Renegade Immortal Chapters 61-63: Ancestral Library and Nascent Soul Calamity

The quiet of his room was a sanctuary after the competitive fervor of the sect. Wang Lin sat cross-legged on his bed, the familiar posture a grounding ritual. He spread his divine sense like a fine net around the chamber, a vigilant guard against any prying spiritual probes. Only then, secure in his isolation, did he retrieve the object that had become the axis of his world: the mysterious heaven-defying bead. He studied its surface, no longer adorned with shifting cloud patterns. For the past three days, it had displayed a single, stark image—a leaf. This change, as the ancient soul within had grumpily explained, signaled a shift in the bead’s ravenous needs. It had consumed its fill of water element; now it hungered for wood.

Holding the cool sphere, Wang Lin’s consciousness slipped into the dream space, the familiar gray expanse where Situ Nan resided. The moment he materialized, the old monster’s voice, brimming with impatience and disdain, assaulted him.

“Why didn’t you kill those people in the competition earlier? If it was me, I would have killed all of the males and sucked dry all of the females, then used that centipede to make wine. It would be very nutritious.”

Wang Lin remained silent, accustomed to these bloodthirsty tirades. Situ Nan’s tone shifted, a note of grim approval creeping in. “But one thing you did that suited my taste was killing that Sun Dazhu. Not bad. Just like me in my youth. Wang Lin, you have to remember that the cultivation world is a cruel place. The strong consume the weak. If you keep up your naive thinking, then I’m afraid you won’t live for long.”

The words settled heavily. Wang Lin pondered them, the memory of Sun Dazhu’s lifeless eyes not bringing him regret, but a cold clarity. “Senior,” he finally said, steering the conversation, “should the next step be to prepare for Foundation Building? Junior doesn’t know any chants to enter Foundation Building.”

Situ Nan snorted. “I know the chant, but entering the Foundation Building stage is the true step into the world of cultivation and is very difficult. You should find a secluded place to go into closed-door training to help increase your chances.” He then delivered more pressing news. “Your spiritual spring water and snow water won’t be enough anymore. When you enter Foundation Building, you need a vast amount of spiritual energy. You must prepare spiritual dew.”

“The dew is easy to get. It just requires a lot of time,” Wang Lin replied, already dreading the months of meticulous condensation.

“Your talent isn’t that good,” Situ Nan stated bluntly, “and even though I’ve been using my own essence to help you in these past few decades, entering the Foundation Building stage is a heaven-defying act. If I still had my body, I could barely help you through it, but I can’t do much now.” He paused, his tone turning critical. “In addition, your means of attack is too simple. Just one technique won’t do. But sadly, all the techniques I have require you to be at least at the Foundation Building stage to use. You should quickly reach Foundation Building so I can pass the Underworld Ascension Method to you.”

“Underworld Ascension Method?” Wang Lin echoed.

“Correct,” Situ Nan said, a thread of pride weaving through his spectral voice. “Hehe, even in my home, a rank 6 cultivation country, it is still a top-quality method. Unfortunately, it requires a place rich in yin element, or cultivation will be slow, but the cold spiritual energy it creates is incredibly powerful. Hmph, once you have reached the peak of this method, you can even fight against experts from rank 7 countries. This is settled. Tomorrow, you can go to the scripture library of this small sect and see what they have, but once you reach Foundation Building, you must practice the Underworld Ascension Method.”

Wang Lin nodded his agreement. The ancient soul had never steered him wrong in matters of power.

Before leaving the dream space, Situ Nan gave a final piece of advice. “Also, Wang Lin, it’s best that you don’t put the heaven-defying bead in your bag of holding. Place it as close to your chest as possible, so I can still communicate with you when you’re not in the dream space, and you can enter through me.”

Time in the dream space flowed differently. After what felt like two days of listening to Situ Nan’s ramblings and warnings, Wang Lin awoke in the physical world. He followed the instruction, securing the bead inside his robe, against his skin. He took a measured drink of spiritual liquid and spent the night in silent cultivation, the energy cycling through his meridians, inching him closer to the 15th layer of Qi Condensation.

The next morning, he opened his door to find Sect Master Huang Long already waiting. The man’s smile was markedly warmer than before, a genuine kindness that spoke of Wang Lin’s newly elevated status. “Wang Lin, come with me,” Huang Long said, and without further ceremony, he soared into the air. Wang Lin followed, his body light as a feather as he glided over the familiar sect grounds.

They flew past the competition stage, now silent and empty, and headed deeper into the Pine Peak, a region usually off-limits to inner disciples. Huang Long finally descended before a formation of strange, towering rocks. The air here felt denser, charged with latent power.

“Wang Lin,” Huang Long said, his voice dropping to a whisper, “this is a restricted place in the Heng Yue Sect. This is where the Core Formation true elders and Foundation Building elders cultivate. Do not carelessly spread out your divine sense, or you might offend them.”

Wang Lin nodded solemnly. As Huang Long took out a piece of purple jade, performed a series of hand seals, and opened a shimmering circular portal in the air, Wang Lin felt a thrill of trepidation. He followed the sect master through the rift.

The world blurred and then resolved into a scene of profound gravity. Several ancient, towering buildings stood before him, their architecture imposing and somber. The very atmosphere pressed down, making each breath feel earned. Immediately, seven or eight powerful divine senses swept over him, scrutinizing every fiber of his being. Then, a slow, ancient voice echoed in the clearing, seeming to come from the mountain itself.

“So you are Wang Lin. Not bad.”

Wang Lin bowed deeply. “Disciple Wang Lin greets elder.” In his mind, Situ Nan’s commentary arrived instantly. “This place makes it look much more like what a small sect should be. Two Core Formation and ten Foundation Building cultivators, not bad.”

Huang Long’s expression tightened. “What, elder? This is ancestor!”

Before Wang Lin could correct himself, the ancient voice spoke again, dismissively. “It’s fine. Sect customs are useless here. Wang Lin, this time, you have done a great deed for the sect, so you can choose any technique you like in this scripture library. This scripture library can’t be compared to the one in the courtyard. This is where the real techniques of the Heng Yue Sect are stored. There are more than 10,000 techniques inside. If you were to take this library and compare it to all of the other sects in the country of Zhao, there is no other sect with a larger collection. You must not be too greedy and you must pick the right one! Huang Long, you can take him there now.”

Situ Nan’s scornful laugh rang in Wang Lin’s skull. “A mere Core Formation as ancestor? When I was young, all of the Core Formation cultivators tried to suck up to me, and some of the female Core Formation cultivators would even take off their pants to try to sleep with me.”

Wang Lin’s face remained a placid mask, betraying none of the internal chaos. Huang Long, bowing respectfully to the unseen ancestor, led him to one of the grandest buildings. It exuded an aura of timeless knowledge, a repository of the sect’s deepest secrets.

The Library of Illusions

Outside the heavy doors, Huang Long stopped. “Here is the scripture library. You can go inside. On the first floor are mainly techniques for the Qi Condensation stage. You can look around, but focus your attention on the second floor, because that’s where the techniques for the Foundation Building stage are. I’ll wait for you outside.”

Pushing the door open, Wang Lin entered a hall that took his breath away. The first floor was vast, illuminated by a soft, green glow emanating from thousands of jade slips floating in orderly rows upon shelves that seemed to stretch into infinity. The air hummed with latent spiritual knowledge.

Situ Nan’s voice immediately dripped with contempt. “There is no need to look. What kind of things are there? These are all low-quality techniques. Back then, I wouldn’t even bother to look at them.”

Determined to see for himself, Wang Lin ignored the commentary. He walked slowly along the shelves, picking up jade slips and probing them with a thread of spiritual sense. The first one revealed a technique called “Fire Dragon,” labeled as top quality.

“Piece of shit top quality technique,” Situ Nan declared. “This is clearly the low-quality fire control technique. My soul fire technique is a real top-quality technique.”

Wang Lin put it down, picking up another. “Earth Escape.” “Trash, complete trash! Where I come from, you can get this from anywhere, and they dare to call it a top-quality technique! My five element escape is a real top-quality technique!”

“Wind Blade.” “This is still trash! I know Howling Gale. It is 100 times more powerful!”

“Nine Heaven Thunder Formation.” “What is all this crap? It is clearly just a bad thunder technique. Why give it such a powerful-sounding name? Trash!”

“Immortal Transformation.” “This is kind of interesting, but still trash. I know greater immortal transformation. It is 100 times more powerful.”

One by one, every technique Wang Lin examined was ruthlessly mocked and belittled by the ancient soul from a higher realm. The initial awe and excitement Wang Lin felt began to curdle into frustration and a strange sense of pity for his sect. What they treasured as peak secrets were, in the eyes of a true expert, worthless scraps. His frown deepened with each dismissive snort from Situ Nan.

Finally, having seen enough, he ascended to the second floor. Here, the jade slips were far fewer, perhaps only a few dozen, each suspended in the air and pulsing with a stronger, more profound light.

Situ Nan’s verdict was immediate and final. “All of these are low quality. There is no need to look at them.”

Wang Lin thought wryly, You are a senior from a rank 6 cultivation country; of course none of these techniques are good enough for you. The urge to explore had been utterly extinguished. Situ Nan pressed further, “Wang Lin, you don’t need to look at this. Quickly find a place to go into closed-door training, and once you reach Foundation Building, you can leave this small sect.”

Defeated, the mood of anticipation completely poisoned, Wang Lin turned and walked out of the grand scripture library, his expression a complex mix of disappointment and revelation.

Huang Long, seeing him emerge so quickly, was stunned. “You picked that quickly? You have to carefully choose. This scripture library contains the best techniques in the cultivation country of Zhao. Other people don’t even have the qualifications to enter. You shouldn’t waste it.”

Wang Lin’s expression was odd, caught between the ancestor’s proud words and Situ Nan’s scathing reality. “Disciple has already chosen,” he said simply, offering no explanation.

Huang Long frowned, about to demand details, when the world itself seemed to rebel.

The Voice of Calamity

The entire Pine Peak shuddered violently. Stones rattled, and the ancient buildings groaned. A voice, infused with such immense power it felt like a physical force, rolled over the mountain range, shaking the very bones of every cultivator present.

“I am Xuan Dao Sect’s Pu Nanzi. Juniors of the Heng Yue Sect, quickly come out and greet me.”

Huang Long’s face drained of color. In that instant, more than a dozen figures erupted from the surrounding buildings like startled birds. At the forefront were two individuals whose auras dwarfed all others. One was a red-faced old man with piercing, clear eyes—Liu Wenju, the Core Formation elder Wang Lin had sensed. Beside him was an old woman, her face a landscape of wrinkles, her expression profoundly gloomy. She shot a cold glance at Huang Long and Wang Lin before turning her grim gaze skyward. Behind them, ten Foundation Building elders emerged, each face etched with bitterness and dread.

In Wang Lin’s mind, Situ Nan’s voice turned deadly serious, all mockery gone. “Wang Lin, there is a Nascent Soul cultivator outside. The Heng Yue Sect is in big trouble now. You should find the chance and escape. With me here, I can temporarily make it so that he can’t sense you. Hmph, if I had my body, I wouldn’t be afraid of a mere Nascent Soul.”

A Nascent Soul expert. The pinnacle of power in the country of Zhao. A living legend capable of obliterating their entire sect. Wang Lin’s heart hammered against his ribs, a cold sweat breaking out on his back. He took a deep, steadying breath, forcing his expression to remain neutral, but his spirit was deeply unsettled.

The red-faced elder, Liu Wenju, looked up, his voice booming with forced courage. “Senior Pu Nanzi, I don’t know why you have come to my Heng Yue Sect. Please tell us.”

High above, a tall figure materialized in the air. He wore simple robes, but his presence dominated the sky, making the clouds themselves seem to bow. His face was dignified, his eyes holding the weight of centuries. “If it was 500 years ago, I would be intimidated by the Heng Yue Sect’s defense formation,” Pu Nanzi said, his voice low and resonant, “but, looking at it now, it is only so-so. After I have broken this formation, I’ll talk to you juniors.”

Without another word, he waved his hand. A small, black hill appeared in his palm. It spun once and then shot forward, growing exponentially as it moved. Wind howled around it, coalescing into a giant, roaring tornado that darkened the sky. Pu Nanzi’s hands flew through a series of complex seals, and ancient, powerful chants spilled from his lips. The giant hill, now a mountain-sized projectile, slammed down toward the heart of the Pine Peak.

Between the Pine Peak and the main Heng Yue Peak, a brilliant light screen flashed into existence. It formed a massive, concave bowl that intercepted the devastating blow. The impact sent thunderous shockwaves through the mountain, but the screen held, shimmering violently.

“No less from a great sect from 500 years ago,” Pu Nanzi acknowledged with a cold smile. “This defensive formation has advanced techniques behind it. It can spread the power of the impact around. But I have to see, without a Nascent Soul to maintain it, how many of my attacks it can take.” His hands moved again, summoning another colossal tornado and hurling it down.

Liu Wenju’s face paled further. He swiped a hand through the air before him, tearing open a spatial rift. “Inside, now!” he barked. The Core Formation old woman and the Foundation Building elders rushed into the rift without hesitation.

“Wang Lin, follow closely!” Huang Long hissed, his body shooting into the rift like an arrow.

Wang Lin didn’t need to be told twice. He took a step and followed, the world twisting around him. He emerged back onto the competition stage on the Pine Peak. The scene there had transformed. Liu Wenju and the old woman were now seated atop two of the eight massive white jade pillars that surrounded the stage. Their hands were a blur, forming countless seals as they chanted intricate mantras, their faces taut with strain and concentration.

On six of the remaining pillars sat six Foundation Building elders, their expressions a mask of bitter despair. The old woman spat out a mouthful of vibrant core energy onto her pillar, its light flaring. “Huang Long, quickly, gather all of the inner disciples here! The greatest disaster my Heng Yue Sect will face is this!”

Huang Long’s body shook with the order. Without a word, he turned and charged across the stone bridge toward the main peak.

Above, Pu Nanzi’s cold snort echoed. “It was able to withstand two attacks. Break for me on this third attack!” He spat a mouthful of dense, silvery Nascent Soul energy into the hovering black hill. The artifact trembled and grew tenfold, becoming a true mountain that blotted out the sun over the Pine Peak.

With a deafening BANG, the third strike landed. One of the white jade pillars shattered into crystalline dust. The Foundation Building elder seated upon it screamed as blood erupted from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. His body went limp and tumbled to the ground like a broken doll.

The Fall of the Heng Yue Sect

The assault was relentless. “Break for me! Break! Break!” Pu Nanzi roared, his expression turning fierce. The giant tornado, now his primary weapon, rose and fell like a god’s hammer, each impact shaking the mountain to its roots.

In the surrounding towns and villages, mortals cowered in terror. The bravest peeked from their windows to see a mountain floating in the sky, slamming down again and again against an invisible barrier that flashed with dying rainbows. It was a scene from a world-ending nightmare.

Another white pillar exploded. Another elder coughed a fountain of blood and fell, his life force extinguished.

Pu Nanzi, growing impatient, produced a purple gourd. A seal formed, a complex chant spoken. The gourd trembled, and a stream of crimson liquid poured out. The moment it touched the air, it ignited, becoming a river of fire that coiled around the giant tornado, setting the very wind ablaze.

“Break!” The Nascent Soul expert roared, and the flaming cataclysm descended.

BOOM!

A web of cracks, like fractured glass, spread across the trembling light screen. The sound of shattering jade was almost lost in the roar. Two more pillars disintegrated simultaneously. Two more elders fell, their bodies broken.

Of the eight pillars, only four remained. Aside from the two Core Formation elders, the last two Foundation Building elders’ faces were ashen, their bodies trembling violently. Spiritual energy leaked from them; they had clearly reached their absolute limit.

Huang Long returned then, leading a stream of terrified inner disciples onto the stage. Their faces were pale, eyes wide with shock and primal fear. Among them was Wang Hao, his complexion still sickly but improved. When he saw Wang Lin standing apart, he stumbled over to him, staring dumbfounded at the apocalyptic scene in the sky, unable to utter a single word.

Pu Nanzi hovered in the air, his face dark. The defense formation’s tenacity was beyond his expectation. He knew this was but a shadow of its true power, a dormant giant with no soul to command it. If a Nascent Soul cultivator controlled it, the battle would be entirely different. But now, it could only defend, and its defenders were breaking.

As Liu Wenju watched his juniors fall one by one, a visceral pain gripped his heart. “Senior Pu Nanzi!” he shouted, his voice strained. “Your Xuan Dao Sect has always had a good relationship with our Heng Yue Sect. Do you really want to kill us all?”

Pu Nanzi snorted. “Liu Wenju, you went from being just a junior 500 years ago to a core member of the Heng Yue Sect and have even reached Core Formation. It is a shame to destroy this formation. If you open it yourself, things will be easier for you all.”

Liu Wenju hesitated, a flicker of desperate hope in his eyes. But the Core Formation old woman beside him suddenly shrieked in furious defiance, “Senior Pu Nanzi, I can’t obey!”

Pu Nanzi’s response was a crazed, contemptuous laugh. His face darkened completely. “Fine! This defense formation, break for me!” He waved both hands. The flaming tornado rose higher than ever before, scraping the heavens. His face flushed red as he spat out another vast stream of precious Nascent Soul energy. The tornado swelled, becoming a true pillar of fire and wind that seemed capable of grinding the entire mountain range to dust.

“FALL!”

His hand seal changed, pointing decisively downward.

The giant tornado buzzed with apocalyptic energy as it pressed down. The sound was like the groaning death cry of the world.

Crack!

Another spiderweb of fractures raced across the light screen. Another white pillar shattered. Another elder fell.

The tornado sank another inch. The last Foundation Building elder convulsed, blood erupting from his mouth in a final, violent cough before he collapsed, unconscious or dead.

“BREAK!” Pu Nanzi’s final shout was a command to the universe itself.

The tornado pressed down, sinking three full inches into the mountain’s defenses. The Pine Peak shook as if in an earthquake. With a thunderous, grinding ROAR, the entire mountaintop sank dozens of meters into the earth. The stone bridge connecting to the Heng Yue Peak snapped like a twig, its massive pieces tumbling into the fathomless chasm below.

And then, with a sound like a million shattering crystals, the Heng Yue Sect’s ancient defense formation finally gave way. The light screen fragmented into countless glowing motes that flickered and died, dissolving into nothingness.

The last two white jade pillars exploded. Liu Wenju and the old woman were thrown from their perches, landing hard on the scarred ground. They struggled to rise, their faces etched with utter bitterness and defeat, their cores damaged, their power spent. No words came.

The flaming tornado slowly dissipated. Pu Nanzi let out a cold snort of triumph and descended gracefully to the ravaged stage, though the giant black hill remained floating ominously overhead, its shadow a constant reminder of his absolute power.

He landed, his cold eyes sweeping over the cowed assembly of Heng Yue Sect disciples, the fallen elders, and the two defeated Core Formation experts. “Who here is Wang Lin?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the heavy silence.

Wang Lin’s blood ran cold. Of all the things he had anticipated, being singled out by a Nascent Soul monster was not among them. He had subtly retreated into the crowd of inner disciples, but now, as one, every gaze turned toward him. The weight of those stares felt like a physical push.

Pu Nanzi’s eyes, sharp as daggers, scanned the group and instantly locked onto him. His junior Ouyang Zi had spoken of this Wang Lin repeatedly, blaming their failed plot to claim the Heng Yue Sect’s land squarely on this unexpected disciple. The curiosity had been piqued. Now, seeing the boy—calm on the surface but with a sharp, watchful light in his eyes—Pu Nanzi understood. This was no ordinary Qi Condensation cultivator. The plan had required him to step in and take the land by brute force, all because of this young man.

“You are Wang Lin?” Pu Nanzi asked, his demeanor icy.

Wang Lin took the deepest breath of his life, forcing his racing heart to still. He stepped forward slightly, clasped his hands, and bowed. “Disciple is Wang Lin, and he greets Senior Pu Nanzi.”

Pu Nanzi gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. He then turned his attention back to the broken leadership of the Heng Yue Sect. “The Nascent Soul ancestors of the Heng Yue Sect have all died fighting in another country. You guys no longer have the ability to keep this Heng Yue Mountain. Instead of letting another sect steal it, why not give it to my Xuan Dao Sect?”

Liu Wenju exchanged a look of utter despair with the old woman. Swallowing his pride, he spoke, “Senior, please consider the good relationship between the two sects and not…”

“Leave!” Pu Nanzi interrupted, his voice ringing with impatience. “Besides the people, nothing else can leave! If you keep bugging me, I don’t mind wiping out the entire sect!”

The old woman trembled with rage, a surge of killing intent flashing in her eyes as she made to charge forward. Liu Wenju, though defeated, still possessed clarity. He grabbed her arm, holding her back with a desperate shake of his head. He took another shuddering breath, the taste of ash and humiliation in his mouth. “Junior obeys,” he said, the words tearing at his soul. “But this Heng Yue Mountain has been our sect for thousands of years. Junior doesn’t have the right to give it away. Junior can only agree to lend it. If in the future…”

Pu Nanzi sneered, interrupting again. “Lend? That’s fine. Lend it to my Xuan Dao Sect for 100,000 years.”

A wave of silent, impotent fury washed through the ranks of the inner disciples. Their home, their legacy, was being stolen before their eyes, and they were powerless to stop it. Some hung their heads in shame; others stared at the ground, their minds already turning to their own uncertain futures.

Pu Nanzi’s gaze swept over them and landed on Huang Long. “You. Leave behind your Purple Moon Sword. My junior Ouyang has his eyes on it.”

Huang Long’s entire body stiffened. His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at his sides. He looked toward Liu Wenju and the old woman, seeking guidance, permission, anything. They could only look back, their eyes empty, waiting for his submission. The fight was gone. With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the entire sect’s downfall, Huang Long reached into his bag of holding. He drew out the magnificent Purple Moon Sword, its blade gleaming with a soft, purple light even in the shadow of the hovering mountain. For a moment, he simply held it, then, with a gesture of finality, he threw it onto the dusty, cracked ground at Pu Nanzi’s feet.

The Nascent Soul expert didn’t bend. He merely gestured with his right hand. The sword flew into his grasp as if summoned. The moment it touched his hand, the artifact reacted to the immense power. A vibrant purple gas erupted from the blade, coiling and twisting in the air before forming the majestic, roaring image of a giant dragon—a final, spectral testament to the treasure that was no longer theirs. Pu Nanzi examined it, a faint, satisfied smile touching his lips, while around him, the Heng Yue Sect lay broken, its fate hanging by a thread in the palm of a conqueror. The calamity had arrived, and its name was power.