Chapter 59: Inheritance?! A Coffin?!

Hearing him say this, Lingxi understood instantly.

This trial was not just a trial; it was the sect master sending them in for advanced postgraduate studies.

Had Lu Buwei really become this anxious?

Lingxi narrowed her eyes slightly, appearing lost in thought, while her gaze swept across Song Mingyi from head to toe.

There was no blood flowing through his entire body; his flesh presented a translucent state, and spiritual energy permeated his whole being, neither gathering at the Dantian nor showing the slightest ripple.

The most prominent feature across his entire physique was a trace of illusory, near-imperceptible aura of death.

Living entities did not take on such a form in her eyes.

Feeling a sudden chill on the top of her head, Lingxi instantly focused her mind as a voice carrying a hint of a chuckle entered her ears.

"Although this old man's phantom is not even a tenth of my true body, it is more than enough to train you all."

Song Mingyi's lips did not move, and the expressions of the other disciples remained unchanged. Without a doubt, he had used a secret technique for voice transmission solely to her.

As far as she knew, the current sect master was incapable of doing this.

Therefore, the old monster before her was either at the late Nascent Soul stage or the Spirit Transformation stage.

The combat power in the original novel fluctuated wildly, and she could not figure out whether there was some kind of setting where a Nascent Soul never truly died and was reborn anew.

Before she could ponder further, a faint scent of bamboo leaves drifted over, followed closely by the sound of bamboo stalks splitting. In the blink of an eye, bamboo shadows shifted right in front of her, rushing toward her with the overwhelming force of a collapsing mountain.

Lingxi instinctively raised her meditation cushion to block.

The cushion split in two, and shredded rice straw scattered across the ground. Clutching a piece of fabric, Lingxi fell backward with the back of her head hitting the ground, as a billow of thick smoke rolled across the bluestone floor.

Song Mingyi stood there untainted by a speck of dust, while Lingxi was nowhere to be seen.

As the thick smoke dissipated, a hand stretched out from the edge of a human-shaped pit. With a blackened face, Lingxi tremblingly crawled out.

Good grief, everyone else was completely fine.

The old man knew how to control his strength.

Or rather, he was deliberately singling her out to beat up.

Song Mingyi crooked a finger and revealed what he thought was a benevolent smile, "Again!"

Lingxi moved forward awkwardly, using the same side's hand and foot at the same time, and flashed a brilliant smile. Catching Song Mingyi off guard, she raised her hand to form a sword and slashed fiercely at him.

The sword Qi stirred up giant waves, driving straight toward the vital points of the phantom.

Song Mingyi smiled faintly, rolled up his sleeves, and swept his hand across the air, amplifying the sword Qi and hurling it back toward Lingxi.

Lingxi frantically circulated the [Netherworld Othershore], fleeing in all directions, but the sword Qi seemed to have eyes as it chased her relentlessly.

Ultimately, it carved out a deep pit.

Lingxi crawled out from the human-shaped pit once again, lacking even the strength to stand. She swallowed hard, not daring to walk up there again.

Actually, it was because her legs were too crippled to walk.

"What? Are you going to admit defeat already?! What was that you said earlier about inspiring your fellow disciples to endure their tribulations?" Song Mingyi stroked his beard, standing unmoving before Lingxi.

Lingxi shamelessly replied, "That was said by the past me; what does it have the slightest thing to do with the present me?"

Song Mingyi merely chuckled, rolling up his sleeves. Instantly, the candlelight flickered wildly, bamboo shadows covered the stone walls, and oppressive sword Qi unrolled from his sleeves as the howling sound of a fierce gale rushed past.

Limping, Lingxi hurriedly leaped away, picking up a wooden sword at the side to parry. A powerful aura burst forth from the blade.

A purple radiance blocked the white light, horizontal across the middle of the cave dwelling.

Song Mingyi flicked his hand lightly, injecting a streak of white light. The purple radiance instantly dissolved, and Lingxi was once again sent crashing into a human-shaped pit.

This time, Lingxi learned her lesson and lay motionless at the bottom of the pit.

As a result, a burst of force directly swept her up.

Glancing down at her own blood-red bridal robes, Lingxi slumped her face in disappointment.

"Your cultivation realm is so high, how am I supposed to beat you?"

Song Mingyi asked calmly, "When you encounter demonic cultivators and evil entities, will they let you go simply because your cultivation is insufficient?!"

Refusing to give up, Lingxi launched several more sneak attacks, only to end up covered in blood once again.

"Come, eat this. Eating it will do your injuries good." Seeing that Lingxi could not even move, Wen Jue fed her a pill.

Facing Lingxi's rather moved expression, Wen Jue added in a gloomy tone, "Eating it makes you heal faster, so tomorrow you can continue to share the firepower, and the Old Ancestor will spend less time dealing with the rest of us."

Lingxi gnashed her teeth as she stared at the stone wall overhead: "..."

True feelings have never been reliable since ancient times; to hell with all these套路 (routines/traps)!

After a day of being "repaired," the disciples leaned sideways in a circle along the stone walls at night, looking up at the stone ceiling and enduring their all-over body aches before finally managing to fall asleep.

Bang, bang, bang—

The sound of wood being struck.

The white figure lacked the demeanor of an expert that she had during the daytime training; with one foot stepping on a piece of wood procured from goodness knows where, and one hand wielding a broadax, she hammered away.

Under Wen Jue's "tender care," the fatal wounds on her body had healed by seventy or eighty percent, so she hopped over on her crippled leg to watch the commotion.

"Old Ancestor, it's late at night, why don't you take a rest? Whatever you need to do, I'll do it," Lingxi proposed with a smile, planting the seeds of human favor to beg for mercy tomorrow.

"No need. Rest well and strive to block one of my moves tomorrow." How could Song Mingyi not see through her thoughts?

Catching the way he swept his gaze across the disciples resting against the stone wall, Lingxi understood in an instant.

"Is the Old Ancestor making beds for us? Actually, sleeping against the stone wall isn't bad either."

"With your aptitude, if you lean against cold stone to sleep for a few decades, you're bound to end up with chronic rheumatism and arthritis. Rest assured, the coffins I make are breathable and moisture-proof; even if a dead person sleeps in them, the corpse will not decay. My craftsmanship is absolutely top-notch." While hammering nails with loud clangs, Song Mingyi casually explained to Lingxi.

Lingxi's pupils constricted, and the corners of her mouth twitched as she smiled.

This old man wouldn't play for keeps tomorrow, would he?

Making a coffin in the dead of night was clearly meant as a warning to her.

If you can't beat them, you just lie down in a wooden box?!

The more Lingxi thought about it, the more probable it seemed.

She began to wonder if the Dingkun Sect was a sect founded after demonic cultivators reformed and turned over a new leaf.

Amidst her swirling thoughts, Lingxi heard the "bang, bang, bang" sound once more.

Unlike the hammering sound of Song Mingyi making a coffin, this sound came one after another, each heavier than the last, sounding suspiciously like a provocation before the outbreak of battle.

Song Mingyi stopped hammering in the rivets, straightened his waist, and looked toward his side.

A woman in white stood atop the pitch-black coffin, holding a silver-skinned, jade-inlaid sword in her arms. Her gaze was cold as she looked at Song Mingyi, her white boots kicking the coffin every so often.

Lingxi secretly drew in a cold breath, glancing around at the disciples who were busy meeting the God of Dreams.

Should she wake them up or not?

Although they had just undergone trials together, most immortal sect disciples had never laid eyes on the devotees of the demon gods.

The immortal sects protected them very well; most people only helped commoners eliminate minor demonic pests throughout their lives, and only a tiny few needed to fight desperately behind the scenes against demon gods and heretics.

"Oh! Our luck is quite good today, actually running into a female ghost in the middle of the night. Junior sister, did you provoke something again?"

Wen Jue had appeared by Lingxi's side at some point, holding a handful of needles between his fingers and staring with keen interest at the woman in white ahead.

A body that was half-demonic and half-immortal was truly a rare sight. Although she was a woman, he wouldn't mind taking a hand back to study for a bit.

A flash of anger crossed the icy gaze of the woman opposite, crimson bloodshot veins bulging from the whites of her eyes, and her pale lips twitching.

"You mocked me for being ugly, you're courting death!"