Each Cloud-Bamboo Seed looked like an independent Spirit Construct, but in truth, it was still part of the greater Cloud-Bamboo itself.
When the dragon tried to gnaw it down, it was in fact committing a grave blasphemy against a Star-Seizer Spirit Construct.
Normally, separated by such a distance, the Cloud-Bamboo would not have reacted so quickly.
But the little black dog had no good intentions. With its own power, it had already sounded an alarm to Cihang Monastery.
Now, the slumbering Cloud-Bamboo awoke, and across hundreds of thousands of li, it sent a surge of fourth-rank divine power hurtling toward distant Hunzhou.
Above the Ninth Heaven, emerald ripples spread. The Cloud-Bamboo Seed, being of the same root and origin, became the perfect vessel for this power.
The firmament split beneath a vast will, and the phantom of a bamboo that stretched across the galaxy descended from the clouds.
This was none other than the true body of the Cloud-Bamboo, projecting its fourth-rank power across realms.
When that power poured down into the bamboo phantom entangled by the dragon, everything changed.
For a brief moment, the sixth-rank Cloud-Bamboo Seed became a fifth-rank Earth-Fiend Spirit Construct.
The dragon's crimson pupils contracted to pinpoints. The bamboo shards between its teeth suddenly gleamed with verdant light.
Splinters of bamboo stuck in its scales shuddered, turning into thousands of threads that coiled around its body.
The phantom bamboo emitted a bell-like resonance, and every seed fragment the dragon had swallowed sprouted roots inside its belly.
Its abdomen swelled grotesquely as emerald stalks burst through scale and flesh, spreading like a sinister vine across its body.
The dragon howled, spitting thunder and flame, but the moment fire touched the bamboo, it dissolved into green smoke. The cloud patterns blooming on the leaves devoured its very life-force.
From the shadows came the crunching of canine jaws. The little black dog had already wriggled free, crouched at the battlefield's edge, its eyes now blazing like twin flames.
As the dragon writhed in agony, the dog suddenly rose upright, forepaws weaving an intricate seal.
Then its true form erupted into being an enormous Disaster-Hound (Huodou), wreathed in fire. Three pairs of curved horns jutted from its head, its tail swung like a meteor hammer, and it lunged with a blaze that could boil seas and burn mountains.
When its fangs clamped down, the entire heavens shuddered.
The dragon's blood didn't even spill, seared away by black fire before it could flow. With a sound like ripping cloth, the hound tore the dragon's head and half its spine clean off.
The little black dog had been suppressed for far too long, fury pent within. Now freed, it unleashed everything in one savage bite, killing the dragon outright.
It dared not linger. Clutching half the dragon's carcass, it vanished in a streak of black light.
The remaining half of the body was completely suppressed by the Cloud-Bamboo Seed, buried beneath Qiyue Island as fertilizer.
Empowered in an instant by both high-grade divine power and the dragon's blood and flesh, the seed's aura surged. Its spirit grew keener.
It folded back into the form of a purple bamboo grove and entered seclusion, digesting its gain.
Qiyue Island returned to uneasy calm. Only then did Sun Jue and the island's cultivators undo their formation and emerge from the Moon-Watching Pavilion.
Sun Jue's face was ashen. Rage and frustration boiled in his chest. Twice, enemies had descended each wave fiercer than the last. Though the Cloud-Bamboo Seed had slaughtered them all, the aftershocks of battle had left the island devastated.
Half the island lay barren, buildings toppled, casualties heavy. Recovery would take decades at least.
But still, they had the spoils of half a dragon corpse and piles of monk bodies. Perhaps the losses were not a total ruin.
Sun Jue issued his orders grimly:
"Send a team to Dragon-Reef Island and fetch the old master builders. Tell them to bring enough men; we must rebuild."
"Send another to gather every monk corpse. Drag them all to feed the bamboo."
"And that Hunliang Warship, the monks seized it's ours now. Since they stole it, don't blame us for greed."
"Go prepare the ships. In three days, I'll personally lead a fleet back to Haizhou to sell them all."
"At once!"
The orders rang out.
The cultivators scattered like startled birds, each returning to their posts, busying themselves.
How much Qiyue Island would ultimately gain from this sudden, brutal battle depended entirely on how well its people could make use of the spoils.
But they were already too late.
All sixty monks' storage treasures had vanished without a trace.
Losing so many valuables at once slashed the island's profits by more than thirty percent.
And that was only the visible loss. In the shadows, a certain little thief was still stealing like mad.
Inside the Void Realm, chaos reigned.
Jing Qian barked orders at Xili:
"Full! Full! Hurry up, faster!"
"Yes, my lord!"
The bald little cat cradled a block of eighth-rank Azuregold, set it aflame in the furnace, kneaded it into a round wine jar, and passed it to Jing Qian.
Jing Qian held the jar against a slender crack in space, catching the crystalline essence that slowly trickled out.
This shimmering paste radiated surging spiritual power, an exceedingly rare sixth-rank treasure material.
Whales produced Whale Marrow, flood-dragons produced Flood-Dragon Marrow. For a true dragon, naturally, it was the far more precious and exalted Dragon Marrow.
When the Disaster-Hound tore off the dragon's head and fled, and the Cloud-Bamboo Seed suppressed the remaining half of its body, Jing Qian had acted swiftly. He plunged a void fissure deep into the dragon's spine, hiding it amid the blood and flesh.
Now, while the bamboo seed lay dormant, slowly digesting the dragon's flesh, Jing Qian was secretly siphoning away the dragon's most valuable essence.
Dragon Marrow, hidden deep in the spinal cord, was the supreme essence among all aquatic beasts, the finest medium for fueling a Life Furnace.
Just one small jar could fuel a sixth-rank Violet-Life Furnace for sixty years.
Every single jar was worth a fortune beyond measure.
Together with Xili, the two worked in perfect rhythm, one shaping jars, the other siphoning marrow, harvesting jar after jar of this priceless essence.
Even in the Furnace Hall, these jars of Dragon Marrow would be peerless treasures.
To the eyes of Furnace Spirits, each jar was like a jug of divine wine, something never to be missed.
Compared to other sixth-rank resources, Dragon Marrow commanded enormous premiums.
At last, Jing Qian had a product worthy of being called a flagship commodity in the Furnace Hall.
Meanwhile, the monks' sixty storage treasures burst one after another like firecrackers, releasing smoke as they dissolved into the Void Realm.
The once-crowded realm emptied again, but in its emptiness, it grew more and more like a true miniature world.
For Jing Qian, every expansion of the Void Realm directly strengthened the cultivation of his Sumeru Life Pattern, bringing his path forward a great leap.
When the Void Realm's volume broke through five hundred cubic units, the power of Sumeru underwent a critical evolution.
In practice, Jing Qian discovered he could now command thirty spatial rifts at once, an enormous boost to flexibility in combat.
More importantly, he had successfully condensed a second spatial beacon, allowing him to establish another fixed teleportation point.
The difference between a one-way ticket and a two-way ticket could not be overstated.
His harvesting finally neared its end.
After three full hours of siphoning, Jing Qian drained every last drop of marrow. From the corpse of a sixth-rank perfected dragon, he had extracted twenty whole jars of Dragon Marrow.
The twenty azure-gold jars stood neatly stacked in the Void Realm, a mountain of gold, their value impossible to estimate.
Jing Qian's confidence soared. For the coming task of condensing his Dharma-Form, he was now certain of success.
On the cultivation path, there were ways for the poor and ways for the rich.
But with abundant resources, the process became more efficient, safer, and spared much of his limited lifespan.
He still had 143 years of lifespan remaining. In his plans, that was enough to complete his Dragon-Elephant cultivation and step into the Longevity Realm.
What he had long hesitated over, whether to spend sixty more years of life essence to forge a fourth Heavenly Life Pattern before condensing his Dharma-Form, was now no longer a concern.
He need not gamble recklessly anymore.
With his newfound wealth, he could pursue the fourth Life Pattern without fear of overextending himself.
He reviewed his lineup of luxurious Life Patterns. Beneath the Heavenly Life Pattern tier, he still had Ghost Seal, Flesh-Nurturing Bud, Little Ghost, Soul-Weaving, and Tidal Surge, all awaiting advancement.
Among them, both Ghost Seal and Flesh-Nurturing Bud had already reached the upper limit of the Violet-Eyed tier and could trigger the birth of a Heavenly Life Pattern.
Originally, upgrading the Ghost Seal had seemed the obvious choice after all, it was tied to his foundational Revolving Heavenly Son Seal, and promised a major transformation.
But now, the Ghost Seal was no longer his first choice…
After his sudden windfall, Jing Qian could now exchange massive amounts of Fate Fire from the Furnace Hall.
As long as he was willing to spend Fate Fire, he could burn open the remaining three faces of the Ghost Seal, completing the full form of the Revolving Son of Heaven Seal.
Only by carrying the Heavenly Life Pattern of the Ghost Seal in its perfected state would he achieve the greatest possible enhancement.
The Flesh-Nurturing Bud was also an excellent candidate; strengthening the body could change everything, even potentially extend his lifespan.
But in Jing Qian's plans, this was not the right time to elevate it.
He intended to save this bodily Heavenly Life Pattern until he reached the Subduing Spirit realm, when he would begin incorporating Fire Fiends. Only then would he upgrade it, leveraging the bud to cultivate a secret technique recorded in the Daoist Canon, one that would greatly aid his progression through the Earth Fiend stage.
Thus, his focus shifted to his remaining three Life Patterns.
The Tidal Surge lacked the necessary materials and was not part of the Yanfu Dao system, so it was the first to be set aside.
The Soul-Weaving Life Pattern was waiting on Fan Zhuoyi to gather spider-silk treasures; once complete, he could reforge it, and it would dramatically enrich his tactical options.
Yet even this was pushed aside in favor of another:
The Little Ghost Life Pattern.
He had already resolved to make this the foundation of his fourth Heavenly Life Pattern.
The Yanfu Dao followed the path of life and death, reincarnation, and samsara, a Dao-lineage of profound heritage and lofty rank.
At its peak, it had been the unrivaled leader of cultivation in the entire Yingfutu Realm. The very word Fu in the realm's name came from Yanfu Dao.
A lineage so powerful naturally had unique and formidable combat systems.
For now, Jing Qian relied on Pure Yang Ruins swordsmanship as the core of his battles.
But in the Dao Book of the Nether Cycle of Yanfu, there were also killing arts exclusive to the Yanfu Dao.
Unlike Pure Yang's sword path, which pursued purity and ultimate slaughter, the Yanfu Dao cultivated breadth and depth.
It encompassed countless secret methods, like an ocean with no bottom. Even a lifetime was not enough to master them all.
Within it lay three fully-developed combat systems:
The Flesh Banquet – Mastery of the body.
Practitioners turned their flesh into weapons, feeding on blood to strengthen themselves. In battle, they could transform into bone blades, blood whips, or crushing flesh-hammers, as savage as primeval beasts. At the peak, they could regrow from a single drop of blood, manifest three thousand blood-gods, and devour all living beings.
The Death Infusion – The art of curses.
No need for confrontation, just a hair, a name, or a birthdate was enough to strike. Victims suffered from sensory derangement, organ failure, or even forced fate-twists. Death came invisibly, with doom injected straight into their life-thread.
The Ghost-Driving – Command of spirits.
At first, it meant driving minor wraiths and corpses; at mastery, summoning ghost kings, pallbearers, and the bailiffs of death, manifesting entire ghost domains.
This path excelled at mass warfare and attrition, overwhelming ghost tides, drowning the battlefield. It was the most iconic and terrifying face of the Yanfu Dao.
Among these, Flesh Banquet matched his Flesh-Nurturing Bud, but its nature differed too greatly from his current style. He passed it over.
Death Infusion could integrate well with his Sumeru Sword Dao, but he lacked even a single core Life Pattern for it, as it was too far away.
Only Ghost-Driving had both the lowest threshold and the highest ceiling. Its legions of spectral arts were versatile, perfectly adaptable to any system.
And Jing Qian's own Little Ghost, Soul-Weaving, and even his Sumeru Heavenly Life Pattern all fit seamlessly into this path. From the start, he was ahead of the curve.
Thus, his final choice was clear:
A swordsman who also doubled as a summoner.
With the Sumeru Dao Monument as his foundation, his heritage was so deep that even cultivating two paths side by side would not hinder him.
Both Pure Yang's sword and Yanfu's ghost-driving were pinnacle-tier systems. At true mastery, crossing realms to kill enemies would be effortless.
So it was long in his plan: rebuild the Little Ghost, raise it to Heavenly Life Pattern, and fully open the Yanfu Dao's ghost path.
Now the opportunity had come. Bones of Yin lay everywhere, and with his new digestion method, he could consume them endlessly.
Jing Qian pulled out another gelatinous lump forged from Yin Bone and swallowed it whole.
This time, the Ghost Seal's upgrade bar was maxed out, and the counter rolled over, granting +1 to Little Ghost reforging attempts.
The dull-gray jelly tasted like bitter licorice, utterly foul.
But for the sake of power, he didn't complain.
Once he had set his target, his reforging of the Little Ghost accelerated sharply.
With Xili tending the furnace and burning down Yin Bones, all Jing Qian had to do was pop another gummy every so often.
The Little Ghost's power surged rapidly, yet it didn't stop him from handling other affairs.
Between doses, he stepped out of the Void Realm, returning to the real world.
After flying a thousand li, he descended upon the Hunyihou, anchored quietly in the sea.
This seventh-grade warship was of immense value. After overhearing Sun Jue's plans to sail to Haizhou and sell the captured vessels, Jing Qian was tempted to deal with this one as well.
He placed both hands on the deck, silently channeling the power of his Sumeru Life Pattern.
Moments later, his Azure Wing Life Essence surged outward, wrapping around the Hunyi Vessel beneath his feet.
At the bow, a rift in the void began to stretch open.
Only after draining more than half his reserves did he manage to widen the rift enough to swallow the entire ship.
With a sudden push, the grand warship slid into his Void Realm.
At once, the realm's form changed. What had once been a neat square world was now stretched long and narrow, the bulk of the warship pushing out the boundaries.
The Void Realm's stockpiled materials filled the vessel's many cabins, leaving barely any standing room.
After devouring over a hundred storage treasures, the space within the Void Realm was finally large enough to house a seventh-grade ship. A major leap forward.
Having secured the Hunyi Vessel, Jing Qian rose again in flight, streaking toward Qiyue Island.
At the shore, island cultivators were scrubbing down the seven treasure ships seized from the monks of the Temple of Impermanence.
Among them was not only the Hunliang Vessel but also another seventh-grade ship, taken from within the belly of the Elephant God, which Sun Jue had quietly pocketed.
He now planned to sail these ships back to Haizhou.
Two seventh-grade, five eighth-grade, for a total of seven ships. More than worth a trip to sell them off.
Besides, with Hunzhou's situation upended, Sun Jue needed to return to Cihang Monastery to report and receive instructions.
Once Jing Qian learned of his plans, he decided to hitch a ride northward. It would save him months of time and mountains of energy.
The remaining Shadow Furnaces could be planted later, once he reached Haizhou and made some new "friends" to host them.
Three days later, the fleet set sail, the Hunyi Vessel leading the way across the sea.
At the rear, Jing Qian anchored a void fissure to the final eighth-grade ship, giving him a hidden passage he could slip in and out of the Void Realm while keeping pace with the fleet.
The voyage to Haizhou would demand two full months of nonstop sailing from the Qiyue Island elders.
By then, the opening of the Zhuoling Grotto-Heaven would be upon him.
For Jing Qian, this was the last stretch, the final push of cultivation before facing his next great challenge.
He resolved to sink into deep seclusion within the Void Realm, filling in all the gaps in his training.
But first, he had to pay another visit to the Furnace Hall to turn the freshly harvested Dragon Marrow Fat into resources he could actually use.
Unconverted treasures were worthless; only when they became strength did they have value.
Dragon Fat was priceless, yes, but not directly useful to him.
Xili once again conjured the blazing fire ring, bearing Jing Qian's divine sense straight into the Furnace Hall.
His second descent into that mysterious marketplace came with far more confidence than the first.
Still, when he pulled out a single jar of Dragon Fat, he couldn't help but wince.
Transporting goods into the Hall required at least one Azure Wing Fate Fire, or a dozen White Fang Fires, a steep toll.
Low-grade wares weren't even worth the shipping cost.
But his twenty jars of Dragon Fat? Those would fetch a fortune.
Carrying his jar, Jing Qian walked inward along the market stalls until he reached the very heart of the square.
There, a massive, corpulent golden toad squatted atop a blazing furnace, letting the fire roast its belly.
It looked almost identical to Li Yuan's Six-Life Golden Toad, but its aura was vastly stronger.
This toad was one of the high-ranking Furnace Spirits, a manager and guardian of the Hall, stationed here to maintain order.
In recent times, the Golden Toad had been the one in charge.
Bowing slightly, Jing Qian raised the jar.
"Great Frog-Spirit, I have come into possession of some Dragon Fat. I would like to request a stall to sell it. Might I have your permission?"
The toad cracked open a huge eye, glancing down at his small, white-furred avatar.
Then, with a languid flick, its tongue stretched forward, carrying a resonant message into Jing Qian's mind:
"Let me see."
Jing Qian, unsuspecting, placed the jar upon its tongue.
The toad snapped it back in a gulp. The jade-gold jar, painstakingly forged by Xili, shattered instantly.
The Dragon Fat inside became a mouthful of radiant liquor, which the Golden Toad swallowed with relish.
Jing Qian stared, dumbfounded.
So this was how the Furnace Hall handled business? Strong-arm robbery in broad daylight?
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