Chapter 2: Cultivation

Xingtian had thick eyebrows and striking eyes, his features sharply defined, his entire face giving the impression of being chiseled by a master craftsman. In Di Cang’s eyes, there was not a single soul who, upon seeing this visage, would think him merely human; he looked more like an invincible god incarnate.

Jiufeng, by contrast, was much softer in appearance. Judging by the shape of her face alone, she seemed to be in the prime of youth—her cheeks tinged with a rosy glow, lips like crimson petals, elegant brows arched like the new moon, teeth white as jade… Her entire being radiated an extraordinary divinity. If she possessed a body as perfect as her face suggested, Di Cang thought to himself that, even if she were a giantess, he wouldn’t mind in the least!

Xingtian’s eyes darted about as he spoke first, “This brother certainly looks unique!”

Jiufeng added, “His constitution seems rather poor. I wonder if he’ll be able to cultivate the Ninefold Mystic Art?”

Among the Wu tribe, there existed a supreme technique that all clansmen could learn, known as the Ninefold Mystic Art. However, the requirements for cultivating it were astonishingly high; one needed an innately superior physique. Hou Yi, Xingtian, Jiufeng, Kua Fu—these legendary figures, at the moment of their birth, each possessed a body and comprehension of the cosmic laws on par with a Golden Immortal. They were naturally qualified to cultivate this art.

But Di Cang glanced over himself. He certainly was not born with the body of a great Wu. His physical form had been transported directly from the Azure Star; to call himself a "postnatal human" was already far too generous. After all, everyone knew the Azure Star was not only devoid of spiritual energy to nourish the body, but also teeming with viruses and bacteria—utterly unsuitable for cultivation!

A “pseudo-postnatal human” versus a “great Wu body”—the disparity was staggering. Di Cang was acutely self-aware; he belonged solidly in the category of those who ought to be cast aside.

Kua Fu, however, laughed heartily. “No need to fret! On the Ancestral Wu Peak, there are countless rare treasures. One day I’ll pick a few fruits to supplement him; he’ll grow tall and strong in no time.”

“Very well,” replied Jiufeng. Her enormous, luminous black eyes swept over Di Cang from head to toe. “I’ll teach him a cultivation method, then!”

As she spoke, she pricked her little finger, and a single drop of dazzling, rosy blood emerged. Instantly, it split into countless crimson threads, each carrying mysterious power, seeping into Di Cang’s body through every pore.

Di Cang felt a sudden surge of strength throughout his being. In his mind, a boundless mist of blood seemed to roll and churn. At the heart of this mist, a colossal divine figure supporting the heavens appeared, bold and unmistakable.

Jiufeng explained, “You probably can’t begin cultivating the Ninefold Mystic Art just yet. I am passing you the Divine Creation Chart—by visualizing the Father God, you can awaken your body’s latent potential and strengthen your spirit. After you cultivate for some time, you’ll be ready to practice the Ninefold Mystic Art.”

“Well… that’ll do, I suppose,” Di Cang replied, resignation written all over his face. What else could he do? His constitution was poor, and he felt utterly hopeless.

After a few more words between the three giants, they each sat cross-legged upon the ground.

Immediately, Di Cang sensed a boundless milky-white energy welling up from deep within the earth, surging forth like a vast ocean. To Xingtian and the others, this was nothing; they were like whirlpools that devoured all in their path, draining the ocean dry in a single gulp without a trace of effort.

Di Cang took a deep breath as well, and immediately felt soothed throughout his entire body. When he opened his eyes a second time, he found himself staring into a pair of sharp eyes descending from the heavens. Jiufeng’s curious voice followed, “Di Cang, why aren’t you cultivating properly? Why are you sneaking glances around?”

“I…” Di Cang caught himself, quickly nodded, and began moving his hands in strange gestures, imitating the divine figure in his mind.

Strangely enough, the more Di Cang focused his consciousness on the “Divine Creation Chart” in his sea of awareness, the more his spirit seemed to stretch and strengthen. Every detail of the divine figure’s body was etched vividly in his mind. Or perhaps, his mind was like a mirror, perfectly reflecting the image within the chart.

Di Cang’s body began to wither visibly. At the same time, two streams of clear and milky energy circled him, nourishing his frame.

One breath. Two breaths… After ten breaths’ time, Di Cang felt his strength waning. His mind naturally withdrew from the chart, and only then did he sense an overwhelming hunger awakening deep within his soul.

“Damn!” Di Cang was startled. Were all cultivation methods in this prehistoric world so exhausting? The process wasn’t complicated—just staring intently at the image, the deeper the focus, the better the result. Yet, after just ten breaths, he was already famished. Was he doomed to become a glutton?

In fact, Di Cang did not realize that, if Jiufeng hadn’t passed him the cultivation method and gifted him a drop of her own blood, with his frail body he wouldn’t have lasted even an instant practicing the Divine Creation Chart, much less ten breaths.

Gazing at the three mountain-like figures before him, each seemingly rooted within the swirling white mist, Di Cang once again felt the deep malice of this world. They were all cultivating, yet the difference between people was simply too vast.

Cautiously, Di Cang crept over to Kua Fu’s side. Although he couldn’t cultivate effectively himself, he discovered that staying close to the white mist eased his hunger. After all, with his current frail form, if he ventured out of the Pangu Hall alone to search for food, it would be nothing short of suicide. Who knew—perhaps the creatures out there were waiting for him!

Just then, as the three Wu were absorbed in their cultivation, the great doors of Pangu Hall swung open once more. Another giant, as imposing as a mountain, strode inside. Across his shoulder rested a massive black stone bow, and in his hand he carried a blood-drenched, awe-inspiring, fire-red tusked boar, its entire body exuding a savage, baleful energy.

From Di Cang’s vantage point, all he could see was a colossal tail, as grand and godlike as Houtu’s mountain-driving whip, radiating divinity and destructive power.

There was no need to ask. This giant, who returned from the wilds with his prey, was naturally one of the four newly born Great Wu of the Pangu Hall—Hou Yi.

Hou Yi paid no mind to Xingtian and the others. He cast a curious glance at Di Cang, paused, and then asked, “My name is Hou Yi. What’s yours?”

“Di Cang!” Di Cang replied loudly. “Brother Hou Yi, were you out hunting?”

As he spoke, his stomach rumbled twice in perfect coordination, letting Hou Yi know just how hungry he was.

Hou Yi answered in all seriousness, “I don’t kill recklessly. When I went out, this tusked boar was attacking a little rabbit—ferocious and bullying the weak. Such a brute cannot be spared.”

Di Cang’s expression grew odd. Hou Yi, you killed it, so you killed it—why the explanation? It almost sounded more suspicious.