Chapter 141: Plucking A Martial Path Deity
The sky gradually brightened, dispelling the night.
Chen Shun’an sat cross-legged in the rice barn, slowly opening his eyes with a sharp glint, shaking his shoulders, his pores seeming to respond as faint dirt sloughed off his body.
Thanks to the effect of Ran Yi Calming Water, Chen Shun’an’s current cultivation and energy recovery efficiency were extremely high.
Even after rushing around all day yesterday, cultivating through the night, and slaying the Tongue Thief until dawn before catching a brief nap.
He still felt no fatigue at all, instead full of vigor, with a clear spiritual platform.
After throwing Cheng Bin into the water prison, Chen Shun’an had spent these two days steadily pushing the cart to deliver water, methodically digesting the Azure Dragon Gall.
Even his side trip to visit martial artists who had visualized the Mysterious Snake Transformation Manual, to inquire whether the snake demon that dropped the cultivation method secret manual was a beast that cultivated or a living person transformed, was temporarily set aside.
Chen Shun’an was extremely skilled at retreating from difficulties and giving up in a timely manner.
He feared that if he investigated further, he would randomly unlock death truths like ‘accidental drowning’, ‘suicide by arrow from behind’, ‘accidental sacrifice’, ‘missing in action’, and so on.
Even worse, death processes like ‘bone-crushing soul destruction’, ‘form and soul scattered’, ‘unable to be reborn’ awaited him.
Covering one’s ears to steal a bell wasn’t so bad either.
Perhaps due to his aptitude being altered multiple times, Tiger Tendon Leopard Vein, and opening the mud pill, Chen Shun’an’s drug resistance had greatly increased.
Even for True Intent Masters, the Azure Dragon Gall could be taken at most four times a month, with several days’ interval needed before the next one.
Even so, there were side effects like nausea and vomiting.
But Chen Shun’an was lively and jumping, taking one every day without pause, eating heartily, and sleeping soundly.
The Tongue Thief was gradually being slain, with progress estimated at about one-third.
On Chen Shun’an, there seemed to be no bottlenecks, nor any mental requirements; the only things hindering his cultivation progress were resources and great medicine.
Suddenly, Chen Shun’an’s skin, flesh, muscles, and bones trembled with an extremely subtle vibrating force, a series of dense crackling sounds like frying beans emanating from inside his body.
Chen Shun’an felt a surge of scorching qi and blood rushing up to his face and head.
The hair at his temples, which had been slightly frosted with gray, visibly shed its gray-white at a speed the naked eye could see, turning into a head of glossy, thick black hair.
Glossy and flowing, extremely flexible, without split ends or dandruff.
Chen Shun’an incredulously reached out to grab it, feeling each strand tough and resilient; even with his strength, a slight pull failed to yank out a single one!
“Reversing to black hair, retaining youth—am I seriously turning back the clock on aging?”
Chen Shun’an’s face showed shock as his figure flickered like a ghost into the courtyard clearing.
He placed both hands on the abandoned water vat, leaning forward to look.
Rippling waves reflected an utterly ordinary face, weathered by wind and frost, etched with wrinkles.
Only a head of black hair, like the finest silk.
Forming a stark and eerie contrast with that old face.
Seeing this, Chen Shun’an slightly relaxed.
Hair is the end of blood.
Even True Intent Masters, due to breaking through at an advanced age and lacking time to condition their bodies amid daily busyness, more or less had white hair.
Yet now, as Chen Shun’an gradually slayed the Tongue Thief, he could reverse to innate, return to fetal origin, and regrow a head of black hair.
Chen Shun’an even estimated that no sharp weapon that could cut iron like mud could easily sever his hair.
If his hair were taken, it would be prime material for crafting whisks, long whips, and other weapons.
And the significance represented by this head of black hair was extraordinary.
It proved Chen Shun’an had touched the edge of essence, qi, and spirit three flowers gathered, body perfectly rounded!
This realm was also called Martial Dao Grandmaster!
Muscle strength, jade tree, true intent three refinements combined could pluck a martial dao deity, body perfectly rounded, all apertures connected, possessing myriad means to turn decay into magic.
Poison cannot kill, water cannot drown, fire cannot burn—nearly inhuman, able to claim divinity amid the mortal dust… known as, Martial Dao to God!
Chen Shun’an could foresee that next he would likely undergo a series of return to innate processes like replacing lost teeth with new, shedding blood and exchanging marrow, sloughing old skin and filth.
At the same time, he could clearly sense the vast, majestic life force inside his body, far surpassing before, quietly surging.
True Intent Masters’ lifespan was actually not much different from ordinary people.
Even due to frequent combat, overexerting potential, shaking foundations, few could die peacefully in bed reaching a hundred years.
Only Martial Dao Grandmasters, plucking a martial dao deity, could live three hundred years.
If they learned longevity extension secret arts, lived simply, secluded in ancient temples or daoist monasteries, they could live several more decades.
And now, Chen Shun’an estimated he could live to about one hundred thirty or forty.
“Living this long, I can outlast anyone just by enduring!”
Chen Shun’an was overjoyed, even thinking of another method to defeat enemies.
“But…”
Looking at this eye-catching head of black hair, Chen Shun’an felt somewhat helpless.
“I wonder how Wan Niang’s hair dyeing technique is?”
……
“Eh, Wan Niang, why keep the fish eyes? They look creepy.”
“Brother, these fish eyes are good stuff. Burned to ash, they treat sores and abscesses; with other medicines, they tonify essence and blood, reduce swelling, stop pain… Didn’t you say you wanted to dye your hair white? This is one of the ingredients!”
The sun set low, evening time.
Chen family, under the pine tree.
Wan Niang’s eyes nearly glowed as she curiously walked to Chen Shun’an’s side, gently stroking his satin-like black hair, exclaiming in wonder,
“Brother, so practicing martial arts has this effect? Why don’t you teach me too? If my hair turns white one day, don’t despise me.”
“I’ve told you, your brother is a top-tier grandmaster, the invincible kind in Wuqing County. To reach my level, you’d have only a twenty percent chance.”
“Twenty percent chance means eighty percent failure? And top-tier grandmaster—why not say you’re a Martial Saint or Martial God?”
Wan Niang glared at Chen Shun’an in annoyance, clearly not believing him.
In Wan Niang’s eyes, a water station landlord like Zhao Guangxi was already a lofty figure.
Someone invincible in Wuqing County would be even greater, even higher than Zhao Guangxi.
Wan Niang was long past the age of spring dreams and pie in the sky.
She just thought Chen Shun’an was bragging.
She stopped dwelling on it, deftly placing several pairs of fresh fish eyes into plant ash for careful roasting, then said,
“By the way, I made over ten bottles of ‘Sores-Relief Ointment’ with the fish eyes. Gave some to Little Li and the others to try; they said the effect was great. Sold them on the street for over a hundred cash!”
At this, Wan Niang’s tone was excited, slightly proud, chin raised, as if waiting for something.
“As expected of Wan Niang, skillful and clever. When Chen Mou retires someday, I can eat your soft rice…”
Chen Shun’an got the hint, timely providing Wan Niang emotional value.
Chen Shun’an looked at Wan Niang with a hint of regret.
Wan Niang had no aptitude for martial arts practice; even if Chen Shun’an poured all resources to pave her way, without heaven-defying luck, breakthrough to second-rate realm would be extremely difficult.
Instead, she’d suffer the pain of grinding qi and blood, forging muscles and bones.
Better to remain an ordinary person, safe and happy.
But nourished by Sweet Water and conditioned, Wan Niang could likely live to her natural end without illness or disaster.
That was enough…
“No, with the Precious Proclamation of true spirit in hand, sooner or later I can dominate mountains, rivers, and seas, enfeoff deities—how could I suffer birth, aging, sickness, death, and the pain of friends passing? All who follow me will become gods!”
Chen Shun’an thought it over, his heart surging with heroic spirit.
Moments later, a small red clay stove simmered a pottery jar.
The juice in the jar bubbled ‘gurgle gurgle’, emitting a strange scent mixing herbal bitterness and faint metallic tang.
Wan Niang chopped the roasted fish eyes and added them, turning the juice inky green, eerily creepy.
Chen Shun’an couldn’t help frowning.
“Then I’m starting, brother.”
“Go ahead.”
Chen Shun’an held the 《three-lives convergence》, sitting on the folding stool.
Wan Niang carefully combed his inky long hair smooth with a rhino horn comb, then took a fine soft brush, dipped it full of the now lukewarm paste, and from the temples, strand by strand, patiently applied it.
The medicinal juice touched the hair without burning pain, only a cool sensation.
Wan Niang took a hot towel, wrapping his head to let the medicine penetrate.
Time passed as Chen Shun’an immersed his mind in the book in hand.
Wuqing County had been quite turbulent lately.
Demons appeared frequently outside, while inside, a scoundrel like Zhao Guanghui dabbled in heretical paths.
Only this small heaven and earth, with pine tree fish tank, firewood rice oil salt, fragrant sleeves adding allure, let Chen Shun’an feel rare calm and stability.
“Done, brother. Take a look.”
Half an hour later, Wan Niang lightly patted Chen Shun’an’s shoulder; he awoke like from a dream.
Setting down the book, Chen Shun’an looked.
He saw his black hair, after careful rinsing with soapberry water simmered from fleeceflower root, miraculously lost its gloss, taking on a dull gray-white like autumn frost.
No different from his previous white hair.
Seeing this, Chen Shun’an relaxed.
Close call, almost lost his old man identity, couldn’t lean on age anymore.
“This medicinal juice dyes once, effective for a month; if not redyed after, it will gradually revert to black.”
Though Wan Niang didn’t understand why Chen Shun’an wanted to dye his perfectly good black hair white again.
But she long knew how to subtly please him.
When to speak, speak more.
When not to speak, speak less.
……
Night fell, all sounds silent.
Chen Shun’an lay in bed when a faint prayer sounded by his ear.
Unlike past murmurs, this prayer had clear direction and summons.
Chen Shun’an’s heart stirred; his consciousness withdrew, appearing in the divine palace.
“Taiyi Xuanming above, this humble one Hong Junxian has a matter to report…”
“Please ask the high god to relay to Temple Keeper Chen: Zhao Guanghui intends to harm him.”
“Moreover, Zhao Guanghui has a sinister method of turning corpses into spirits, summoning Ding Jia Warriors, seemingly using martial artists’ corpses as sacrifices.”
Chen Shun’an walked the long corridor, sitting cross-legged on the throne.
In an instant, Chen Shun’an seemed to shed humanity, eyes ice-cold, eternal as the primordial.
He followed that prayer, casting his gaze toward the mortal world.
His gaze descended, piercing layered dark clouds and myriad mountains and rivers, precisely landing in Guanghui Money House, a dwelling’s quiet room.
Hong Junxian sat on the ground, eyes tightly closed, seemingly sunk into meditation.
