Unaware of the changes he had inadvertently caused in Orchid City, Yang Qing was focused on guiding Haishi in her flying.
"There... not too much... good, good. You’re getting the hang of it," Yang Qing praised as he examined the qi flow within her body, his attention fixed on her wings. With the improvent in the quality of her qi, she now had to refine her control over it to fully harness its benefits. The best way to do that was through precision and refined control.
Half of Haishi’s qi channels were concentrated in her wings, each of which contained an interconnected web of at least a thousand ridians. With six wings in total, she had six thousand ridians to exercise her qi flow through. The better her control, the greater her speed and maneuverability, especially since each wing could move independently of the others.
She might not match Ellie in terms of pure speed, even with her recent breakthrough, but when it ca to maneuverability, her wing structure placed her on the sa level, if not beyond. Still, with her current level, she was far from truly reaching Ellie’s standard in that regard.
Yang Qing hoped the guidance he could give her in the four-day journey, though not enough to close the gap with Ellie, would at least help her make so progress.
As Haishi was being guided, Wenling busied herself with the azure cloud berries Yang Qing had taken out, while Bolin, beside her, remained isolated in the evernight cocoon.
Yang Qing instructed Haishi for about three hours. Once she had settled into the rhythm, he stopped giving constant directions, offering only light comnts when she asked for guidance or when he noticed a mistake too subtle for her to pick up on. The body may have been hers, but Yang Qing understood qi manipulation far better than she did, and his spiritual sense allowed him to catch even the smallest movents within her.
Hours passed as Haishi grew accustod to the strength of her new cultivation realm and her refined qi. Her control improved, and with it her speed, prompting Yang Qing to revise his estimate for their journey to the Deer Mountain Range from four days to three days and twenty-two hours.
The two hours shaved off might not have seed like much, but to Haishi and Yang Qing, they were proof of her steady growth.
With Haishi having grasped the fundantals of refined qi control, Yang Qing left the rest for her to experint with and discover. As for himself, he chose to imrse in cultivating the Perpetual Cerulean Weaver’s Wisdom Path to Life—the very art those cunning old fogeys at the Judicial Review Committee had dangled as bait to push him into accepting the post of temporary branch chief of the Deer Mountain Branch. And like the helpless sucker he was for cultivation arts, especially ones as obscure as this, he had fallen for it.
Truth be told, he didn’t regret it either, though he would never admit that to them.
What was not to like about the art? It was powerful, a gold-grade art on the cusp of becoming purple-grade. It carried a fascinating history, complete with the spiritual imprint of its creator, and best of all, it suited his nature perfectly.
The Perpetual Cerulean Weaver’s Wisdom Path to Life was a cultivation art whose fundantal function was detecting dangers—especially life-threatening ones—and providing a pathway to survival. He and the gold-grade art were a match made in heaven, given his very healthy, obsessive need to preserve his life and avoid risks.
Because of that bond, he had thought that once he left the Deer Mountain Range, he would be able to wholly imrse himself in cultivating the art. But things hadn’t gone as planned. Once he returned, the days slipped away, and before he knew it, months had passed without him practicing the art even once.
He smiled wryly as he wondered what the world’s reaction would be if they learned that so cultivator had a gold-grade art he simply forgot to cultivate for months. They’d probably beat that cultivator to death and then "righteously" rob him of the art, claiming to act on behalf of the heavens and the injustice the technique had suffered under such a profligate owner.
And Yang Qing wouldn’t bla them either. If he weren’t that profligate cultivator himself, he would have been one of the leaders of that mob.
Shaking off the superfluous thoughts, Yang Qing emptied his mind and began reciting the art’s incantation. He may not have cultivated it for months, but he still knew it by heart. As was his ritual whenever he cultivated, he first went through the entirety of it before focusing on the entry stage of the gold-grade art.
Drawing on the understanding and familiarity he had gained when he first practiced the art at the Deer Mountain Branch, Yang Qing separated a sliver of his soul essence, cleansed it into a blank state, and gently fed it a portion of his childhood mories. As he did so, a blue mist wove around the essence, threading it again and again until it ford a larva. The larva grew into a pupa, which was soon encased in a silver-blue cocoon surrounded by the ethereal-looking blue mist.
Before long, the cocoon unraveled as it rotated counterclockwise, unthreading itself to reveal a cerulean moth within. The mont the last strand ca undone, the moth instantly flew to Yang Qing. Everything about it—from its cerulean sheen, to the delicacy of its body, to the graceful flap of its wings—was wrapped in an aura of serene beauty.
One look at it, and no matter what danger one faced, they would think, I thinkI’m going to make it through this.
Wenling’s limbs froze midway as she reached for another azure cloud berry, her entire focus fixed on the serenely beautiful moth. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. In the short ti she had been around Yang Qing, she had witnessed countless inexplicable things happening because of him—so that amazed her, and others that outright terrified her—but the moth easily took the top spot in terms of instant impact. She simply couldn’t look away.
"Not bad," muttered Yang Qing, pleased with the result as he stretched out his index finger. The cerulean moth imdiately flew over and perched on it. Not only was the formation a success, but it had taken far less ti than the first attempt. Back then, he had failed eight or ten tis before finally succeeding, and the whole process had taken nearly forty minutes. This ti, it had taken only twenty-three, and Yang Qing was certain that if he tried again, the ti would be even shorter.
He brought the moth closer, admiring its wings. They carried the luster of ocean jade, which only heightened its beauty, while the ethereal silver-blue light swirled gently within its body. Whatever else could be said about the art, it was undeniably srizing to the eyes.
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