Chapter Forty-Three: The King of Xuan Yin and Xuan Yang Fruits

Chapter Forty-Three: The King of the Yin-Yang Fruit

Wu Hong and Wu Songran gathered all the Yin-Yang fruits into their spatial rings and continued their exploration. The deeper they ventured into the forest, the denser the swirling red-and-white mist became. At times it was icy cold, at others searing hot, making it almost unbearable.

Even the surrounding flora had transformed, leaving the two in awe of nature’s wonders. Ordinary blades of grass and commonplace trees now displayed a vivid dichotomy of red and white, split perfectly down the middle. Each plant seemed to have been painted by some divine hand.

Though both cloaked themselves in protective inner energy, the alternating waves of heat and cold were so intense and peculiar that Wu Songran’s face flushed red one moment and turned frosty pale the next.

“Brother, I don’t know what lies ahead, but I’m not sure I can endure this strange aura much longer!”

Wu Hong took her hand, infusing her with a steady flow of his own energy. “My qi is somewhat unique—I can withstand it. Does this help?”

Wu Songran’s cheeks reddened from his touch, though she knew Wu Hong’s intentions were pure. In the conservative Great Qian Dynasty, such contact between man and woman was considered intimate, almost improper in the eyes of others. She felt awkward, but there was no other way—these were desperate circumstances.

A gentle warmth streamed from Wu Hong’s palm into her body, soothing her discomfort. The alternating sensations of heat and cold vanished in an instant. She marveled inwardly at the miraculous nature of her brother’s cultivation.

They pressed on for several more miles. The trees gradually became stunted, the calls of wild beasts faded into silence, and the mist began to dissipate. Yet the colors of the plants grew even more distinct: the left side of every leaf and trunk glowed blood-red, the right shimmered with icy white, creating a jarring visual contrast.

After a while, the two were stunned into silence. Before them stood a colossal tree, its height impossible to gauge; its trunk, hundreds of meters thick, soared straight into the clouds, so immense that even its branches and leaves above were lost from sight.

At the base of the tree yawned a cavernous hollow, more than ten meters in diameter, from which surged alternating waves of heat and cold. Even with Wu Hong’s protective energy, the force was almost intolerable.

“Such a gigantic tree! Nature’s wonders are truly beyond imagination,” both Wu Hong and Wu Songran exclaimed.

Had anyone told them of such a tree in the outside world, they would never have believed it. Yet now, confronted with the living proof, they were awestruck.

All was silent; not a breath of wind stirred. The ground beneath them was paved with stone. Step by step, they approached the tree hollow.

Wu Songran’s hand trembled in Wu Hong’s grasp. Sensing that she was struggling with the onslaught of heat and cold, Wu Hong intensified the flow of his energy, allowing her to regain some composure.

As they drew nearer, the alternating surge of energy grew ever fiercer. Exercising the utmost caution, they finally reached the mouth of the hollow, and only then did they discover the source of this overwhelming aura.

Above the entrance, a protruding branch bore two enormous fruits, each the size of a jade dish, identical in form to the Yin-Yang fruits they had seen before—except these were far larger.

They gaped in astonishment. The fruits were massive, each encased in a shimmering, radiant glow.

“To think this giant tree is a Yin-Yang Fruit Tree!” Wu Songran said.

Wu Hong frowned. “Look closer, Songran. The two fruits are actually different.”

She looked again and saw it: one fruit was entirely red, the other pure white. The red resembled blood jade, the white, flawless white jade—so lustrous and translucent they seemed less like fruits and more like masterpieces of nature.

From the two fruits, visible waves of opposing energies emanated—one radiant with yang, the other suffused with yin—both growing from a single branch in perfect harmony.

Wu Hong hoisted Wu Songran onto his back, summoned all his inner power, and wrapped them both in a brilliant golden glow. With a leap, he seized the branch bearing the two fruits and gave a mighty tug. But the branch was as unyielding as diamond, refusing to break.

Startled, Wu Hong realized his strength was not enough. Gathering all his power into his palm, he unleashed his Golden Sun Vajra Palm technique. His hand swelled to enormous size, a gigantic golden hand formed of pure energy enveloping them both.

“Break—!” With a thunderous crack, the branch finally snapped—not with the sound of wood, but with a noise like thunder or a mountain torrent unleashed.

As the branch separated from the tree, a surge of alternating heat and cold roared into Wu Hong’s body. He barely had time to react; upon landing, he shoved Wu Songran far away and sat down cross-legged to endure the onslaught alone.

Wu Hong’s aim had simply been to pick the fruits and store them for later cultivation. He had not anticipated the violent energy that would flood into him the instant the branch was severed.

The energy rampaged through his body, tearing through like a storm, overwhelming all resistance. Wu Hong could do nothing but cling to a shred of consciousness, determined not to faint from the agony.

Yet, amid his suffering, a glimmer of hope arose: could this strange energy, if it reached his mind, be assimilated by the Golden Sun Sutra, and perhaps help him break through to the Bone Refining stage?

Indeed, as the wild energy ravaged his body, his flesh, organs, and tendons were all destroyed—only his sturdy bones remained intact. It was as if his very muscle and sinew had ceased to exist.

Wu Songran, watching from the side, was horrified. She tried to rush to his aid, but the surging energy pinned her in place. She could only look on as Wu Hong’s flesh peeled away, leaving behind a skeletal frame encased in swirling red and white energy.

She was frantic, desperate to cry out, but the storm of power raging around Wu Hong made her immobile. The energy was as overwhelming as the wrath of heaven, swirling about him like a tempest.

Was Wu Hong dead? The answer was no. Though his body was reduced to bones and only his head remained, his mind was crystal clear. The strange energy, upon reaching his brain, encountered the power of the Golden Sun Sutra, as if meeting its nemesis. The energy, wrapped in golden light, struggled fiercely to escape, but it was trapped like a bird in a cage.

Throughout the ordeal, Wu Hong’s consciousness remained lucid, as if he were an observer of his own fate. Before long, the once-fierce energy became docile and began to repair his body.

Wu Songran, pinned helplessly by the energy, had thought Wu Hong was doomed. But then, to her amazement, she saw flesh rapidly regrowing over his bones. Such resurrection, flesh returning to bones, was the stuff of legend—yet now it was happening before her eyes. Her fear receded, replaced by boundless concern for Wu Hong.

Only those who had reached the legendary Innate Realm were said to possess such power—able to draw upon the energy of heaven and earth, to restore the body so long as the brain remained intact and the spirit persevered.

Muscle and sinew sprouted from Wu Hong’s skeleton like ancient vines, glowing faintly with light. In moments, his body was fully restored, leaving Wu Songran utterly dumbfounded.

The red and white energy suddenly contracted inward, vanishing into Wu Hong’s core.

He flexed his renewed body, now evidently stronger, more robust and radiant than before, a sacred luster enveloping him. Wu Songran could see only the red and white energies swirling about him, unable to perceive the boundless golden light—that was the mystery of the Golden Sun Sutra.

To witness such a miracle—the dead return to life, flesh restored to bone—Wu Songran, as the sole witness, could not help but be astounded.

Wu Hong’s body shed and regrew at a startling pace; in the blink of an eye, he was wholly remade.

Slowly, Wu Hong opened his eyes, but before he could examine himself, a delicate figure threw herself into his arms.

“Brother! Brother! I thought you were dead! You scared me half to death!” Wu Songran, feeling the oppressive force vanish, rushed forward and embraced him tightly, overwhelmed with relief.