Chapter 324: A Being Who Has Survived for Tens of Thousands of Years — Negotiation and Threat

Midday arrived, and Ma Gu directed the carriage to halt beneath a grove of trees. Lu Qing, meanwhile, found a massive boulder nearby and leapt onto it, settling into a lotus position. His spirit sank swiftly into the Qiankun Yiqi Dai, the spirit artifact that hummed faintly with latent power. Old Doctor stood beside him, silently channeling Qi to stabilize the process.

Inside the Qiankun Yiqi Dai, the Plague Gourd trembled violently, its dark aura pulsing with desperate energy as it strained against the artifact’s binding force. But the Qiankun Yiqi Dai—a spirit artifact attuned to space and wind—was famed for its ability to suppress and imprison. The gourd, already cracked and soulless, had no master to command it, no will to guide it. Even if it had been whole, its power intact, it would still have struggled to break free without external control.

Still, the Qiankun Yiqi Dai housed other items. Though Lu Qing had sealed the gourd in a separate chamber to prevent contamination, the creature’s wild thrashing could still endanger the contents within.

“Old fellow,” Lu Qing’s voice echoed inside the artifact’s space, “you’re wasting your breath. In my treasure artifact, you won’t get anywhere.”

As soon as his spirit entered, the binding force surged. The once-faint tremors of the gourd ceased instantly. It was now utterly still, pinned beneath an invisible weight.

Seeing escape was hopeless, the gourd stopped struggling altogether. It lay motionless, like a dead husk.

Lu Qing sent a ripple of spiritual awareness. “You’ve been writhing in there like a trapped beast—clearly trying to draw my attention. Now you pretend to be dead? How very convenient.”

Silence. The gourd remained silent, as if deaf.

Lu Qing wasn’t amused. “Fine. If you want to play dead, then stay that way. Ten years. Or even twenty. I’ll leave you locked here.”

He began to withdraw his spirit.

That was all it took.

Inside the gourd, the ancient entity—once a mighty cultivator—felt the cold dread of true extinction. If trapped here without Qi to sustain it, his soul would dissolve, his centuries of survival undone in an instant. After surviving the Heaven-Human Five Decay Cataclysm, enduring millennia of Qi scarcity, he had finally reached the moment of rebirth—only to risk losing everything now.

“Wait!” The voice crackled from within, trembling with urgency. “Young master, we can talk. No need for haste.”

“Ah,” Lu Qing smirked, “you finally speak.”

“Why so harsh?” the gourd’s voice sighed. “We’ve no quarrel. A true cultivator shouldn’t act with such cruelty.”

“No quarrel?” Lu Qing let out a cold laugh. “Old ghost, have you been rotting in that broken gourd so long your mind’s gone fuzzy? You were just fighting us—almost killed my Master, didn’t you?”

“That was unavoidable,” the voice replied, weary. “As a spirit soul bound to an artifact, I had no will of my own. My life and death were at the whim of my master. Qi Changfeng commanded me. What choice did I have?”

“Is that so?” Lu Qing’s tone turned icy. “You play the innocent fool well. But tell me, Plague Elder—do you really think no one saw through you? You abandoned your body, stole your own spirit artifact’s soul, and clung to life for tens of thousands of years—just to wait for Qi to return. Would you truly submit to being bound by a mere Xian Tian Jing cultivator? I say you used Qi Changfeng. You feigned obedience, then twisted his mind, turned his family against Feng Zhou, spreading plague to harvest life-force. All to feed your own Qi, to heal your soul. Am I right?”

The gourd trembled violently. A wave of shock rippled through its core.

Not only had Lu Qing revealed his entire plan—every detail—but he knew his true identity. That secret, hidden even from the heavens, had been buried for millennia. No one had ever witnessed the transformation. And yet, here was a youth, speaking it like a well-known truth.

“How… how do you know?” the voice stammered, trembling with disbelief.

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” Lu Qing said calmly. “What matters is that I know everything about you. No tricks, no illusions. You’re exposed.”

The weight of those words pressed down on the ancient soul. Once, he had believed himself untouchable—mysterious, powerful, beyond mortal comprehension. Now, he realized with dread: his secrets were laid bare. And he knew nothing of this boy.

Panic flickered in his spirit. But after millennia of survival, he calmed himself. A few breaths. Then, he spoke again, voice steady.

“Ah… So you know my name. Then you must know I am the Plague Elder. Tell me—was it one of the old ones beside you? Can I speak with them? A long-lost friend?”

Yes. He assumed Lu Qing must have a companion—another ancient, like him, who had endured the Heavenly Human Five Decay Cataclysm and survived to the present age. Otherwise, how could a mere youth uncover such secrets?

“Trying to dig into my past, Plague Elder?” Lu Qing laughed. “Don’t waste your breath. You don’t have the privilege to speak with him.”

“You—!” The gourd’s voice flared with rage. “Do you know who I was? What my name once meant?”

“Do I?” Lu Qing chuckled. “You’re not in a position to threaten me. You’re the one who’s at my mercy.”

The Plague Elder fell silent. He felt the pressure of the artifact’s binding force—inescapable, absolute. He was trapped.

But he would not yield.

After a long pause, he said, “Alright. What do you want?”

“Simple,” Lu Qing said. “Release your soul. Let my spirit soul imprint upon it.”

“Impossible.”

The refusal was instant, absolute. To surrender his soul, to let another imprint their will upon him—such submission meant death. He’d survived millennia through cunning and patience. He would not be enslaved now.

“Then let’s trade,” the gourd offered. “I know countless cultivation secrets, forbidden techniques. Any one of them could make a cultivator’s path effortless. Release me, and I’ll teach them all to you. With my knowledge, you could reach Golden Core, even awaken your spirit. Is that not worth it?”

“Not even close,” Lu Qing said flatly. “You’re still trying to deceive me? You think I’m Qi Changfeng’s fool? I won’t swallow your poison, won’t let you twist my soul. There’s only one path. Open your soul. Let me bind you. Otherwise, you stay here—trapped in my Qiankun Yiqi Dai.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you die slowly,” Lu Qing said coldly. “You’ve lived for ten thousand years, but your soul is already rotten. Without Qi, how long can you last? A few years? A decade?”

The gourd’s spirit flared with defiance. “You’re mistaken. I’ve just been nourished by the life-force of over a hundred thousand souls. My soul is whole again. I could live another thousand years—long after you’re dust. You’re not strong enough to break me.”

Lu Qing didn’t flinch. He knew now: this old monster was no fool. He was sharp, calculating, dangerous.

The gourd, seeing no response, gave up. It sank deep into the gourd’s core, silent once more.

Lu Qing, sensing the silence, sent a pulse through the Qiankun Yiqi Dai. Around the gourd, violent wind blades—gangfeng—ripped through the space, slicing at the shell.

Inside, the Plague Elder laughed. “Foolish child. The Qiankun Yiqi Dai may be powerful, but its wind blades can’t touch me. Think carefully. I promise: if you let me go, I’ll grant you immortal techniques. You’ll be a master among masters.”

“Is that so?” Lu Qing replied, unmoved. “Then wait. I’ll see how long you last.”

The wind attacks failed. The gourd remained unharmed. Lu Qing sighed. He didn’t waste more effort—he had already strained his spirit enough.

He withdrew his consciousness, ending the confrontation.

The space within the Qiankun Yiqi Dai settled into silence once more.

The Plague Elder waited. Minutes passed. Then hours. No sound. No movement.

He cautiously probed the outside—felt the binding force still intact. Lu Qing hadn’t relaxed his vigilance.

He was trapped. Again.

Though furious, he had no choice.

Yes, he had survived the cataclysm by stealing his own spirit artifact’s soul. He had cheated death for ten thousand years, preserving his essence through sheer will. But survival came at a cost.

First: his original power was gone. He was no longer a cultivator. Now, he was the gourd’s spirit—bound, dependent.

Second: as a spirit soul inside a spirit artifact, he could no longer cultivate on his own. He needed help. That was why he’d chosen Qi Changfeng—to let the man begin the binding process. Only through another’s will could he grow stronger.

That was the flaw of spirit artifacts. Though immortal, their souls were bound by their nature. They couldn’t evolve without external aid.

And so, he could never accept being fully bound. To be enslaved was worse than death.

Thus, he would not surrender.

But he wasn’t afraid.

He knew the Qiankun Yiqi Dai. Though he’d never faced it directly, he’d studied its legends. In its prime, it was no weaker than his own gourd. It excelled in space and wind, capable of binding and killing. But it couldn’t break the gourd’s core. Not without a master’s will, not without an external force.

He had time. He could wait.

And when Lu Qing grew impatient—when he realized he couldn’t break him—he would have no choice but to negotiate.

That was the plan.

The only real worry? The last time he’d fed on life-force, it had only partially restored him. If he didn’t receive new Qi within three years, his soul would collapse again.

But he had faith.

He didn’t believe a boy—no matter how clever—could endure such patience.

“I don’t care how long it takes,” he whispered, clenching his spirit. “But when I escape… I’ll make you suffer. Every moment of your life will be agony. I swear it. Even if I become a spirit artifact, even if I gain true freedom—this grudge will never fade.”

On the boulder, Old Doctor watched Lu Qing stir. “How is it, A Qing?”

“Settled—for now,” Lu Qing said, though his eyes burned with cold fury.

“Master,” he added, voice sharp, “let’s hurry back to Jiu Li Village. There’s an old bastard I want to kill… fast.”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end