Cultivating Immortality :I Obtained The Villain's Ascension Code-Chapter 77: Rank Five Alchemist

The corners of Xiao Ning’s mouth curled ever so slightly.

"Time to have a little fun."

The space around him began to tremble lightly. Threads of yin and yang energy coiled like opposing serpents, spiraling inward until they formed a point of collapse.

In the next breath, the spot where he had stood was empty—not even the faintest distortion remained in the air.

Almost half a second later, he reappeared at the outer periphery of the Thousand Poisons Hall.

Not a single formation reacted.

Even the core arrays, designed to monitor fluctuations in qi and space, remained utterly unaware.

Xiao Ning had not merely teleported—he had vanished and reappeared as if the world itself had blinked.

In the cultivation world, teleportation was a high-grade movement ability. Only Nascent Soul Realm experts and those above could even attempt it. The common method involved tearing through the superficial layer of space, forming a temporary rift between two points.

However, this crude technique always came with a cost—a violent leakage of spatial aura. It was like setting off fireworks in the dark: detectable by every formation, array, and cultivator with even the slightest sensitivity to space.

That was why, even among Nascent Soul cultivators, no one dared teleport directly into another sect’s territory.

But Xiao Ning’s teleportation... was fundamentally different.

He had used a secret technique from his past life—Collapse-Thread Crossing.

It was a personal creation, forged in the depths of a ruined realm using insights from the Yin-Yang Mirror Dao. Rather than tear through space with brute force, the technique threaded through the collapse point between Yin and Yang harmony, slipping silently between the seams of existence.

Moreover, he had layered it with the Mirror Burial Technique, an advanced concealment art that inverted his presence between Void and Yin, rendering his existence misaligned with the current space layer.

Unless a cultivator was at the Divine Transformation Realm or higher, they would sense nothing.

With this combination, Xiao Ning now walked through the grounds of the Thousand Poisons Hall like a passing ghost.

He strolled casually through the outer halls, his gaze sweeping over a few passing disciples. All were at Foundation Establishment or Core Formation. He didn’t spare them a second glance.

Before long, he reached the inner sect region, where the elder disciples and Core cultivators resided.

Again, no one noticed the stranger in gray robes passing by. Even the patrolling formation masters failed to register his presence.

He cast his divine sense ahead, slicing through the mountain range like a blade through silk.

There.

Two Nascent Soul auras, just as he had seen earlier.

But now he had details.

His eyes flickered as he activated the Yin-Yang Origin Eyes. The landscape transformed before him—veins of spiritual energy and hidden formations bloomed into view.

His gaze turned eastward, focusing on a secluded pavilion nestled beside a rocky slope.

Within, a middle-aged man sat cross-legged beside a pill-refining cauldron, hands forming seals as faint medicinal steam rose from within.

Xiao Ning’s expression shifted slightly.

"Oh? An alchemist..."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "A bit expected for a poison sect. Still..."

His eyes narrowed slightly as he focused on the man’s vitality.

To ordinary senses, the man appeared hale and sharp. But to Xiao Ning’s vision, his life force was brittle—like a flame running out of oil.

"Hmph. One thousand two hundred sixty-five years? That’s quite excessive for an early-stage Nascent Soul."

A flicker of amusement passed through his eyes.

"Used Life Expectancy Pills, did you? And not just any—at least rank five."

Even for someone like Xiao Ning, that was worth noting.

Life Expectancy Pills were among the rarest of alchemical treasures. Unlike Foundation or Core Formation pills, they didn’t help you break realms—they simply bought you time.

But to refine one required Longevity Grass, a spiritual herb so rare that even sects in the Inner Realms treated it as priceless.

Each rank of pill required a matching rank of grass.

In the Outer Realms, rank five was the highest known to exist. Rank six was a legend, last recorded nearly ten thousand years ago.

Xiao Ning clicked his tongue. "The old coot must’ve used a rank five Youth-Preserving Pill too. Cheeky bastard."

He almost chuckled.

Even now, the Thousand Poisons Hall disciples likely believed this so-called Elder Chong was still in his prime—a fearsome, unfading Nascent Soul expert.

"To fool your own sect with pills... how quaint."

He was about to flick his sleeve and end the man’s life when he paused.

His eyes narrowed.

"Wait. That flame... That cauldron... That technique."

His gaze sharpened.

"He’s not just an alchemist. He’s a rank five alchemist."

Now that was rare.

Most Nascent Soul cultivators could only manage rank three or four pills. Rank five required not just cultivation, but decades of refinement, comprehension of pill Dao, and spiritual flame mastery.

To find such a man tucked away in a remote sect like this?

"Interesting. Very interesting."

He considered for a moment.

This elder had lived long, survived on pills, and hidden his true age. And he could refine some of the rarest pills in the Outer Realms.

Killing him would be easy.

But keeping him alive might be more... useful.

Xiao Ning’s decision was made in a heartbeat.

He took a single step forward—and vanished.

A half-breath later, Xiao Ning reappeared silently inside the secluded pavilion.

The room was warm with the scent of simmering herbs. Spiritual steam curled from the open cauldron, casting ghostly wisps through the air. The middle-aged man, Elder Chong, sat cross-legged before the flame, focused entirely on maintaining the balance of the pill within.

He hadn’t sensed a thing.

Not the faint shift in pressure. Not the presence behind him.

Xiao Ning stood a few paces away, his gaze calm. He watched as a golden pill embryo danced within the cauldron, resisting the flames with rhythmic pulses. The flame itself was a refined Yin-Toxin Spirit Fire—well-controlled, well-fed.

The old man’s hands were steady, but the spiritual threads around him were brittle.

"A pill of this level... hmm. Possibly a Bone-Marrow Detoxification Pill? Or perhaps a diluted Fifth-Rejuvenation Blend... Not bad."

He could see it all in one glance.

Suddenly, the old man’s hand twitched.

His brows furrowed.

His eyes flicked to the side—

And he froze mid-motion.

Xiao Ning smiled.

A faint, lazy smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

The cauldron lid fell shut with a metallic clang as Elder Chong leapt to his feet. His Nascent Soul aura surged violently, poisonous qi boiling out in all directions, turning the floor black.

"Who are you?!" the old man snapped, forming seals in rapid succession.

Xiao Ning lifted a hand slightly, almost lazily, and chuckled. "If I were you, I’d start running."

The old man’s eyes twitched.

"Wha—?"

Before he could react further, Xiao Ning’s fingers moved with a flick too fast for the eye to follow.

A single thread of gray light, almost invisible, pulsed forward.

Yin Collapse Death-Point.

But this time, he held back. Instead of unleashing its full might—capable of instantly severing the spiritual root of a Nascent Soul cultivator—he only channeled a sliver of collapsing Yin energy into the point of impact.

The air rippled, and Elder Chong’s body seized in place, like a puppet bound by invisible cords.

His hands, mid-seal, froze in the air. His legs buckled slightly. The toxic qi he had unleashed a moment ago now scattered like smoke in the wind. His pupils contracted sharply as his divine sense was forcibly suppressed.

He was still alive—but completely immobilized.

He could still breathe, still blink—but he couldn’t move an inch of his body or circulate even a wisp of spiritual power.

A cold sweat broke across his forehead as panic surged through him.

"Who are you?"

Just a moment ago, he had been in the deepest state of alchemical focus—balancing three spiritual liquids inside the flame—when a strange chill brushed across his back. He had turned, instinctively expecting a disciple or perhaps a formation disturbance—

Only to find a stranger standing there like a ghost.

"Quite amazing," Xiao Ning said with faint appreciation. "A rank five alchemist, hidden away in this backwater poison sect. That alone is worth sparing your life... for now."

Elder Chong’s pupils shook.

How...?

His identity as a rank five alchemist was a closely guarded secret. No one knew but him. How could this man tell at a glance?

"You... you’re not from the Thousand Poisons Hall," Elder Chong muttered, trying to keep his voice steady. "What do you want?"

Xiao Ning didn’t answer immediately.

He began pacing the pavilion slowly, examining the cauldron, the pill residue, even the old man’s pill scripts etched on jade slips piled near the furnace.

Then he turned, eyes half-lidded with a curious glint.

"Tell me something... You’ve been calling yourself Elder Chong for how many years now? Three hundred? Four?"

Elder Chong’s heart sank like a stone in icy water.

Of all the possibilities, this was the one he had feared most.