Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Cultivators of Misty Valley

There was no doubt that the Chen family’s influence was at work behind the scenes. If anyone else had accomplished as much, it would have meant little, but with connections in high places, even the smallest achievement could be amplified a hundredfold. At this moment, it was common knowledge that the County Constable Chen’s time here was merely a stepping stone, and it would not be long before he moved on. Thus, people treated him with utmost respect and deference, as one would to someone destined for greatness but with whom there was no conflict of interest.

No one would choose to make an enemy of a man with such a promising future, especially when there was nothing to gain. As Chen’s subordinate, Wang Zhenling naturally enjoyed newfound esteem, and few dared trouble him any longer. His days in the local administration passed in carefree comfort, sheltered by powerful backing above and supported by the likes of the community god below. His position as a patrol officer was now unassailable, and, in truth, it brought him much satisfaction.

The local customs were still relatively simple and honest; rarely did any serious disturbances arise within the township. This only made Wang Zhenling’s life more pleasant. With official duties easily managed, he devoted his spare time to cultivating his skills.

Though he claimed to be capable of projecting his spirit from his body, in truth his cultivation was still at the "qi stabilization" stage. Only upon achieving "qi solidification" could he truly reach the phase of spiritual projection. The crucial difference between true and false spiritual projection, aside from the strength and cohesion of the soul, lay in the creation of the Spirit Chamber.

"Qi solidification," the final realm of the Qi Refinement stage, was all about constructing this Spirit Chamber—a sanctuary for nurturing the soul. Without it, the soul could never grow strong, no matter how diligently one cultivated; true solidity could never be achieved.

The path from qi accumulation, to qi extension, then sinking, stabilizing, and finally solidifying, forms a complete cycle of Qi Refinement. The leap from qi stabilization to solidification is especially arduous; many cultivators spend years, sometimes decades, building their Spirit Chamber.

Wang Zhenling realized that the "Celestial Diagram of Ninefold Yang and Everlasting Creation" was, in essence, a method for constructing the Spirit Chamber. The process of visualizing the Moon Palace in the heavens was itself the process of building this sanctuary. Once the Moon Palace was fully formed in his mind, the Spirit Chamber would be complete.

Moreover, the Lotus of Divine Ascent could steal the fortune of the government and convert it for personal use, greatly accelerating cultivation. Yet the challenge remained: Wang Zhenling had no immediate solution for obtaining large quantities of spiritual energy.

Spiritual energy was concentrated at nodes of ley lines—prime locations almost always occupied by ghosts and deities. Such places were beyond reach for someone who had not yet achieved true spiritual projection.

Especially in Guangyang Township, this was even more so. Perhaps some hundreds of miles away, in the boundless Wuji Mountains, there might be a prime spiritual node, but that was certainly not a place for a mere novice.

Unbeknownst to Wang Zhenling, as soon as he thought of the Wuji Mountains, word of the annihilation of the Society of Tranquility had already reached those distant peaks.

The Wuji Mountains were vast, with towering forests and countless ravines. They were blessed with abundant spiritual energy, threaded by ley lines, and were once home to the ancient Wuji Shamans. Now, with the shamans long since lost to history, the mountain’s spiritual veins had been claimed by cultivators of all stripes, making it one of the most famed sanctuaries for cultivation in the realm of Great Qi.

Yet in the official records of the Great Cheng dynasty, it was derided as a den of vice, a refuge for wayward shamans and outcasts.

When Wang Zhenling rescued Zhen Yunzi, he had hoped to send him into hiding within these very mountains. Now, the Wuji Mountains were dotted with the humble dwellings of wandering cultivators—some in thatched huts, others in caves, braving the elements, meditating and refining their qi in pursuit of immortality.

It could be said that the Wuji Mountains had become a gathering place for qi practitioners from several surrounding provinces. Danling County, being close by, ensured that news traveled swiftly to those with interests in the mountains.

In the Mist Valley, where dense vegetation shrouded the land in perpetual fog and sunlight never penetrated, a group of wandering cultivators had settled. At this moment, a bird flew swiftly into the valley. The landscape was jagged with strange rocks, damp and cold, littered with thick fallen leaves and cloaked in an eerie, blue-tinged mist—unmistakably toxic. Any ordinary bird would have perished instantly, but this one flew on, unaffected, straight into a humble thatched hut.

Inside, the furnishings were sparse—a wooden couch covered in animal pelts, upon which sat a gaunt, shirtless elder, cross-legged in meditation. Strange tattoos coiled over his body, and as he inhaled the blue mist, the tattoos seemed to come alive, writhing as if trying to escape his skin.

The bird landed, and with a casual gesture, the old man summoned it into his palm. Instantly, the lifelike bird collapsed into a folded paper talisman. Unperturbed, the old man unfolded the paper, glanced at it, and a flash of surprise crossed his eyes.

“Seventh Brother is dead… The River Chen Clan…”

He gave the paper a sharp flick and it turned to dust.

Rising to his feet, a cold gleam flickered in his eyes. “The River Chen Clan, descendants of the Yellow Emperor—how arrogant and domineering you are, using our Society of Tranquility as mere gilding for your own prestige.”

He paused, then continued, “No matter how powerful you may be, we may not be able to oppose you head-on, but making your lives difficult—that much we can certainly do!”

With a sudden, piercing shout, his voice echoed through the valley. Instantly, the seemingly tranquil ground erupted; piles of fallen leaves writhed like coiling dragons as countless poisonous snakes and insects poured forth. Now it was clear that the valley’s blue mist was a miasma—the result of decaying vegetation mixing with the venom from these serpents and insects.

As the swarms emerged, the entire valley seemed to come alive. From hidden caves in the valley walls, three more elders, each marked with strange tattoos and shrouded in miasma, stepped out. They gathered silently around the first old man.

“The River Chen Clan has killed our Seventh Brother and destroyed the Society of Tranquility. How can we not avenge this?” The speaker’s eyes were cold, murderous intent rising.

“We must not act rashly. First, we must ascertain the true situation and wait for the right opportunity,” another advised.

……

“If only I were the County Constable…” Wang Zhenling sighed at that moment. As a patrol officer, he could command only ten ghostly minions, while the County Court had five hundred at its disposal.