Chapter 141: Severing the Three Corpses, the Tangerine Fruit Ripens

The Three Corpses are three worms, also called the Three Poisons, which reside within a person from birth and ruin the path of cultivation.

Among them, the Upper Corpse, Peng Ju, delights in ornate adornments and confuses the spirit; the Middle Corpse, Peng Zhi, craves flavors and disrupts the mind; the Lower Corpse, Peng Qiao, indulges in lust, corrupting the essence and feeding on the body's yin filth and greed.

If the Three Corpses succeed in their schemes, the path of cultivation is hopeless.

By common reasoning, during the period of nourishing essence and refining qi, Cao Kong should have first encountered the Middle and Lower Corpses, Peng Zhi and Peng Qiao.

Yet, Cao Kong’s resolute Dao heart and profound foundation, with his primordial essence intact and mind undisturbed, left the two corpses no opportunity to act, forcing them into hiding.

Now, as Cao Kong’s pure yang nears completion, once cultivated, his soul will be pure yang without yin, able to illuminate the five aggregates with pure yang, leaving the Three Corpses nowhere to hide.

Therefore, at the moment when all yin in the body is stripped away, the Three Corpses reveal themselves and launch a desperate counterattack!

Though this is the time of the strongest heavenly yang, it is also when earthly yin is most intense, greatly increasing the poisonous power of the Three Corpses.

Their counterattack is fierce and timed perfectly—precisely when Cao Kong is stripping away the yin. Any reckless move would cause the yin to expand and yang to scatter, undoing all previous efforts.

One sees the Three Corpses using their poisonous yin to ruin the Dao path: Peng Ju attacks the upper part of the body, causing blurred vision, hair loss, bad breath, wrinkled face, and tooth loss.

Peng Zhi attacks the five viscera in the abdomen, leading to shortness of breath, forgetfulness, and disturbed dreams.

Peng Qiao attacks the feet, stirring restlessness below the knees and causing a surge of lustful emotions, impossible to restrain.

All three corpses are violently agitated, causing a sense that life and death are beyond one’s control.

Cao Kong’s soul, once nearly pure yang, instantly declines; his body bleeds from the seven orifices, filthy, withered, and utterly decrepit.

He feels life and death slipping from his control, and various thoughts arise—if he abandons the pursuit of pure yang now, he can preserve his life and retreat.

This thought is like a single drop of water falling into the lake of his heart, stirring ripples.

Gradually, the ripples grow, becoming more numerous, thicker, and larger.

Eventually, they swell into a raging tide, shaking Cao Kong’s heart lake violently, destabilizing his Dao foundation, and bringing him unbearable pain.

All it takes is a moment’s pause—even an instant—to experience the ultimate bliss.

Yet Cao Kong remains silent, still, and unmoving.

That night, under a high, bright moon and a dark sky, Cao Kong’s body grows ever weaker; the golden light within dims until it vanishes, resting with the night.

At this moment, the Three Corpses’ faces shift constantly, showing an expression of sorrow and compassion as they speak human words: “We share the same root and source; we cannot bear to see your body perish and your Dao be lost. Do not wield your magic; we will protect your life.”

But Cao Kong still says nothing, does not move, nor think.

The Three Corpses plead earnestly but gradually grow more agitated, their expressions distorting into grimaces.

“Stubborn and unyielding? Then go die!”

Suddenly, the Three Corpses unleash a boundless poisonous barrier, enveloping Cao Kong and plunging his consciousness into a vast and confused haze.

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Time passes unknowingly when a faint voice sounds:

“Stop on the Dao path, and you may live.”

No response follows.

The next moment, his consciousness is violently shaken back to his body, which is battered and on the brink of death.

Just then, another voice says, “Retreat and live; advance and die.”

Suddenly, Cao Kong’s eyelids tremble, as though forcing themselves open—slowly, painfully slow.

But with each fraction they open, his spiritual light grows brighter, until at last his eyes shine brilliantly, like lightning.

He laughs aloud: “There is originally no life or death; illusion and extinction follow the heart.”

With those words, his withered body quickly recovers, regaining the appearance of an immortal, the previous calamities seemingly vanished.

The Three Corpses are internal calamities, causing chaos within; when the mind is confused and dead, the Dao perishes. But when the mind remains unmoved, these calamities are but smoke.

The haze before him dissipates, revealing the Three Corpses’ fear as they transform into three worms and burrow into the upper, middle, and lower dantian to preserve themselves.

Cao Kong smiles: “My belly shall harbor no filth to nourish you.”

He channels golden light, piercing the clouds, his body aflame with a radiant golden fire as bright as the sun, forcing all evil to retreat.

The Yang Spirit is formed!

Within the mud pellet palace, a tiny figure appears—his soul, pure yang without yin, sitting solemnly like the sun anchoring the heavens.

The pure yang primordial spirit channels its power into the body, driving away all evil. The Three Corpses meet this pure yang as snow meets boiling water, instantly vaporizing.

The Three Corpses vanish, and the Dao path flows smoothly.

It is now the midnight hour, yet Cao Kong’s golden radiance illuminates the night as bright as day.

The mountain spirits and demons are startled; some ignorant true spirits mistake the sudden brightness for dawn.

Cao Kong smiles and withdraws the golden light, then turns inward to examine himself.

Within the mud pellet palace lies the golden essence, within which hides the Yang Spirit.

He summons his spirit forth; the tiny figure emerges from the golden essence, pushes open the palace gate, leaps out the crown of the head, breaking free from the flesh’s confinement, transcending life and death.

It is an extraordinarily wondrous sensation—one thought, and the world expands.

Cao Kong’s soul leaves the body, flying through the skies and traversing the earth, soaring lightly to the clouds.

He roams freely, a feeling of liberation and joy unbound by any fetters.

He sees a bird in the sky, playfully ruffles a cluster of clouds, and hurls it toward the bird.

The bird suddenly finds itself enveloped in mist, flaps its wings frantically, looking around in confusion, not understanding what has happened.

Turning his gaze toward the Kingdom of Qindao, he sees the lights of ten thousand homes shining brightly.

He laughs and returns to his body.

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Having formed the Yang Spirit does not mean one can slack off; daily practice of nourishing essence, refining qi, and preserving spirit remains essential.

Fortunately, Cao Kong delights in this, and finds that after obtaining the Yang Spirit, his cultivation quickens.

A moment’s thought reveals why.

Having formed the Yang Spirit and refined the Three Corpses, the primordial spirit resides in the mud pellet palace, which communicates through the entire body’s meridians, facilitating smooth transmission throughout, naturally making cultivation more effective.

A few days later, the orange trees in the mountains bear fruit at last, prompting Hu Yan and others to excitedly report.

Since Cao Kong planted the seeds, the orange trees had been mostly quiet through summers and autumns, passing three years after three years, until now, after nine years, fruit finally appears.

Cao Xiang and Hu Yan had long grown impatient.

Cao Kong led everyone toward the orange trees and saw them heavy with fruit, each looking mysterious, like clusters of clouds.

“Senior Brother said, depending on the soil where the fruit is planted, the taste and effect vary. Truly marvelous,” Cao Kong thought and smiled as he spoke.

“Since the spirit fruit has borne, let us each try one and see what wonders these nine years of waiting have brought.”

A gentle breeze plucks the fruit and places one before each person.

Though the fruit appeared cloudlike on the tree, once picked, it transforms into an ordinary orange with cloud patterns on its peel.

Cao Kong peels it, intrigued—it feels like parting clouds effortlessly. He pops a segment into his mouth; the fragrance fills him, sweet and delicious.

It is like chewing clouds or biting mist, like a breeze permeating the five viscera.

Even with Cao Kong’s current cultivation, he feels a slight increase in spiritual acuity after swallowing, hinting at the fruit’s power.

“Delicious!” Cao Xiang’s eyes light up, freely praising.

Hu Yan and the others, having eaten whole fruits, find their stomachs slightly swollen. Since they lack the refinement of Cao Xiang, the spiritual energy fills them more.

They laugh, pointing at each other’s bellies.

That night marks Cao Kong’s entry into the Qinghua Chang Le realm.

Suddenly, his gaze freezes, fixed on something ahead.

Is this... prepared for him?