Qi Cultivation Starting from the Repair Panel

Chu Zheng had sat atop the mountain summit for the entire night, only using one session of restoration for his bodily protection; all the remaining sessions were dedicated to the repair of the Emperor Jade Wall.

As dawn approached, he rose and descended the mountain, meandering towards the northeast direction of the Da Li Dynasty.

Before the tribulation began, Qi Cultivators could do nothing but wait. Chu Zheng was also somewhat curious; currently in the Qingyun Realm with not a trace of karma, he wondered how the world would bring down this tribulation upon him.

...

...

Among the rugged mountain paths, a figure staggered along the narrow trail.

"Gurgle..."

Bai Nian's face contorted with discomfort as he tightened his belt another notch and wiped the thin sweat from his brow.

Different from other paths, the Confucian Path could not achieve fasting until one's cultivation reached a certain realm; food intake was still necessary.

The bookcase he carried on his back had been traded for dry rations days ago.

At this moment, he was regretting his hasty departure; he was unprepared for anything.

Now in this desolate wilderness, with no villages in sight, no shops behind, where could he possibly find something to eat? There was nowhere even to beg.

"Heaven, when about to place great responsibility on a man, must first frustrate his spirit and will, exhaust his muscles and bones..."

The hunger in his stomach made Bai Nian dizzy, forcing him to recite the sage's teachings to distract himself.

Alas, the sage's words could not fill an empty stomach.

After a moment, he stopped chanting the sage's sayings and sighed helplessly,

"I did not wish to shoulder great responsibilities; spare me the torment of hardship..."

Before he had finished speaking, several figures appeared on the narrow mountain path.

Bai Nian's eyes lit up, "Has the Saint shown his grace?!"

As he saw people, his mouth began to water, and his heavy pace suddenly quickened; he ran towards them.

As he drew closer and saw the faces of the men, Bai Nian's smile vanished, and his face paled slightly.

Five or six burly cultivators loitered by the roadside, some standing, some squatting, each brandishing weapons with a menacing aura, obviously not the benevolent sort.

The group quickly noticed Bai Nian and called out impatiently as they caught sight of him,

"We've waited so long, only for a penniless scholar to show up—truly bad luck."

"He looks decent enough; tie him up, strip off his clothes and we can sell them in the city to get some drink money."

"What if he's a student from some academy and we provoke the Confucian School's masters by doing this? Won't we be inviting trouble?"

"Screw it, tie him up first. With a mask and after we mute him, he'll just be an unrecognizable hairless pig."

For a moment, Bai Nian's face stiffened, and he turned and bolted, lamenting his misfortune internally.

It truly was like a leaky roof that found the company of continuous nighttime rain; my ancestors had indeed not lied to me!

Just as he started to run, Bai Nian saw another figure coming into view, a conspicuous bald head reflecting light in the sunshine.

The approaching monk looked to be in his thirties, with a noble and virile face, standing over nine feet tall. His grey monk's robes, with broad rust-colored borders, were unable to conceal his tightly coiled muscles.

Just one look at him gave one a strong sense of security.

Without any hesitation, Bai Nian immediately cried out,

"Master, save me!"

The pursuing cultivators simultaneously stopped in their tracks, exchanged glances, and turned to leave.

This suddenly emerging monk had a terrifyingly strong presence they couldn't possibly confront.

"Om Amitabha."

The monk intoned the Buddha's name, and in a flash, appeared in the path of the group, hands clasped inside his sleeves, a bright Buddha's light circling his palms, and pressed the men firmly against the earth. With a resounding voice as though he were Acala himself, he pronounced judgment,

"The excessive greed in the donors' hearts has given rise to anger; they must calm their minds through cultivation. Follow this poor monk on his journey, perform good deeds along the way, and perhaps some portion of your sins can be alleviated."

Bai Nian watched, dumbfounded. After regaining his composure, he repeatedly bowed deeply in thanks, "Many thanks, Master, for your intervention. May I be so bold as to ask for your honored name?"

"I am Fa Tan, unworthy of the title Master. Monks take compassion to heart, and when injustice is seen, we must help. Donor, you need not be so courteous."

Having keen eyes, Fa Tan could see Bai Nian's difficulties. Reaching into his sleeve, he pulled out a flatbread and tossed it over,

"This poor monk is on his way to Da Li to engage in philosophical debate and is preparing to visit the Yujing Divine Palace. If it is convenient, the young donor is welcome to accompany me on my journey."

"Thank you, master, this happens to be on my way."

Bai Nian would, of course, not refuse. He took a few bites of the large pancake and hee-heed with a smile.

Having such a Buddha by his side, he should be able to save a lot of energy on the road ahead.

...

Leaving the mountain range where he had been in seclusion, Chu Zheng headed northeast.

To the northeast of Qingyun Realm lay a region of principalities, inheriting various Taoist Orthodoxies, creating an exceedingly complex situation.

Chu Zheng was very interested in the cultivation methods and legacies of each Taoist Orthodoxy.

At the same time, this place was also a microcosm of the Myriad Realms. By observing from the smaller scale, he should be able to discern the specific movements of each Taoist Orthodoxy within the Myriad Realms.

The forces of the Myriad Realms were interwoven, with large and small worlds numbering far beyond ten thousand. It was always right to gain a general understanding first.

If the Incense Fire Divine Path was not prevalent in this world, Chu Zheng wouldn't even mind leaving behind some faith seeds of Daoist Venerable Zheng Chu.
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Incense Fire Willpower certainly had its drawbacks, but for the moment, it was an arm aiding his rapid elevation of Cultivation Realm.

Now that he was able to refine Immortal Qi, once his Qi Refinement's Cultivation advanced further, he should be able to refine the Primordial Qi for his use.

By then, Chu Zheng might try to set aside some of the focus on the Spirit Path and seek a more secure path.

He had grown accustomed to trial and error; taking detours was not terrible, as long as one could turn back in time and correct them.

To avoid triggering a calamity, Chu Zheng bypassed all the cities and villages he could pass along the way. Crossing through endless wilderness, he soon left the Da Li Territory.

The Tribulation Qi stored beside him was like the brimful ambrosia in the bowl—just a slight force, some shaking, and it would stir up completely.

As he stepped through the spatial fissure once more, Chu Zheng saw a small village nestled deep in the mountains, isolated from the world with hundreds of households and no trace of humanity for a thousand miles.

The setting sun poured golden light, casting a warm hue over heaven and earth. Wisps of cooking smoke rose from the village, and the faint sound of children's laughter could be heard.

Looking at the small village before him, Chu Zheng slightly furrowed his brows; he had specifically chosen a desolate wilderness, yet he still encountered people.

However, given the distance, it was already within the territories of the principalities, and it was normal for there to be villages.

Chu Zheng shook his head slightly, not dwelling on it any longer, then turned to leave.

Before he could open a spatial gateway, a pungent stench suddenly blew in the wind, so foul that it made him somewhat uncomfortable.

In a snap of a finger, Chu Zheng's Divine Sense spread, covering a radius of a hundred thousand miles, quickly tracing the source.

A black beast resembling a mastiff, more than twenty zhang in length, its body emanating black mist and covered in dark scales, fixated its gaze on the nearby village, with blood-red eyes.

It looked more like a ferocious beast possessed by a demon than a magical beast.

Nearby the beast stood a middle-aged cultivator in a black robe, his facial features gaunt and his body exuding an aura of malevolence.

The situation couldn't be clearer—a vile and deviant practice of feeding human flesh and blood to little demons.

The pair, both beast and man, were merely a hundred miles from Chu Zheng and seemed to have stayed for a while, their presence now carried by the wind.

This middle-aged cultivator was at the Third Order Middle Stage, and the mastiff-like beast was just a Third Order little demon; to Chu Zheng, they were like roadside weeds, easily uprooted.

Seeing this, Chu Zheng's eyebrows slightly furrowed—what a coincidence?

Magical beasts were causing trouble just as he happened to pass by.

Why did it happen to be at that moment?

As he pondered, the mastiff-like beast slowly approached the village.

Chu Zheng glanced at the distant village—there was a choice of either saving it or not.

Without much need to deliberate, he already had his decision.

Abnormal occurrences signaled trouble; he had every reason to suspect that this man and beast were the catalysts for igniting his Tribulation Qi.

Since there was no avoiding it...

A fierce glint flashed in Chu Zheng's eyes for a moment, and, turning into the wind, he was before the duo in the blink of an eye.

Whoosh—

A gust of wind burst from the void as Chu Zheng casually delivered a palm strike, turning the mastiff into a mist of blood.

In the next instant, he reached out and grabbed the middle-aged cultivator's throat, hoisting him up, his eyes boiling with murderous intent:

"I'll ask you, where is your sect, and how many elders and disciples do you have?"