Chapter 8 Someone Has Mastered the Foundation of the Qi Refining Technique

Li Yuanze rushed over as soon as he heard the news. He hurried to the computer, watching Chen Chushi make his way up the mountain, his gaze lingering on the large spirit stone on Chen’s back. “What’s that wrapped in clothes on his back?”

His assistant, data already prepared, replied, “Based on blurred detection, what this survivor is carrying... appears to be a stone.”

A stone? After being missing for so long—even his vital signs had vanished—all just for a stone?

Li Yuanze frowned deeply. The survivor was no ordinary person; he wouldn’t do something pointless. This stone must serve a special function, perhaps assisting his cultivation, something like the legendary treasures in myth.

Whatever it was didn’t matter to him, as long as Chen Chushi could use it. He just hoped the man wouldn’t suddenly “expire” again; it was too unsettling.

As he stared at the computer screen, Li Yuanze’s pupils contracted sharply. Next to him, his assistant let out a low gasp.

On the screen, Chen Chushi, strapped with the massive spirit stone—nearly a meter tall—seemed uncomfortable carrying it on his back. He unfastened it, tossed it uphill at an angle, bent his knees slightly, the stone steps cracked beneath him, and his form blurred like a phantom as he shot upward, stopping just in time to catch the falling stone.

The whole process looked effortless, as though he’d thrown and caught nothing more than a foam prop.

No, even if it were foam, his ghost-like speed was beyond ordinary human capability. And the cracks in the stone beneath his feet were very real.

Li Yuanze knew how formidable immortal cultivation could be, but the rapid progress still left him in awe.

Chen Chushi, meanwhile, had no idea the humans aboard the spaceship were watching him via surveillance as he tossed the spirit stone along the mountainside. He just wanted to reach Clearwater Palace as quickly as possible and study the pictographic seal on the large spirit stone.

To Chen Chushi, the pictographic seal was more valuable than the stone itself. It could seal spirit stones, strongly repel magical energy; if he could decipher its principles and master its secrets, then, should he ever reach the later stages of cultivation and encounter conflict with other cultivators—dueling with spells, for instance—he could use these pictographs as a weapon. The effect would rival the legendary Immortal Binding Rope.

If the seal that suppressed the spirit stone’s power could be modified to seal spiritual energy itself, so much the better. He had a bold idea: if realized, he would never lack for spiritual energy anywhere in the world.

Upon arrival at Clearwater Palace, he lit three sticks of incense for Master Clearwater, found a guest room, and unwrapped the stone. To his surprise, the once milky-white spirit stone now bore a layer of gray dust, as though it had been left in the room for ages. He scraped away the dust with a small knife—sure enough, it was much like the soil in the mountain cave, the state of a spirit stone drained of energy.

The pictographic seal on the large spirit stone prevented it from absorbing energy, unless fragments were broken off by force.

Although Chen Chushi hadn’t absorbed any energy on his way there, the stone was still being passively depleted.

After half an hour of observation, he noticed that the flow of spiritual energy from the stone differed greatly depending on whether it was covered or not. When he removed the covering, the stone’s surface grayed even faster.

Was it oxidation?

Did contact with air accelerate the loss of spiritual energy from the stone?

Would only a vacuum preserve it?

Lacking the tools for a vacuum seal, Chen Chushi fetched plastic wrap from the kitchen and wound several layers around the stone. Surprisingly, it worked fairly well.

He then took out a notebook and, recalling the symbols he’d seen in the cave, began jotting down the pictographic characters, annotating each with his interpretation.

It was a tedious process.

The surveillance in his guest room was rudimentary, installed by Clearwater Palace staff whenever they left, just a matter of connecting to the network.

Unlike yesterday, Chen Chushi didn’t disappear into the woods for hours. But staring at the stone and scribbling indecipherable notes was enough to have the livestream viewers yawning in droves.

They hoped he’d demonstrate more abilities like his water manipulation, or better yet, write an elementary “Qi Refining Manual.” The one from the rooftop had proven too difficult; of the viewers watching the stream, seventy to eighty percent had tried cultivating at home without sensing anything at all—while the forums were full of people boasting about their results.

In Xia Nation’s spaceship military zone, training hall.

There were cameras installed in all four corners of the ceiling.

Sitting cross-legged on the aluminum floor was a young woman in her early twenties: combat boots, camouflage pants, a black vest, her long dark hair tied back in a casual ponytail.

Her features were exquisite, skin fair, her face utterly unadorned by makeup—outshining the majority of heavily made-up celebrities.

She rested her hands on her knees, chest rising and falling rhythmically, her breathing slow and measured. In front of her lay a vacuum-sealed copy of the “Qi Refining Manual.”

Crackling sounds—like little firecrackers—issued from within her body as her bones shifted.

Her ponytail snapped free from its tie and fanned out, an invisible airstream swirling about her.

She slowly opened her eyes—bright and full of determination. Parting her lips, she exhaled a stream of turbid air that struck the aluminum floor with a bang.

The sound and vibration made the training hall door fly open.

Three young men with buzz cuts, dressed in military uniforms and exuding an intense masculine energy, strode in.

They first glanced warily around the room, then fixed their eyes on the scuff mark left on the aluminum floor, and finally saluted the young woman. “Second Lieutenant Liu, is everything all right?”

Her name was Liu Yinyun. She returned the salute. “Thank you for your concern. I believe I’ve just achieved initial mastery of the 'Qi Refining Manual.'”

The three young men were surprised. “You mean the manual written by that survivor on Earth? A lot of people have been trying to cultivate it—the steps are all correct, but there’s been little progress. Most people don’t even sense ‘qi’ at all.”

Liu Yinyun’s build was well-proportioned, yet she lacked none of the necessary muscle; her abs were faintly visible beneath the snug black vest. She rolled her shoulders. “I was skeptical of the manual at first, but now that I’ve entered the path—it’s truly impressive. Would you like to give it a try?”

Though these three men held lower ranks, their martial skills were not inferior. They had sparred with Liu Yinyun in the ring before; under full effort, they could narrowly win.

The one in the middle, Sun Gang, cracked his knuckles. “It would be an honor!”

He, too, had watched the international livestream—about the survivor who, through his own manual, could manipulate water and punch concrete walls as if he were a superhuman.

Sun Gang hadn’t quite believed it. If the survivor had suddenly awakened superpowers, that would be more plausible. But now, with Second Lieutenant Liu claiming to have mastered the Qi Refining Manual, his curiosity was piqued; he wanted to experience its power firsthand.

The training hall was meant for such sparring.

They took their stances. Sun Gang advanced steadily, right hand clenched into a fist, launching a clean, direct punch at Liu Yinyun’s face. Even though she was the daughter of a general, he wouldn’t hold back. To withhold effort was the greatest insult to an opponent; in combat, there was no distinction of gender.

Boom!

Liu Yinyun reacted instantly, raised her arm to guard her face and absorbed the blow, then twisted her body and lashed out with a whip kick.

Sun Gang was startled. He’d sparred with Liu Yinyun at least a dozen times. There was never a guaranteed outcome, and he was wary of flashy moves during combat—looks were for dramas, not the real fight, and after the showy move, the fight was usually lost.

He aimed his fist at the inside of Liu Yinyun’s calf—his physical endurance could take a kick.

But for Liu Yinyun to take a heavy punch and remain mobile—victory and defeat would only be a matter of time…