful… say little, observe much…”
Mu Feng reviewed his every move before Ghost Mother, certain he’d left no flaws. Just as he started settling into meditation again, his brow pulsed faintly. A familiar tremor echoed from his chest.
Twelve-Winged Golden Cicada?
He abruptly remembered this glaring vulnerability. Swallowing panic, he produced the little bottle from his robe.
Ghost Mother’s cruelty showed clearly—she saw him as a host for the Twelve-Winged Golden Cicada, nothing more than a Cauldron for cultivation. Her tireless teachings only sped his growth to rapidly hatch an adult cicada.
Logically, his advancement should parallel the cicada’s surge in strength. If she sensed its energy lagging behind his development… disaster loomed.
Unease prickled Mu Feng’s nerves until cold sweat broke across his back. Wasting no time, he carefully unsealed the bottle. He channeled his power, condensing a precious drop of his essence blood. With a swift flick, it flew inside.
Instantly, the starving Twelve-Winged Golden Cicada hissed in hunger. Its tiny wings hammered the air as it threw itself forward. Its minuscule mouth snapped shut so fast it blurred, rapidly snatching the droplet. Then it peered up at Mu Feng, beating its wings wildly within the container as swirling air currents rose.
Still not full?
Mu Feng hesitated barely a breath, then produced and flicked in another drop. This time, having devoured the second droplet, the cicada calmed. It spat pale green strings all over itself and slowly entered its second phase of evolution.
“Every stage requires more essence blood, harder to master! Time is short. I must coax more cultivation methods from her quickly… Escape that vile Ghost Mother!”
He resealed the bottle and concealed it safely.
Seeking Ghost Mother’s guidance was dancing with wolves! Mishandle it, and he’d join those skulls strewn upon Stone Mountain. Her power defied measurement. Should she discover he’d fathomed her scheme… fleeing far as heaven’s corner wouldn’t save him from her vengeance. A foolproof plan couldn’t wait.
Hu…
He exhaled heavily, dispelling chaotic thoughts as he refocused on cultivation.
Contending with Ghost Mother couldn’t be rushed—it demanded time, strategy, and seizing each opening wisely. For now, topping his worries: Drastically strengthening fast enough for his next challenge—Chief Transmission Disciple Mu Tie’s imminent return from Beiliu Mountain! Fail here, and everything else would end in ash!
“Blood Refining Art forms an enemy’s blood into a Blood Pearl, stealing their strength and innate gifts… Sun-Stealing True Scripture drains their Yang Energy to nourish my Spiritual Soul. What if I merge them?”
Mu Feng stirred thoughtfully. Suddenly, he burst through his window. Moments passed before he returned clutching a field mouse—perfect test subject.
Ha!
His roar unleashed both techniques simultaneously. The doomed animal’s head instantly shriveled dry. Its corpse lay shrunk in his grasp as a small, ruby-like pearl took form on his palm.
Unlike earlier Blood Pearls—dull vessels carrying the reek of death—this one shimmered vibrant crimson as if the fluid inside pulsed with life’s rhythm. Where previous pearls felt like dead blood, this held pure fluid radiating fierce vitality.
He swallowed it whole. Instantly dissolving, the pearl didn’t just boost his blood; it infused a sliver of rugged warmth…
Yang Energy!
Faint, nearly insignificant beside his own reserves—yet undeniably pure!
Blood Refining Art and the fearsome Sun-Stealing True Scripture had fused perfectly into a vastly greater atrocity!
Against a master cultivator, losing all essence blood meant losing power—maybe not life, if their lingering spirit escaped. But lose Yang Energy too alongside power? Then death followed inevitably.
“Excellent! Blood Refining Yang Seizing—true lethal art!”
Mu Feng nodded, proceeding to reorganize his Breeze Ring’s contents: Clear Wind Method Scripture, Yinfeng Record, a Jade Pupil Tube inscribed with Sun-Stealing True Scripture, plus two swords seized from spoiled scions—Flying Sword and Green Serpent Sword.
Cold, lethally honed—a single hair lowered onto its edge snapped at a puff of breath!
Closely inspecting the Flying Sword, Mu Feng noted its constant vibration, its metallic hum buzzing as it strained to fly away. What a weapon! During that fight near Shangling Terrace… fortune smiled! Lin Zhengde, that pampered young master, had barely tapped its potential. Otherwise, Mu Feng might’ve ended pierced through his heart that day.
Pfft…
Studying it, Mu Feng sprayed a crimson mist onto the blade, hoping to claim this weapon.
He admired the little Flying Sword immensely—its deadly aura hinted at countless foes’ spilt blood. Succeeding meant gaining an ace card.
Essence-blood mist saturated the weapon, weaving deeply into its steel until its struggles peaked yet failed to break free. Gradually, luminous silver steel reddened, indelibly imprinted with a Great Blood-Refining Sorcerer’s mark…
Ancient Witchcraft—Blood Refinement.
He reactivated his lineage’s forgotten might—an Ancient Great Witch technique to forcibly overwrite artifacts. This erased Immortal Sword Sect’s claim on the blade, refining it completely.
The Flying Sword surrendered—shrinking with a sharp clang into a ray of crimson light. Inside his dantian, it joined the Eighteen Blood Witch Commands in circling his Ancestral Sorcerer’s Essence Blood. Each pass drew vast spiritual power, forging itself fiercely—inevitably becoming a Blood Sword, his next hidden weapon after the Commands.
“Kill… spill no blood… vanish from the scene!”
After resting briefly, Mu Feng spat sharply. The lethal blade screamed outwards, draining his Spiritual Power almost instantly. Whoosh! Raindrops falling split perfectly in two. The weapon then reversed course automatically, vanishing within his body again. Its strike was savage—but still beyond his Middle Mortal Realm powers to wield fully. In battle… it gave him just a single shot: slay his enemy in that moment or die facing their backlash!
Spiritual Power!
Not enough… sorely lacking!
Sighing, he accepted how far he’d grown. Settling into position to harness Ancient Witchcraft and suck in ambient Heaven and Earth Spiritual Energy, another sound broke concentration. Feet pounded outside his courtyard gate. Thud! Thud! Thud! Knocks hammered violently… frosty death followed them inside.
Chief Transmission Disciple Mu Tie?
Mu Feng tensed. He hadn’t expected the enemy’s arrival so soon.
Against a Late Mortal Realm master, perhaps fortune might favor him via terrain and chance. Against someone at Mortal Realm Peak? Raw power obliterated all tricks!
Flight offered the rational choice—retreat now! But thoughts fixed on the frail woman sleeping nearby… With knocks worsening into frenzied blows, Mu Feng gritted his teeth and strode toward what awaited beyond the door.