“Mr. Jiang… Jiang Li… how… how did you do that?”
Ming Zhong asked nervously, his voice trembling. He was truly frightened. At first, when he saw Tianyin and Jiang Li suddenly appear in their world, he had assumed they were aliens who possessed advanced spatial technology.
Who would have thought that the two would break free of the gravitational field that had troubled them for thousands of years—just by relying on their physical bodies and a single leap! At least with his eyes, he saw no signs of them using any technological means.
“What’s so strange about that? I can do it too.”
Tianyin, seeing the admiring looks directed at Jiang Li, felt a little displeased. Wanting to show that he was no weaker, he prepared to demonstrate as well—only to realize with some annoyance that he had no legs. He could fly, but he couldn’t jump.
“Drink more hot water. Then you too can become as strong as me,” Jiang Li said with a smile.
“R-really?”
Ming Zhong didn’t realize Jiang Li was joking. He was already thinking about going back and issuing an order for all citizens to start drinking hot water.
“False,” Jiang Li said helplessly when he saw the man taking his words seriously.
“This is the result of cultivation.”
“Cultivation?”
In Ming Zhong’s mind, that was an ancient term—something related to people standing under waterfalls, or thrusting their hands into hot sand to train their will. Those people might look strong, but one single bullet would bring them down.
In an age where even mecha artillery struggled against ferocious beasts, such people had long been swept into the dust of history—only occasionally appearing in the archived records of the light brain library. Jiang Li spread his hand open. Spiritual qi in the surroundings gathered into his palm, forming a dim cyan light orb.
To let Ming Zhong see it more clearly, he even deliberately absorbed spiritual qi through his seven apertures.
“Absorbing spiritual qi and turning it into your own strength—that is cultivation.”
Jiang Li explained briefly, skipping the more complex ideas such as comprehending the Heavenly Dao and perfecting one’s state of mind, knowing that Ming Zhong wouldn’t be able to grasp those yet.
“Beast energy!”
Ming Zhong cried out in shock.
“So it’s true—humans really can absorb beast energy!”
“That’s called spiritual qi,” Tianyin corrected him in a flat tone.
“What a terrible name.”
Ming Zhong knew that ferocious beasts grew stronger by absorbing some unknown energy—scientists had named it beast energy. Those scientists had theorized that such energy could strengthen both beasts and humans alike. Yet after countless experiments, they still had found no method to let humans absorb it.
What they had succeeded at was turning it into an excellent energy source for mecha.
“Spiritual roots—did you people ever discover them?”
Tianyin couldn’t help asking after hearing Ming Zhong’s explanation. Even as an immortal artifact, it knew that spirit beasts relied on their bloodlines for cultivation, while humans relied on their spiritual roots.
“Spiritual roots? What are those?”
“Spiritual roots aren’t something you can find through experiments,” Jiang Li said with a gentle shake of the head.
He stepped forward and placed his hand upon Ming Zhong’s crown, guiding him to sense within himself while explaining, “To use the mortal body to perceive the mysteries of heaven and earth, to gaze inward and merge the inner and the outer—at that instant of enlightenment is born the key to cultivation within oneself, the spiritual root.”
What Jiang Li spoke of was the method used in the Nine Provinces in ancient times to find one’s spiritual roots. Nowadays, things were far simpler—a single piece of Spirit Root Jade could test the quality of a twelve-year-old child’s roots.
“This… this is a spiritual root?”
Ming Zhong’s eyes widened as changes surged within his body. He felt a current of power coursing through his limbs and bones; every cell seemed to have waited a long time, now greedily absorbing that strength.
“Dual spiritual roots? Decent aptitude,” Jiang Li remarked casually, his tone flat yet approving.
Ming Zhong’s heart suddenly felt light. His body shook as he entered the First Layer of Qi Refining, officially stepping onto the path of a cultivator. He could feel that he was at least twice as strong as before.
It was terrifying—he had only absorbed a bit of spiritual qi, and yet his entire being had undergone such an earth-shaking transformation. Still, he couldn’t comprehend how someone could break free from a planet’s gravity field just by absorbing spiritual qi. Even beasts that evolved through spiritual qi could never fly off the continent.
This Mr. Jiang Li had to be far stronger than any ferocious beast!
“Mr. Jiang Li, how many people are there in your land capable of breaking free from gravity?”
Jiang Li thought for a moment. Counting himself, there was also Immortal Elder Changcun and Red Dust Fairy—two others. Cultivators of the Tribulation Transcendence Stage didn’t need to rely on their physical bodies; they had many other methods.
“Seven or eight,” he said.
Ming Zhong was stunned. He had thought only Jiang Li possessed such power. Jiang Li briefly explained to him the world of the Nine Provinces.
Upon hearing it, Ming Zhong was left completely speechless, overwhelmed by the torrent of information. His lips trembled.
“So… you’re not aliens, but from another world… the Nine Provinces… the Immortal Realm… cultivators… immortal artifacts…”
Through understanding the cultivation system, he finally grasped the true meaning of Jiang Li’s power—and felt the enormous gulf that lay between their two worlds.
The ferocious beasts that had forced humanity to abandon emotion and pursue technology alone—those very same beasts would be easily handled by any one of the Nine Great Imperial Dynasties or Six Great Sects of the Nine Provinces. The disparity was too great.
“On behalf of all humankind, I beseech Mr. Jiang Li and Lord Tianyin to help us eliminate the ferocious beasts!”
Ming Zhong bowed deeply to Jiang Li and the Yin-Yang Heavenly Seal.
“Why ask him? Leave it to me!”
Tianyin said brimming with confidence. It felt a deep compassion for the humans of this world. Between humans and spirit beasts, it would choose humanity without hesitation.
“In principle, we should go take a look at the side of the ferocious beasts,” Jiang Li said.
After listening to Ming Zhong’s explanation of this world, he understood that the humans here posed no threat to the Dao Ancestor—the Dao Ancestor was most likely trapped among the beasts.
“Then I’ll take you both there?”
Ming Zhong said joyfully. He knew full well that the person before him stood at the peak of the Nine Provinces—a Mahayana expert. With such a being taking action, the ferocious beasts would be nothing but poultry and dogs, incapable of posing any danger.
He pointed toward a hovering vehicle parked nearby.
“Too slow.”
In Jiang Li and Tianyin’s eyes, the vehicles of this world were unbearably slow. They wrapped Ming Zhong in a layer of spiritual qi and carried him directly toward the region of the beasts. Ming Zhong had always thought his hovercar was fast—two thousand kilometers per hour!
He could reach the front lines in under two days. But the moment he was carried into the sky by them, he realized that, compared to their speed, his hovercar was like a crawling turtle. The closer they flew toward the front lines, the more clearly he could feel the desperate tension humans faced against the ferocious beasts.
Armies trained relentlessly; the roar of artillery never ceased. If it wasn’t training, it was testing new weapons. The architecture of the cities changed from soft and graceful into stern, fortress-like structures, forged from materials far stronger than steel or concrete.
Reaching the foremost city, Jiang Li had the impression that if he lifted one building, the entire city might well come loose from the ground. Every motion the humans made, every part they built, every piece of design—they all existed for one sole purpose: to resist the beasts.
Beyond the final frontline city stood three towering walls, constructed from humanity’s toughest materials blended with the bones of beasts. Mecha, artillery shells, and supplies flowed ceaselessly up from underground factories. There were no ordinary citizens here engaged in production—only soldiers, always either preparing for battle or already fighting.
Behind the walls, they controlled remote mecha to combat the beasts. Calculated barrages of automated artillery and drones provided continuous support. — (End of Chapter)