Chapter Thirteen: Purification of the Marrow

When he arrived at the Scholar’s house, Song Yue went straight to the point and told him about the matter. The Scholar was somewhat surprised, pondering for a moment before saying, “This is indeed a good opportunity. Originally, I hadn’t intended for you to go.”

Song Yue looked at him and asked, “So you have a quota as well?”

The Scholar smiled, did not answer directly, and said, “Since the Cultivation Academy wants you to accompany them and protect their students, you should go. There’s no harm in such a thing!”

Song Yue humbly sought advice, “Please, Scholar, teach me what I should do once I enter.”

The Scholar replied, “There are many rare treasures in the secret realm. Even seemingly ordinary plants may possess immense value. I have taught you about these.”

Song Yue nodded; he had learned a vast array of eclectic knowledge from the Scholar since childhood, including even geomancy and atmospheric observation.

The Scholar looked at Song Yue, “But in the secret realm, the most valuable things are not cultivation resources, but words! Whether jade inscriptions or stone carvings, anything bearing script is priceless.”

“I have taught you the scripts of various eras. Do you still remember them?”

Song Yue replied, “I do!”

“That’s good. Remember, whenever you come across anything with writing, make every effort to bring it back. If you can’t take it out of the secret realm, make a rubbing, or at the very least memorize the script.” The Scholar spoke with utmost seriousness.

“Understood, I’ll remember.” Song Yue answered, though he wondered privately if the Scholar’s scholarly obsessions had flared up again.

For someone like the Scholar, a master of letters, the scripts within the secret realm were surely more precious than cultivation resources.

But since the Scholar needed them, Song Yue would comply. He didn’t voice it, but he knew well how much he owed the Scholar and his wife over the years.

“Moreover,” the Scholar continued, “the Cultivation Academy invited you not only because you’re strong, but because you’re bold, unrestrained, and rich in worldly experience.”

Song Yue put on an innocent face and protested, “Your understanding of me is too one-sided. I’m not that sort of person!”

The Scholar ignored him and continued, “Those entering the secret realm are not just young people from East and West, but also some extraordinary youths from other planets. So once inside, remember, avoid conflict as much as possible.”

He looked at Song Yue, his expression calm, “But if conflict does arise, in such a place, do not hold back.”

Song Yue was taken aback, finding it hard to believe the Scholar would say such a thing.

The Scholar continued, “That Zhang Zixing, along with several of those extraterrestrials, will also be entering the Kunlun Secret Realm this time.”

Song Yue’s expression grew somber.

He was not one to loudly trumpet hatred, but between him and Zhang Zixing, there was indeed deep enmity.

It had begun as a minor unpleasantness between him and Zhang Zichen, a mere petty squabble, and Song Yue had acted with restraint—enough to discomfort the other, but not to cause serious harm.

But later, a battle at the Star Martial Hall turned the minor dispute into bitter enmity.

Zhang Zixing’s actions then were not simply a matter of teaching a lesson or seeking revenge; it was a clear attempt to cripple him completely.

If Chen He’s punch had landed on his face instead of moving downward, the consequences would have been unimaginable.

Song Yue hadn’t reacted too aggressively at the time, because he knew Zhang Zixing was stronger, and they were on his turf.

No doubt Zhang Zixing was waiting for him to lose his temper and act rashly.

So Song Yue had simply left after uttering a single sentence.

That didn’t mean he would forget.

He believed Zhang Zixing would not let matters rest either; once hatred is set, it’s not easily resolved.

Song Yue hadn’t expected they would be heading to the Kunlun Secret Realm as well. In such a place removed from worldly constraints, even those who normally followed the rules might be tempted by darker thoughts.

Especially those with old grudges.

“There’s no need to worry too much,” said the Scholar. “After cultivating protective energy, your strength will increase substantially.”

He looked at Song Yue, “Moreover, once inside, you’ll be with a group of high-level cultivators from the Academy. It won’t be easy for him to make a move.”

Song Yue nodded, “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”

The Scholar glanced at the bottle of marrow cleansing elixir Song Yue had placed on the table as if offering a treasure. The little rascal’s shamelessness was truly unparalleled.

Marrow cleansing elixir was complex to make and extremely expensive. Crafted by alchemists among cultivators from top-tier spiritual herbs, it could transform a person’s constitution.

Even ordinary people, after bathing in diluted elixir, became much stronger.

But it was nearly inaccessible to ordinary folk—too costly!

Even wealthy individuals would flinch at purchasing it.

Yet Song Yue had managed to extract such a large amount from those miserly folks at the Academy—it was no small feat.

“After dinner, I’ll prepare it for you. I’ve just acquired a few more spiritual herbs. Your luck is remarkable!”

The Scholar looked at Song Yue, “Earlier I was worried your body might not withstand the activation of the Thunderous Qi within you. But with this elixir and my spiritual herbs, your physical strength will approach Grandmaster level. Ordinary blades cannot harm you.”

Song Yue’s face lit up with joy. “Thank you, Scholar, thank you, Old Peng!”

The Scholar looked at him, “Don’t be disrespectful. Old Peng is quite decent. If he hadn’t resolutely turned you away years ago, where would I have found such a good student?”

After dinner at the Scholar’s home, Song Yue went to the guest bathroom. As soon as he opened the door, steam billowed out, and an intense medicinal aroma filled the air, refreshing his spirit.

But the next instant, he stared in astonishment at the bottle of elixir.

It had been full.

Now it was empty.

Song Yue glanced back at the Scholar standing outside the door.

“Go in and soak. Don’t come out tonight,” said the Scholar.

“All that elixir, used at once?” Song Yue felt a pang of loss, suddenly empathizing with Old Peng.

The Scholar gave him a bland look, “If not for the quantity, how could your physical strength surge in such a short time? Where in this world does power come without a price? Enough nonsense, get in and soak. Your injuries will also be completely healed this time.”

With that, he turned and left.

Song Yue closed the door, stripped, and muttered, “Such extravagance! How can anyone live like this? No wonder the Scholar’s wife always complains about his spending…”

He stepped into the bathtub; the water was scalding, but the tub maintained the temperature.

Immersed, Song Yue’s pale skin immediately flushed red. He endured it, curling his body into the water and murmured, “If I soak all night, won’t my skin peel off?”

In truth, it wouldn’t. The potency of marrow cleansing elixir was beyond imagination.

Once submerged, Song Yue sensed countless energy molecules flooding into his body, like gentle hands massaging him.

The active molecules quickly worked on his skin, then seeped deeper into flesh and blood.

The elixir was already powerful, but with the Scholar’s addition of supreme herbs, its effects multiplied.

Like ordinary jade in a layman's hands is just jade, but in a master’s hands, it can be transformed and its value increased a hundredfold.

Song Yue had bathed in the elixir before, but never in such quantity.

As with serious illness requiring potent medicine, the Scholar had gone all out—extravagant, but the results were extraordinary.

He must have been worried about Song Yue entering the secret realm, unspoken but evident.

Especially knowing Song Yue’s temperament—carefree on the surface, yet rarely at a disadvantage. After Zhang Zixing’s treachery nearly crippled him, it was impossible not to hold a grudge.

If they met in the secret realm, conflict was inevitable.

So the herbs that were meant for activating Thunderous Qi were given to Song Yue ahead of time.

Herbs could be replaced; safety was paramount.

The Scholar, rarely angered, had even called Zhang Zixing’s grandfather—this was why.

At the Star Martial Hall, if Chen He hadn’t hesitated and changed the direction of his punch, Song Yue would have suffered much more than a minor loss.

A petty conflict nearly ruined a person—Zhang Zixing’s cruelty was clear.

The Scholar returned to his study, hesitated for a while, then took out a key and opened a locked drawer, extracting a stack of paper that appeared to be made from animal skin—thin, almost transparent.

His wife entered, asked no questions, and began grinding ink.

The two worked in silent harmony—one grinding ink, the other writing and drawing on the delicate parchment.

They didn’t speak.

Until the sky outside brightened, the Scholar finally put down his brush, gazed at the fruits of his labor—three Thunder Talisman scrolls.

To those who knew their worth, such talismans were priceless.

The Scholar’s face showed fatigue as he looked outside, exhaled deeply, and stretched, an uncommon gesture.

His wife now looked at him, “Why the sudden change of heart? You haven’t made talismans for over ten years.”

“These days are not like the past. Before, though he was mischievous, he never held real grudges. Now he faces someone truly vicious—when they meet in the secret realm, there’ll be fierce conflict.”

The Scholar’s tired face was calm. “If so, why should our child be bullied?”

His wife laughed happily, “I was going to ask you to make one for him, but you made three. You’ve changed a lot over the years.”

The Scholar replied serenely, “I’m no sage. Even sages laugh, curse, and let their emotions flow. Otherwise, being a sage would be far too constraining.”

...

Song Yue fell asleep in the bathtub.

Not because he wanted to, but because it was simply too comfortable.

The continuous flood of active molecules altering his constitution made him irresistibly sleepy.

He woke when his head slipped underwater and nearly choked on the bathwater.

A glance outside showed it was broad daylight.

Yet Song Yue felt no fatigue whatsoever; his spirit and energy were so high even he could scarcely believe it.

Standing up, he saw a layer of black sludge floating on the water—impurities expelled during the cleansing process.

He climbed out with distaste, showered, dried off, and changed clothes.

The Scholar and his wife awaited him in the dining room. They had no maid; the wife always cooked, and her skills were superb.

The main distinction between a martial household and a normal one was that every meal included copious amounts of meat.

Ordinary martial artists ate beef and lamb; families like Song Yue’s, well-off, consumed all sorts of exotic beast meat.

The prices were enough to make anyone’s heart tremble.

As for the highest-grade ingredients…they were nearly impossible to acquire, no matter how wealthy.

Song Yue spotted the familiar basin piled high with meat, feeling a sense of home.

He greeted the Scholar and his wife, plopped down, and waited for the Scholar to pick up his chopsticks before he began eating with gusto.

Once he was full, the wife asked, “How do you feel?”

Song Yue patted his chest, “Better than ever! Not only are my injuries healed, but I feel like I could take on a Grandmaster!”

Her eyes lit up.

Song Yue quickly added, “Of course, it’s just a feeling…probably just my imagination.”

The Scholar interjected, “Enough chatter. Come with me to the study.”

There, he took out the three Thunder Talismans and, without preamble, taught Song Yue how to activate and use them.

Finally, he said, “Once activated, these talismans are unstoppable below Foundation level. Whoever is hit will be gravely injured or killed. Unless absolutely necessary, don’t use them. But if things get critical, don’t hesitate—your life is more precious than anything.”

Song Yue, unusually serious, looked at him, “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t draw talismans anymore?”

The Scholar replied casually, “I changed my mind.”

Song Yue quietly put away the talismans, then asked, “The herbs I soaked in last night—were they even more valuable than the marrow cleansing elixir?”

The Scholar said, “I don’t know. They were gifts.”

Song Yue: “…”

He thought a moment, then said, “Scholar, when I return this time, I’ll formally become your disciple.”

The Scholar glanced at him, “Do you think anyone can just become my disciple?”

How careless…he’d been teased!

Song Yue was momentarily stunned, his surge of emotion nearly dispersed.

The Scholar waved him off, “Go home and prepare. Practice your protective energy. No need to visit for the next few days.”

Song Yue nodded, dragging himself out.

The Scholar called after him, “We’ll talk about discipleship when you come back.”

“All right!”

Hearing Song Yue’s cheerful farewell to the wife as he left, the Scholar sat in his study, smiling.

He chuckled softly to himself, “You rascal, it took ten years for you to say these words. Not easy at all.”

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Today and tomorrow there may be only one chapter. I’ll make it up later.

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