Chapter Twenty-One: The Night Raiders

Yun Yufeng smiled calmly. This Miss Xi certainly had quite a fiery temper—most likely a habit she’d picked up from the bearded man’s indulgence.

“Uncle, look at how adorable Mu Yan is. There’s an old saying in my hometown: raise boys with hardship, raise girls with luxury. Only then will the men grow up able to provide for their families, and the women, when married, will be worthy of respect.”

“Oh? That’s a new one to me. Never heard it before. But sons are precious to their parents too—who could bear to see them endure hardship at such a young age?” The bearded man shook his head and sighed.

“How shameless! You’re not much older yourself, yet you talk as if you’re an expert. Besides, I know all about your extravagance back at the Muzha camp.” Xi Mu Yan, who had been listening, finally couldn’t stand their conversation any longer. Unfortunately, the two men ignored her in perfect tacit understanding and continued their discussion.

“Young man, which family in Liuyang City do you come from? I don’t recall ever hearing of a Yun family.”

Yun Yufeng chuckled. “Uncle, it’s only natural you haven’t heard of us. We’re from Weishan Town—a tiny place, hardly known by most.”

The bearded man nodded. “So you’re from a reclusive family. No wonder.”

Yun Yufeng found himself speechless—people always misunderstood, yet no one had ever seen through the ruse. Still, he didn’t intend to clarify; he was content to wear this tiger skin a while longer.

He smiled and shook his head. “Uncle, I’ll go get some rest.”

“Go ahead.”

Yun Yufeng straightened, glanced at the pitch-black night, a faintly amused smile on his lips, then bent down and slipped into a nearby tent.

By the flickering bonfire, only the father and daughter remained. The flames crackled as they devoured the logs, sending occasional sparks into the air.

They sat in silence until, at last, Xi Mu Yan couldn’t hold back. “Father, is something going to happen tonight?”

“Perhaps. The night is exceptionally dark and still,” the bearded man replied, lifting his gaze to the distance.

She looked around in confusion. All was darkness; only a faint outline of the ground nearby could barely be made out. “Is it? I can’t see anything special.”

“Come, let’s get some rest too,” he said, standing and dusting himself off.

“Dashan, take five men and keep watch with Hou Er. Same routine as always.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Inside his tent, Yun Yufeng sat cross-legged, formed seals with his hands, and immediately entered a state of cultivation. The fighting energy surged through his meridians, and soon even his heart, that vulnerable organ, took on a purple hue.

Now, Yun Yufeng’s meridians were far more resilient than when he’d first begun; no longer would cultivation strain or damage them. After all, the Purple Emperor’s Heart Sutra inherently strengthened the meridians, and with the continuous restoration and reinforcement from the Birthright Signet, their durability had reached new heights.

The swirling purple energy now spread from his palms to his upper body, as if his entire torso exuded a faint purple mist, shrouding the surface of his skin.

As his fighting energy circulated and time passed, the purple in his heart grew even denser. Suddenly, there was a brief pause, followed by a crisp cracking sound. The energy raging through his meridians surged toward his heart, merging into it, becoming part of that purple organ.

Thump… thump… Yun Yufeng’s heart thundered like war drums, echoing with power. More and more fighting energy gathered, and the heart rapidly crystallized, forming a vibrant purple crystal heart that pulsed in his chest, each contraction accompanied by the faint rumble of distant thunder.

Observing the state of his dantian, Yun Yufeng managed a wry smile. Over half his energy was already depleted, nearly exhausted. He felt lightheaded; he hadn’t expected breaking through this heart transformation would require so much energy. If not for his deep reserves, few at the third stage could have managed such a feat.

But it was done. At last, he’d broken through. From now on, his heart, like the rest of his body, would channel the Purple Emperor’s Heart Sutra without any hindrance.

He recalled the package Ji Nanshan had sent—surely there were restorative pills inside. He fetched it, using a fire striker for light. Opening the bundle, he found over a dozen bottles of pills: third, fourth, and fifth-tier pills, each filled to the brim with dozens of tablets. There was a bottle of sixth-tier pills with ten inside, a bottle of seventh-tier pills with three, and even a single eighth-tier pill.

Yun Yufeng’s heart leapt. Ji Nanshan’s master was truly generous—the collection was complete. Flipping through the bottles, he took out one filled with third-tier Essence Restoring Pills. These pills, according to the letter left by Ji Nanshan, could quickly replenish depleted fighting energy—a single night was enough to restore someone completely drained. The third, fourth, and fifth-tier pills were concocted by Ji Nanshan himself, so there was no shortage. The higher-grade ones were gifts from his master.

He swallowed one Essence Restoring Pill, then, after a moment’s thought, added a Gathering Essence Pill. As soon as they dissolved, their potent medicinal energy spread through his limbs and meridians, swiftly transforming into fighting energy. In an instant, torrents of energy surged through his meridians, causing them to swell and stand out like wriggling earthworms.

Droplets of purple liquid formed and pooled in his dantian. Because of the enormous energy expenditure, the restoration was thousands of times faster than usual cultivation; the purple droplets streamed in a ceaseless flow, rapidly refilling the dried-up dantian.

Each breakthrough expanded the dantian, but absorbing energy wasn’t an unimpeded process—there was always resistance. Only by overcoming this resistance could energy be liquefied and stored within the dantian.

Through relentless cultivation, the liquefied energy accumulated more and more, until the entire dantian was filled. At that point, to store more, one had to break through the bottleneck and enter the next stage, expanding the dantian further.

Thus, after partial depletion, a martial artist’s recovery sped up significantly—generally, all energy could be restored within a few days.

At this moment, Yun Yufeng’s tent appeared to collapse inward, so much energy was being drawn into his body. Fortunately, the darkness concealed the anomaly, and only those with keen senses might notice the energy fluctuations.

A subtle energy storm brewed around the tent, lasting half the night before gradually dissipating. Only then was Yun Yufeng’s energy fully restored—significantly faster than others could achieve.

Having overcome the crucial heart crystallization phase, the cultivation of the Purple Emperor’s Heart Sutra became smooth sailing from there, with only the skin and finally the head left to strengthen.

The head was the most difficult, for it included the soft tissue of the brain—a perilous and critical process, and the main reason so many had failed or even died since the Yun clan’s founding. But Yun Yufeng knew none of this.

His breakthrough left him in high spirits. Judging by the time, it was nearly dawn—the darkest hour before the first light. All was silent; even the insects seemed to have fallen quiet.

Yun Yufeng lifted the tent flap and stepped out, immediately hearing the flapping of wings overhead—a bird flying through the night sky.

He was startled. So, the action had begun. Though these men came courting death, Yun Yufeng felt no pity. Du Zitong deserved his fate, and so did the Du family; now they would reap the consequences of what they had sown.

A long whistle pierced the night—the signal from the sentries on watch. Instantly, the mercenaries burst from their tents, weapons at the ready, dashing toward the warning’s source with all speed; every second counted to reduce the risk to their comrades.

Soon, the clash of weapons sounded, and streaks of fighting energy in various colors lit up the night sky.

The bearded man emerged, watching the battle from afar. Yun Yufeng prepared to help, but just as he was about to move, the bearded man caught his arm. “No need. The fight will be over soon. There aren’t many attackers, and none of them are real experts.”

Yun Yufeng looked on. In an instant, at least five bursts of fighting energy lit the sky, some brilliant, some dimmer. Impressive—Uncle’s team had at least two fighters above the fifth tier.

As predicted, the battle ended swiftly. A burly man led a group over, dragging four or five black-clad figures behind him. With a heave, he tossed them to the ground, eliciting groans of pain.

“Boss, here are all the captives: one sixth-tier Martial Spirit, one mid-fifth-tier, and three late fourth-tier. Should we interrogate them and see who they’re working for?” The big man kicked one of the fallen attackers.

“I’ll handle it. Is anyone hurt?”

“A few of the night watch, but nothing serious—just some bandages and a few days’ rest will do.”

“Good.” The bearded man nodded, then casually lifted the seal from the sixth-tier Martial Spirit. Suddenly, he paused, staring intently, his expression darkening until it seemed ready to drip water. After a long moment, his face finally eased.

The black-clad man glared back, unmoving. If they dared unseal him, they must be confident he couldn’t make trouble. He spoke coldly, “To the victor go the spoils. I’m in your hands, so I’m just unlucky. Don’t bother trying to make me talk.”

The bearded man looked at him impassively. “Heh, you needn’t say a word. It’s been years, but I’d still recognize you anywhere.”

The black-clad man trembled, his gaze flickering. “I’ve never met you. How could you recognize me? Besides, I haven’t been back in over a decade.”

The bearded man smiled, drew out a pipe, and tapped it thoughtfully. After a moment, he knocked the ashes out on the man’s forehead.