Chapter Seventy-Six: Dragon and Tiger

Changing out of the long robe that had nearly become a rag, Qi Xiu drew a basin of hot water, preparing to shave the beard from his face. He tied up his disheveled hair, and as he lowered his head, his expression froze in surprise. Reflected in the water was his true appearance. After days of secluded cultivation, he had already torn off the mask he used to disguise himself. No wonder Song Tingye had looked at him so strangely earlier. Qi Xiu chuckled helplessly. So be it, if he was exposed. He had always used disguises as an extra precaution, but now there was no need to hide so timidly. Washing his face clean, shaving off the beard, and donning a fresh, neat robe, Qi Xiu stood before the mirror. With the secret techniques of the Primordial Dragon-Tiger Scripture harmonizing his yin and yang, the domineering aura once sharpened by the Purple Extreme True Skill was finally subdued. His striking purple hair returned to its original color. In a moment of dazed reflection, he became once more the gentle, refined scholar from a year ago, speaking softly and with care. “This look is much more pleasing,” he mused.

Having tidied himself, Qi Xiu stepped out, not toward the Song family estate, but in another direction.

…

At the Song family residence, within a serene courtyard of red walls and jade tiles, Jia Yufei delicately picked up a cluster of grapes, plucking one and sending it to her crimson lips. “Sister, what do you think of him?” Song Tingye, cradling her cat, gently stroked its head, a faint smile at her lips. “He’s impressive, much stronger than I imagined,” Jia Yufei replied, spitting out two grape seeds and leaning lazily against the railing. “But I must give you a warning. Do not provoke him.” Song Tingye’s hand paused, confusion flashing in her eyes. “Sister, what do you mean?” “Just as I say. In that little courtyard earlier, he harbored a murderous intent toward me. Not just anger, but a real urge to kill.” Her beautiful eyes glimmered with strange colors as Jia Yufei twirled a strand of hair. “Perhaps because you were there, or due to some other concern, that killing intent appeared only for an instant and vanished. Little sister, this man is far more dangerous than you imagine. Take my advice—do not cross him. I’d rather not see you sent off before I marry; you know, I’ve never liked white.” Are you worried about me, or just unwilling to wear mourning colors? Song Tingye shot Jia Yufei a look, her expression growing grave. Her elder sister, though eccentric and somewhat unruly, was a true adept in the Dao. Were it not for strict family rules forbidding women from cultivating higher scriptures, her level would be even greater. Her warnings were not to be taken lightly.

“To think that this ordinary little county hides such a fierce beast. Intriguing, truly intriguing,” Jia Yufei mused, crossing her legs as her gaze shifted. For a martial artist not initiated into the Dao to dare harbor killing intent against a Dao cultivator like herself—this man surely possessed some formidable secret. He must be confident he could kill me; only then would he dare unleash murderous intent without restraint, intending to strike me down in one blow. Martial artist slaying Dao cultivator—what an unheard-of event. Ah, how she wished to seize him, strip him bare, and interrogate him thoroughly. Jia Yufei bit her lip, her eyes misting, a red gleam flickering deep in her pupils, exuding an eerie and uncanny aura.

Meow~~ Sensing something odd in her cat’s cry, Song Tingye looked up in confusion toward Jia Yufei. Seeing the thickening red mist around her, Song Tingye’s face changed abruptly. “The madwoman’s having another episode!” She sprang to her feet, flipping out a stone inscribed with vivid red talismans, and smashed it to the ground. Bang— The stone shattered, golden light and chanting reverberating. Under the surge of this mystical power, Jia Yufei’s wild gaze gradually cleared, the bizarre red mist receding into her body. “Oh, did I lose control again?” she blinked innocently. The matron was right; this madwoman must be married off soon, or she would eventually fall into the demon path, never to return. Watching Jia Yufei, who remained unaware of how dangerous she was, Song Tingye furrowed her brow. The urgent task was to somehow send this calamity away.

…

In the wild mountain forest, on a familiar hundred-meter cliff, Qi Xiu had made this place his favored retreat for secluded cultivation. Sitting cross-legged atop the lonely peak, surrounded by vast emptiness, Qi Xiu’s eyes were half-closed, his hands resting naturally on his knees. From day’s quiet meditation to midnight, the night wind rose, torrential rain poured, thunder echoed. He sat unmoved, like an ancient stone, silently enduring the baptism of wind and rain, immersed in the deepest state of meditation. The rain came swiftly, departed quietly.

Drip— A drop of water slid from his sleeve into the puddle before him. Qi Xiu slowly opened his eyes.

At this moment, the world was just awakening, the boundary between day and night. He opened his mouth and gently inhaled, drawing into his belly the purest strand of yang energy under heaven and earth. Instantly, like a spark falling into dry tinder, surging, robust vitality erupted, steaming into a thick mist of purple and white. Dense fog accumulated heavily, so much so that Qi Xiu’s figure was entirely obscured on the cliff platform.

The next moment, the mist churned. A massive, majestic figure slowly emerged—a fierce tiger, formed of purple-white vapor, regal and immovable. Merely lying there, it radiated a terrifying oppressive force, impossible to look upon directly.

Seated at the tiger’s heart, Qi Xiu’s eyes were closed. Though his appearance and stature had not changed in the slightest, he now exuded an awe-inspiring majesty, a proud and aloof bearing surrounding him, like the great mountain king beneath him.

As his cultivation reached this stage, Qi Xiu opened his eyes again—now entirely black and fathomless, not a trace of white, chilling to behold! The surrounding temperature plummeted, the mist dissipated in an instant. His demeanor grew cold and somber as Qi Xiu raised his right hand. From his sleeve, a black, sinister ink-dragon writhed forth, its scales and horns gleaming, coiling around him. Sensing the gloomy, filthy chill, the purple-white tiger at Qi Xiu’s left slowly opened its eyes, its icy gaze locked on the fierce ink-dragon swimming through the void.

Roar—

Howl—

Dragon and tiger clashed! Yin and yang collided! The true skill’s vital energy, representing life force; the heart scripture’s power, representing soul and wisdom. Watching these two forces battle, Qi Xiu’s expression remained calm.

On the lonely peak above the hundred-meter cliff, dragon roars and tiger cries stirred wind and clouds. A majestic purple-white tiger and a ferocious, green-eyed black dragon fought with savage intensity. After several rounds of deadly struggle, at the center of their powers, threads of pure multicolored energy quietly emerged. His gaze shifted, falling upon those delicate, hair-thin threads. Qi Xiu raised his hand, summoning the rainbow strands, which flew to him and formed a ribbon-like mark around his wrist.

“If one seeks the gate of eternal life, one must refine the true body of primordial unity. There remains, but one last step.”

…