Food System in Cultivation World-Chapter 517 - 467: Battle for Beauty, This Blade Slices Mountains
Master Wen—it’s Wen Daoyuan!
The esteemed Great Scholar is, at this moment, suspended in midair.
His hair is grizzled and wild, disheveled; iron hooks pierce through his shoulder blades, and his chest is torn open with a gaping hole.
Within the blood-soaked cavity, there is no heart.
Blood streams endlessly from the wound, falling into the enormous Pill Furnace below.
At the very center of the Pill Furnace, nine dragons rear their heads, together supporting a deep, shadowy black orb.
Now, the blood dripping from Wen Daoyuan’s chest, falls precisely upon that orb.
Within the orb, it seems, there exists an abyss with no bottom.
All the blood that lands on its surface is invisibly absorbed; yet, the orb’s exterior remains untouched—never stained by blood.
For some inexplicable reason, this orb commands extraordinary attention.
Whoever lays eyes upon the orb—even a fleeting glance—cannot help but be captivated.
And in their heart arises an indescribable yearning, a craving to claim the orb as their own, to devour it, to merge with it, never to part!
This demonic yearning is grotesquely unnatural.
The weak-willed are instantly ensnared, unable to escape.
Yet those like Xie Mingyi, whose Divine Soul is mighty and temperament resolute, become suddenly alert, immediately averting their gaze.
Xie Mingyi struggles to wrench his gaze from the orb, fixing instead a deadly stare on Wen Daoyuan.
Wen Daoyuan’s heart vanished, his eyes tightly closed as he hangs in midair.
Compared to the others who still wail in agony, he seems already lifeless.
Xie Mingyi’s Heart and Spirit twists with pain, his voice urgent: "Master Wen!"
And with him, countless others cry out: "Master Wen!"
"Mountain Master!"
"Teacher..."
"Wen the Great Scholar!"
The shouts rise like wind, fall like rain—layered, urgent, overlapping in the air.
Amidst these cries, many suddenly realize a sobering truth.
The famed Wen Daoyuan, said to be in seclusion, is not secluded at all—but has suffered calamity.
Seized by an unknown figure, his heart ripped out, his dignity lost.
Now he hangs in midair, no longer a man, but a component—
Like meat or fish in the kitchen, bloodied and dangling.
Left to be butchered, carved or cleaved, powerless in every way.
Who?
Who committed these atrocities, capturing a Great Scholar to use him as a pill—committing a crime beyond measure...
In truth, the identity of the culprit is obvious.
For now in this strange space, beside the Pill Furnace, stands a Daoist. He’s clad in a bagua robe, crowned with jade, his face lean and pale.
At first glance he seems otherworldly, his aura unfathomable.
But on closer examination—
No, at this moment almost no one looks closely at him.
He seems to possess a strange power, melding his presence with the odd space and the colossal Pill Furnace.
When darkness split and the bizarre space emerged midair, most saw first the "forest of human flesh" suspended high, then the Pill Furnace and its earth fire.
Finally, most unconsciously overlooked him.
Except for a rare few with keen perception—like Chen Xu.
From the instant Chen Xu ascended the summit of the Twelve-Story Tower, using its mystical resonance with all of Yujing’s realm, and with his own breakthrough and insight—piercing the fog to discover this strange space—
From that moment to these cries for Master Wen, and then Chen Xu’s gaze locking onto Xuanqing Zhenren beside the Pill Furnace—all occurred within the span of a single breath.
In that instant, Chen Xu and the Daoist’s eyes met across space.
In that exchange, both were shaken.
In a flash, Xuanqing Zhenren’s expression flickered, finally freezing between shock and delight.
From his mouth came two words: "Chen Xu!"
In a corner of the strange space, Emperor Yonghui voiced a question: "Chen Xu? Isn’t he still in Ji County? I..."
Xuanqing Zhenren, however, laughed freely, cutting him off.
"Good, good, excellent! I wondered how Young Chen’s movements eluded detection, vanished without a trace. It turns out he was hidden in plain sight.
Young Chen, you’ve come just in time. I have a forbidden longevity technique, and need your assistance to fathom its depths. Come, let us convene.
Together we seek the Great Way, both pursuing immortality..."
Before his words finished, a giant palm thrust forth out of nowhere.
It was Xuanqing Zhenren’s own hand!
Like a meteor chasing the moon, swift as wind, thunderous.
Within the blink of an eye, the palm crossed countless layers of odd space, descending from above, reaching straight for Chen Xu atop the Twelve-Story Tower.
As it descended, what seemed a normal-sized palm transformed into a giant hand.
That massive hand, like a mountain, crashed down, shaking earth and sky.
Even beneath a sun-devouring darkness, all who gazed skyward seemed to see the giant hand toppling like a mountain.
The pitch-black world could not conceal the roar of mountain and sea.
All at once, the racket of the mortal realm fell silent.
Only the giant hand, and the young man standing upon the tower’s peak, both seemed to radiate, drawing all color and sound of this realm to themselves.
The two little demons still perched on Chen Xu’s shoulders; yet this time, Chen Xu did not hasten to send them into the Demonic Lotus Chamber.
For since breaking through to the eighth layer of Golden Core, and beginning to condense his Dharma Form, his power had transformed beyond recognition.
Especially now, standing atop the Twelve-Story Tower, wielding the Boundless Divine Art.
The entire tower seemed to become an amplifying artifact, magnifying his presence across Yujing’s expanse.
This enabled Chen Xu’s mind to traverse distances, probing the secrets of all the heavens within dozens of miles.
Though he’d just plummeted out of his journey through the starlit realm, the feeling of overlooking the world from on high remained vivid.
Xuanqing Zhenren’s giant hand assailed, like Mount Tai crashing down.
But Chen Xu extended a single hand, and from his palm, a colossal Wugou dagger appeared, unbidden.
The Wugou—shining with frosted snow.
In that moment, the darkness seemed to glow with a crescent moon rising in Chen Xu’s palm.
All could see—atop the tower’s peak, the mountain descended, the bright moon ascended.
Chen Xu recited: "The bright moon bursts from Heavenly Mountains, amidst vast seas of cloud."
He raised blade to cleave, as if splitting mountains, severing ridges, crossing the sea, calming the tide.
This blade unleashed—what could withstand it in all under heaven?
A thunderous roar resounded.
The formidable, confident—almost arrogantly certain—Xuanqing Zhenren screamed in agony.
Swish!
The blade split the giant hand like a mountain.
Severed it clean at the wrist.
"Ah!" In the distant strange space, Xuanqing Zhenren’s hand fell, his scream echoed in pain.
And in the real world of Yujing, the thick ink-black sky—upon his hand’s severance—somehow cracked open.
Sunlight squeezed through those cracks, casting shadow and light across the darkened world.
Slanted light fell upon the youth atop the Twelve-Story Tower, stretching his shadow tall as a cliff’s edge.
Inside the odd space, Xuanqing Zhenren endured the second great setback of his life.
His visage changed violently—gone was the prior composure and depth; in pain, he roared:
