Chapter Eighteen: Assault on the Underworld Envoy

Jiang Feng stunned the entire assembly with the strength of someone at the ninth level of Underworld Martial Arts. In the aftermath, the family even sent him a series of restorative combat elixirs, such as the Spirit-Nourishing Pill, to commend his achievement. Among these gifts was a Soul-Rising Pill—a clear hope that, with its aid, Jiang Feng might swiftly break through the final barrier to become an Underworld Adept, thus truly stepping onto the path of cultivation.

No one could fathom how, in just a few short months, he had awakened his underworld energy, climbed to the ninth stage, and was now but a single step away from becoming an Adept—a formal entry into the world of true cultivation.

To reach the Adept stage, it was necessary to condense a sufficient quantity of underworld energy and form a Soul Core seed in the dantian. Though this process sounded simple—something even unawakened novices could recite by heart—it was far harder to achieve. Out of ten thousand at the ninth stage, perhaps only one might break through to become an Adept; such fortune was seen as the blessing of ancestors, a stroke of providence. After all, the first thing a newly minted Adept did was to honor their ancestors at the family graves.

At this moment, Jiang Feng had thoroughly solidified his cultivation at the ninth level, but he knew there was still a gap before he could become an Adept. He did not rush the process.

Indeed, the Underworld Martial stages were but the foundation for the true journey of cultivation.

To put it plainly, these stages were about forging the body and uncovering its potential. In ancient times, when calamity and disaster were constant, countless people lived in suffering and despair. Unwilling to accept the merciless destruction of the world, generation after generation strove to resist the capriciousness of life and death. Through relentless exploration, study, and refinement of the human form, they finally created the path of cultivation, allowing mankind to truly stand between heaven and earth.

It gave people the chance to become truly powerful, to wield formidable strength with a flick of the finger, capable of dimming the heavens and earth, making all things pale in comparison. Even catastrophic earthquakes or tidal waves could be wrought by the techniques of a mighty cultivator.

On this path, people cultivated underworld energy to enhance their abilities, using its power for countless aims. The human body was like a vessel for this energy; at each stage, the capacity was fixed, limited by physical constraints. The process of cultivation, of refining and increasing underworld energy, was essentially about opening more energy points to store ever greater power.

Yet, it was exceedingly difficult to temper the body; talent played a decisive role. The path demanded that the strength of the body—its bloodline expansion and resilience—kept pace with the accumulation of energy. If one focused solely on energy and neglected physical training, the body would eventually rupture and die—a truth known even to the youngest novices.

Hence, the concept of cultivation bottlenecks and segmented realms emerged. These stages formed a buffer zone, a necessary period of bodily adjustment to ensure safe progress along the path.

This also explained why, within the same realm, there could be vast differences in cultivation speed and quality—differences arising from individual talent and from the unique techniques or secret arts employed.

Jiang Feng’s dazzling performance at the family’s final test made everyone truly understand the meaning of “genius” and “prodigy”—those rare individuals who possessed gifts that evoked both envy and admiration. For Jiang Xian, who had long worried over Jiang Feng’s inability to cultivate, this achievement was a release, sweeping away years of frustration and gloom.

To Jiang Feng himself, however, this accomplishment meant little. Were it not for the fact that this was his final assessment, he would never have taken part in such a tedious test. His participation was, in truth, an uncharacteristic gesture—one meant only to reassure and please his father.

Thus, after the family assessment ended, Jiang Feng quietly returned to his own courtyard to resume his cultivation. He remained unmoved by the noise outside, by the talk, envy, jealousy, or hatred. He simply continued to work, step by step, toward his goals, unwavering in his discipline.

He honed his mind and tempered his body—an essential part of his cultivation process.

Never slackening! Unmoved by honor or disgrace!

Others, observing Jiang Feng, would offer sincere praise, and even the elders of the family would commend such conduct, believing that steadiness in the face of praise or setback was the mark of one destined for greatness—more important even than talent itself.

But to Jiang Feng, none of this mattered. His thoughts were consumed by that tragedy ten years past, that special day—the day of mourning.

Jiang Feng plotted madly, calculating and scheming.

He trained with desperation! He pushed his body to its limits!

This frenzy, born from the twists of his own fate, was what forged the mad genius within him. More than anyone, he yearned for mastery over his own destiny.

Haunted by nightmares of a mysterious figure ripping his soul from his body, the visions would replay in his mind—sometimes fast, sometimes slow.

That scene, seared into his memory, brought pain deep to the bone, even causing him to hallucinate during the day. The terror spread through his life, intensifying his nightmares. Yet he knew that pressure such as this could drive him to break his limits and surpass the ninth stage.

With this realization, Jiang Feng, utterly unprepared, began his first attempt to break through.

In his previous life, he had never been able to cultivate, and so his knowledge in this field was painfully limited. Despite being known as a “walking library,” he understood that some lessons could only be learned through firsthand suffering.

Whenever he thought of that mysterious figure who had reduced his soul to nothingness, Jiang Feng would grit his teeth and endure, gathering his underworld energy within until it began to boil—some parts growing wild and violent.

This was a sign of inner chaos!

Hastily, Jiang Feng swallowed all the elixirs he had gathered. They melted instantly on his tongue, delicious to the taste. The energy within him surged violently. Yet the aid of the medicine also made him acutely aware of the risks.

Never submit! This was the core of Jiang Feng’s being.

Fight!

Fight!

Fight!

To die in such confusion—I will never accept it! Even if the world is destroyed, even if heaven and earth collapse, I will never yield!

Though I have yet to break free from the Blood Prison Killing Realm, how can I stop now, with neither the title of Underworld King nor my great vengeance fulfilled?

How can I die so easily?

How can I accept such defeat?

How can I abandon my father and leave him alone in this world?