Starting Cultivation During a Trip

”Young man, how should I address you?” Zhao Menglang walked over and asked.

”Li Yishan.”

”You have a sharp eye as well. This is Old Cat Zhang’s pelt.” Zhao Menglang said in a low voice.

”Old Cat’s pelt?” Li Yishan’s gaze darkened slightly.

”A few years ago, some Tufu Zi from Changsha dug this up underground.” Zhao Menglang didn’t avoid the topic and spoke directly.

”The tomb they unearthed was unusual—the one buried there was no ordinary being...”

”In the main burial chamber, the only thing in the coffin was this pelt.”

”They buried an old cat?” Zhang Fan walked over, equally intrigued.

”That old cat was draped in a Daoist Robe, with several other Daoist Sect items by its side. Most of them were sold off years ago, and only this pelt remains.” Zhao Menglang said blandly.

”Strange thing is, after those Tufu Zi did business with me, they all died within a year or two.”

”All of them died?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help but ask.

”Not a single one survived.” Zhao Menglang nodded.

”That’s truly sinister.” Li Yishan stared hard at the pelt, his voice heavy.

”Cat demons are a very special existence even among the Mountain and Sea Spirits. The most famous lineage comes from Ailao Mountain.” Zhao Menglang suddenly changed the topic.

”Such spirit monsters carry both life and death within them—an ordinary life can’t suppress them.”

”Carrying life and death?” Meng Qiwu’s expression shifted oddly.

”They say cats have nine lives. Do you know why?” Zhao Menglang chuckled lightly.

”Why?”

”According to one tale, long ago, a cat in the deep mountains guarded an ancient cave for generations. In the cave was a scroll of the Celestial Book. Later, the book drifted into the Red Dust, and the old cat absorbed its aura, thus gaining nine lives—its legacy passed on through the ages.”

At this, Zhao Menglang paused for a moment, then continued, ”That scroll was called...”

”Jia Sheng Gui Si!”

”The Nine Great Inner Elixir Methods!?”

Zhang Fan raised an eyebrow and instinctively looked over at Li Yishan.

”Of course, another version says the first to cultivate ’Jia Sheng Gui Si’ in this world was a cat. So, in later generations, cats have nine lives.”

”Boss, how much for this pelt? I’ll take it.” Li Yishan spoke up.

”Since you’re a friend of my little brother, take it as a gift.” Zhao Menglang was quite generous.

He’d already made back the money for this batch years ago by selling grave goods from a major tomb. As for the pelt, he’d studied it and found nothing unique, and it had sat in his shop with no one interested.

”Boss, you’re too kind, but I never buy things without paying.” Li Yishan shook his head.

”One hundred thousand.”

”Alright, it’s settled. Young man, you’re bold.” Zhao Menglang laughed.

It took a good story to sell things—these hundred thousand were pure profit.

”Little brother, take another look...”

Zhang Fan forced an awkward smile and wandered around the shop. No matter how much he searched, he didn’t get the same feeling as when he’d once fished out the black iron plate.

Such luck was truly something you couldn’t force.

”Hmm!?”

At that moment, a scroll in the corner caught Zhang Fan’s eye.

Deep mountains and vast marshes, with a surge of turbid black Qi soaring skyward, as if hiding some unknown terror.

Three figures stood encircling the mountains, each holding a Magic Sword. One of them, dressed as a Daoist, his long robe billowing, the glow of a great sun blazing behind him, exuding an awe-inspiring might.

”This Daoist...”

Zhang Fan, transfixed, couldn’t help but walk over.

”What’s this painting? That Daoist looks remarkable...”

”Little brother, you truly have a good eye.” Zhao Menglang couldn’t help but praise him. ”Of course he’s remarkable. But do you know what he’s holding in his hand?”

”What!?”

”That’s a Pure Yang Treasure, the famed Pure Yang Magic Sword. It now hangs high on the Nanxuan Palace cliff on Zhenwu Mountain.” Zhao Menglang said solemnly.

”Pure Yang Sword!?”

Zhang Fan’s heart skipped a beat; exchanging a glance with Li Yishan, the same image flashed in their minds.

On their last trip to Zhenwu Mountain, they’d both seen it. Wasn’t that one of the mountain’s most famous sights?

”So that was actually a Pure Yang Treasure!?” Zhang Fan murmured to himself.

”There are three Pure Yang Treasures in this painting, and all are top-tier Magic Swords of the era.” Zhao Menglang pointed at the ancient painting.

Zhang Fan’s gaze sharpened. He didn’t look at the three figures holding their Magic Swords, instead his attention was wholly taken by that column of shadowy black Qi rising out of the deep marshy mountains.