The Rise of the Sect: I am the most persistent person in the world of immortal cultivation

The Nine-Turn Tribulation-Crossing Pill lay quietly in the brocade box, its golden light swirling and its fragrance permeating the air.

Ye Yang simply watched as the rich medicinal fragrance seemed to transform into a tangible elixir, seeping into his limbs and bones with each breath.

In an instant, the spiritual energy within his body, which had become somewhat depleted due to his breakthrough to the limit, was quickly replenished by a gentle yet powerful energy, like parched land receiving timely rain.

The stinging sensation in my meridians disappeared.

The nascent source of Dao power within his dantian, now nourished by the fragrance of the elixir, became more solid and its light shone even brighter.

The mere smell of the medicine has such a miraculous effect.

If taken directly, it would probably immediately push the source of Dao power to perfection.

Ye Yang picked up the pill, and could clearly feel the terrifying power contained within it at his fingertips.

But he hesitated.

In his mind, the insights of the Azure Lotus Sword Immortal and the pills of the Nine Heavens Dao Ancestor intertwined, paving a broad road for him to reach the Thunder Tribulation Realm.

Everything is ready, everything is in place.

However, Ye Yang's heart was always filled with a vague and inexplicable sense of unease.

He felt he wasn't ready yet.

This feeling is very mysterious; it does not originate from the cultivation technique or spiritual power, but rather from one's state of mind.

Since entering the world of cultivation, he has made rapid progress, acting decisively and ruthlessly, expanding the territory of the Flying Heaven Sect.

His path is the path of relentless struggle and the path of overcoming obstacles.

He was used to solving all problems with force, and used to looking down on all living beings from a high place.

But the tribulation of lightning is not just a test of strength.

Was it enough for him to survive that life-or-death ordeal simply by "struggling" and "breaking"?
He had absolutely no confidence.

Even during this breakthrough.

He felt nothing from it except for power.

It has no life, no emotions, and no warmth.

Like a meticulously crafted weapon, sharp yet cold.

Can such a path withstand the heavenly tribulation?
Perhaps.

But Ye Yang had a vague premonition that even if he succeeded by chance, his path might come to an end.

He didn't want to be an empty shell with only power.

"not enough……"

Ye Yang muttered to himself.

He carefully placed the Nine-Turn Tribulation-Crossing Pill back into the brocade box and kept it close to his body.

Then, he stood up and walked out of the cave where he had been in seclusion for several months.

Didn't alarm anyone.

He was like a gentle breeze, silently passing through the many restrictions of the Flying Heaven Gate and leaving the sect.

Gu Xuan remained guarding outside the forbidden area, completely unaware that the person he worried about day and night had already passed him by.

He only felt a gentle breeze on his face, and thought it was just the unusually cold night wind on the mountaintop.

After leaving the Flying Gate, Ye Yang had no specific destination in mind.

He concealed his aura, suppressing all his earth-shattering cultivation within his body, transforming himself into an ordinary mortal.

He walked aimlessly, his feet sinking into soft soil and grass, his ears filled with the sounds of wind and birdsong.

Never before had he measured the earth with his own feet and listened to nature with his own ears as he did now.

In the past, he would always transform into a streak of light and sweep across the sky, with mountains and rivers appearing to him as nothing more than changing patches of color.

Now, he can feel the pulse of every inch of the earth beneath his feet and can distinguish the scents of various flowers and plants carried on the wind.

His heart calmed down like never before.

A strange feeling rose within him, as if he wanted to merge with the world around him.

He walked for an unknown amount of time until he arrived at a familiar place.

Wild and untamed regions.

A massive stronghold appeared before them, its walls towering high, constructed of massive black ironwood and rocks, and covered with defensive runes.

On the city wall, squads of cultivators were patrolling, their expressions vigilant and their aura fierce.

At the city gate, people came and went, mostly independent cultivators who came to the wilderness for training, or caravans transporting supplies.

This is Blackwood City, the largest stronghold that Flying Gate has established in the wilderness.

Looking at the city before me, a city brimming with vitality and a fierce, indomitable spirit.

Ye Yang recalled a long time ago, when he was still a minor martial arts cultivator, and the small teahouse he ran in a mortal city in order to break through to the True Person realm.

Back then, he was just like that, quietly watching people come and go, listening to the various accents from all over the country.

A thought took root and sprouted uncontrollably in his mind.

He wants to open another teahouse here.

Not as the lofty and supreme Dao Ancestor Ye, but as an ordinary mortal, a cultivator struggling to survive.

Go and experience their lives, their joys and sorrows, their hopes and despair.

Perhaps this will allow him to find the missing piece of "Tao" within himself.

Ye Yang entered Blackwood City.

The atmosphere in the city was much more tense than he had imagined.

The number of Flying Heaven Sect disciples on patrol has increased significantly, with a guard almost every three steps and a sentry every five steps.

The monks on the road were in a hurry, many of them were injured, and their faces showed fatigue and vigilance.

Occasionally, when cultivators gathered together, they would talk in hushed tones, their expressions solemn.

"Have you heard? Last night, Mine Area No. 3 was attacked again, and seven or eight of our brothers died!"

"Damn it! It must have been those bastards from the Earth Dragon Sect and the Poisonous Snake Valley! They've been lurking around here lately!"

"Shh! Keep your voice down! Sect Leader Gu has issued a kill order. These are critical times, so don't speak carelessly!"

"What's the use of a kill order? They won't confront you directly; they'll just use underhanded tactics, making it impossible to defend against!"

"Alas, if only Master Ye were here. As soon as he comes out of seclusion, he could kick those petty scoundrels out with just a word."

"I heard that Dao Ancestor Ye is in seclusion breaking through to the Thunder Tribulation Dao Realm. I just hope that Dao Ancestor can succeed and come out of seclusion soon, otherwise this desolate place may be about to change."

Ye Yang listened silently to the discussions and walked into a secluded alley in the city.

He used some unused low-level materials from his storage ring and a rogue cultivator who was preparing to leave the wilderness to exchange for a shop facing the street.

The shop was small and even a bit dilapidated.

Ye Yang didn't use magic; instead, he cleaned and repaired the tables and chairs by hand, just like an ordinary person.

Then, he used his internal energy to change his appearance and physique.

The once handsome young man has become a hunched, wrinkled, white-haired old man.

His aura also changed from unfathomable to that of an old cultivator in the Qi Refining stage with low cultivation and declining blood and qi.

Such old cultivators are everywhere in the wilderness.

Most of them had suffered serious injuries in their youth, which severed their path.

He could only rely on his meager cultivation level to do some small business in the stronghold and barely survive.

No one would give him a second glance.

The next day, heavy snow began to fall.

Winter comes early and is cold in the wilderness.

Ye Yang's tea shop quietly opened amidst the wind and snow.

There was no signboard, only a cloth banner hanging at the entrance with a crooked "tea" character written in ink on it.

Inside the teahouse, there were only a few simple wooden tables and a charcoal stove.

On the stove, a dark iron kettle was bubbling and steaming.

Ye Yang, wrapped in a thick cotton robe, sat behind the counter, drowsy, looking just like an old man on his deathbed.

Heavy snow blocked the roads, and there were few pedestrians on the streets.

After a long while, the curtain of the teahouse was finally lifted, and a gust of cold wind carrying snowflakes rushed in.

Three young cultivators entered, two men and one woman. They all looked quite young, and their cultivation levels were around the Foundation Establishment stage.

They were wearing matching blue Taoist robes; they were disciples of a small sect from the surrounding area, here in the wilderness for training.

The leader was a tall, muscular man with a full beard, who looked much older than his actual age.

As soon as he entered, he yelled, "This damn weather is freezing! Uncle, do you have any hot tea? Quickly, bring us three bowls!"

"Yes, coarse tea, one spirit stone for one pot."

Ye Yang didn't even bother to lift his eyelids, and said in a hoarse voice.

"One spirit stone? That's so cheap?"

The other tall, thin male cultivator looked somewhat surprised.

In Blackwood City, even the worst pot of spirit tea costs three to five spirit stones.

The female cultivator was more observant. She glanced around the simple teahouse, then looked at Ye Yang, and whispered to her companion, "Senior brother, this place looks..."

"Oh, what does it matter! As long as I can drink it!"

The bearded male cultivator waved his hand impatiently, took out a low-grade spirit stone from his storage bag, and threw it on the counter.

"Give me a pot! The hottest one yet!"

Ye Yang slowly stood up, picked up the iron kettle on the stove, and poured them three bowls of steaming hot tea.

The tea was brown and looked murky, with only a faint trace of its spiritual essence.

The bearded man picked up the bowl, blew on it, and drank most of it in one gulp.

"Ah! That's great! The tea isn't very good, but it's hot enough!"

He wiped his mouth and sat down casually.

"Senior brother, where do we go next? Bloodfang Valley to the north is too dangerous. I heard that there were even Golden Core stage demonic beasts there yesterday," the tall, thin man asked.

"What's there to be afraid of! Fortune favors the bold! We came out here this time to find some good stuff so we can show off at the sect competition when we get back, right?" The bearded man snorted.

"But... I've heard things haven't been peaceful lately. Those people from the Earth Dragon Sect are causing trouble everywhere. We'd better be careful."

The nun said with concern.

"Earth Dragon Sect?"

The bearded man's face darkened, and he cursed.

"A bunch of opportunistic bastards! If it weren't for Daozu Ye's seclusion, they wouldn't dare to come to the Wilderness to cause trouble even if they had a hundred lives!" "That's right, the Flying Heaven Sect is really something, they've been bullied to their doorstep and they still don't dare to fight back. That fairy woman is beautiful, but her methods are too soft."

The tall, thin man chimed in.

"You know nothing!"

The bearded man glared at him.

"Right now, the Flying Heaven Sect is entirely supported by Sect Leader Gu Xuan and Fairy Su. They have to guard against those powerful forces and stabilize the Wilderness. How much pressure are they under? Besides, they've already issued a kill order. Aren't they tough enough? It's just that the enemy is too cunning and doesn't want to confront us head-on!"

He sighed, his tone softening again.

"In the end, we still have to wait for Daozu Ye to come out of seclusion. As soon as he comes out, the Earth Dragon Sect and the Poisonous Snake Valley will have to obediently get lost."

The female nun also spoke softly.

"Yes, I really want to meet the legendary Dao Ancestor Ye. It is said that he is an unparalleled genius with unmatched combat power, a rare talent in our cultivation world."

The bearded man looked on with longing.

"More than a prodigy! He's practically a god! One man, with just a sword, he carved a bloody path through the wilderness, established so many strongholds, and sheltered countless rogue cultivators and small sects. Who can compare to his achievements?"

Ye Yang sat behind the counter, listening quietly to their conversation, his expression serene.

He picked up a rag and slowly wiped the counter, as if the "god" they were talking about had nothing to do with him.

Now, he's just an old man selling tea.

After the three young monks finished their tea and warmed themselves up, they chatted for a while before getting up and leaving.

The teahouse returned to silence.

Only the charcoal in the stove occasionally made a slight popping sound.

Ye Yang looked at the snow falling outside the window, his mind clear and empty.

So this is how these ordinary cultivators perceive them.

They are God, they are hope, they are the only reliance.

His existence itself is a form of order.

His seclusion caused cracks in this order.

Meanwhile, those unscrupulous individuals are eager to tear off pieces of their own interests from these cracks.

Just then, the curtain was lifted again.

The man who came in this time was a burly, one-armed man.

He was wearing the standard armor of the Flying Heaven Sect, but the armor was covered with knife marks and dried bloodstains, and the sleeve of his left arm was empty, swaying in the wind.

As soon as he entered the room, he went straight to the stove and stretched out his only remaining right hand to warm it by the fire.

He had a hideous scar on his face, stretching from the corner of his eye to his chin, which made him look menacing.

Ye Yang recognized him.

He was quite famous among the rogue cultivators at the bottom of Blackwood City.

He is Wang Hu, one of the founding fathers of Blackwood City.

It is said that he lost this arm in a battle with the demons.

Wang Hu didn't speak, but silently warmed himself by the fire. The chill and bloody smell emanating from his body permeated the small teahouse under the heat of the stove.

Ye Yang didn't say anything, but got up, poured him a bowl of hot tea, and placed it on the table next to him.

Wang Hu turned around and glanced at him, a hint of surprise in his eyes.

He nodded as a thank you, then picked up the teacup and drank it all in one gulp.

After drinking the scalding hot tea, his tense body seemed to relax a little.

"Uncle, is your tea shop newly opened?" Wang Hu's voice was a little hoarse.

"Yes, I just arrived," Ye Yang replied.

"This world is not peaceful. Why did an old man like you come to this desolate place?" Wang Hu asked, frowning.

"I couldn't survive, so I came here to beg for food."

"Begging for food? The food here is for your last meal before you're beheaded."

Wang Hu sneered, took out a bag of spirit stones from his pocket, and threw it on the table.

"This is enough for your tea money for a month. I see you're a pitiful person, so take my advice: once the snow stops, leave Blackwood City as soon as possible and go as far away as you can."

"Why?" Ye Yang asked.

"Because war is about to break out here soon."

Wang Rizhi said in a low voice, his eyes flashing with a cold light.

"Those cowards have been testing the waters for so long, it's time for them to make their move. When that happens, swords have no eyes, and your level of cultivation won't even be enough to fill their teeth."

After he finished speaking, he ignored Ye Yang, poured himself another bowl of tea, and looked out at the heavy snow, lost in thought.

Ye Yang looked at his empty sleeves and his scarred face, and suddenly felt a pang of emotion.

These are the monks under his protection.

Despite losing an arm, he still stood firm on the front line.

Knowing that a major battle was imminent, all he could think about was getting an old man he didn't know to escape for his life.

Ye Yang didn't say anything more, but silently added a few pieces of charcoal to the stove to make the fire burn brighter.

As night deepened, the heavy snow showed no signs of stopping.

More customers arrived at the teahouse.

There were Flying Heaven Sect disciples who had just finished their patrol and were exhausted.

There was a wandering monk who ran a small business in the city, his face full of worry.

There were also some unfamiliar faces with suspicious behavior, shifty eyes, and a deliberate attempt to gather information.

They drank tea, warmed themselves, and exchanged all sorts of true and false information.

"Have you heard? The purple-robed old monster from the Earth Dragon Sect seems to have arrived at the Black Stone stronghold and consolidated the forces there."

"Poisonous Thousand Feet from Snake Valley has also appeared. It is said that he has laid a deadly poison in the area of ​​Flowing Sand River, and several of our scouts have been killed."

"What are they trying to do? Are they really going to start a war with the Flying Heaven Sect?"

"Start a war? I think they want to take advantage of Ye Daozu's seclusion and swallow up our foundation in the wilderness!"

"Damn it, this is so frustrating! If only Daozu Ye were here..."

"Stop thinking about it, just stay here and guard the place. Sect Leader Gu won't abandon us."

Ye Yang listened and watched quietly, like a true outsider.

He saw a Flying Heaven Sect disciple, and upon hearing the news of his comrade's death, a fleeting look of grief and anger crossed his eyes.

He saw a caravan manager with a distressed expression as he calculated the losses from the looted goods.

He also saw the faint, cold smiles on the lips of those unfamiliar cultivators when they heard that the Flying Heaven Sect was short of troops.

All aspects of life are captured in a single glance.

These were things he couldn't have sensed when he sat in the sect's main hall, looking at the information on the jade slips.

Intelligence is just cold text and numbers.

Now, he is feeling the vibrant lives of individuals and the burdens they carry.

His state of mind was quietly changing amidst the noisy yet real worldly affairs.

Ye Yang did not cultivate that night.

He just kept boiling water and adding tea.

Use bowls of cheap, coarse tea to warm those struggling to survive in the wind and snow.

The snow stopped when it got light.

The customers in the teahouse had already left.

Ye Yang tidied up the table and chairs and was about to close the door to rest when the curtain was lifted again.

This time, it was a woman who walked in.

She was dressed in white, graceful and charming, but her brows carried an unyielding weariness and worry.

She was clearly not there for tea.

As soon as she entered, her gaze swept across the entire teahouse, finally settling on Ye Yang.

Ye Yang's heart stirred slightly, but on the surface he remained the drowsy old man.

His disguise was so convincing that even a cultivator at the Tribulation Realm might not be able to see through it.

It would be even less likely for a true cultivator to discover the clues.

"Sir, did you see this person yesterday?"

The woman took out a portrait and unfolded it in front of Ye Yang.

The person in the portrait is Wang Hu, the one-armed patrol captain of the Flying Gate.

Ye Yang blinked his cloudy eyes and said in a hoarse voice, "I've seen him. He drank tea here all night last night and didn't leave until dawn."

The woman swayed slightly, and her face instantly turned pale.

"Which direction did he... go?" Her voice trembled slightly.

Ye Yang raised his hand and pointed outside the city in the direction of the "Blood Fang Valley" that the tall, thin cultivator called it.

Before leaving last night, Wang Hu looked in that direction and muttered to himself, "Even if I die, I'll take a few of them down with me."

The woman's eyes dimmed instantly.

She put away the portrait and bowed deeply to Ye Yang.

"Thank you, old man."

After saying that, she turned and left, her back view desolate and resolute.

Ye Yang watched her retreating figure and knew what she was about to do.

He silently picked up the iron kettle and slowly poured the remaining tea into the stove.

"Shoot..."

With a soft sound, a cloud of white steam rose and enveloped his figure.

"What exactly is spiritual practice...?"

He murmured to himself, his voice seemingly blending into the clear morning after the snow had stopped.

"Perhaps it is protection, responsibility, the lights of thousands of homes, and the mortal world."

"No, it is to live forever, to forge ahead without hesitation, to be one with heaven and earth, and to survive only when heaven and earth decline!"

In a daze, a light appeared in Ye Yang's eyes, and through the steamy warmth of the teahouse, his gaze became even more focused. (End of Chapter)