Chapter 17: Crossing Oneself

Within the prison cell, the cultivators of the Ning family were embroiled in heated debate.

The chime of the transmission bell had conveyed a technique called “The Five Elements Breath Discipline,” yet only the first three layers were revealed. Even so, when the group compared their insights, they found discrepancies in their understanding of even this partial teaching.

For example, regarding the section on condensing metal energy, one person had understood it as: “Metal energy enters the palm, spreading through the meridians, coursing from the hand to the lungs, nourishing the organs. Practitioners must keep an open heart and breathe evenly; metal is inherently arid, and if mishandled, easily injures the yin of the lungs.”

Yet another had heard: “Metal energy enters the palm… the mind surges with wild vigor, and breath quickens. Metal is sharp, governing slaughter and decisiveness, to be followed boldly upwards.”

The first interpretation required slow, even cultivation, while the second demanded fierce and rapid progress.

Though all had listened to the same chime, the revelations differed for each, naturally giving rise to endless argument.

“It seems you still do not quite understand what a Transmission Bell is,” a voice interrupted them before long. Chizhun appeared, accompanied by Ning Chen and Ning Yong.

He had now finished interrogating every Ning family cultivator.

All eyes turned to him. Someone bowed deeply. “We ask for your guidance, Lord Chizhun.”

Ning Zhuo smiled at his two companions. Ning Chen and Ning Yong, however, avoided his gaze. During their own interrogation, they had confessed everything, including receiving Ning Zhanji’s order and provoking Ning Zhuo into the cave.

Chizhun began to explain, “As the name suggests, a Transmission Bell is designed to pass on teachings.”

“The advantage of imparting techniques through bell chimes is that beings of different languages—and even different species—can comprehend them in their own way.”

“The patriarchs of the Three Sects are compassionate, wishing to bring salvation to all creatures. Thus, they left behind the Transmission Bell not only to enlighten people but all forms of life.”

“Yet not all bells are equal. The lesser ones convey a single, uniform method. The finest, however, deliver teachings attuned to each listener.”

Most were astonished, though a few looked thoughtful.

Chizhun continued, “Each technique you received is correct, for it has been subtly adjusted in accordance with your own nature.”

“So that’s how it is!” Realization dawned on the cultivators, their faces lighting with delight.

“Every cultivation method is a way to draw in external energies, refine them, store them, and put them to use. All can be further improved.”

“Indeed, the ancient techniques struggle to compete with new methods precisely because the world changes so much over time.”

“The patriarchs of the Three Sects are truly compassionate, considering each and every one of us.”

Chizhun nodded. “That is the Buddhist way—adept at transforming, refining external magic into corresponding Buddhist power. As the saying goes, ‘Lay down your blade and become a Buddha on the spot’—even the power amassed through years of demonic cultivation can be converted into Buddhist strength.”

“But do not overestimate the effect. The bell’s transmission must accommodate all beings in the city, so the degree of adjustment is necessarily limited.”

“Therefore, do not mistake this technique for perfection. In your own cultivation, you may always seek to refine it further.”

The Ning family’s cultivators looked at each other, unsure.

Someone smiled wryly. “To improve a technique is no easy task! Lord Chizhun, you give us too much credit.”

Another added, “Those who can amend a method are either deeply versed in cultivation or possess extraordinary talent. We are not up to it.”

Chizhun knew this well enough—he only wished to encourage them.

“Well, you have all been cleared of suspicion. Come with me; there’s no need for you to crowd the dungeon any longer.”

His release of the Ning family was a deliberate gesture.

Chizhun’s intent, by handling matters in this way, was to subtly extend goodwill to the Ning family, making it clear that his interrogation of their members was carried out purely as a matter of duty.

The Ning cultivators all expressed their gratitude and followed Chizhun from the cell.

They had just stepped out into the dawn’s first light when suddenly the warning bell hanging from Chizhun’s waist erupted in a shrill, piercing alarm.

Chizhun’s expression changed at once; his aura surged, and, following the bell’s guidance, he shot forward like a bolt of lightning.

The blast of energy swept aside the Ning family cultivators in its wake.

Boom!

In the next instant, a thunderous crash shook the very ground, sending clouds of dust billowing upward.

From the smoke shot a shadowy figure.

The Ning cultivators cried out in alarm, “It’s that shadowy demon cultivator!”

“The scoundrel! How dare he sneak around the dungeon!” Chizhun roared, giving chase.

The demon cultivator let out a raspy, wicked laugh, retreating while fighting.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The two leaped from rooftop to rooftop, their battle wreaking havoc on every structure in their path—houses and halls alike collapsing in ruin.

Panic swept the city as its denizens fled in all directions.

“We need to go too!” the Ning cultivators cried, fleeing in the opposite direction.

Ning Chen and Ning Yong tried to pull Ning Zhuo along.

But Ning Zhuo protested, “Why run? Let’s return to the dungeon. That’s the safest place!”

The two hesitated.

Ning Zhuo simply grabbed them both. “Trust me.”

And so the three returned to the dungeon.

Inside, everything was as they had left it—their seats and fruit untouched.

They sat down again.

Ning Zhuo explained, “Though the immortal city is protected by great formations, which suppress the strength of all cultivators, a Golden Core expert is still utterly beyond our ability to resist.”

“What if, in the course of the fight, their battle comes to us?”

“Just like what happened in the Crimson Flame Demon Cavern!”

“Lord Chizhun is very strong—a body cultivator—and in the City of Fire Persimmon, his power is suppressed least of all. His chances of victory are high.”

“We’ll wait here till he defeats the shadowy demon, and only then go out. That’s the safest way.”

Ning Chen and Ning Yong both agreed.

Boom, boom, boom…

The clash of two Golden Core cultivators continued; each impact sent tremors through the dungeon, dislodging dust from the ceiling.

Ning Chen and Ning Yong sat anxiously, unable to settle.

Ning Zhuo, however, remained utterly at ease, nibbling fruit and sipping tea, seemingly without a care in the world.

Seeing their companion so composed only increased Ning Chen and Ning Yong’s admiration.

Ning Zhuo explained, “Ah, I’ve come to terms with it. If those two Golden Cores bring their fight here, we’re dead for sure. In the worst-case scenario, might as well eat a bit more—better that than dying on an empty stomach!”

Ning Chen was speechless.

Ning Yong slapped his forehead, giving Ning Zhuo a thumbs-up. “Zhuo, you’re right. That’s smart!”

He grabbed a handful of grapes and popped them into his mouth, urging Ning Chen, “Come on, eat! Eat up!”

Ning Chen rolled his eyes, his mood heavy. “You two eat—I can’t.”

The duel did not last long.

The three kept listening, noting that the sounds of destruction gradually faded into the distance, giving them some peace of mind.

At last, when all was quiet, a jailer arrived to summon the three Ning youths from their cell.

Chizhun and the shadowy demon had both vanished, reportedly having fought their way out of the city.

Wide swathes of buildings had been reduced to rubble.

Amidst the debris, corpses lay scattered; the wails of survivors made the dawn feel especially cold.

The three Ning youths wore grave expressions.

“It’s strange—I used to think the immortal city was so safe,” Ning Yong murmured.

Ning Chen sighed, “This is already the best outcome. With the city’s formation suppressing them, even Golden Core cultivators can’t use their full strength. Otherwise, a single spell at their level could destroy half the city.”

Ning Zhuo urged, “This is beyond us now. Let’s just go home. All I want is to collapse in bed and sleep through the day.”

His words awakened the exhaustion and weariness in his companions.

After walking a way together, Ning Zhuo parted from the other two.

The events of the previous night had been overwhelming; Ning Zhuo, utterly spent, fell asleep as soon as he lay down.

It was evening before he awoke at last.

After a simple meal, he went down to his underground workshop.

Sitting cross-legged on a mat, he began his first attempt at cultivating the “Five Elements Breath Discipline.”

Previously, he had practiced the “Snowfield Talisman Codex,” one of the Ning clan’s three principal techniques. Ordinarily, he would have had to dissipate all of his “Codex power,” clearing himself completely before retraining in another method.

But for Ning Zhuo, this was unnecessary.

Demonic Imprint of the Buddha’s Heart!

For others it was the way of demons; for himself, it brought enlightenment.

To transform oneself is not only to suppress all thoughts, remain unmoved by joy or sorrow, and guard against intrusion, but also to transmute one’s very power.

At once, his Codex power began to convert, turning directly into Five Elemental energy at astonishing speed!