Volume One: The Most Heartless Phoenix Tree Flower Chapter Eighteen: The Dragon's Demise

Zhuo Yun cradled the crescent moon, as large as a dove’s egg, in both hands, utterly entranced. After a while, as if suddenly returning to herself, she asked Zhuo Hua, “Master Yuan, how am I supposed to use this crescent moon? Do I swallow it, or wear it around my neck?”

Zhuo Hua turned around, gesturing with his hand for her to give him the crescent moon. Though slightly puzzled, Zhuo Yun handed it over without hesitation. Zhuo Hua placed the crescent in his palm and channeled a slight surge of energy. The crescent moon slowly began to hover above his hand. Then he said to Zhuo Yun, “Come, Little Fish, stand up.”

Little Fish rose and stood with her arms at her sides. Zhuo Hua gently pushed the crescent moon toward her dantian; as it neared her body, he withdrew his energy, letting the dove-egg-sized crescent float in the air for a moment before it passed through Zhuo Yun’s robe and entered her body, vanishing from sight. After two or three heartbeats, a silver radiance shone out from within her, illuminating the entire hall, only to fade away with a single breath.

Zhuo Yun looked at him in confusion. Zhuo Hua smiled and explained, “The correct way to use the Stabilizing Pearl isn’t to swallow it or hang it somewhere on your body. It is guided by one’s energy, sinking naturally into the practitioner’s dantian. The light you saw just now proves that your body is highly compatible with the crescent. If it could not circulate within you, it would have been expelled from your dantian almost immediately.”

Little Fish patted her stomach, then her waist, pursing her lips and muttering, “Why don’t I feel anything? Is this really how cultivation begins?”

Still tending to his elixirs, Zhuo Hua replied, “Yes, this is how it begins.”

“I always thought that cultivation pills were bean-sized, and you had to swallow them one by one to practice,” Zhuo Yun said.

Glancing at the eight-trigram clock on the wall, Zhuo Hua estimated that the elixir was nearly ready. He stopped the Green Oriole Mirror, letting the residual heat in the furnace do the rest.

Standing up and moving past the screen, Zhuo Hua checked on Qin Ying and the sovereign, explaining to Zhuo Yun, “What you described is also a legitimate method, but our Xuanhuang lineage has no need for it. The Anli clan, unable to penetrate the art of merging spiritual tools with the body, devised another method: crafting cultivation pills so minuscule they’re invisible to the naked eye, then administering hundreds at once with a medicinal broth. Once inside, these micro-pills disperse throughout the meridians and are not expelled. This hints at the Anli’s formidable prowess—their devastation of the Boundless Void was not due to brutality alone.”

Zhuo Yun, perplexed, asked, “Master Yuan, we have only one, and they have hundreds. Wouldn’t that mean we’re bound to lose in a fight?”

By now, Zhuo Hua had reached the Alchemy Furnace. With a thought, he opened the lid, and two golden pills floated up. Waving his right hand, he gently directed the pill fused with dragon scale into Qin Ying’s mouth, and the other into the sovereign’s. After a moment, seeing both their complexions improve, he relaxed.

Turning back, Zhuo Hua answered, “Indeed, in direct confrontations with the Anli clan, the power of our energy at the same level is somewhat inferior. However, our methods differ. The Xuanhuang lineage values steady progress and the unity of body and artifact—never forcing, never rushing. This approach may be slow, but it is stable and greatly benefits the practitioner’s health. The Anli, by contrast, pursue raw power, pushing recklessly ahead. It’s common for them to consume a hundred pills at once, and some, desperate for quick advancement, take a thousand or more. Yet the way of heaven abhors excess. One pill’s effect can be controlled; to regulate the power of hundreds or thousands is nearly impossible. Should even one or two become unstable and explode from excess energy, a chain reaction ensues. Even with their naturally robust bodies, the Anli cannot withstand such catastrophic destruction within. Thus, among Xuanhuang, god-tier masters are common and live long lives; it’s not unusual for four generations to reach the divine rank within one family. By contrast, the Anli boast many celestial-level tribulation-breakers, but only a third as many gods as Xuanhuang—and their lifespans are typically short. This is all due to their reckless pursuit of quick results. To seek shortcuts is to court disaster.” Zhuo Hua paused, then continued, “During the War of the Gods, if not for the alliance’s collapse at the Anli’s scheming, forcing my Xuanhuang clan to face the entire Anli and countless vassal armies alone, we would not have ended in ruin and extinction…”

Whenever Zhuo Hua recounted this chapter of history, he was always overcome with emotion and regret.

At that moment, Zhuo Yun stepped forward, her eyes blazing as she declared, “Master Yuan, Little Fish will train with all her might and restore the Xuanhuang’s former glory.”

At midnight, atop the great hall, a cool breeze stirred. Zhuo Hua stood alone, gazing up at the boundless sky; the endless stars were his confidants. He heard the sound of someone descending gracefully beside him—without looking, he knew who it was.

“How are your wounds? Do you need my help to heal?” Zhuo Hua asked Old Jiao.

“It’s nothing serious, just a few scratches from that old fellow—mere flesh wounds,” Lin Bai replied, rubbing his right arm.

“I truly troubled you with the matter of the dragon scale,” Zhuo Hua said.

Lin Bai dismissed the concern with a wave. “It’s nothing. Back then, my father favored my youngest brother, intending to make him heir, and poisoned my eldest and second brothers. I raised my troops to purge the court, partly to protect myself, partly to restore the dragon clan’s honor. But I was outmatched, and after my rebellion failed, my father stripped me of my dragon status and demoted me to a water jiao, banishing me to rivers and lakes. If not for your guidance and the honor of being inscribed on the Celestial Stele, I might still be lurking in those dark depths, never seeing the light of day.”

Zhuo Hua patted Lin Bai’s shoulder comfortingly. “I’ll negotiate with the Dragon King for your reinstatement. He still owes me two unsettled favors.”

Lin Bai scratched his head awkwardly. “Master Yuan, I failed to retrieve the yellow jade seal. When I presented the Xuanhuang yellow jade seal to my father, requesting two heart-protecting dragon scales—making clear it was to save lives—he listened only to Consort Si, my fourth brother’s mother. She claimed a dragon had only four such scales; to give me two would endanger his life. My fourth brother even accused me of using the Cloud Palace’s name as a pretext to seize the throne. Infuriated, I hurled the seal at that brat. My father then ordered my execution. In the ensuing chaos, I knocked him down, took his heart-protecting dragon scale, and fled back to Xunyang City.”