In Zhu Xian, people start to rise from plundering entries

Chapter 801 Lu Xueqi and Biyao

But at this moment they are all alive, laughing, drinking, and enjoying this moment of life to the fullest.

Su Han suddenly recalled the battlefield in the Buddhist illusion. Corpses littered the ground, blood flowed like rivers, and the sky was a dark red. He had killed ten thousand people there. What were the expressions on those ten thousand people's faces as they died? Were there any of them, like the people in the martial arts arena now, who had once laughed, drunk, and danced the Yangko? When did the light of those people go out?

He looked down at the clear liquid in his glass, and suddenly became somewhat lost in thought.

"What are you thinking about?" Shen Qingdai walked up to him at some point, holding a glass of wine in her hand, her cheeks slightly flushed, clearly she had already drunk some.

Su Han glanced at her: "Think of those cultivators who died at the hands of evil creatures."

Shen Qingdai's smile faded slightly. She was silent for a moment, then took a sip of her wine: "I had a friend who died too. The one standing to my left that day, the one with the twin swords. Do you remember?"

Su Han remembered. The cultivator wielding twin swords was at the forefront when he was grabbed by the evil creature's tentacles and slammed against the mountainside, instantly dying. When he arrived, all he saw was a pool of blurred flesh and blood and a sword broken in two.

"Remember."

“Her name is Ajiu. A rogue cultivator, she entered the martial world three years before me. She was the one who introduced me to the ways of the world.” Shen Qingdai’s voice was calm, but the fingers holding the wine cup were slightly white. “After the battle that day, I searched the ground for a long time and found a piece of her sword hilt. I kept it, planning to build a cenotaph for her someday.”

Su Han didn't know what to say. He wasn't usually good at comforting people, and now, facing Shen Qingdai's calm profile and pale knuckles, he felt even more powerless to put his words to rest. He thought for a moment, then handed her the wine he was holding: "Drink mine. This one's sweeter; it's peach blossom wine."

Shen Qingdai glanced at him, took the wine glass, took a sip, and smiled slightly: "It's quite sweet. Did you brew it?"

"The peach tree on the back hill has blossomed a lot this year. I collected some to make liquor."

"You can also brew wine?"

"No, it's just something I made randomly. As long as it doesn't kill anyone, it's fine."

Shen Qingdai finally smiled, a crack appearing in her calm exterior to reveal her true expression—exhausted, bitter, but also warm. She finished the peach blossom wine, returned the empty cup to Su Han, and let out a long sigh of relief: "Senior Brother Su, thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?" "For pouring me a glass of wine."

Su Han put away the empty cup and stood side by side with Shen Qingdai at the edge of the martial arts arena, watching the lively scene unfold. The torchlight cast long shadows on the two of them. The shadows were very close, almost overlapping, but neither of them deliberately moved closer to the other. They simply stood side by side naturally, each looking in their own direction.

The banquet raged on until late into the night. Finally, the sect leader couldn't hold on any longer and was helped back to his bedchamber; next came the red-robed elder, who, halfway through his drink, slipped under the table and began snoring; then came the green-clad fairy from Penglai Island, who, blushing, lost a drinking contest with several male cultivators and stormed off in a huff. The crowd gradually dispersed, leaving only a mess of cups and plates, extinguished torches, and a few overindulgent cultivators sprawled haphazardly on benches in the training ground.

Su Han didn't leave. He helped the chubby cook in the kitchen clear away the dishes. The chubby cook, drunk, patted him on the shoulder and said, "Good boy, good boy," almost knocking over a stack of plates. He helped the chubby cook back to his room, then tidied up the scattered prayer mats on the training ground. Finally, he sat alone on the empty steps, gazing at the scattered lights of the village at the foot of the mountain in the distance.

A wind picked up in the latter half of the night, making the red lanterns rustle. Su Han sat there, suddenly feeling the Bodhi beads on his wrist warm slightly. He looked down and saw the amber beads gleaming softly in the darkness, as if someone had lit a small lamp on his wrist.

"Buddha?" he exclaimed instinctively, then laughed to himself—three months had passed in the Lingshan Illusionary Realm, how could Buddha still be here? But the Bodhi seed was indeed glowing, a warm light that spread from his wrist to his palm, and then flowed from his palm throughout his limbs.

He closed his eyes and felt the warmth. It wasn't as turbulent as during the battle with the evil entity; instead, it was fine and gentle, seeping into every pore like spring rain. His consciousness sank down with that warmth, deep into his dantian, to the very bottom of his dantian. There, he saw something different.

The Qi Sea was originally a pool of clear true Qi, like a mirror reflecting the sky. But at this moment, what Su Han "saw" deep within the dantian was that pool of true Qi had transformed into liquid light—golden, silver, and cyan lights intertwined, like three different colors of honey poured into the same jar. At first glance, they appeared separate, but upon closer inspection, they were slowly merging. At the edge of the merging, extremely tiny specks of light constantly formed and dissipated, like countless fireflies flickering at the bottom of the jar.

This is why his cultivation level increased on its own. The three forces released new energy during the fusion process, which was purer and deeper than any of his previous cultivation methods. More importantly, the fused power carried a peculiar "activity"—it was like a living thing, with its own will, actively flowing to the blocked areas in his meridians, repairing minor hidden injuries on its own, and surging up from the depths of his dantian to nourish his limbs when he was tired.

Su Han opened his eyes. Moonlight spilled onto the empty training ground, and dewdrops clung to the tips of the grass growing from the cracks in the stone slabs. He extended his right index finger and gently tapped the stone step in front of him—a tiny golden dot, the size of a sesame seed, lit up at his fingertip. The dot landed on the stone like a drop of water falling into a pan of oil, and with a "plop," it bloomed into a tiny golden flower the size of a fingernail. The petals were clearly visible, and the stamen stood trembling, emitting a very faint sandalwood fragrance.

"..." Su Han stared at the golden flower for a long time, then reached out and touched it—the flower was real, tangible, and warm, with even a speck of morning dew on its petals. He gently rubbed it, and the golden flower turned into tiny specks of light that dissipated in the night breeze, leaving nothing on the stone steps.

He belatedly realized that his cultivation level might not be as simple as just "increasing".

After that night, Su Han began to systematically "explore" the newborn power within his body. He discovered that the fusion of the three lights was not uniform—sometimes gold prevailed, with the power leaning towards purification and protection; sometimes silver prevailed, with the power leaning towards sharpness and penetration; and sometimes cyan prevailed, with the power leaning towards vitality and nourishment. He could fine-tune the ratio of the three lights through his will to achieve different effects.

What surprised him even more was that this power seemed to be directly linked to his "thoughts". (End of Chapter)