Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Lesser Five Elements Creation Technique

No one could say for certain whether the Immortal Master of Heavenly Elixir could deduce a truly formidable spell through the Art of Creation of Lesser Xu Earth. With this thought, Xu Cheng asked straightforwardly, “Ancestor, could you help me deduce a spell?”

“Naturally, that’s no problem. I only wonder—what kind of spell do you wish to deduce?” The Immortal Master of Heavenly Elixir smiled faintly, awaiting his reply.

Xu Cheng conjured the spell seals for the Art of Creation of Lesser Xu Earth and Lesser Ren Water in his palm, presenting them before the Immortal Master for her inspection. One spell seal took the shape of a pale yellow orb, the other a light blue sphere—distinct and separate, each spinning on its own axis.

“Five Elemental Arts? You have quite the imagination.” The Ancestor of Heavenly Elixir spoke coolly, then settled cross-legged, her eyes flashing with brilliance as she fell into deep calculation.

After a long time, she returned to herself and transmitted a complete spell directly into Xu Cheng’s mind. “With my cultivation, I can deduce only this far; if you wish to refine the spell further, only stepping into the true realm of immortals will suffice!”

Xu Cheng immersed his mind, contemplating the spell now etched deep within his consciousness. Truly, only an ancestor could have devised such a thing. The spell unified the Eastern Jia-Yi Wood, Western Geng-Xin Metal, Southern Bing-Ding Fire, Northern Ren-Gui Water, and the Center’s Xu-Ji Earth, forming the Art of Creation of the Lesser Five Elements.

The Five Elements rotated in endless generation and destruction, capable of transforming the very heavens and earth, their uses myriad and profound.

“You, descendant of the Demon-Immortal Clan, are indeed fortunate. The Nine-Shed Jade Toad Immortal Art, together with your clan’s inherited immortal art—should you master both and undergo transformation, your power will more than double! There is little need for my guidance; steady cultivation will suffice.”

Xu Cheng delved into his practice, while the Ancestor of Heavenly Elixir turned to instruct Yan Mengdie and the others.

“Ancestor,” Chrysanthemum asked, “I wish to practice the ghostly arts carved upon the coffin. Is there anything I should be wary of?”

Having already mastered all other available arts, Chrysanthemum’s attention had turned to the coffin.

“Any ghost or spirit may cultivate the arts upon the coffin. Yet your cultivation is shallow; it’s best to start with the spells inscribed on the outer surface,” the Ancestor replied. With that, she closed the coffin’s lid so tightly the engravings aligned perfectly—each pattern a spell or divine power.

Both Chrysanthemum and Cen Ningyue, along with Niu Dazhuang, were overjoyed. Though these were ghostly arts, having something was far better than nothing. With the Ancestor’s guidance, Xu Cheng’s progress in spellcraft was astonishingly swift. Within a month, he had condensed all the seals required for the Lesser Five Elements Creation Spell, forming a tiny spinning disk at his brow.

Each direction on the disk bore the characters: Jia-Yi Wood, Bing-Ding Fire, Geng-Xin Metal, Ren-Gui Water, Xu-Ji Earth. This small disk, composed of spell seals, revealed its first wonder to Xu Cheng—the Divine Light of the Lesser Five Elements Creation. It could destroy life by leveraging the mutual overcoming of the elements, or restore vitality through their mutual generation.

Of course, the five elements could also be used independently in various spells. With sufficient cultivation, this Lesser Five Elements Creation Art was more formidable than most immortal spells.

By using the principle of mutual generation, Xu Cheng fashioned for himself a body of flesh and blood from within—now he appeared almost entirely human. He had blood and flesh; apart from the absence of a heartbeat or the sound of blood flowing, he was indistinguishable from an ordinary person.

In that same month, Yan Mengdie underwent two further transformations. Now her figure was bloated—over three hundred jin, a veritable behemoth, her cheeks bulging like a frog’s. With her previous transformation, she had now changed three times in succession. If she were to undergo five more such transformations, who knew if her appearance might frighten ordinary people to death. As for Chrysanthemum and the others, their cold, ghostly aura now mingled with all sorts of strange sensations—clear evidence they were cultivating the coffin’s arts. Previously, Xu Cheng had been preoccupied with breaking through to the Nascent Soul stage and had paid the coffin’s spells little mind. Now, however, he found himself eyeing the coffin eagerly, preparing to continue his cultivation.

At that moment, birds began to take flight all around, startled as if by some unseen threat. Soon, Xu Cheng and the others saw a great host approaching—their attire marked them as subjects of the Grand Xia Dynasty. At the head was none other than Marquis Wu Wen.

After all, Xia Hong had been a prince of Grand Xia; his death brought disgrace to the dynasty. Naturally, they had dispatched troops to seek vengeance.

Qu Wenbei, seeing the approaching party, shouted, “Who are you? Any unrelated persons must leave at once!”

“Not even juniors dare to speak to me so!” The Ancestor of Heavenly Elixir was instantly enraged, her aura swelling. Suddenly, the sky above seemed to coagulate into a boundless sea of blood, from which emerged a colossal skull, hundreds of feet tall.

The common soldiers blanched with terror; even Qu Wenbei’s palms were slick with cold sweat.

The massive blood-red skull opened its maw and inhaled—tens of thousands of soldiers vanished in an instant. Even several Nascent Soul experts were unable to resist and were sucked into the bloody maw.

In a flash, the Ancestor of Heavenly Elixir appeared at Qu Wenbei’s side, her palm descending. Marquis Wu Wen’s life hung by a thread.

Suddenly, a white-haired elder appeared, sword in hand, blocking the fatal strike.

“Heavenly Elixir Ancestor! Must you torment the young ones so?” The old man clearly recognized the Immortal Master; he too must be of ancestor rank from Grand Xia.

Seeing her attack thwarted, the Immortal Master gave a soft laugh. “So it’s you, Xia Ping! Why aren’t you cowering in the palace? What business is it of yours whether I torment juniors?”

“Ghost Dao Immortal Art—Hell of No Escape!” In an instant, mountains of blades and seas of fire materialized; ghostly enforcers flogged the damned, tearing out their tongues, hacking off limbs, tossing them into boiling oil.

In the blink of an eye, Xia Ping seemed to experience it all firsthand—his body riddled with bloody wounds, his silver hair singed, all in his desperate attempt to save Qu Wenbei.

Yet, as befitted one of ancestor rank, he bit his tongue, conjured a shield of magical power, and whisked Qu Wenbei away at blinding speed.

Even a Grand Xia Ancestor had nearly perished at the Immortal Master’s hand.

Xu Cheng’s longing for the coffin’s spells only deepened. He could not help but praise, “The Ancestor’s magic is truly formidable! But why would Xia Hao defy all the sects under heaven to establish his Divine Court?”

“Do you know what martial cultivation truly is?” the Immortal Master said quietly. “It is a path of will. The stronger the will, the greater the martial power. Xia Hao set his ambition high, making it the core of his being—that is why he could reach the pinnacle of martial arts, defy the heavens, and become a saint through force of arms!”

“Unless he abandons this ambition, which is impossible—for the moment he does, his cultivation will crumble to nothing! To advance is to have hope of sainthood; to retreat is to become dust upon the earth.”

“And what of us who cultivate magic?” Xu Cheng asked. In his own practice, he had rarely encountered true obstacles.

“Those who cultivate magic conform to fate, using it to shape all things, thereby attaining longevity and standing atop the world. Yet all paths ultimately converge; each has its own merit—existence itself is reason enough.”