Chapter 75: The Little Wine Cup

When Wei Cheng leaped down from the corpse of the fiery monster bird, the other five remained deep in meditation, entirely undisturbed. It wasn't a matter of noise; rather, the defense of the Motionless Golden Bell was truly extraordinary.

“There’s no transfer monument?” Wei Cheng was surprised. The overall strength of this flaming monster bird was on par with that of a full demon outpost. If he hadn’t mastered the ultimate form of the Motionless Golden Bell, their group would have been instantly annihilated, with not even a chance to resist.

After some thought, he stepped forward and extracted the demon core from the beast. Unexpectedly, as soon as he removed the core, the monster bird’s corpse erupted in fierce flames, which swiftly surged into the heart. The once blood-soaked demon core rapidly shrank, ultimately transforming into a fist-sized crystalline flame gem.

But this was no ordinary Flame Stone; those merely looked exquisite, yet paled in comparison to this crystal. The former were instantly rendered gaudy and vulgar—cheap imitations next to this gem.

Wei Cheng placed the flame crystal against his Flame Ring, and as he’d guessed, it could be used for enhancement. Yet the process was brutally intense. When the flame crystal touched the ring, it felt as if the ring were melting rapidly, unable to withstand the infusion.

Wei Cheng was startled—first, he hadn’t expected the Flame Ring to be such low quality, and second, he hadn’t imagined the flame crystal would be of such high grade!

What to do? He couldn’t seem to halt the process; the crystal was already halfway fused into the ring. Wei Cheng was desperate—this was his very first piece of equipment.

He watched in horror as the enhancement value of the Flame Ring plummeted from +11 to +1 in the blink of an eye. Damn it, he’d have to risk everything.

Ultimate Form: Motionless Golden Bell!

Wei Cheng’s intent was to separate the two, or at least salvage part of the ring. He couldn’t bear the thought of his Flame Ring being destroyed so violently.

But in the next moment, something utterly unexpected happened: the golden talisman light in his eyes imprinted itself onto the Flame Ring, now on the verge of melting and collapse.

The ultimate form of the Motionless Golden Bell didn’t unleash, but the Flame Ring simply fell apart, reduced to a heap of golden sludge. Yet it continued to writhe and turn—was this its dying struggle, or a final flare before death?

Wei Cheng’s heart bled. What could he do? He felt utterly hopeless.

With no alternative, he could only gamble—he poured his spiritual power into the mass, seeking patterns amidst the chaos, while simultaneously flooding it with his Mountain-Moving Inner Force, hoping to recover the Motionless Golden Bell.

A few seconds later, Wei Cheng’s expression turned oddly complex. His spirit sense had indeed discerned a pattern within that golden sludge.

The Flame Ring hadn’t truly shattered; it was simply running according to a far more intricate and mysterious logic—one beyond his understanding, but not beyond his ability to guess what was happening.

First, the Flame Ring was a magical artifact—the lowest, blandest kind in the cultivation realm. That was undeniable.

Its ability to be enhanced by Flame Stones and other superior resources was simply the nature of magical artifacts. Even the shoddiest artifacts possess the ability to self-repair and self-strengthen; only the degree varies.

Second, the quality of the flame crystal was simply too high. Once infused into the Flame Ring, it overwhelmed the artifact’s meager self-repair and enhancement capacities—like a mortal overdosing on tonic, or a server crashing under overload, or a bank facing a run. Hence the melting and collapse.

Third, Wei Cheng’s attempt to shield the ring with the ultimate form of the Motionless Golden Bell turned out to be a lucky misstep. The ultimate form was like an angel investor, offering support to the collapsing artifact and enabling its logic to run smoothly once more. The Mountain-Moving Inner Force he poured in became the capital sustaining it.

Now, at least half of that golden sludge belonged to Wei Cheng—he held a fifty percent stake, so to speak.

“No, I’m here to cultivate immortality, not do business. What nonsense!” Wei Cheng shook his head vigorously, shaking off such unreliable thoughts.

As his spirit slowly took control, the golden sludge began to reshape itself—eventually forming a pale golden, rather impure little wine cup. No, it was his Motionless Golden Bell, his magical artifact!

Although, truth be told, it was just a tiny, crude wine cup—barely enough to hold a single measure, exuding an unmistakable air of shoddy mediocrity.

Once the Motionless Golden Bell’s shape fully solidified, Wei Cheng took it in hand and infused it with a little Mountain-Moving Inner Force. The cup hummed for a moment, then fell silent, unmoved.

He increased the flow of inner force, and after pouring in a full sixty years’ worth, the cup finally began to emit a faint golden glow. Twisted golden bell runes appeared on its surface.

Forgive me, it’s my first attempt—my skills are a little raw.

But the crucial thing was, as Wei Cheng’s will shifted, the tiny wine cup rose from his palm and steadily grew, expanding to a full twenty meters in diameter.

Before he could even marvel, there was a sudden whoosh—the golden light on the formidable-looking bell dimmed at once, shrinking it back to its original size.

Its reserves of Mountain-Moving Inner Force were depleted.

“Isn’t this a bit useless?” Wei Cheng frowned. What he wanted was an immediate boost in combat power, not an insatiable pit for his energy.

Surely it wouldn’t take as much as four hundred and twenty years’ worth of inner force just to unleash its full form? Perhaps even that wouldn’t suffice.

It seemed unlikely, honestly. Even if this was a low-grade artifact, perhaps it was simply beyond his current ability to control.

After all, he was still just an innate-level martial artist.

Wei Cheng decisively stopped testing. The amount of osmanthus wine he had left was limited; he couldn’t afford to waste it, especially with the fourth wave of shadow curses looming tomorrow.

After replenishing everyone’s protective bell, he patrolled the area. He found nothing unusual—after all, the recent quake would have overwhelmed any ordinary monsters.

He did, however, unexpectedly discover some hard black iron stones, far tougher than regular rock, now exposed by the upheaval of the earth.

In the end, he managed to collect no fewer than twenty-four pieces. Who knew what price they’d fetch in Cangwu City?