Chapter 27: The Bone-White Flying Fork

Ying Chen’s fingers unconsciously caressed the cover; though it was clearly bound in paper, it gave him an uncanny sensation, as if it were bone beneath his touch.

“White Bone Flying Fork, White Bone Flying Fork…”

He read the title over and over, equal parts astonished and delighted: “There’s actually such a spell?”

The method behind the White Bone Flying Fork was indeed peculiar, blending the concepts of ‘magical device’ and ‘spell’ into a single discipline.

The first step in cultivating the White Bone Flying Fork required one to procure a piece of white bone, combine it with a variety of spiritual materials, and refine it into something akin to the embryo of a magical device. Yet, once the embryo was formed, it was not to be forged into a conventional magical implement; rather, according to the method, it must be fused with the cultivator’s own spiritual power, then stored within the body to be nurtured until fully formed—

In this way, once the White Bone Flying Fork was complete, there would be no need for elaborate ritual or incantation; a single thought would summon it, moving at will, wielding astonishing might. It was even said to be impervious to harm—should one find oneself at a disadvantage in battle, it could simply be recalled and nourished within the body. Its power was truly formidable.

Yet upon closer inspection, the preface to the White Bone Flying Fork seemed somewhat exaggerated. In theory, it could indeed possess the peerless sharpness of a flying sword, able to pierce all defenses, but such was the ideal case. To actually forge a White Bone Flying Fork rivaling the strength of a true magical weapon would require materials so rare and demanding that the average Qi Refining cultivator could never hope to acquire them.

For most, the White Bone Flying Fork, once cultivated, would possess power only on par with the talismanic arrows wielded by Yu Daojing—already an impressive feat.

Ying Chen himself had experienced that astonishing force firsthand: swift as lightning, fierce beyond compare, impossible for ordinary opponents to defend against or even react to.

So he had no intention of underestimating the White Bone Flying Fork simply because of this ‘discrepancy.’

Moreover… a White Bone Flying Fork as indestructible and as deadly as a flying sword—was it not possible that he, too, might succeed in creating one?

The thought surged up suddenly, sending his heart pounding like a drum.

A trace of hesitation flickered in his eyes, but it vanished as swiftly as it appeared. He closed the booklet on the White Bone Flying Fork, took it in hand, and went in search of the Daoist attendant overseeing the library.

“My thanks, fellow Daoist,” Ying Chen offered a respectful bow and handed over his token. “I wish to exchange for this method.”

The attendant, clearly accustomed to such requests, regarded him with a neutral expression and asked, “Once a selection is made in the Library Pavilion, it may not be rescinded. Are you certain of your choice?”

“I am,” Ying Chen replied. The attendant gave a curt nod, struck his name from the eligibility list on the token, and recorded his selection in the registry before instructing Ying Chen to wait a moment. With that, he turned and vanished into the ranks of bookshelves.

Before long, the attendant returned, now holding a jade slip.

He placed it in Ying Chen’s hand and led him aside, saying, “The jade slip may not be taken from the Library Pavilion. You may only study it here.”

Ying Chen was rather intrigued. He had heard of the wondrous uses of jade slips, said to transmit their contents directly to one’s mind and spirit. There were two reasons for this: first, more advanced texts often could not be conveyed by mere words, and the jade slip made transmission clearer and learning easier for cultivators. Second, and more obviously, it prevented the possibility of these secrets leaking beyond the Pavilion.

Nonetheless... Ying Chen glanced around and asked, “Am I to study it here?”

Though the third floor was not accessible to just anyone, and at the moment he was alone, that would not always be the case. Especially during this period of examinations—at any moment, disciples who had passed the preliminary rounds might arrive.

Ying Chen had no desire to be disturbed in the midst of comprehending a new spell.

Upon hearing his concern, the attendant replied, “There are private meditation chambers within the Pavilion. Would you like one opened? It costs only a small sum in talisman tokens.”

Ying Chen’s eyelid twitched, but he agreed, “Very well, open one for me.”

“Excellent.” The attendant’s demeanor brightened at once; he accepted Ying Chen’s payment and led him deeper into the third floor, opening a quiet room for him and even thoughtfully providing half a stick of Focus Incense before closing the door behind him.

Ying Chen eyed the incense—the value of even half a stick far exceeded what he’d just paid. In this place, Redwater Cliff, who ever did business at such a loss?

He was nearly certain that the meditation chambers on the third floor were meant for disciples to study the texts, and there was no real reason to charge for them.

No wonder the attendant had been expressionless while handling his request for a text, but all smiles at the mention of a private room.

Ying Chen shook his head and lit the Focus Incense. Soon, fragrant smoke curled around him, and he felt his mind grow calm and his thoughts clear.

He pressed the jade slip to his brow and sent a thread of spiritual power within.

In that instant, his consciousness seemed to flow with his spiritual energy into the jade slip, forming a bridge through which countless words, runes, images, and even voices flooded his mind...

Those who follow the path of cultivation possess quick wits and keen memory; learning new things came swiftly to them. Yet comprehending a text was never mere rote memorization—a deviation of a hair’s breadth could lead to catastrophic error, and if one failed to grasp something now, it would be no simple matter to remedy later.

Ying Chen remained in the meditation chamber for three days and nights, not emerging from the Library Pavilion until he was certain he had no misunderstandings left regarding the White Bone Flying Fork’s method.

By then, night had fallen. As Ying Chen stepped once more beneath the moonlight, his face was a blend of joy and vexation.

He was overjoyed because his hopes might truly be realized.

To forge a White Bone Flying Fork rivaling a flying sword as a magical weapon required a main bone of exceptional quality; the text stated plainly that at least the bone of a fourth- or even fifth-tier demon beast must be used, and its essence must remain intact.

A demon beast of the fourth or fifth tier was equivalent to a Foundation Establishment cultivator. Even for those of that level, such bones were valuable—a mere Qi Refining cultivator could hardly hope to acquire one.

Yet Ying Chen happened to possess just such a bone, one that might well meet the requirement.

He had conducted many experiments on it since it came into his possession, but had never managed to learn much. The only certainty was its extraordinary strength, easily equal to or surpassing the bones of a fourth- or fifth-tier demon beast.

Though Ying Chen could not say with confidence that this mysterious bone would produce a White Bone Flying Fork as sharp as a flying sword, he was certain it could not be any weaker than the common sort.

He saw no reason to hesitate. The decision was made—he would attempt it.

But vexation came hand in hand with this resolve. To pursue a White Bone Flying Fork on par with a flying sword, regardless of success or failure, he had to aim for the highest quality. That meant not just the main bone, but every other spiritual ingredient had to be the best he could obtain.

And then there were the other expenditures: the examination fees, the cost of other spells, the resources to refine the Three Essence Moonlight Powder—they all required spirit stones. Everywhere he turned, it seemed he needed more spirit stones.

In an instant, Ying Chen felt that his newly comfortable purse had become pitifully empty once again.