Chapter Eighty-One: The Hall of Spiritual Medicine

“Liu Yantao? Is this person really so frightening?” Sun Xuan asked, her curiosity piqued.

Chu Feng rose to his feet and gestured for Sun Xuan to follow, heading toward the door as he replied, “Naturally.”

Sun Xuan hurried after him, her intrigue growing. “Who is he, anyway?”

“A lecher, a notorious lecher,” Chu Feng said, hoping to scare Sun Xuan.

To his surprise, Sun Xuan looked puzzled. “What’s a lecher?”

Chu Feng’s lips twitched at her question, his expression growing odd. He thought to himself, “There really is a generation gap!”

Upon reflection, he let it go. After all, no matter how extraordinary Sun Xuan was, she was still only a nine-year-old girl. Chu Feng cleared his throat and said seriously, “Forget it, just stay alert in the future. Honestly, it doesn’t really concern you; he shouldn’t have any interest in children. Ah, but that’s a terrible thought.”

Sun Xuan listened, baffled, and looked at Chu Feng as if he were a fool. In her heart, she sighed, “There truly is a generation gap.”

With that, Chu Feng and Sun Xuan left the villa and entered Sun Xuan’s own residence.

As soon as they entered the living room, a sweet, youthful voice called out, “Hey, Brother Chu, you’re late!”

Chu Feng glanced over. He recognized Wang Chengfei, Zhu Miaomiao, and Han Wen; the speaker was Zhu Miaomiao. As for the other boy and girl, Chu Feng had seen them compete on stage but didn’t know their names.

“Apologies, there was a bit of trouble,” Chu Feng smiled and greeted everyone. “Friends, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Zhu Miaomiao, Han Wen, and the others responded with bright smiles. Wang Chengfei nodded slightly; though he neither spoke nor smiled, he had no arrogance. Chu Feng could tell he was simply a solitary child.

With Sun Xuan’s introduction, Chu Feng learned the purple-clad girl was Xie Xiaolan from Camp One, Sun Xuan’s close confidant. The lively boy was Guo Fan from Camp Two.

To Chu Feng, though these children were inexperienced, their strength was not to be underestimated. For now, they all stood at the same starting line.

The table was already set with food and drink, and everyone gathered around. Chu Feng felt a surge of emotion; he never expected to one day drink with a group of children not yet ten years old. Of course, he was the culprit, and soon enough, the world would have a few more young drunkards.

That night, everyone was happy. The brief moments together gave them new perspectives on life; even Wang Chengfei, usually withdrawn, wore a few smiles.

From his companions, Chu Feng learned about life in the Celestial Camp. The instructors rarely intervened; there were no regular lessons. Everything depended on self-study.

Still, if students had questions about cultivation, they could approach the instructors. The instructors in the Celestial Camp were powerful Spirit Warriors, their skills profound—there was no question a student could pose that they wouldn’t understand.

The next day, Chu Feng went to see his instructor to formally report in.

His instructor, Wei Changkong, was a middle-aged man with graying hair. Of course, appearances could be deceiving; the higher one’s cultivation, the longer one’s lifespan. Last night, Chu Feng learned from Sun Xuan and the others that Wei Changkong was already one hundred and fifty years old.

Overall, Chu Feng found Wei Changkong easygoing, with an aura of transcendence. His strength was beyond question.

Wei Changkong was intrigued by Chu Feng as well; throughout his life, he’d encountered many prodigies, but never one who was powerful without having undergone spiritual transformation.

Wei Changkong appreciated Chu Feng, though he admitted he had received information from the elders of the human race, and that he could do little to help Chu Feng on his unique path.

In the end, Wei Changkong told Chu Feng that within the Celestial Camp, only one person could truly assist him: the Master of the Hall of Spiritual Medicine.

At the mention of this individual, Wei Changkong’s face filled with reverence; clearly, this person was extraordinary.

Though the Grand Elder had spoken little to Chu Feng, he had already arranged everything for him, hoping to spare him unnecessary setbacks.

Moreover, the medicines required to cultivate the nameless tome demanded an extremely high level of skill; ordinary alchemists lacked the necessary ability. For Chu Feng’s safety, the Grand Elder had made such arrangements.

Chu Feng understood that although the path of body refinement depended mainly on himself, the assistance of an alchemist was indispensable, for he did not know how to concoct medicine.

Learning of the Grand Elder’s arrangements, Chu Feng felt grateful.

After Wei Changkong explained some details about the Hall of Spiritual Medicine, Chu Feng went there; having reached the First Extreme, he naturally wished to break through as soon as possible.

The Hall of Spiritual Medicine in the Celestial Camp was indeed remarkable, its function akin to the Treasure Hall, but serving the entire human clan.

The most precious elixirs and medicines of the human race originated here, crafted by its finest alchemists.

Students in the Celestial Camp could exchange for spiritual pills and medicines here, trade herbs for points, or request specific medicines from the alchemists.

The Hall occupied vast grounds; besides clusters of buildings, it contained sprawling fields of medicinal plants.

Chu Feng entered the Hall’s main gate and walked along a broad stone avenue, the scent of medicine thick in the air.

On either side lay medicine fields, planted with various herbs. Most were ordinary, but some radiated intense spiritual energy and carried unique fragrances—these must be spirit herbs. It was Chu Feng’s first time seeing spirit herbs growing in the earth.

The Hall of Spiritual Medicine had the lowest entry requirements in the Celestial Camp; it needed abundant labor, so many people worked there, tending the fields.

At the end of the main avenue stood a majestic hall, its plaque inscribed with three characters: “True Profound Hall.”

From what Chu Feng understood, this was the place to exchange medicines; the areas for processing and refining lay further behind.

There were no guards in the Hall, but Chu Feng did not dare underestimate it.

According to Wei Changkong, most alchemists were cultivators possessing the Fire Spirit Body, as medicine refining required spiritual fire. The higher the grade of pill, the greater the demand for spiritual fire.

And the Master of the Hall was someone even the instructors revered—a superlative master without question.

Chu Feng stepped into the True Profound Hall, greeted by rows upon rows of drawers, each labeled with its contents.

Several young students were organizing items before the drawers. At the counter sat a scholarly middle-aged man, enjoying his tea, clearly unoccupied at the moment.

“Senior, I wish to see the Master,” Chu Feng said.

At once, all the young men and women present turned to stare at him, as if he were a fool.

The middle-aged man glanced at Chu Feng and asked, “What business do you have with the Master?”

Chu Feng replied respectfully, “I’d like to ask the Master to refine medicine.”

The young people shook their heads, smiling wryly, as if Chu Feng were hopelessly naive. Such presumption—how had he even gotten into the Celestial Camp?

The middle-aged man smiled and asked, “Young man, do you know what sort of existence the Master is?”

Chu Feng was taken aback, unsure how to answer; he truly didn’t know.

At the mention of the Master, the middle-aged man’s face grew reverent. He looked at Chu Feng and explained patiently, “To be honest, the Master hasn’t refined medicine for twenty years. Do you know why? Because nothing has been worthy of his attention. To put it bluntly, he is a Sage of Medicine—an elder of our people, a powerful Holy Spirit Warrior!”

Chu Feng was stunned, utterly shocked. He never imagined the Grand Elder had arranged for such a figure to refine medicine for him. Disbelief mingled with awe—he now sensed just how extraordinary the nameless tome truly was.

The middle-aged man seemed satisfied with Chu Feng’s reaction. He smiled and said, “Young man, now you understand. If you need medicine, the Hall has many experts; any one of them can help you. But the Master—he is not someone you can simply meet.”

Chu Feng nodded dumbly, looking at the middle-aged man. “But, Senior, I still wish to meet the Master.”

The young people nearly burst out laughing at Chu Feng’s persistence, finding him endearingly foolish.

The middle-aged man was both amused and exasperated, glaring at Chu Feng. “You stubborn lad—are you just here to tease me?”

Chu Feng felt frustrated and was about to explain when suddenly a powerful voice echoed from the void: “Little Bean, stop bluffing and bring him to me.”

The middle-aged man froze, then nodded toward the void. “Yes, yes.”

A man in his forties or fifties, addressed as Little Bean, stunned everyone present—including Chu Feng. They couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

The middle-aged man, red-faced and flustered, had been utterly embarrassed; he never expected the Master to call out his boyhood nickname in front of so many juniors.

“What are you laughing at? Laugh again, and you’ll be sent to weed the medicine fields!” he scolded, then fixed his gaze on Chu Feng, his heart pounding. He never imagined the Master truly wanted to meet this young man.

Everyone instantly fell silent, equally astonished. Their thoughts mirrored those of the middle-aged man.

“No more laughing—come with me,” the man said, shooting Chu Feng a glance. He gave instructions to the students, then left the counter and headed outside.

He led Chu Feng around the True Profound Hall, deeper into the compound. They passed a vast drying ground, where, as he explained, spirit herbs could be used directly, while ordinary herbs required processing.

They crossed the drying ground, walked several corridors, passed numerous refining rooms, twisting and turning until they reached a secluded courtyard.

The courtyard was simple, planted with about thirty spirit herbs, a few ancient pines, and an old well.

Beneath one of the ancient pines, at a stone table, sat an elder in white robes. His hair was snowy white, but his face was ruddy and vibrant, with few wrinkles.