297: Chapter 297 Merging with the Golden Bottle, Reaching Fifty Attribute Points

Dawn is breaking.

The pale golden sunlight has not yet dispersed the light mist in the forest, casting a hazy veil over the woods.

The bird calls are crisp, like the tinkling of spring water in a mountain stream.

From the distant ancient temple, a distant and solemn sound of chanting faintly drifts over, further accentuating the quiet and serene atmosphere of this place.

A naked young man appears in the secluded and unfrequented dense forest.

He sits upright on that huge, smoothly polished bluestone.

Beside him, a blue canvas cross-body bag is casually discarded.

The man's eyes are half-closed, his back is straight, and his hands rest naturally on his knees, palms facing upwards.

His breathing is long and smooth, as if merging into one with the surrounding vegetation and mountain breeze, indistinguishable from them.

A few daring tits even hop down beside him, tilting their heads to look at him, occasionally pecking at the pine nuts under the fallen leaves.

If one does not walk close and observe carefully.

I am afraid it is hard to discover that in this quiet woodland bathed in the faint morning light, someone is actually naked, sitting and practicing Meditation.

And it is so natural, integrating the entire person into the surrounding natural environment.

This is already the third consecutive day that Fang Cheng has come to the woods behind Lingquan Temple for morning class.

During these days living in Wanghu Town, his life has been regular and fulfilling.

In the morning, he will accompany his family, enjoying an ordinary and warm daily life.

At the same time, he tries to stay by their side as much as possible to provide a layer of protection, guarding against any threats that may be lurking in the dark and targeting his family.

In the afternoon, he goes to the club to take a few sparring classes, taking the opportunity to hone his combat skills and increase his skill experience.

When night falls and all is silent.

He will stay alone in his hotel room, banishing all distracting thoughts and conducting deep-level Meditation.

Cultivating tirelessly throughout the night until dawn when the alarm rings, he awakens from his trance.

Immediately following that is an unshakeable physical training plan.

After morning exercise, a sweating Fang Cheng would run all the way to the woods behind Lingquan Temple about two kilometers away.

Utilizing the uniquely endowed special environment here, he continues his Meditation Cultivation.

At this moment, beneath Fang Cheng's seemingly calm exterior.

Deep within his consciousness, however, a practice far more intense and perilous than training the Physical Body is taking place.

He sinks once more into that familiar dark world.

Thick fog churns like a tide, and the Flame of Spirituality burns quietly in the center of the endless darkness.

The intertwined light of deep blue and crimson stands like a bright lighthouse, symbolizing his tenacious self-will.

As the Fusion of Fang Cheng's consciousness with the spirituality of the golden bumpa bottle deepens day by day, the process of Meditation Cultivation also becomes increasingly treacherous.

Especially in this special environment adjacent to Lingquan Temple and shrouded in a rich religious atmosphere.

Those lingering chants seem to have been magnified countless times by a mysterious force, becoming exceptionally clear.

"Namo! He luo da na... duo luo ye ye... bo luo seng jie di..."

The grand and majestic Sanskrit sound is no longer an ethereal background sound, but has transformed into a substantive impact, directly piercing the barriers of Fang Cheng's consciousness and violently shaking his mind and spirit.

Rather than saying it is the sound drifting with the wind from the distant temple.

It is better to say it is more like a certain summons originating from the depths of the Soul.

The two echo each other inside and out, appearing clearer and more oppressive, making it completely impossible to shield it off entirely.

In a daze, Fang Cheng feels as if countless monks are surrounding him, chanting some ancient and obscure scriptures in unison by his ears.

Every syllable transforms into substantive runes, carrying a strange power, constantly vibrating and roaring in his mind.

Not only that, but the originally dark space of consciousness has even been stained with a layer of eerie dark gold.

Countless ferocious-looking outer-path demon gods and three-headed, six-armed Vajra Protectors loom faintly in the pitch-black, churning mist.

Some bare their bloody maws and grin grimly at Fang Cheng, while others widen their bronze-bell-like angry eyes, letting out deafening roars.

The terrifying illusions and the grand chanting intertwine, forming a kind of spiritual torture.

It seems to forcefully distort Fang Cheng's cognition, forcing him to abandon himself and convert to Buddhism.

There is even a gigantic Buddha statue, like a towering mountain, descending from the sky with the mighty momentum to suppress everything, intending to completely crush that tiny flame.

Fang Cheng's heart turns stern, and he is very clear about what is happening.

This is not just ordinary stray thoughts and Heart Demons.

Rather, the residual Black Sect faith imprint in the golden bumpa bottle has resonated strongly with the Power Of Will of the believers of Lingquan Temple, attempting to backlash against Fang Cheng, the "heterodox" controller.

For Fang Cheng, this is both a huge peril and a rare opportunity.

If he can successfully resist it, the Fusion between the spirituality of the golden bumpa bottle and his self-consciousness will inevitably deepen greatly.

At the same time, the hidden danger that has constantly plagued his spirit may also be completely resolved.

Under the impact of this powerful external force, the Flame of Spirituality shakes violently.

The deep blue light in the depths of the flame flickers on and off, as if it could be extinguished at any moment.

Even the Soul feels waves of tearing pain, as if it is about to be dragged into boundless Hell by these violent illusions.

But Fang Cheng's will, tempered through countless trials of life and death, has long been as solid as a rock.

Amidst this extreme pain, it instead inspires an even stronger fighting spirit and a fiery Battle Intent!

Fang Cheng's consciousness firmly anchors onto the core of the flame, rapidly operating the Qigong technique.

The crimson True Qi surges and rushes like magma, shooting straight from the Dantian to the crown of his head, and then instilling into the ancestral aperture between his eyebrows.

In an instant, the pineal gland between his eyebrows leaps violently.

A wispy, extremely condensed crimson light bursts forth, instantly illuminating the inner scenery of his consciousness.

This stream of pure True Qi seems to transform into lamp oil, continuously pouring into the oppressed Flame of Spirituality.

The previously swaying flame, after receiving this powerful assistance, suddenly bursts out with unprecedented brilliant light.

Those golden light spots originating from the golden bumpa bottle are also thoroughly activated at this moment, burning crazily.

Causing the color of the entire cluster of flames to gradually transform toward a bright and dazzling reddish-gold.

The domain of light expands rapidly outward, like a newly rising sun, completely igniting the surrounding darkness and illusions!

"Roar————"

Those ferocious demon gods and angry-eyed Vajras, under the scorching of the orange-red flame, have their expressions become even more distorted, and their roars carry a hint of shrillness.

Their massive bodies begin to show signs of melting like wax figures, being swallowed and dissipating bit by bit by the flames.

The grand chanting thus becomes even more sharp and harsh, as if making a final struggle, resisting the fate of being refined.

In reality, the body of Fang Cheng, sitting cross-legged on the bluestone, also undergoes startling changes.

His tightly closed eyelids tremble violently, blue veins bulge on his forehead, and his whole body's skin turns flushed.

Wisps of smoke overflow from his pores, and faint golden light circulates indistinctly.

Boom!

A scorching aura suddenly surges out from within his body, causing the surrounding air to become distorted.

The few tits that were originally resting nearby perceive the danger and immediately flutter their wings, flying toward high places.

Fortunately, Fang Cheng is not wearing any clothing at this moment.

Otherwise, with the temperature of this flame, it would probably be ignited in an instant and turned into flying ash.

The reddish-gold flames pierce through his body, enveloping his entire person.

The bluestone beneath him is burned to a sizzling sound, and its edges faintly turn black.

Fang Cheng sits cross-legged naked in the flames, his bronze skin shining with a strange luster under the reflection of the dawn and firelight.

Resembling a golden statue undergoing forging in the blazing fire.

At the same time.

A light blue light screen floats up in his mind, and prompts flash past one by one:

[ The degree of your Fusion with a certain spirituality is gradually increasing, Spirit increases by 0.001 ]

[ You practice Meditation skill under an abnormal state, experience increases by +1 ]

[ The degree of your Fusion with a certain spirituality is gradually increasing, Spirit increases by 0.001 ]

[ You practice Qigong skill under an abnormal state, experience increases by +1 ]

...

Inside Lingquan Temple, within the Grand Mahavira Hall.

Halfway through the morning class, hundreds of monks draped in kasayas are still piously chanting scriptures.

Suddenly, Roger, sitting cross-legged on the dharma altar, abruptly opens his eyes.

A look of suspicion and uncertainty flashes in his eyes behind his lenses, and his gaze quickly casts toward outside the window.

Just a moment ago, an inexplicable palpitation suddenly surged in his heart.

As if on a sudden whim... he discovers that the golden bumpa bottle, which had already been destroyed, has reappeared!

This feeling was only vague and illusory, there and not there, over the past two days.

But today, it has become exceptionally strong, as if in the netherworld, a familiar voice is summoning him.

Roger cannot help recalling the encounter that night at the Lu Family Manor.

He originally thought that relying on his strength and careful planning, seizing back the golden bumpa bottle from the Lu family's hands was a sure thing.

Yet he did not expect a formidable obstacle to crash in halfway.

A masked bald man blazing all over not only smashed the golden bumpa bottle on the spot, but also made him take the blame.

The Lu family mistakenly thought that person was a subordinate dispatched by him, and subsequently took retaliatory measures, suppressing Lingquan Temple in various overt and covert ways.

If he had truly obtained the golden bumpa bottle, he would have admitted to taking this blame.

But the key is that he didn't even get a single hair of it!

It is simply like a mute eating coptis chinensis—having bitterness one cannot voice.

Roger has been holding this foul breath in his heart all along.

For nearly half a month, he has also secretly sent people to investigate the origins of that bald man.

Yet he gained nothing; the other party seemed to have evaporated from the human world.

"Could it be... the golden bumpa bottle was not completely smashed? But was spliced and repaired by someone?"

"Or perhaps... that damned bald man has appeared?!"

At this thought, Roger can no longer maintain his composure.

He leaps down abruptly from the dharma altar, his figure as agile as a goshawk, darting directly toward outside the hall.

"Venerable One?!"

The Disciples inside the hall see this and are all struck with terror.

The chanting comes to an abrupt halt, and the morning class is thus forced to be interrupted.

...

In the mountain forest.

When the final chime of the temple bell drifts over leisurely.

In the space of consciousness, the final illusion is also completely swallowed and refined by the flames.

That grand Sanskrit sound, like a giant bell ceasing its chime, falls completely silent.

Leaving only an ethereal echo looming faintly in the memory.

And that wispy Flame of Spirituality that has become brighter, more solid, and radiates a reddish-gold light.

Fang Cheng slowly opens his eyes, two wisps of sharp light condensed like substance flash past and vanish, immediately hiding without a trace.

He gently exhales a breath of stale air carrying a faint sandalwood fragrance.

Compared with before, his entire spiritual state has undergone heaven-shaking changes, as if experiencing a baptism on the level of the Soul.

At this moment, Fang Cheng's perception becomes unprecedentedly acute and clear.

Without even needing to observe deliberately, the slightest disturbance within a radius of dozens of meters is instantly and meticulously depicted in his mind.

He can "hear" the slight frictional sound of every leaf when the early morning breeze brushes past the treetops.

He can "smell" the faint fishy stench emitted when earthworms turn over in the soil.

And when an unnamed wild flower quietly blooms dozens of meters away, that almost imperceptible, heart-refreshing delicate fragrance.

He can even "feel" the minute temperature changes brought by every ray of light when sunlight penetrates the overlapping branches and leaves to spill onto the ground.

The entire world before him seems to have a hazy veil lifted, revealing a truer, more vivid, and more delicate essence.

This kind of mastery over the surrounding environment like observing a blazing fire is enough to make an indescribable sense of power and confidence surge in one's heart.

Fang Cheng's mind stirs, and the light blue light screen materializes before his eyes.

[ Meditation experience + 10 ]

[ Meditation lv1 (247 / 250) ]

[ Qigong experience + 5 ]

[ Qigong lv2 (69 / 500) ]

[ Your Spirit attribute permanently increases by 0.4 points ]

[ Congratulations, through unremitting efforts and special opportunities, your Spirit attribute has significantly improved and successfully broken through to 50 points ]

Looking at the striking numbers on the panel, Fang Cheng's tense nerves finally relax, and the corners of his mouth hook into a smile.

Choosing to come to this place with a special environment to practice Meditation, he had taken quite a significant risk.

But facts have proven that risks and rewards coexist.

The effect of this Cultivation is very remarkable, and the harvest even exceeds expectations.

During the three days staying in Wanghu Town, Fang Cheng has poured almost all his energy into training, and his Meditation skill experience grows day by day.

Coupled with the stimulation using the rich religious atmosphere here, the degree of Fusion with the mysterious spirituality of the golden bumpa bottle has also been greatly deepened.

The only minor regret is that the growth rate of the Spirit attribute has slowed down a lot compared to before.

However, the path of practice is inherently like this.

The higher one climbs, the more the difficulty of taking another step forward increases geometrically.

Every tiny improvement requires paying even more effort.

Fortunately, relying on persistent diligence and unremitting tempering.

Today, Fang Cheng has finally successfully fused and absorbed the residual spirituality of the golden bumpa bottle, and at one stroke broken through the important threshold of 50 Spirit attribute points.

"Next is to upgrade Meditation as well..."

Fang Cheng thinks to himself inwardly, his gaze falling once more on the skill progress bar on the panel.

To advance to the Great Master level, it is short by a mere 3 experience points.

Fang Cheng considers whether to strike while the iron is hot, continue practicing, and break through it in one go.

Just at this moment, without any warning, his heart leaps violently.

As if an idea carrying a trace of malice ripples across the water surface, spreading into his mind.

This is the nearly instinctive, acute perception of potential danger brought by a high Spirit attribute of 50 points!

Fang Cheng's gaze swiftly sweeps across the quiet woods around him, and his eyes turn fierce.

He immediately dismisses the thought of continuing to practice, deciding to return to the hotel first, with safety as top priority.

As he sets off, he lowers his head to look at his stripped naked body, and the corners of his mouth twitch involuntarily.

Having learned his lesson from the day before yesterday, Fang Cheng is well-prepared this time.

He swiftly fishes out a clean set of sportswear from the cross-body bag discarded aside and puts it on.

Just the morning before yesterday, he was also practicing Meditation in this forest; because he could not control the surging crimson True Qi in his body, he ended up burning his clothes into nothingness.

At that time, the situation was urgent, and he could only sneak down the mountain, taking advantage of the absence of people to "borrow" one to wear from the clothes dried by a nearby farming household.

The next day, he quietly stuffed some money back as compensation.

After Fang Cheng is fully dressed, he does not linger for a moment.

His figure flashes, and like a leopard in the forest, he disappears silently into the depths of the woods.

And just a mere few minutes after he leaves.

A swift, ghost-like black figure, accompanied by a strong gust of cold wind, dashes here at high speed.

The figure stands beside the bluestone where Fang Cheng previously sat cross-legged and meditated, his face ashen.

It is precisely Venerable Roger, who has chased all the way following the aura of the golden bumpa bottle.

(End of chapter)