Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Transformation of the Demonic Gourd

Qiantang’s face flushed red, then turned pale; he hadn’t anticipated such cunning from this man. Ever since he had witnessed Ge Qian rise from the fourth level to perfection in just a few short years, he’d found it utterly inconceivable for someone so useless to cultivate at such a pace. There had to be some great secret. If he could seize it, with his own formidable foundation, he was certain he could break through to the Foundation Establishment stage—this was his only hope and he could not let it slip by. So, when Ge Qian left the city, he followed swiftly.

He had intended to use spirit talismans to conceal himself, deliver a sudden, lethal blow, and seize Ge Qian’s soul. There would be a thousand ways to force out the secret of his cultivation.

Now, all his plans had fallen through. Still, he remained unafraid. After all, he had reached perfection many years ago and considered his magical power deep and unfathomable. Dealing with Ge Qian, who had only just reached this stage, would scarcely require much effort.

Standing boldly upon his flying sword, he declared, “Very well. But do you think wit alone can defy your fate? If you know what’s good for you, hand over all your treasures and the secret of your breakthrough. I might spare your life—at most, I’ll erase your memory. You can continue your cultivation. Otherwise, today will be your death anniversary.”

Ge Qian formed a seal with one hand, and a violet light whirled above his head, swirling and whistling with impressive force. He replied, “Enough nonsense. Do you take me for a child? If I let you off, you’d certainly silence me forever. Come then—let’s see how my newly mastered divine abilities fare against you!”

Seeing Ge Qian summon the high-grade magical weapon, the Violetwood Ruler, Qiantang sneered inwardly, thinking him terribly overconfident. With a swift motion, he produced a spear flickering with fiery spiritual energy—a supreme-grade magical weapon. With a flick of the spear’s tail, he sent it hurtling toward Ge Qian at astonishing speed.

This was his trump card—the reason he dared face Ge Qian alone. He laughed coldly, saying, “Die! I was killing and looting when you hadn’t even been born. To die under the Flame Spear, a supreme-grade artifact, is an honor for you.”

In the hands of a cultivator at the peak of the Qi Condensation stage, a supreme-grade magical weapon was unstoppable—far beyond what a high-grade weapon could withstand. Ge Qian felt a stabbing pain, as if needles pierced his throat.

The Flame Spear locked onto Ge Qian, leaving him no room to evade. Yet he showed no fear; with a long howl, he shouted, “Good! So this is all a supreme-grade weapon amounts to?”

The Violetwood Ruler transformed into a stream of light, surging against the flow, riding the waves, crashing against the shore—three divine techniques unfurled in succession.

Though the Flame Spear was fierce and domineering, a tongue of flame shooting forth, the Violetwood Ruler’s unpredictable, supple maneuvers countered its force, allowing no advantage.

This made Qiantang frown. What use is a sharp sword if it cannot wound? He hadn’t expected such a young opponent to be a sword cultivator—his most troublesome adversary. Though his Flame Spear was a supreme-grade artifact, it devoured several times more energy than an ordinary weapon.

If this continued, even his deep reserves would not sustain him for long. He had to end this quickly, or disaster might befall him.

While quietly gathering his power, Qiantang said, “You do have some skill, boy. But to die beneath my famed technique, the ‘Flame Drill,’ is an honor. Remember this: the ‘Flame Drill.’ Now die!”

Murderous intent surged across his face as he poured every ounce of power from his core into the Flame Spear.

Instantly, flames roared and the spear spun rapidly, forming a three-zhang-long drill of fire that stabbed toward Ge Qian with blinding speed.

Every hair on Ge Qian’s body stood on end, death’s shadow looming over his heart. The immense pressure nearly paralyzed him—this was the true terror of the Flame Drill. It subtly undermined the opponent’s spirit, while unleashing its full force for the kill.

Anyone else would have been torn limb from limb, without even a corpse left behind.

But Ge Qian had cultivated the “Trinity Foundation Technique”; his magical power was three times that of an ordinary cultivator.

His core spun furiously, mobilizing his entire power. His gaze sharpened as he formed an intricate seal. In a flash, he unleashed “A Turn in the Road.” Since he couldn’t dodge, and his Violetwood Ruler was no match for the Flame Spear head-on, he seized the moment and gambled everything.

The Flame Drill was indeed extraordinary; Ge Qian felt as if his body were being boiled in oil. Yet his physical strength was formidable, and with a cycle of his power, he was soon restored.

The Flame Drill struck nothing, like a giant wielding a hammer far heavier than he could manage—powerful but aimless, resulting only in a wrenched waist or broken arm.

Qiantang was that giant. Such a mighty technique consumed all his energy; his core was utterly depleted, and even standing on his flying sword, he trembled.

His face was ashen, and dread flooded his heart. “Impossible! No one below Foundation Establishment has ever survived my Flame Drill. How are you still alive? Have I seen a ghost today?” he stammered, barely coherent.

Ge Qian wasted no words. He flicked his wrist, sending out the Demon Gourd, which expanded to three feet across. In a breath, it spewed a mist of demonic energy that engulfed Qiantang. After a single, anguished scream, the mist turned blood-red.

Swirling, the mist returned to the gourd, which seemed to tremble with excitement, runes flashing as if it had consumed a rare elixir.

Suddenly, it spat out a storage pouch, which Ge Qian caught. The Demon Gourd dissolved into a wisp of demonic energy, merging into Ge Qian’s body, appearing in his core as a tiny concealed bead—imperceptible unless one’s mind was perfectly attuned to it.

The Demon Gourd, now brimming with pure Yin energy, had reached the brink of transformation. Qiantang had been the final straw. Now, like a spiritual artifact, it could be stored within the core—but far superior, for no spiritual artifact could hide itself so completely.

The Demon Gourd was Ge Qian’s most powerful treasure, but as a demonic artifact, it could not be used openly, nor risk attracting the attention of Foundation Establishment cultivators. Now, that problem was resolved.

He swiftly collected the supreme-grade “Flame Spear”—a formidable weapon for future battles. Sensing the dense spiritual energy within, he placed it in his storage pouch with satisfaction.

A sweep of his divine sense through Qiantang’s storage pouch filled him with delight—thirty thousand spirit stones, pills, magical weapons, manuals, as well as various spiritual herbs and crafting materials. This was wealth beyond his wildest dreams.

He was well aware of Qiantang’s schemes. Had he not deciphered the Confucian sect’s texts, he would have been swindled out of countless stones. Now, having reached the peak of Qi Condensation, he was eager to eliminate such threats.

Thus, he had deliberately revealed his abilities, luring Qiantang in. Such was Ge Qian’s nature: with absolute certainty, he repaid every slight.

After tidying up the spoils, his heart soared. He was confident he would shine in the upcoming tournament. His flying sword doubled its speed, streaking through the night.

By midnight, he returned to the Star Sect’s herb garden. Thanks to the little white fox’s care, the garden thrived, vibrant and fragrant.

Ge Qian nodded in approval and strode toward the thatched cottage.

He pushed the door open—and the sight that greeted him inside left him utterly astonished.