Meanwhile, Xinzi indulged in a nerve-racking, time-consuming activity: rune-cracking. On top of various instruments, nodes and layouts, arrays relied on runic arrangements for connectivity, stability, and the ability to adapt to enemy intrusion. Auxiliary items aside, the core structure of an array and its quality mostly depended on the layers of runic assembly set up by the formation master. In this case, Xinzi confronted four layers, each more intricate than the previous one. Thousands of runes morphed and shifted under the scrutiny of Xinzi’s Spiritual Sense, forcing our monk to scratch his head in exasperation.
This fourth-layer formation was by far more intricate than the one that Xinzi hijacked during the Yin-Yang Sword contest. The sheer amount of safety nets would make most gawk in exasperation, and clearly, whoever set this formation up would rather see the world collapse than let foreign hands approach what hid in the wooden box. One tiny mistake and the formation could blow up in Xinzi’s face—reducing the entire Soaring Crane’s mountain into ashes.
In terms of pure knowledge, Xinzi was more than a match for most earth-grade Formation Masters. However, the gap in Spiritual Sense levels and actual proficiency prevented him from exploiting this knowledge to the fullest. A higher level of Spiritual Sense would enable Xinzi to work faster, minimize mental strains and maximize efficiency. But since he couldn’t rely on that, he had to measure his every step carefully and work with the utmost focus. Thankfully, while still not on par with the average earth-grade Formation Master, Xinzi’s Spiritual Sense and Soul Force had made a massive leap—enabling him to handle this challenge with a high level of certainty.
Needless to say, Xinzi could have delegated this task to Tusha. But as an avid formation master, he couldn’t snub this opportunity to progress his craft. The challenge pushed the monk’s mental faculties to their limits and, even as his face paled from the Spiritual Sense exertion, his lips curled into a smile. Bit by bit, Xinzi worked his way around the runes, avoiding any form of brute force probe as it’d surely result in one grand explosion. His eyelids trembled. The runes broke down in batches of 12, and after 13 minutes of methodic hacking, Xinzi wormed his way into the formation’s core.
Morphing into an ethereal key, our monk’s Spiritual Sense latched on the formation’s core, ready to deactivate it all in one go. But here, unstable energy fluctuations made Xinzi realize that, unless he wished to become monk barbecue, he’d have to drop that idea fast. So instead, our monk took the long road, destroying over 90 percent of the runes before coming back to dismantle the core. This process—33 minutes long—took our monk more time and energy than he ever expected it to. A drizzle of sweat trickled down his cheeks, and as he reclined on the ground, loud snapping sounds—akin to a breaking lock—rang from the wooden box. One long sigh escaped Xinzi’s lips, and the box opened wide.
Dazzling rays of black and white shades shot forth. But as Xinzi expected a stele, scroll or mnemonics to take shapes, a strange scene followed. One stele did leap out of the box. But alongside it came 36 more wooden structures—coffins, specifically. This time black and white, the coffins hovered in the underground room, floating side by side as if pre-programmed to remain in the vicinity of one another.
“Duality Nurturing Coffins?” Xinzi’s eyes narrowed at the 36 coffins, whose function didn’t escape him. Crafted by refiners skilled in the weaving of yin and yang qi, Duality Nurturing Coffins could not only delay aging, but also nurture both the quality and balance of yin and yang qi in the resting subject’s body—step by step bringing them closer to the Harmonious Duality Physique that Xinzi and Chun Xu shared.
The higher the cultivation base, the lesser the effects became. At Qi Refinement, these coffins not only guaranteed optimal yin-yang nurturing speed, but could also trap the sleeping subjects in a time stasis. But by the Nascent Soul stage, they had virtually no effect—making them only useful for low-level cultivators.
“Interesting. The Soaring Crane mountain has been hiding 36 of its talents? Males? Females? A combination of both, most likely. Mhm…for how long, for how many generations, have they been doing this?” A stampede of questions ran through Xinzi’s mind. Even if the Soaring Crane mountain wished to keep a few talents out of harm’s way and pave the way for the sect’s rebirth, would it not make more sense to have them hide somewhere outside the sect? To say nothing that 36 wasn’t “a few.”
Why keep them next to the Nine Paths of Yin and Yang, the prize most likely to get looted by the invader? Wasn’t that no different from hanging broiled lambs at a pack of wolves’ faces and expecting them to not munch the meat to the last bite?
‘Oh crap.’ As Xinzi’s thoughts reached this point, the 36 Duality Nurturing Coffins opened wide, releasing pervading pink fog that blocked Xinzi’s vision instantly.
Thirty-six figures rose from the coffin. Eighteen of them showed clearly feminine traits, some more voluptuous than others, but all boasting exquisite features. Xinzi had no time to appraise or even care for said features because as soon as the pink fog grazed his nose, our monk’s mind grew chaotic, his yang qi spiraled out of control, making his skin flush red—and his eyes burn in their sockets.
Instinctively, Xinzi tried to pinch his nose and shut the fog out. But as intrusive as a cluster of bacteria, the fog snuck in all the same—using even the eyes and ears to seep into Xinzi’s body. Our monk’s knees buckled, and he fell—sweating like an obese inmate on the execution block.
“Damn…how careless of me.” Realizing how splendidly he’d just screwed himself over, Xinzi arced his lips in a half-amused, half-bitter smile. Though he could use his much-improved Soul Force to maintain a semblance of consciousness, Xinzi’s body couldn’t fight off this fog, which had been designed to subjugate all men and women at the Nascent Soul stage or below.
“Huh? Just a Qi Refinement boy?”
“Didn’t the elders say that we were likely to catch Nascent Soul experts, or in the worst case scenario, the most impressive Golden Cores of the last millenium? What is the meaning of this?” Several confused voices clashed with one another, and the 36 figures walked out of the fog—revealing 18 pairs of handsome men and alluring women, who, while protected from the fog’s debilitating effects, also had their loins stirred, and their skins flushing all the same.
On average about 20 years old, the 36 breathed with the incandescent vitality of youth. Add to that their reddening skin and sizzling features, and most would have been content to be the object of their undivided attention—most, if we do not count the 18 extra that threatened to turn it all into a nightmare. Indeed, as a man of the straight affiliation, Xinzi found no joy in the 18 males staring at him like a juicy piece of rabbit leg.
As if that wasn’t enough, Xinzi was well aware that the more time someone spent in Duality Nurturing Coffins, the more sexually frustrated they’d be upon waking up. Now, 36 such folks, with intact primal yin and yang, had woken up, clearly eager to tear our monk to coital shreds.