Chapter 110: People of the Way, Radiance of the Precious Vessel

West of the pine forest, Ji Ming easily took the manual that Xuan Jing had placed there but did not immediately return to the earthen mound. Instead, he gazed toward the "grave mound" within the woods, paying particular attention to the square "stone slab tomb," mentally calculating how long the Earthen Escape Talisman could sustain itself.

The Bone-Gathering Heart Pearl was removed; the jade-green color within it had turned completely white, spinning restlessly in his grasp, desperately seeking the warmth of fresh blood to quench its thirst.

Now truly counted among treasured artifacts, it was Ji Ming’s greatest reliance at the moment.

“Let’s go, let’s meet him together.”

The Bone-Gathering Heart Pearl fluttered up and settled behind Ji Ming’s head. Having entered the realm of treasured artifacts, it promised more marvelous uses and transformations yet to be discovered.

His figure shrank and disappeared underground—truly befitting one of the Five Elements’ Escape Techniques, the Earth Escape.

If Ji Ming mastered any one of the Five Elements’ Escape Techniques or the crafting of escape talismans, he would no longer need to tremble in fear under Su Luozi’s relentless pursuit.

Beneath the "stone slab tomb," an old man looked at the talisman imprint scroll and scratched his itchy face, sighing, “This mask is useful, yes, but who can endure this maddening itch from wearing it too long? I’m a life of toil, assigned this miserable task of covertly spying in the secluded courtyard. If it weren’t for that drought child stealing my belongings, I would’ve reached the second stage of Qi Refinement long ago.”

Behind the old man, a face slowly emerged from the soil as if surfacing from water.

Soon, within the enclosed space lit by a single candle, his head, body, arms, and legs all rose fully from the earth.

The old man remained oblivious, chattering on about his covert mission.

Next to him, a scaly three-toed claw quietly reached out, lifting the mask and playing with it.

Ji Ming looked at the mask and listened to the old man’s words. No matter how dull he might be, he recognized the old man’s identity.

This old man was the shaman whom the Poison Hand Child had once sought help from, a disciple from the Panhu Mountain sect. No wonder he kept watching him—the “self” had taken much of the old man’s belongings.

“Too bad I don’t have time; otherwise, I would interrogate him thoroughly about the purpose of this covert mission.”

Behind Ji Ming’s head, the Bone-Gathering Heart Pearl expanded into a gray-silver circular light, quietly suspended like a halo behind him, giving him the aura of a spirit from the underworld.

The old man’s hairs stood on end as he caught sight of two shadows cast in the candlelight. His expression flickered several times before he suddenly raised his palms sharply backward.

“Colorful Cloud Poison Hand!”

Ji Ming saw the “Corpse Heart Spot” on the old man’s palm—a mark of mastery in the secret technique Colorful Cloud Poison Hand. He had seen it once before on Yu Xiao’s hand; he never expected to see it here again.

When the old man struck with his poisonous palm, Ji Ming merely chuckled lightly. The circular light behind his head shone brightly, revealing a whole heart suspended within it.

The heart was bloody and fresh, just removed, steaming slightly as it throbbed softly.

“You’re not the Stone Dragon; he would never have this.”

The old man struggled to turn his head, but before he could finish speaking, the sound of chewing came from within the circular light. Looking up in shock, he immediately died—whether from fright or from having his heart removed was unclear.

“Crunch—”

The chewing continued relentlessly, sending chills down Ji Ming’s spine. Within the circular light behind him, a shadow appeared faintly—the silhouette of a skeleton.

The heart was quickly devoured. The circular light, seemingly unsatisfied, transmitted its craving to Ji Ming.

He once again activated the light, shining it onto the old man’s corpse. One by one, the internal organs vanished, drawn into the light to be consumed.

Observing his treasure behave so mysteriously, Ji Ming mused that it might one day become a magical artifact.

He picked up the old man’s satchel, sank once more into the earth, and emerged from his own earthen mound. Then he stored away the Bone-Gathering Heart Pearl and adjusted his appearance.

Within the forest, the Dharma Hearing Monk had given up tracking the Celestial Being. The dark spirit of the soul’s interrogation, as spoken by his master, never appeared, as always.

He did not know how many more tests awaited him at the Fayan Secluded Courtyard nor how many obscure talisman formulas the Four Sorrowful Cloud Temple still had to test the Celestial Being.

“Annoying!”

In an instant, he lost all desire to stay.

He glanced again toward the distant buildings shrouded in mountain mist, where the Crane View’s senior disciple, Xuan Jing, was present.

The Dharma Hearing Monk had thought this man was there solely to safeguard the Celestial Being’s examination, but now it seemed he had merely imagined it.

Judging by the time, the Celestial Being was only fourteen or fifteen years old.

At that age, having practiced just two or three years, he should have just attained the Essence Blossom stage, beginning to open the fifty-two acupoints along the Ren and Du meridians.

Looking at the scene, among the scattered practitioners, nearly all had the Triple Blossom Crown, except for a few family disciples who were just opening acupoints.

From the "grave mound," each scattered practitioner and family disciple emerged cautiously, handing in their manuals before anxiously awaiting the review.

The old Taoist looked over at the Dharma Hearing Monk.

“You are the chief examiner this time; you should conduct the final review,” said the Dharma Hearing Monk.

“Very well.”

The old Taoist smiled enigmatically and quickly reviewed the manuals. For a Taoist cultivator at the Qi Refinement stage, such rudimentary talisman manuals were easily passed at a glance.

Ji Ming stood in the forest, among the small crowd, his youthful appearance oddly conspicuous.

Yet at this moment, no one paid attention to him; all were tense, waiting for the old Taoist’s final judgment on their manuals.

Ji Ming glanced at the Dharma Hearing Monk, who nodded reassuringly.

The pine forest gradually fell silent, save for the wind whispering through the trees.

Everyone fixated on the old Taoist’s movements, trying to read every glance and expression for hidden meaning, though it was a futile effort.

Gradually, Ji Ming too became tense.

Yet no one seemed to notice that one “grave” remained unopened, with no one emerging from it.

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Unqualified manuals were burned on the spot, leaving no trace, while only those that passed were returned to their owners as an extra reward for success.

Whenever a manual was burned, one person was led away.

To retake the test meant waiting another three years, during which no breakthrough to Qi Refinement was allowed, or they would lose eligibility.

The Way of Heaven was cruel, treating all things like ants, and for the wildgrass-like scattered practitioners, it was especially harsh.

In his past lives, Ji Ming had dealt with many scattered practitioners and understood their harsh living conditions and mindset.

His lifelong pursuit was precisely to escape such hardship.

Great effort would yield mere meager returns; this was the true nature of the fringe paths and heretical sects.

While major fringe sects might be somewhat better, the higher one rose, the more glaring the gap with orthodox cultivators.

When a manual was returned to a Daoist, some would collapse from exhaustion.

Some, overwhelmed by spiritual surges, would condense the Triple Blossom on their heads into the Lower Yellow Court Dantian, forming a trace of true qi and instantly breaking through to the second stage of Qi Refinement on the spot.

Ji Ming’s eyelid twitched; he could not fathom how many years of cultivation this scattered practitioner had suppressed to pass this test.

When a manual was handed into Ji Ming’s arms, even with about eighty or ninety percent confidence, his heart still thumped fiercely.

Next came the recording into the Dao Registry; from then on, he would be a Daoist of Taiping Mountain.

Beyond Daoist was the Qi Refinement second stage examination, then the final stage—the Foundation Establishment third stage ordination test, also called the Dao Official exam.

Only after this ordination test could one truly be considered a pillar of Taiping Mountain, an outstanding orthodox Daoist, and be granted an exclusive Daoist name.

Xuan Jing was the Crane View’s second to pass the ordination test, after the old Taoist Feihuzi.

“A heavy responsibility lies ahead,” Ji Ming thought.

Within the three steps and six realms, each level required learning and research, and to stand out demanded immense time and effort.

In the Qi Refinement second stage alone, without mentioning other matters, the secret skills needed to be refined into spells were rarely mastered, forcing many to risk dangerous reverse cultivation.

Fortunately, Ji Ming still had his treasured eye. If he could truly combine it with the Yellow Millet Dream Pillow, he would have no fear of the difficulties in refining secret skills and could carve out his own broad path.

“Enter the Patriarch Hall, pay respects to the Patriarch, and register your name in the Dao Registry.”

The old Taoist flicked away dust and shouted loudly, his voice carrying to the treetops, bringing joy to the few remaining present. They clasped hands and bowed to each other, now having status and able to be called “Dao Master” outside.

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End of page three.