Volume One, Chapter 42: Second Stage of Body Refinement, the Lofty Penglai Sea of Clouds

The Primordial Pillar technique originated as a martial art among ordinary mortals in the jianghu world. When practiced to its limit, it could forge the body to a level comparable to the eighth or even ninth layer of Qi Refinement. In this sense, it was also a method of body cultivation—albeit a rather crude one. Reaching the eighth layer of Qi Refinement was essentially the ceiling; breaking through to the second stage, to a level equivalent to a Foundation Establishment cultivator, was nearly impossible.

Yet, because mortals with spiritual roots were far fewer in number, among those invested in by Wang Mu, the largest group to receive the Primordial Pillar were mortals rather than cultivators. Consequently, the experience gains Wang Mu reaped from them far exceeded those from cultivators.

With a thought, Wang Mu left the grand hall and soon arrived at a secluded training chamber. Before him stood a humanoid metal automaton. Wang Mu took a deep breath, his eyes shining with fierce light, muscles coiling like dragons, and his blood surging with sonic waves rippling through his body. With a thunderous punch, the very air seemed to explode outward, the force of his fist cutting through the atmosphere with a sharp roar.

Boom! A deep humming vibration echoed as his tremendous power struck the metallic figure. At the point of contact, a tiny ripple formed, expanding until it swelled into a raging tempest that deformed the entire automaton, emitting a sustained bell-like resonance. Only after ten breaths did the process cease.

Wang Mu lifted his gaze to a mirror embedded at the automaton’s edge, where shimmering light revealed the image of a soaring dragon—symbolizing the force of one dragon, approximately 125,000 jin. A look of delight crossed his face.

Among the three sacred sites in the Northern Abyss, the Qiankun Sanctuary was the holy ground for body cultivators. Its sect’s supreme technique, “Qiankun Divine Body Refinement,” at the second stage could only muster a maximum strength of about 108,000 jin. The enormous accumulation of experience from the Primordial Pillar had not only elevated an ordinary technique to the level of a legitimate second-stage body cultivation method but had even surpassed the strongest arts of the body cultivation sanctuary itself. This was an unexpected and monumental surprise.

Body cultivators were rare, and at the same rank, their resource consumption was often much greater than that of magic cultivators, demanding far more effort. Aside from those who had no other choice, very few walked this path. But those who succeeded were incredibly formidable. By the later stages, their bodies rivaled treasure artifacts, impervious to ordinary flying swords or magical devices, and resistant even to various spells, making them exceedingly difficult to deal with.

If a body cultivator closed in, a single punch could devastate any magic cultivator—an experience none wished to endure.

“Indeed, casting a wide net was the right call!” Wang Mu now felt fortunate for having invested in martial arts for cultivators without detected spiritual roots. Though the experience gained from mortals diminished significantly after breakthroughs—understandably, since they practiced the Primordial Pillar and not the Ultimate Primordial Intent Skill—he was content that some experience could be inherited. Supported by a much larger population base, Wang Mu sensed his progress in body cultivation might even rival that of his magical cultivation.

“Dual cultivation paths—this is the true way! With my current strength, I can sweep aside even ordinary Golden Core stage cultivators!” Wang Mu clenched his fist, his eyes gleaming with unshakable confidence.

***

Meanwhile, on Feixian Island in the Qingyun Archipelago, in the busiest district, a newly opened establishment stood out for its lavish decoration and grandeur, not far from the Langya Commerce Guild branch.

“Penglai Yunhai Foundation?” A young Daoist couple paused briefly before the enormous redwood plaque.

“Would you like to donate some charitable funds?” A portly middle-aged merchant emerged from inside, smiling warmly at them.

The female cultivator showed interest. “What’s the difference between your foundation and the Langya Foundation?”

Shopkeeper Zhong replied confidently, “Of course there’s a difference! With them, if you spend a hundred spirit stones, only one is actually donated and recorded as merit. But here, every single penny you spend is genuine merit!”

He gestured to a blank merit list outside the door and smiled. “We just opened today, so the boundless merit list is empty for now. If you’re interested in philanthropy, do come in and have a look.”

Their eyes brightened at the invitation. “Let’s go in and see!”

Inside, the antique furnishings and understated luxury held their gaze. Even the luminous pearls lighting the room were high-grade, costing tens of thousands of spirit stones each. The attendants serving tea wore finely tailored robes worth several thousand spirit stones apiece.

The couple grew somewhat nervous after sipping the richly fragrant tea—it was clearly expensive spirit tea, worth at least several spirit stones per tael. This was indeed a reputable place; after such generous hospitality, it felt inappropriate not to support them with some purchase.

Clearing his throat twice, the male cultivator asked, “So, what do you sell here?”

“Sell?” Shopkeeper Zhong was momentarily taken aback, then laughed. “We’re not a shop; we don’t sell anything!”

The man frowned. “If you don’t sell anything, how do donations work?”

Zhong answered matter-of-factly, “Since it’s a donation, why sell anything? You simply hand over spirit stones, and we record your names. That’s all there is to it.”

The woman quickly asked, “So you mean, we give money but get nothing in return?”

Zhong glanced sharply at them, his brow furrowing. “How can you say you get nothing? You are providing aid to Daoist friends in disaster zones, contributing to peace in the Northern cultivation world. Shouldn’t that feel wonderful?”

The couple exchanged uneasy looks.

Zhong continued, “You two look refined and righteous, surely you are cultivators with pure hearts. You wouldn’t begrudge giving up a few possessions, would you?”

They glanced at each other again. Honestly, they wanted to leave. But having come this far, and having drunk tea and eaten cakes, it felt too awkward to leave empty-handed.

“Fine, we’ll donate some, then.” The woman produced a storage pouch and took out several dozen spirit stones, her expression tinged with reluctance as she handed them over.

Zhong’s smile vanished instantly as he looked at the coins. “Are you joking with me?”

The man frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Zhong sneered, “With such paltry offerings, you consider yourselves generous? Is that all your charity amounts to?”

The woman’s expression darkened. “How dare you speak like that? Even if it’s only a few dozen spirit stones, it’s our donation!”

Zhong’s face turned cold and mocking. “Two paupers wasting my time! You bottom-tier cultivators are shameless—no money, yet daring to enter such a place. Do you think you deserve our tea?”

He waved a hand, having their tea removed and ordering them out, taking the spirit stones they offered as well.

The man protested angrily, “You took our money and treat us like this? We’re donating, not owing you! And our names should be on the merit list at the entrance!”

Zhong laughed coldly, “A mere few dozen spirit stones on the merit list? Have some shame! Our Penglai Yunhai Foundation is not that desperate.”

“Get out quickly. Say one more word, and don’t blame me for showing no mercy!”

At that moment, several fierce-faced cultivators entered, casting hostile glances at the couple.

The woman paled. The man gripped her hand tightly, biting his lip, and refrained from further argument, hastening their departure.

“Bah! Paupers, wasting my time!” Zhong spat disdainfully as he watched them leave, his face full of gloom.