Chapter 71

The seventh Supreme Spirit Tempering Pill slid down his throat, and the solitary peak beneath Han Luo continued its ascent.

Crack!

A crisp sound echoed clearly, making Han Luo tense up slightly—it was his inner world, the spiritual manifestation of his mental strength, that had started to fracture. The sudden crack caused a momentary daze, but fortunately, it was just a single fissure.

Or so he thought.

Crack!

Another sharp sound rang out.

Han Luo couldn't help but mutter, You’ve got to be kidding me.

As if responding to his thought, web-like cracks began spreading across his inner world. In the next instant, it shattered into fragments and vanished entirely.

Yet at that very moment, he succeeded in completing his seventh spirit tempering, reaching the peak of this stage.

Standing atop the now-lofty peak, he glanced down at the world below—and immediately understood why the seventh tempering was called Grand Completion. At that moment, he felt like the king of the world, with everything beneath his feet. Honestly, it was an exhilarating feeling.

Maybe… maybe stopping here would be wiser. Perhaps ending his spirit tempering now would offer the most long-term benefits for his cultivation.

But as he lifted his gaze, what greeted him wasn't a blue sky—it was a vast, pitch-black night, dark as ink.

By all logic, he had already reached the Grand Completion of seven temperings. But having witnessed Xian’er’s eighth tempering and read of a ninth in ancient texts, Han Luo knew the peak still had room to rise.

Yet above him loomed a darkness like a monstrous beast, jaws wide open, as if ready to devour him whole.

Thankfully, he was well-prepared.

Relieved by his own caution, Han Luo seized the moment while the peak still held its height and consumed the eighth Supreme Spirit Tempering Pill.

Rumble...

The solitary peak continued to rise and, in the blink of an eye, pierced the ink-black night.

Moments later, Han Luo found himself entirely engulfed in darkness. Above, below, and all around—nothing but endless black.

The most terrifying thing about darkness is how it distorts your sense of time. In this place, a single second felt like ten thousand years. An overwhelming sense of loneliness wrapped itself around him. Despite his careful preparations, Han Luo still felt deeply unsettled as solitude crept into every part of his being.

Suddenly, a wave of warmth rose from beneath his feet.

He crouched down and gently touched the surface of the peak. The warmth made him reluctant to leave, as though he could stay there forever.

Outside, in Safe House No. 1, his physical body began to emit a soft white glow—gentle, ethereal, almost identical to the radiance Xian’er had released during her ascension.

So this is what it feels like to transcend?

Back in the darkness, Han Luo slowly rose to his feet. Surrounded by crushing loneliness, he smiled lightly.

He had to admit—he was grateful for having transmigrated to this world. During that process, he had experienced something eerily similar: the same cold, the same loneliness, the same sense of dying a thousand times. Honestly, he didn’t know how he survived. But it had gifted him with something priceless.

Of course, the reason he lingered in that comforting warmth earlier was simply to enjoy the moment. Spirit tempering was a one-way road—once the chance passed, it was gone forever. There was no harm in savoring the process a little.

Back in the real world, his body was still glowing gently, though the light now seemed contained.

With the eighth tempering complete, Han Luo wasted no time—he took the ninth pill and began his attempt at the legendary ninth spirit tempering.

Based on his research and recent observations, he was fully confident in his success.

After all, he wasn’t the type to take risks without absolute certainty. And the key reason behind his confidence?

He possessed a Supreme-Grade Spiritual Root.

The best of the best.

Typically, a sixth-grade root allows six temperings, a seventh-grade root allows seven—basic cultivation knowledge. As someone with a supreme root, undergoing nine temperings should be a breeze. Add in his thorough preparations, and failure was simply not an option.

The peak kept rising, endlessly climbing through the dark, like a lone traveler pressing on through the night.

Han Luo sat cross-legged atop the summit, unguarded, meditating in silence.

Then—a breath. A human breath, faint but near.

Without opening his eyes, he felt something soft brushing against his arm.

As a seasoned veteran of certain... experiences, he immediately identified the touch.

At least a D-cup.

Soon, a soft voice whispered into his ear, laced with temptation. Even more, he sensed not just one, but a group of women dancing around him.

But to someone who had once lived next to Aunt Li’s square-dancing crew and Aunt Wang’s yangko team, all these "dances" now just triggered memories of loud speakers and aggressive aerobics.

What was the appeal?

Eyes still shut, Han Luo focused on meditating, letting the illusions dance in vain. In fact, this moment gave him the rare chance to reflect—on everything that had happened since he first joined Luoxian Sect.

With this peace and clarity, he began examining his journey, checking whether he had ever made any critical mistakes without realizing it. This was a habit of his.

He firmly believed that true freedom wasn’t about being left alone, or breaking all rules—it was about absolute self-discipline. To fully control your every action with sheer will—that was freedom.

History teaches wisdom. Reflecting on one’s past strengthened the mind.

And so, even as beautiful illusions tried to lure him in, Han Luo ignored them all.

Frankly speaking, he thought, If a woman can’t even compete with a video game, how can she hope to outshine cultivation? Where’s the confidence coming from?

The seductresses danced and brushed against him, hoping to break his focus—but it was pointless. He remained still as a Buddha in meditation.

Eventually, the women disappeared. The air filled instead with ghostly howls, cries full of misery—so pitiful, it was like sitting on a durian with untreated hemorrhoids.

“Quite the variety of tricks, huh,” Han Luo muttered, unfazed, continuing his introspection.

The peak’s ascent slowly halted.

Han Luo opened his eyes.

At that moment, he stood like a miniature sun atop the peak, his presence dispersing the surrounding darkness.

Ninth tempering… complete?

He wasn’t sure. It had been almost too easy—which made him suspicious.

Although he had reached the peak of the ninth tempering, Han Luo could still sense that there was room to go even higher.

He took out one more pill and brought it to his lips.

Ancient texts never mentioned a tenth tempering. The ninth was considered the limit.

But that wasn’t the full story. Many of those old records left the pages after the ninth tempering blank—deliberately so, he suspected.

This might be his one and only chance to break through the unknown.

If he didn’t try now, he might never get another opportunity.

But just as he was about to take the pill…

Wait!

Something felt off.

He couldn't say exactly what, but his sixth sense screamed a warning. Years of caution had sharpened his instincts.

So he didn’t take the pill.

He’d already reached nine temperings—an achievement matched by very few in history. There was no need to take an unnecessary risk now.

What if he screwed up? That’d be incredibly embarrassing.

Better to play it safe.

He put the pill away.

Right then, the summit began to fall.

At first it was slow, but the descent accelerated rapidly. Wind howled past his ears.

Boom!

With a muffled thud, the peak’s fall ended.

It was over.

Han Luo slowly opened his eyes—only to freeze in shock.

What the hell!?

They can play it like this too?!