Ye Qiu’s expression shifted slightly.
He suddenly realized that the purple lightning wasn’t being expelled by the Nine-Turn Dragon Art—it was racing through his meridians on its own.
It completed three full cycles.
Twenty minutes later—
A sharp sound rang out.
It felt like something inside him had shattered.
But Ye Qiu knew nothing had broken—it was the Nine-Turn Dragon Art breaking through to the third stage: Marrow-Cleansing Realm!
Sure enough.
Checking within, he found the third page of the Art’s manual in his mind now accessible. It detailed a cultivation diagram, accompanied by four lines:
Nine turns of the dragon, the third marks the divide;
True qi emerges, endless and alive.
What did that mean?
Ye Qiu puzzled over it.
The Nine-Turn Dragon Art hadn’t progressed since mastering the second stage long ago. Yet today, by sheer chance, it broke through.
Normally, at his usual pace, it would’ve taken at least two more months.
This breakthrough owed everything to that purple lightning in his meridians.
“So, that lightning didn’t harm me—it brought huge benefits.”
Closing his eyes, Ye Qiu began cultivating the third stage.
The Marrow-Cleansing Realm, as the name implied, focused on purging impurities from the body.
Everyone knew that consuming grains left toxins in the body. Marrow-cleansing aimed to expel them entirely.
“After the first stage, my strength reached thousands of jin. The second made my body like iron and bronze. But this third stage—marrow-cleansing—seems kinda underwhelming,” Ye Qiu muttered to himself.
“Whatever. Since I’ve broken through, might as well give it a shot.”
He sat cross-legged and followed the diagram.
Soon, his body lifted off the ground, hovering three feet up, slowly rotating.
A faint golden glow emerged on his skin, casting him like a divine figure.
Gradually, the glow intensified.
About half an hour later—
A foul stench hit his nose.
His pores opened, and strands of black liquid oozed out, eventually coating his body in a dark layer.
These were the impurities expelled from within.
Another hour passed.
Ye Qiu sensed the purple lightning had fully merged into his meridians, forming a breath-like energy—endless and alive.
Yet it differed from typical inner strength.
He ran the Nine-Turn Dragon Art from the first stage through to the third.
Then, that endless energy stirred from his dantian, flowing through his meridians and over three hundred acupoints.
A warm sensation enveloped him.
To his shock, his injuries began healing at an astonishing rate.
Simultaneously, his charred skin cracked and peeled, revealing new, flawless flesh beneath—white with a rosy glow, like the finest jade.
Even the world’s most perfect-skinned woman would envy it.
“I never thought extending General Bai’s life would yield such rewards,” Ye Qiu marveled.
Only now did he grasp those four lines.
The Nine-Turn Dragon Art’s first two stages laid the foundation; the third marked true cultivation.
This endless energy wasn’t mere inner strength—it was true qi.
Though as thin as a hair and seemingly weak, its power was immense.
Ye Qiu felt that if he faced Long Ba from the Forbidden City now, he’d win hands down. Even against Long Qi, he might not win but could hold his own.
Beyond that—
With true qi, unassisted by the Art, his arms still wielded a thousand jin of force, his body as tough as iron.
Plus two bonuses:
First, post-marrow-cleansing, his mind felt sharper—reading ten lines at a glance, retaining everything, his memory a hundred times stronger.
Second, the endless true qi accelerated his healing, outpacing even talisman effects.
This was a trump card against foes—rapid recovery from injuries.
Suddenly, a thought struck him.
“I’ve cultivated true qi—does that mean stronger folks like Ye Wudi or Long Qi have it too?”
“If they do, can they also heal fast?”
“If everyone can, my trump card’s worthless.”
He resolved to ask Ye Wudi when he could.
Glancing at his filth-covered, reeking body, he muttered, “Better wash up first, or I’ll knock everyone out with the smell.”
After a bath and fresh clothes, he headed to General Bai’s room.
Pushing the door open—
He saw Bai Yujing and his father by the bed, fawning over the old man with filial concern.
General Bai leaned against the headboard, expressionless.
Bai Bing stood aside, head bowed, silently crying.
Bing-jie’s upset?
A cold glint flashed in Ye Qiu’s eyes. Before he could speak, Bai Jianjun pointed at him, addressing General Bai, “Father, this little bastard ruined us.”
“If he hadn’t wrecked our alliance with the Pei family, Xiao Bing would be their daughter-in-law by now.”
“I wouldn’t be sidelined at home, and Yujing wouldn’t have been booted by the War God.”
“It’s all Ye Qiu’s fault.”
“Father, you’ve got to back us up!” Bai Jianjun’s tears fell as he spoke.
“Yujing, is this true?” General Bai asked flatly.
“Grandfather, it’s all true. Plus, that day at our place, Ye Qiu trashed over a hundred guards and beat me up. Look—my face is still messed up from him,” Bai Yujing replied.
His injuries lingered, his face bruised and swollen.
“Yujing, come closer. Let me see,” General Bai beckoned.
Bai Yujing eagerly leaned in.
The next second—
General Bai slapped him hard across the face.
