Chapter Nineteen: Laugh?!

Noticing that the spiritual energy within his "Sea of Qi" had grown more robust, though only slightly, Yang Yan was overjoyed—for it meant that in the span of a single night, his strength had once again improved!

The shattered sword had absorbed Yang Yan’s spiritual energy three times: twice before and once during the day. Each time, his energy had been drained and then replenished. The human body is like jade: uncarved, it remains crude, never fit for refinement. To become a precious artifact, it must endure the pain of sculpting—a metaphor for the dangers and hardships encountered on the path of cultivation.

Flowers raised in a greenhouse cannot withstand wind and rain; the meridians in the body are no different. Though cultivators begin by tempering the body, their inner channels remain fragile. Some practitioners, instead of strengthening these meridians—the foundation of their progress—choose to protect them with magical artifacts or pills, a misguided approach that ensures they will not go far.

Yang Yan, in contrast, had spent two years lingering in the Body Tempering Realm, building a solid foundation. In one day, his spiritual energy was drained three times, forcing his meridians to contract and expand. They grew smoother and tougher. His "Spiritual Axis" and "Sea of Qi" operated like engines, constantly absorbing and expelling energy, running more efficiently with each cycle—a machine that moves never rusts.

Unlike ordinary cultivators, Yang Yan’s two years of stagnation became a blessing once he advanced to the Sense Spirit Realm. Under extreme pressure, his body’s hidden potential was fully awakened—the greater the pressure, the greater the rebound. What had been a period of halted progress now brought benefits beyond imagination.

“If this continues, breaking through to the second layer of Sense Spirit Realm before the Martial Gathering of the clans is not impossible!”

Excitement overwhelmed him; he could not suppress his joy, jumping to his feet. The day’s gains were tremendous. Where once he viewed the shattered sword with dread, now his gaze softened—what had been a one-sided drain was now a mutual benefit. As he nourished and restored the sword, he tempered his own spiritual energy and meridians, steadily increasing his strength.

Time sped by like a galloping horse. Unnoticed, nearly a month had passed since the battle in Jinhuan City, yet the incident remained the chief topic of conversation. Thanks to the Xu father and son, the label of “waste” attached to the third young master of the Zhang family had become widely known. Some even used Yang Yan as a negative example to educate their children—a situation both amusing and pitiable.

The uproar spread through the city. Inevitably, unpleasant words reached Zhang Tai’s ears, and he was furious. He expelled two gossiping servants from the household and strictly forbade any mention of the city’s events within the clan, threatening severe punishment for violators.

Yet Yang Yan, the main character in all this, remained blissfully unaware. Rarely venturing out during the day, he spent most of his time indoors, sometimes keeping Ziling company. At night, under the cover of darkness, he would sneak out of the Zhang residence with the broken sword wrapped in ragged cloth and head to the back mountain to cultivate.

Zhang Tai was anxious, fearing even the slightest rumor might reach Yang Yan. At first, he was tense and worried, but each time he saw Yang Yan, the latter was grinning, radiant, and full of vigor—his spirit grew stronger every day, his whole being brimming with vitality.

Seeing this, Zhang Tai gradually set aside his worries and focused on clan affairs.

No wonder Yang Yan was so cheerful. After nearly a month of diligent cultivation, his strength was now firmly at the peak of the first layer of Sense Spirit Realm, just a step away from breaking through. Tonight, he would act.

Once more, Yang Yan sat cross-legged atop a massive stone, calming his breath and mind, adjusting every part of his body to its optimal state. The spiritual energy in his Sea of Qi was no longer thin, but churned like clouds.

Because of the unique nature of the "Nine Nether Yin Art," Yang Yan’s breakthrough was unlike that of others.

Ordinary cultivators advance through nine layers of the Sense Spirit Realm simply by absorbing spiritual energy from the world, filling their Spiritual Axis, and gradually increasing their strength. It is not especially risky, only time-consuming. When the gaseous energy in the Axis reaches saturation, it is compressed and refined, turning from gas to liquid—this qualifies one as a master of the Communication Spirit Realm.

But the Nine Nether Yin Art is different. The Sea of Qi is not a single unified space like the Spiritual Axis. Instead, it is divided by thin membranes into multiple smaller chambers, each isolated from the others.

To break through to the second layer, Yang Yan’s first step was to use spiritual energy to pierce one of these membranes, creating two connected chambers within his Sea of Qi.

This is just the method for opening the first water-type Spiritual Axis in the Nine Nether Yin Art; the other four elemental Axes each require a different approach. The only thing they share is that each is several times, even dozens of times, more difficult than normal cultivation.

There are no rewards without effort. The labor required far exceeds that of ordinary cultivators, but the benefits are equally immense. The Nine Nether Yin Art, once mastered, attains the level of a Heavenly-grade technique. For Yang Yan, enduring any amount of suffering was worth it.

After confirming that every part of his body was at its peak, Yang Yan took a deep breath and mobilized all the spiritual energy in his Sea of Qi, directing it at the membrane.

The spiritual energy surged like a white cloud, seemingly powerful, but when it struck the membrane, it was like cotton hitting a balloon—the membrane pushed back, scattering the energy in an instant.

“Hahaha…”

The attempt failed, but Yang Yan burst into laughter, clutching his stomach, his expression contorted and bizarre.

After a long while, he finally stopped laughing, gasping for breath, and managed to speak between fits.

“How… how am I supposed to break through?”

As it turned out, when the spiritual energy struck the membrane, a strange, indescribable itch suddenly arose in his lower abdomen. It was like someone tickling his ear with a feather—Yang Yan couldn’t resist, and laughter erupted.

But this made it impossible to concentrate, to direct his energy for the breakthrough, which left him frustrated.

He could grit his teeth through pain, but this was an itch—a deep, bone-penetrating itch—and Yang Yan was at a loss.

Unwilling to give up, he tried several more times, gathering energy and attacking the membrane. Each time, his laughter echoed through the forest like the cries of ghosts and wolves, marking another failed attempt.

“Haha… I… I can’t… hahaha…”

Yang Yan was now doubled over, unable to straighten, tears and snot streaming down his face—a comical sight, tinged with bitterness.

He never imagined that one day, laughter could become a source of torment.