Qingyangzi lowered his hand and turned his calm gaze back to Wu Feng, his voice gentle yet laced with quiet temptation.
"Great King, you possess an unparalleled immortal destiny. If you follow this poor Daoist back to the Thousand Peaks Sect to cultivate, you will master heaven-shaking, earth-shaking powers. You will transcend life and death, achieve immortality, and move mountains or fill seas with a mere wave of your hand. That is a hundred times better than remaining here as a bandit king, living a life of endless killing and never knowing when your luck might run out. So? Are you willing to come with me to the East Spirit Continent and step onto the path of immortal cultivation?"
Immortality? Moving mountains and filling seas?
The words echoed in Wu Feng's ears like a spell. Anyone else would have been overjoyed and agreed on the spot.
But Wu Feng stayed silent. He glanced down at the tiger-head blade in his hand, then at the gates of Black Tiger Stronghold behind him. A complicated look flashed across his eyes.
After a long pause, he finally lifted his head. The bandit king's arrogant, wild grin returned to his face. He let out a cold laugh at Qingyangzi. "Immortal cultivation? This lord isn't interested."
Qingyangzi's smile faltered for a moment. He clearly hadn't expected the refusal. A trace of confusion flickered in his eyes. "Oh? Why do you say that, Great King? Immortal cultivation is a heaven-defying act of changing one's fate. Countless people beg for such an opportunity yet never receive it. Why would you turn it down?"
Wu Feng laughed twice, his voice full of smug pride. "This lord clawed his way up through mountains of corpses and rivers of blood for ten whole years before finally becoming the king of this mountain."
He paused, sweeping his gaze over the surrounding bandits before fixing it back on Qingyangzi. "And right now… if I want gold and silver, I have as much as I please. If I want women, I have plenty. The officials in the surrounding counties don't dare provoke me lightly.
"Here, I am the sky. I am the king. I may not command the wind and rain, but I can do whatever I damn well please. Whatever I want, I take."
He took a step forward. Killing intent surged from his body once more, clashing sharply with the serene, ethereal aura around Qingyangzi.
"What's so great about immortal cultivation? I'd have to start from scratch, obey a bunch of sect rules, and maybe even suck up to other people. My life right now is free and easy. Why the hell would I go suffer through all that?"
In Wu Feng's eyes, the life he had now was the best possible existence in this chaotic world—power in his hands, everything he desired within reach. It was far more real than some vague promise of immortality.
Qingyangzi didn't get angry. Instead, he smiled. "Great King, you see things clearly, but you only understand the present comfort. You don't yet understand how dangerous this chaotic world truly is.
"You may be the bandit king who rules this territory, but you are still a mortal of flesh and blood. You cannot block every blade or arrow, nor can you escape old age, sickness, and death. Today you stand tall through ruthlessness and cunning, but tomorrow? If a stronger enemy appears, if the authorities gather a massive army to surround the mountain, or if disaster strikes, how long do you think your Black Tiger Stronghold and your position as bandit king will last?"
Wu Feng's face darkened. His voice turned icy. "This lord has lived for years and faced every kind of danger there is. I've survived official sieges. I've survived assassination attempts by my enemies. If someone wants my life, they'd better have the ability to take it!"
He had passed through countless life-and-death crises in the last ten years and had long since stopped fearing death. Qingyangzi's words couldn't scare him.
Qingyangzi looked at the defiance in Wu Feng's eyes, his smile unchanged, but his tone grew more certain. "You are indeed a tough one, Great King. But this poor Daoist must remind you: your body is not in good shape. If you do not cultivate and change your fate, you will not live another ten years. A terminal illness will claim you."
"Bullshit!" Wu Feng exploded in fury. "My body is tougher than anyone's! I rarely even catch a cold, let alone a serious illness. Where the hell is this terminal disease coming from? You old bastard are deliberately cursing me—what's your game?"
He was telling the truth.
Ever since he had transmigrated, Wu Feng had fought with ruthless ferocity in this chaotic world. His physique had been tempered far beyond that of an ordinary man. Ordinary blades and arrows could barely wound him, and for years he had been free of illness or disaster. He had never noticed anything wrong with his body.
If he hadn't personally witnessed Qingyangzi conjure fire from nothing and burn a tree to ash, he would have already raised his tiger-head blade and chopped this rambling old Daoist in half.
Qingyangzi remained calm and unhurried, as if he couldn't sense Wu Feng's killing intent. "This poor Daoist is well-versed in both medicine and divination. With one close look, I can tell whether a person has hidden ailments and how much lifespan they have left.
"You have killed far too many people over the years. The number of vengeful spirits on your hands is beyond counting. You have also dragged yourself back from the brink of death many times, each time paying the price by burning away your own lifespan.
His gaze landed precisely on the deepest scar running from Wu Feng's shoulder blade. His tone was calm, yet every word struck like a needle.
"You thought those near-fatal injuries had fully healed? It was only your youthful vigor and strong body temporarily suppressing the hidden damage. Your heart has long been worn down by all that overexertion. It simply hasn't reached the breaking point yet, so you feel nothing.
"In another three to five years, once the hidden damage erupts, you will suffer crushing heart pain. Even the imperial physicians of West Chuan Continent would be powerless to save you."
Wu Feng's face sank to rock bottom. The rage in his chest was suddenly smothered by a strange wave of panic.
He unconsciously pressed a hand to his chest. His heartbeat felt steady and strong, with no discomfort at all. Yet Qingyangzi spoke with such certainty and had accurately pointed out the many times Wu Feng had nearly died.
In those years, to survive, he really had pushed through on sheer willpower alone. Afterward he had simply thought he was lucky to be alive. He had never considered that such hidden damage might remain.
He gritted his teeth and stared fiercely at Qingyangzi. "Anyone can spout empty words. How do you prove it? Don't think you can fool me with cheap tricks and trick me into following you!"
"Proving it is very simple." Qingyangzi smiled faintly. He reached into his robe, pulled out a small cloth pouch, and tipped it over. Several three-inch silver needles slid into his palm, gleaming with a cold, sharp light. They were clearly no ordinary items.
"There is a point on the back called the Heart Shu acupoint that connects directly to the heart's meridians. This poor Daoist will stimulate that point with a silver needle. For a healthy person, it will only cause the heartbeat to speed up slightly with no discomfort. But for someone with a hidden heart condition, it will immediately produce intense pain in the chest. Truth or falsehood—one test will reveal it."
Wu Feng's eyes flickered. He immediately pointed at two trusted subordinates behind him. "You two, go test it!"
He wanted to see if the old Daoist was playing some trick. If the man dared try anything, no matter how strange his powers were, Wu Feng would fight to the death.
Though the two bandits were wary of the silver needles, they didn't dare disobey. They stepped forward, trembling as they stripped off their upper garments to bare their backs.
Qingyangzi moved closer, pinched one needle between his fingers with practiced ease, and aimed at the same spot on each man's back shoulder. With a gentle twist, the needle sank in steadily, leaving only a small portion of the tail visible.
"Mmm…" Both men let out low grunts and instinctively clutched their chests. Their expressions changed slightly, but there was no sign of pain.
A moment later Wu Feng asked, "How does it feel?"
"Reporting to the Great King… my heart is just beating a bit faster. Nothing else feels wrong!"
One bandit answered quickly. The other nodded and touched his shoulder. Aside from a faint soreness, there was nothing unusual.
Wu Feng's brows remained tightly knit. His suspicion eased a little, but he still wasn't fully convinced.
He pointed at two more bandits. The result was exactly the same.
All of them only felt their hearts speed up, with no chest pain whatsoever.
Only then did Wu Feng step forward, half-believing and half-doubting. As he passed his trusted men, he growled under his breath, "Watch him closely! Stare at his hands. Make sure he sticks the needle in the exact same spot. Don't let him play any tricks!"
The subordinates immediately closed in, forming a tight circle around Qingyangzi. Their eyes locked onto his hands; they didn't even dare breathe loudly.
Wu Feng stopped in front of Qingyangzi, gritted his teeth, and stripped off his own upper garment, revealing his broad, scar-covered back. The muscles were taut like a tiger ready to pounce. "Do it! No tricks, or even if I die, this lord will still bite a chunk of flesh off you!"
Qingyangzi shook his head without saying another word. He pinched a silver needle, locked onto the Heart Shu acupoint on Wu Feng's back shoulder, and with a slight flick of his wrist, drove the needle in.
Wu Feng had just begun to focus when a sharp, bone-piercing agony suddenly exploded in his chest. It felt as if countless tiny knives were madly shredding his heart. The pain turned his vision black. Every muscle in his body clenched tight. Cold sweat the size of beans instantly covered his forehead, and breathing became difficult.
"Ugh…" Wu Feng couldn't hold back a muffled roar. He whipped his hand back and yanked the needle out with brute force, pulling a tiny bead of blood with it.
The moment the needle left his body, the crushing pain in his chest receded like a tide, leaving only a faint soreness. Yet it was more than enough to leave him shaken to the core.
In all his years, he had endured blades, axes, and arrows tearing through his flesh, but he had never felt pain like this. It was a despairing agony that came from the very depths of his heart—definitely not fake.
Only now did he finally believe some of what Qingyangzi had said. His body really was riddled with hidden damage.
Qingyangzi put the silver needle back into the cloth pouch and looked at Wu Feng, whose face had gone slightly pale and whose breathing was unsteady. His tone remained calm and even. "Well? Do you believe me now? Your heart condition is already deeply rooted. Only by cultivating, absorbing the spiritual energy of heaven and earth to nourish your meridians and reshape your body, can you reverse your lifespan and extend your life.
He paused, glancing at the tiger-head blade still gripped tightly in Wu Feng's hand, and added, "This poor Daoist came today solely because of your immortal destiny. If you are willing to follow me back to the Thousand Peaks Sect, I will teach you the foundational heart method and help you resolve this heart ailment.
"But if you still refuse, this poor Daoist will not force you. I will leave at once. However, immortal destiny is rare and opportunities vanish in an instant. If you miss me today, there may never be another cultivator who comes to pull you out of this dead end!"