Chapter Eight: Completion of the Minor Rejuvenation Pill

Shangguan Chuan Yun’s nascent pill was still somewhat illusory, lacking solidity. If he did not immediately consolidate it, it could dissipate at any moment, commonly known as a “scattering pill.”

He quickly calmed his mind, gathered his vital energy, steadied his thoughts, focused his spirit, and regulated his breath. With each rise and fall of his abdomen, the nascent pill slowly rotated, growing more condensed with every breath.

Only by spending time to cultivate and strengthen the nascent pill would its true effects manifest—using pill fire, refining flying swords, nurturing magical blades—all these wondrous applications would gradually emerge.

After all, the nascent pill was not the Golden Pill of the Sword Path, lacking the immortal properties of the latter. Once a golden pill was formed, its nature would never change, remaining impervious. The nascent pill, like the greater pill, could be cultivated to become ever more solid and complete, growing from small to large, from insubstantial to substantial, refined and elevated.

Conversely, the nascent and greater pills could dissipate and degrade. Without continuous cultivation and maintenance, one might experience pill scattering, or—if severely wounded, shaken by external forces, or if the mind wavered—would revert to mere energy, requiring cultivation anew.

Forming the pill was difficult, but nurturing it was even harder. It required equanimity—neither joy nor sorrow, neither haste nor delay—and the cultivation of character. Without proper methods, pill scattering was inevitable.

Silently, Shangguan Chuan Yun recited the pill-nurturing formula:

“Through myriad tribulations, the pill heart transforms endlessly,
Body and soul unified, nurturing the primordial spirit.
The spiritual platform shines with clarity, mind serene.
Three souls unbroken, the body’s strength preserved.”

The nascent pill’s aura grew heavier, absorbing the surrounding unrefined vital energy, gradually drawing it into itself. Once all the scattered energy merged, the pill would be preliminarily consolidated; thus, his pill formation was complete.

By now, midnight had arrived. Though Shangguan Chuan Yun felt as though ages had passed, the act of embracing the pill had taken but an instant.

Outside, the moon was bright and the stars sparse—a pitch-black night. As a gust of wind swept by, the earth seemed wrapped in a black shroud, blocking the moonlight, and the skies were immediately plunged into darkness.

Shangguan Chuan Yun was entering a state of profound tranquility, forgetting both self and surroundings, drifting between reality and illusion, his spirit commanding his mind. He was utterly unaware of anything outside.

At that moment, five paper figures, each half a foot tall, crawled from the wall of his courtyard. Clambering over the top, they drifted down to the ground, swaying as they transformed into half-human-sized creatures clad in short jackets, their hands twisted like chicken claws, faces rigid, necks jerking stiffly as they moved forward with straight legs. Soon their limbs grew more agile, and they floated off the ground toward the door of Shangguan Chuan Yun’s room.

The paper figures reached the doorway, glanced around, and placed their hands on the door to push it open.

Inside, Shangguan Chuan Yun, seated on a meditation mat, was using the method of gathering vital energy to consolidate his newly-formed pill, his mind focused entirely within, oblivious to the outside world.

A loud bang erupted.

The door was slammed open, and several half-human-sized paper figures flew in. Seeing Shangguan Chuan Yun in meditation, a chilling wind swept through, and they appeared ready to lunge at him.

Suddenly, the three-foot-long Azure Sword in his hand quivered, flashed with ghostly light, and shot out, transforming into a stream of light that circled the room before returning to his side.

The five paper figures in midair remained poised, yet did not move. The chilling wind subsided, and they all fell to the ground, reverting to half-foot-tall paper figures, lying still and silent.

Upon closer inspection, Shangguan Chuan Yun noticed a tiny slit in the brow of each paper figure.

His nascent pill was now fully stabilized, thumb-sized and jade-white, emitting a subtle, mystical glow, motionless within his dantian.

At last, the pill was solidified, utterly real. Unless excessively depleted, it would not scatter, and, settled in the dantian, it was now secure.

The dantian is the source of strength and vital energy. From birth, one is endowed with the dantian, the gate of innate potential, the mysterious portal. Cultivation begins by drawing on the innate energy carried from the womb, merging mind and spirit with it, gradually gathering and refining energy. Now, by settling the nascent pill here, Shangguan Chuan Yun not only stabilized his pill, but also allowed its energy to nourish himself. Those who achieve the nascent pill, barring mishap, are considered among the ranks of immortals—prolonging life, preserving vitality, and, if the pill remains stable, living a hundred years without decline.

Having secured the pill in his dantian, Shangguan Chuan Yun noticed the unusual activity of his Azure Sword and slowly opened his eyes. Instantly, he could hear faint sounds from afar; his mind felt clear and cool; he could smell the earthy, decaying scent of fallen leaves outside; and, in the pitch-dark night, he saw as if it were broad daylight. Everything felt transformed.

Such is the effect of cultivating the cycle and forming the nascent pill—an elevation of life’s level. Shangguan Chuan Yun mused to himself:

“This feeling—even though my senses were sharp in my previous life, I never experienced such a bodily state.”

Looking at the darkness that appeared as bright as day, he recognized this as night vision—where the empty chamber glows white, like dew or a speck.

He rose and picked up the five paper figures from the ground.

“So these are objects used to carry wandering souls, much as I’ve heard before. Given the high fortune of the Marquis’ residence, ordinary evil spirits dare not intrude; only such ghost-carrying arts can cross the high gates and walls.”

He recalled hearing of such things in his previous life: objects crafted and consecrated, attracting souls through rituals and incense, the longer the time, the greater their power, and the better the vessel, the more formidable the ghost.

He had heard of those who made soul puppets by binding thirty-six stalks of straw into a figure, then placing it at a crossroads or in a place heavy with yin energy, where ghosts would naturally attach themselves to the human form.

Then, the sorcerer would retrieve the straw figure, and, using magic, bind both the straw man and soul into a puppet, gradually strengthening the soul. The core was wood that nurtured yin, enabling the ghost to cultivate the path of ghost immortals, and, once accomplished, the puppeteers could command them to do their bidding.

These paper figures operated on the same principle—binding souls to serve the practitioner.

Shangguan Chuan Yun observed the figures and thought:

“Perhaps the Marquis’ residence is so blessed that external demons cannot invade, so these paper figures were sent as calamities to obstruct my path. Yet they fail to realize that I am a sword immortal. Though I lack protectors, the Azure Sword I’ve cultivated has developed its own spirit; its ability to sense danger is instinctive. Should anyone harbor malice toward me, the flying sword will strike them down.”

Examining the runes on the figures—spells for soul nurturing and sealing—he flicked his finger, sending a flame to reduce the figures to ashes.

He then examined the pill fire produced by his cultivation—it was not the true three-flavored fire, but was a natal fire produced by his mind and essence, intangible and formless, responding to his will.

“With pill fire, I can now refine my natal flying sword. Only by successfully forging it will I truly step into the gate of sword immortals.”

Just as he was thinking this, he heard another disturbance outside the courtyard. On the wall, a monstrous creature, a full ten feet tall with a ferocious face, green skin, and tusks, holding a large blade, climbed over and peered in.

Shangguan Chuan Yun saw it clearly. Comparing it to the paper figures, he wondered what materials had been used for this apparition.

The monster spotted him, screamed sharply, and charged, swinging its blade at him.

Shangguan Chuan Yun was ready. He drew his sword and met the monster’s attack, using his body to redirect the blade aside. The monster lost its balance, and Shangguan Chuan Yun thought:

“A perfect opportunity.”

He shifted his footwork and, with a move akin to sweeping fallen leaves, sliced the monster in two at the waist.

The monster’s eyes went blank, it toppled to the ground, writhing for a moment before transforming into two pieces of wood, which, when assembled, formed a half-human-sized wooden figure.

Shangguan Chuan Yun stepped forward, inspecting the strange human-shaped carving and the runes upon it, identical to those found on the paper figures. He mused:

“It seems the same person is behind all this. I’ve done nothing to offend others; no one else would seek my harm. Only the Lady of the household, whom I caused to suffer loss, disgraced the Marquis’ residence, and nearly drove Shangguan Hong Yun to madness, turning him into a killing machine. Apart from her, there’s no one else.”

With two waves of attacks already, it was clear she would not rest until he was eliminated. Perhaps a third assault was imminent. As he considered this, his magical sword suddenly quivered.

“They’re here,” Shangguan Chuan Yun thought. The essence of sword cultivation lies in purity and sensitivity to evil. Whenever a demon approached, the sword could sense it and give warning.

A sharp whistle rang out.

An arrow flew toward Shangguan Chuan Yun. Instinctively, he sidestepped, using the "Immortal Guides the Way" move, his wrist flicking to direct the arrow toward a nearby table.

The arrow, following the direction indicated, struck the table.

A loud crash ensued as the entire table shattered, fragments flying everywhere.

“Not good,” Shangguan Chuan Yun thought. The arrow’s power was immense; if struck, he would be gravely wounded or dead. He sprang from the room in a few swift steps.

Suddenly, he sensed something atop the roof—a giant armored figure, taller than the house, standing in his courtyard with a bow in hand and a quiver of arrows at its waist. Earlier, inside, he could only sense a massive presence; now, outside, he saw it clearly.

The giant archer nocked another arrow, drew the bow, and aimed at Shangguan Chuan Yun, its movements fluid as if born for archery.

Another arrow shot toward him.

Shangguan Chuan Yun blocked, performing an iron bridge maneuver as the arrow grazed his head.

A thunderous boom erupted, blasting a huge crater in the earth behind him.

Seeing that Shangguan Chuan Yun had not been killed, the giant archer swiftly nocked another arrow and drew the bow to aim at him once more.