Chapter 59 Old Ai

Feeling somewhat fatigued after his victory, Wushu was led by a maid toward the VIP lounge on the third floor. The awkward aftermath of the battle was that his upper robe had been torn to shreds, leaving him temporarily without a spare garment to wear.

Recalling that when they first arrived at the Beast Taming Palace, the maids had mentioned that during the grand competition between the human and demon races, the palace would do its utmost to satisfy any request Wushu might have, he asked calmly, "Can the Beast Taming Palace prepare a well-fitted robe for me?"

Having witnessed Wushu's remarkable strength in the arena, everyone in the Beast Taming Palace knew of his prowess. If Wushu desired a well-fitted robe now, the palace would undoubtedly present one to him immediately. Stealing a quick, bashful glance at Wushu's fair, uncovered upper torso, the maid's cheeks flushed slightly as she replied, "Lord Wushu, I will immediately have someone deliver a new robe to the third-floor VIP lounge."

The maid waved to another attendant not far away, instructed her on the matter, and then the second maid bowed respectfully to Wushu, saying, "Congratulations, Lord Wushu," before tactfully stepping back and withdrawing.

Inside the VIP lounge, seeing that Wushu had won, Elder Ai had decided it was no longer necessary to avoid meeting him. Zhao Fenxing, noticing Elder Ai's tacit approval of Wushu's performance in this battle, tossed a spiritual fruit into her mouth with evident pleasure, chewing it slowly.

Shortly after, Wushu arrived at the VIP lounge, accompanied by a Beast Taming Palace attendant carrying a fresh robe. The new garment felt exceptionally soft to the touch, and one could tell at a glance that it was no ordinary item.

Having set out with Wushu that morning and knowing his habit of never carrying spare clothing, Zhao Fenxing couldn't resist teasing the moment she saw the maid deliver the new attire, "Didn't you say that wearing a robe slows down your sword-drawing speed? What's wrong? Forgotten your own words so quickly?"

Recalling how he had tried to sound imposing during the duel and blurted out the line, "Wearing a long robe on my body will only affect my blade-drawing speed," Wushu hadn't expected that the fleeting satisfaction of showing off would come back to haunt him through Zhao Fenxing's mockery.

Upon spotting the elderly man in the VIP lounge, Wushu ignored Zhao Fenxing's teasing, stepped forward, and cupped his fists toward Elder Ai, saying, "Junior Wushu pays his respects to Elder Ai!"

Being recognized by Wushu upon their very first meeting impressed Elder Ai with the young man's keen discernment. Even if Zhao Fenxing had mentioned Elder Ai to Wushu once before, not everyone would be able to correctly deduce someone's identity upon their initial encounter.

Before Wushu, Elder Ai still felt compelled to maintain the demeanor of an elder. Smiling brightly, he said, "Young Lord Wushu, I am exceedingly glad to meet you here today."

Since Elder Ai spoke with such courtesy, Wushu felt he must not let himself fall short in politeness. He bowed respectfully once more and replied, "I have long heard of Elder Ai's esteemed reputation. To witness it in person today is truly my utmost honor."

The mutual admiration and instant rapport displayed between Wushu and Elder Ai left Zhao Fenxing utterly speechless. The depth of their flattery toward one another was so profound that it would almost be a waste of talent not to send them into secular politics.

Cough... Cough...

Hearing Zhao Fenxing's light coughs, Wushu ceased his pleasantries with Elder Ai, sat down directly, and, grabbing a spiritual fruit from the table before him, began to eat with gusto. Seeing Wushu's hearty appetite, the attendant nearby respectfully offered, "Lord Wushu, I shall go and prepare some more spiritual fruits for you right away."

After the maid departed, Zhao Fenxing tossed another piece of fruit into her mouth, chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and asked with genuine concern, "How are you feeling after that intense battle with the Golden-Haired Demonic Bear, Young Lord Wushu?"

By asking this, Zhao Fenxing was actually trying to ascertain whether Wushu's body was experiencing any abnormal reactions after unleashing such formidable power. Even though she did not know the exact nature of Wushu's bloodline, she was convinced it was far from ordinary.

Stuffing his mouth with spiritual fruit, Wushu replied between bites, "Although the Golden-Haired Demonic Bear didn't pose a massive threat to me during the fight, the consumption of energy over the course of the battle was still quite substantial."

Realizing that relying on the spiritual qi concentration of East Lodging City to recover his profound strength might take half a month or ten days, Wushu added, "Fenxing, you know very well what the cultivation environment of East Lodging City is like. You understand the affairs of our Wushu family far better than I do."

The underlying meaning of Wushu's words could not have been clearer: he was flat out broke! After such an intense battle, absorbing ambient spiritual qi to replenish his depleted energy reserves would be a painfully slow process. For now, stuffing himself with the Beast Taming Palace's spiritual fruits was his best option.

Amused and exasperated by Wushu's thinly veiled complaints about poverty, Zhao Fenxing produced a medicinal pill from her pouch and said calmly, "Alright! Stop devouring everything like a starving wolf; you're going to choke yourself. Take this Herculean Pill. Once you ingest it, your earthly force will recover in no time."

A Herculean Pill?

The very pill in Zhao Fenxing's hand possessed the remarkable ability to rapidly restore consumed earthly force for a practitioner. Wushu hastily dropped the fruit he was holding, swallowed the bite in his mouth, and eagerly accepted the Herculean Pill from Zhao Fenxing's hand. Channeling his spiritual sense to conduct a thorough examination of the pill, Wushu murmured in surprise, "Such a tiny pellet seems to encapsulate an immense amount of spiritual qi."

Wushu did possess some knowledge regarding alchemy, but all of his insights stemmed from the Forgotten Continent. On the Vast Earth Continent, to say nothing of the path of alchemy, even the cultivation of earthly force differed vastly from that of the Forgotten Continent.

The profound technique Wushu practiced now was completely distinct from the earthly force cultivation secrets indigenous to the Vast Earth Continent.

"The Herculean Pill is a tier-one medicinal pill, exceptionally effective in helping cultivators in the True Element Realm recover their physical vitality," Zhao Fenxing explained patiently, knowing this was Wushu's first encounter with such a pill. "Stop overthinking it; just take the pill and focus on recovering your strength."

Through their time spent together recently, despite the fact that Zhao Fenxing hailed from the Zhao family, one of the four great clans of the Eastern Earth Empire, she had always treated Wushu with kindness. Even though she might believe her presence beside him was ordained by destiny, every trivial incident they had shared only made Wushu view her with increasing fondness.

After ingesting the pill, Wushu crossed his legs and sat down on the spot. Before long, the potent spiritual qi contained within the Herculean Pill surged completely into his meridians. Experiencing the tangible benefits of the pill firsthand, Wushu could not help thinking to himself, "The Herculean Pill is indeed extraordinary. If my guess is correct, a single pill is enough to restore seven or eighty percent of what I expended."

Circulating his profound technique once more, Wushu prepared to gradually convert the spiritual qi fused into his bloodline into profound strength.

At the same time, his thoughts drifted back to the duel earlier, specifically to the black and white stripes that had appeared on his arm after he unleashed the power of his acupoints. He still harbored lingering doubts regarding those mysterious markings.

Contemplating deeply, Wushu knew that whenever he mobilized his profound strength, the curse power dormant within his acupoints would be simultaneously drawn outward. Yet, if the black stripes represented the curse power, what did the white stripes signify? After all, the profound strength he condensed within his body was entirely pale yellow.

As his internal technique circulated, battling a maze of perplexing questions, Wushu curiously detached a wisp of his spiritual sense and directed it outward. After repeatedly probing the flesh and blood of his left arm with this spiritual sense, he sensed the subtle transformations within his limb and, amidst his astonishment, halted the circulation of his internal technique. Reviewing the condition of his left arm's flesh once more, Wushu silently marveled, "During this deployment of acupoint power, constrained by the suppression of my profound strength, the nine primary acupoints carved out by the curse suffered no abnormalities. Instead, the flesh and skin of my left arm have undergone a terrifying refinement."

When he considered that the acupoints forged by curse power—under the crushing interaction between profound strength and the curse itself—could miraculously temper and refine his physical body to an unprecedented degree, how could anyone not feel shaken by such a prospect?

If this was the case, as long as he continued diligently cultivating his profound strength, the suppression it provided would ensure he had nothing to fear from the curse power erupting, while simultaneously allowing his physical body to undergo terrifying levels of tempering. How could Wushu not rejoice at a dual-cultivation method that combined physical tempering with profound strength?

Yet, when he thought of the cultivation resources required to sustain this, a headache inevitably struck him once more. The spiritual qi within the borders of the Kun Kingdom was terribly sparse, and spiritual stones were scarce. To rapidly elevate his strength—even with the assistance of the Fiery Pagoda—Wushu first had to figure out a way to become wealthy.

As the old saying goes, even the cleverest housewife cannot cook a meal without rice.

Unconsciously, the spiritual qi transformed by the Herculean Pill within Wushu's body was dwindling. Eager to check on the condition of the little sapling he had planted on Mount Saint within his spiritual realm, Wushu directed his consciousness inward.

Upon entering his spiritual realm, Wushu discovered that the Tablet Spirit was utilizing a spiritual projection to replay the battle between Wushu and the Golden-Haired Demonic Bear for Wu Zuo, Wu You, and the Night Demon Ancestor.

When had the Tablet Spirit acquired the ability to bypass his perception entirely and stealthily observe the grand competition outside? Realizing that this was likely the handiwork of the Night Demon Ancestor cooperating with the Tablet Spirit—which could wander freely in and out of his spiritual realm unnoticed—it had managed to blindside his awareness and spy on the outside world.

This realization left Wushu in a rather difficult position. The Night Demon Ancestor was a patriarch of the demon race, and currently, Wu Zuo and Wu You were suppressed beneath Mount Saint precisely because of his control. How was it that after only a few days, the Tablet Spirit—hailed as a divine monument by entities like the Vault-Shattering Divine Elephant—was acting like it was eager to throw its lot in with the demons?

In contrast to Wushu's gloomy mood, the Night Demon Ancestor, watching the projection of the exact moment Wushu finally battered the Golden-Haired Demonic Bear into submission, exclaimed in awe, "As expected of the Young Lord! Even a Golden-Haired Demonic Bear in a berserk state, comparable to a physical cultivation expert of the Lion-Tiger Realm, is no match for the Young Lord."

Faced with the Night Demon Ancestor's blatant flattery, Wushu felt exceedingly uncomfortable. The Night Demon Ancestor was a demon, and furthermore, the patriarch of the contemporary Night Demon clan. For him to display such an uncharacteristic vote of confidence in Wushu—Wushu simply refused to believe there wasn't some hidden scheme brewing behind the scenes.