This!
A roster for bed-sharing...
Han Feng stared dumbfounded at the stone wall.
Written upon it:
Sunday, Luan Jian.
Monday, Hong Dou.
Tuesday, Fu Ke.
Wednesday, He Handan.
Thursday, Mei Xuanyan.
Friday, Li Jin.
Saturday, Nalan Yunzi.
Note: Ren Xinyi and Qin Lingyun serve as backups; when the women listed are indisposed by their monthly courses, they may be summoned in their stead.
"What the fuck!"
Han Feng spat out the two words fiercely, his face flushing crimson at once.
An educated man of breeding and refinement rarely resorted to profanity, unless he truly had no other choice.
This—this was toxic garbage!
He had gone through all the trouble of transmigrating, only to land in the body of a pervert like this?
Good grief!
Seven days a week, packed to the brim with arrangements, and even backups had been sorted out—did the man never need a rest?
That woman he had met earlier was Luan Jian, and judging by her looks, it was very likely that all the rest were stunning beauties, each excelling in her own way.
What unmitigated gall, daydreaming about sharing a bed with all of them, even taking turns for night service!
What a truly ambitious lecher!
No wonder Lady Luan Jian had spoken to him in such a hostile tone just now; looking back, her emotional stability was remarkable. She hadn't even tried to kill him—she was far too kind!
Merely leaving such filth here sullied this otherwise pure and scholarly sanctuary.
The more Han Feng looked at it, the more offended he felt. Frowning, he picked up a sharp stone from the ground and, after considerable effort, completely scraped away all the characters on the stone wall. Only then did his mind feel clear and unblocked, as if he had severed some lingering connection with his lewd and sleazy predecessor.
From now on, I shall study here.
With no worldly entanglements weighing on his mind, Han Feng was able to feel at home wherever he went. Moreover, this place was peaceful and quiet, blessed with the sound of birdsong filling his ears every morning and myriad rays of rosy twilight at dusk. Before he knew it, he had lost count of how many times he had heard the birds sing and how many sunsets he had witnessed.
The massive bookshelves held countless rare and ancient texts. Han Feng was never picky about the contents; he would simply pick one up at random and become completely immersed, whether for a few hours or for several days and nights.
Yet, that initial miraculous phenomenon—when he had gazed upon the towering giant peak and experienced a flash of sudden enlightenment that resonated with the spiritual energy of heaven and earth—never happened again.
Even so, one thing was certain.
That peculiar mutation on his palm was indeed something akin to a progress bar.
Every time he finished reading a book, another layer of lustrous radiance was added, and by now it had gradually crept past the halfway mark of his palm, perfectly corresponding to the tomes he had read from the bookshelf.
Only, he wondered... once he finished all the books on the shelf, what would happen to his palm? Could it be that he would end up mastering something like the Palm of the Buddha?
Time passes without counting years in the mountains, and the cold winter arrives unawares.
In the blink of an eye, it was late autumn. The verdant mountain foliage had withered to a pale yellow, falling like boundless withered leaves. Yet Han Feng still wore the same thin garments he had started with, feeling no chill at all, continuing his daily reading without interruption.
He remembered that day when Luan Jian had mentioned that the sect was fraught with crisis and faced impending disaster, but Han Feng knew little about it. Deeming his own strength too meager to change anything, he simply cast the thought to the back of his mind, imbued with a detached and carefree mindset of "hiding within a humble tower to find peace, paying no heed to winter or summer, spring or autumn."
On this day, the first ray of morning sun illuminated the Main Peak of the Nine Gods Sect.
In the tranquil chamber, Han Feng turned a page, then suddenly raised his head. His gaze met the rising dawn far off in the distance, his chest swelling with vast openness as he drew the pristine solar essence, originating thousands of miles away, directly into his body.
Boom!
Though it was only a minuscule fraction, the majestic might of the great sun made Han Feng feel as though he were cast into boundless flames, reborn from the fire. At the same time, the infinite Daoist sound of bells and drums ringing in unison echoed by his ears, bursting open the doors of all wonders throughout his body and causing various majestic Dharma manifestations to materialize one by one.
The abundant spiritual energy accumulated within Han Feng's body boiled instantly, completing the transition from a gaseous state to a liquid one, and then condensing from liquid into a solid in the span of a breath.
Bang!
It was like a silver vase suddenly shattering as water splashed forth. With a trace of joy on his countenance, Han Feng opened his eyes and exhaled a breath that did not dissipate in the air, faintly forming three marvelous and wondrous petals of transcendent beauty.
Hmm?
The Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown?
Han Feng nodded. It seemed that all methods, when pursued to their ultimate extremes, converged on the same destination.
According to the records in the texts:
If a cultivator could banish carnal desires so that his essence was full and untroubled by lust, the lead flower would bloom, which was the refining of essence into energy.
If one could remain free of fright, terror, anger, and resentment, the mind and breath would become smooth and the Daoist arts would flow freely, giving birth to the silver flower—this was the refining of energy into spirit.
Advancing further still, achieving detachment and constant awareness, one would gradually enter the realm of the void, whereupon the golden flower would sprout, reaching the state of refining spirit and returning to the void.
Once the Three Flowers manifested, they ultimately dissolved into three streams of pure breath, intersecting and fusing within the Nirvana Palace in the head, condensing into a highly spiritual elixir that rotated slowly. With every breath Han Feng took, it seemed to effortlessly absorb the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, allowing divine abilities to form naturally.
Refining the Golden Dan with Sun and Fire!
The Golden Core Realm?
Ever since transmigrating here, Han Feng had read books day in and day out. Although he had never consciously practiced cultivation, he had unconsciously aligned with the effortless and natural supreme principles of heaven and earth. Now, after barely a month on the Main Peak of the Nine Gods Sect, he had already gathered his breath, condensed the Dan, and stepped into the lofty Golden Core Realm that countless cultivators dreamed of.
With a single grain of the Golden Dan swallowed into my belly, my fate is in my own hands, not the heavens!
With a serene expression, Han Feng smiled, his countenance pregnant with an unspeakable Daoist charm and Zen profundity. With grateful eyes, he followed the sun as it gradually rose in the east, knowing that the insight he had just gained was merely a tiny gift from the great might of heaven and earth, yet it already surpassed countless mortal wonders.
Eh?
As Han Feng watched the sun, his gaze happened to sweep once more toward the direction of the Sword-Asking Peak.
After more than a month, Sword-Asking Peak naturally still stood there, steadfast and immovable. Even if tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, or millions of years passed, not the slightest thing would change about it.
Suddenly, Han Feng gained a brand-new comprehension of the swordsmanship of that day.
Filled with surprised delight, he felt the Golden Dan he had just condensed begin to spin incessantly within his Nirvana Palace, gradually resonating with the divine sounds of heaven and earth, quietly stirring up the ubiquitous might of heaven and earth to converge into a thread of terrifying, razor-sharp, and indestructible fierce energy.
"Go!"
Han Feng was slightly startled, sensing the immense terror contained within this fierce energy. Not daring to let it linger in his body any longer, he hurriedly put down the page in his hand and flicked his finger!
Whoosh!
An invisible and formless sword qi suddenly burst forth through the air!
Oh no...
Caught up in the moment, Han Feng followed his impulse—only to be struck by deep regret immediately afterward.
If this streak of sword qi had shot into the empty void, naturally nothing would have happened.
Yet this sword strike happened, by some ill twist of fate, to shoot straight toward the nearby sword-shaped peak!
Just now, while he was in that profound state of sudden enlightenment, the sword intent flicked from his finger had faintly borrowed the power of heaven and earth. No matter who was on that peak, how could they possibly withstand it?