Chapter Twenty-Eight: Buried Alive

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Old Mischief Buried Alive

Lu Zhengtian’s mount was a golden-winged roc, its body stretching sixteen hundred zhang long. Its strength was on par with a human youth, and it was currently in the midst of its transformation stage. When Li Hao first leapt onto its back, the roc was thoroughly unwilling, feeling that its master was degrading its status by making it serve as a beast of burden for a mere boy.

The golden-winged roc was the overlord among birds, possessing the noblest bloodline of all flying creatures—how could it possibly submit to a human’s will so easily?

Within Li Hao’s sea of consciousness, Xiao Jiu saw the roc’s disdain for its master. Indignant, Xiao Jiu silently released a mighty, overwhelming aura. How could the roc withstand the pressure of this mutated overlord, who had already achieved a successful transformation? Under Xiao Jiu’s suppression, the roc instantly lost its temper, forced to quietly accept Li Hao onto its back and take to the skies.

A few breaths after Li Hao left the city, a handsome youth dressed in black, his eyes brimming with murderous intent, hobbled out from the throng of people in Lishui City, leaning on a pair of crutches. Two black-robed cultivators of mid Soul Tempering stage followed behind, tightly wrapped from head to toe in black, their faces hidden by hideous black masks. Even under the blazing sun, they showed no sign of discomfort. Behind the trio were six other youths, also limping along, trying to appear dignified. Onlookers all around pointed and whispered as they passed.

Disaster comes from the tongue.

When the black-clad youth’s cold gaze swept over them, fear of misfortune silenced the crowd; all fell sensibly quiet.

“Did you two see clearly?” the youth in black asked the masked men beside him.

“We saw clearly, young master,” they replied respectfully.

“Kill him for me. If you fail, don’t bother coming back.”

His words were icy, issuing a death command to his two black-robed guards. They responded in unison, “Yes,” then summoned their mounts—one standing atop a sinister demon wolf, the other upon a dark demon eagle—and set off in pursuit of Li Hao.

“Sir, should we not investigate that boy’s background?” asked one of the limping youths.

“No need. If he dies, it won’t be by our hands. With no evidence, even the Myriad Treasures Palace can do nothing to us.”

This black-clad youth was none other than Du Qingfeng, whose legs Li Hao had broken on his way to register. The two guards were tools Du Qingfeng intended to exchange for Li Hao’s life. Whether Li Hao lived or died, Du Qingfeng planned to have the two killed as well to erase all traces—a testament to his ruthless and cold-blooded nature.

The six limping youths flattered him, “Young master is wise—this time, that brat won’t escape even with wings.”

Basking in their praise, Du Qingfeng looked pleased, thoroughly enjoying the feeling. For revenge, he had sent two deathsworn warriors who outclassed Li Hao by two major realms, determined to see him dead.

Having left Lishui City, Li Hao was unaware of the looming danger. This time, instead of returning to the Hall of Sacred Medicine, he veered three hundred li off course, heading for the Five-Star Cave to find the mischievous old man.

This old man, famed for his antics, was said to have been gravely injured by treachery over eight centuries ago. He had come to the Lu Jia Mountain Star Domain seeking the Medicine God’s healing, and once cured, had agreed to guard the star domain for nine hundred years. Now, with the term nearly up, no one knew when he might depart.

Two years ago, in the blossoming warmth of spring, on a day of gentle sunshine and mild breezes, Li Hao—then just eight—had gone out gathering herbs and passed by the Five-Star Cave. There, beneath a tree, he saw an old man sprawled out, basking in the gentle sunlight, which caressed his weathered face like a mother’s loving hand. The old man slept in utter peace. Curious, Li Hao crept closer, careful not to disturb the man’s rest.

“Senior, senior…” Li Hao called softly, but even after several tries, there was no response, making the child nervous. Driven by curiosity, he tiptoed closer, observing intently for a long while, but saw not a hint of movement. Having studied medicine with the Medicine God since childhood, Li Hao gingerly checked the man’s nose for breath. To his horror, there was none. He checked several times, but still found no sign of life, concluding that the old man had died.

“Sigh! You’re just like me—a pitiful soul, alone in this world. Since we share the same fate, I’ll do what I can and bury you here. Please don’t mind the humble grave. If you don’t like it, I promise to build you a grand tomb one day, when I have the means.”

With sorrow in his heart, Li Hao muttered to himself as he gathered what, to him, were huge and heavy stones from the roadside, and carefully buried the hapless old man.

When it was done, Li Hao felt a strange emptiness and fullness within, a sensation he could not quite describe. He shouldered his little herb basket, ready to set off again, when suddenly a furious voice exploded nearby: “Which little fool buried me alive?”

Startled, Li Hao glanced around, thinking, “There’s no one else here, but the voice came from right here… Could it be the old man has come back to life?”

The more he thought about it, the more frightened he became. “You were clearly dead—how are you alive again?” Panic-stricken, he dropped his basket and rushed to dig up the old man. Just as he was about to start, there was a thunderous boom.

The stones Li Hao had struggled so hard to carry were sent flying like autumn leaves before a gale—launched skyward by the revived old man’s surging aura. Miraculously, the stones fluttered down gently, not a single one breaking. At the time, Li Hao only found it strange, but now, every time he recalled it, he was filled with awe. The old man’s cultivation was so profound, his control over his aura was near divine, manifesting in such an extraordinary display.

“Se… Senior, how did you come back to life after I buried you?” Li Hao asked cautiously, his mind swirling with unanswered questions.

“Oh, you little rascal! So it was your doing?” the old man fumed.

“Yes!” Li Hao nodded earnestly, answering with complete sincerity.

The old man glared at him, furious, while Li Hao pondered his doubts. Thus, the two stared at each other—old eyes glaring at young.

But confronted with Li Hao’s clear, innocent gaze, the old man finally relented a little, deciding to satisfy the boy’s curiosity. “Dead? You’re the one who’s dead! I was sleeping, don’t you know what sleep is? You ruined my beautiful dream—my dream maiden is gone because of you!”

Li Hao cared nothing for dream maidens or beautiful sleep, his mind still puzzled. “Senior, why did you have no breath while sleeping?”

“That’s because I was cultivating!” the old man replied.

“You can cultivate while sleeping?” Li Hao still looked confused.

Chatting with Li Hao, the old man seemed to forget both his dream and his burial. “Of course! Youngster, you must be ignorant. I was practicing the Samsara Breath-Holding Soul Refinement Art. Doesn’t it sound impressive?”

He looked expectantly, but Li Hao showed no reaction, leaving the old man somewhat deflated. “He doesn’t even know how powerful the Samsara Breath-Holding Soul Refinement Art is—talking to him is like playing music to a cow.”

Then Li Hao asked a question that made the old man grind his teeth: “Is the Samsara Breath-Holding Soul Refinement Art really powerful? What’s it for?”

“What? You’ve never heard of it?” Now it was the old man’s turn to be shocked.

Li Hao nodded solemnly, “No.”

“The Samsara Breath-Holding Soul Refinement Art allows the practitioner to enter a state of complete relaxation, shutting down their breath to induce a state of apparent death, while the soul enters a cycle of reincarnation. The soul must endure the onslaught of time through pure willpower—the longer the soul withstands, the more it is tempered. Over time, the soul grows ever stronger. In the beginning, most can endure only the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, but with practice, it becomes an hour, a day, a month, a year, a decade, even a century. There are very few in this world who can remain in this state for ten years, and as for a hundred years—no one has ever managed that; it’s only a theoretical limit.”

To the old man, this technique was already astounding, but in Li Hao’s ears, it made hardly a splash.

“One hundred years—that’s so short!” Li Hao said with disdain.

The old man was left speechless by Li Hao’s scorn. “Short? Then try it yourself—hold your breath without using any of your own power to sustain your body.”

Li Hao’s expression said, “Fine, I’m not afraid to try!”

True to his word, Li Hao relaxed his body and blocked his breath. Time seemed to stretch endlessly. When he could endure no longer, he opened his eyes and drew a deep, satisfying breath, savoring the taste of fresh air. After a while, he asked the old man, “How long was that?”

“One hour!” the old man replied, instantly dashing Li Hao’s hopes. He’d felt as if an eternity had passed, but it was only an hour.

Seeing Li Hao’s disappointed look, the old man cursed inwardly, “You little devil, with such monstrous talent, and yet you’re still not satisfied. How discouraging!”

For those who had never trained in this profound art, even holding one’s breath for as long as a stick of incense burned would be considered extraordinary. Yet Li Hao had managed a full hour—he was a prodigy among prodigies. Much of the credit belonged to the primal chaos force within Li Hao’s body.

Having boasted so boldly, Li Hao now felt the sting of reality, a deep sense of embarrassment washing over him. The old man, seeing his expression, understood his feelings and quickly sought to console him, not wanting such a marvelously gifted youth to lose confidence or stray from the right path.

“You’re already remarkable, young man. For someone who’s never trained in this art, holding your breath for a single incense’s time is already a sign of rare genius. Don’t aim too high too soon—take it step by step. A year of cultivating this art is like letting your soul grow naturally for a hundred years. If you can hold your breath for an hour now, after training, you’ll be able to last ten hours. Cultivating for ten hours would be like your soul growing naturally for a thousand hours.”

Enlightened by the old man’s wise words, Li Hao’s spirits lifted, and gratitude filled his heart. He sincerely said, “Thank you, senior. Your instruction is worth more than ten years of study—Li Hao is truly grateful.”

“My young friend, if you have the time, come keep me company. Before long, I’ll have to leave this place for where I truly belong.” The old man, seeing such a talented and perceptive child, grew fond of him. He was a man of bold temperament, though a little eccentric.

“Of course! Thank you for your kindness, senior. I’ll come to seek your guidance whenever I can, as long as you’re not bothered by my visits.”

Li Hao realized he’d already stayed nearly two hours and needed to return home. He slung his little basket over his shoulder and bid the old man farewell.

As Li Hao’s small figure disappeared into the distance, the old man seemed to recall something he’d forgotten. After a moment’s thought, it finally came to him.

He stamped his feet and howled after the vanishing boy, “You little rascal, give me back my good dream—give me back my dream maiden!”

Hearing the old man’s unpredictable outburst, Li Hao ran off at once, leaving the old man standing there, torn between laughter and tears. Of course, it wasn’t that Li Hao could outrun him—if the old man had willed it, a mere thought would have brought Li Hao running back in an instant.