Chapter 8

Chang'an felt that this technique had been far too easy to begin—unbelievably fast. The Movement Cultivation Method had no inner force, no true qi, yet what it awakened was pure strength, flowing through his body. The words "Demonic Art" rose unbidden in his mind, sending a chill through him.

Yu Fu remained by Chang'an's side at all times, inseparable as shadow from form.

Grandma ladled out chicken soup and said with a beaming smile, "Chang'an, come drink some soup. You've only just recovered and need to nourish yourself properly. Come here—Grandma has some words of advice for you too!"

Chang'an and Han Yu sat down at the table. The chicken soup was fragrant, steeped with several nourishing medicinal herbs and carrying a faint bitterness. Chang'an did not stand on ceremony. His taste buds came alive, and he wolfed down eight bowls before finally feeling refreshed and no longer hungry. He had stood motionless for three days, so engrossed in training that he noticed nothing beyond it. The moment he woke, his belly had been hollow, and he had been starving.

Grandma smiled knowingly, her face kind and benevolent. "When you were still swaddled in cloth, Grandma fed you milk too. You looked just like this—such a little glutton!"

Chang'an narrowed his eyes in a smile, while Yu Fu watched with a curious and rather approving expression.

Then Grandma's expression turned solemn. "Chang'an, you must cultivate the technique the old man passed on to you with care. Rumor has it that this cultivation method fell from the heavens, and it is strange and uncanny in the extreme. With one thought, one may transcend the mundane and enter sainthood; with one thought, one may fall and become a demon. Even your father did not dare attempt to cultivate it back then. Ascend to heaven or plunge into hell—it all rests upon one's own thoughts. Only when the ruler in one's heart remains straight and true, neither tilted nor swayed, neither frivolous nor corrupt, can one comprehend the Lotus Wonderful Method. The old man has spent all these years trapped in darkness, imprisoned within a small room, because he took a wrong fork while cultivating this technique and entered the demonic path. Now, the moment he sees daylight, he goes mad... Even the abbot of Tianchan Temple chanting sutras every day could not dissolve the old man's demonic thoughts. The harm it brings runs deep..."

Chang'an was startled, then smiled faintly. "I have gone through great rises and falls, twists and turns. I more or less understand what it means to keep a steadfast heart and tranquil mind. I can hold that ruler steady. Besides, Yu Fu is by my side. Fu'er can remind me at every moment, so Grandma needn't worry about me. And isn't this also a path forward for me?"

Grandma's face abruptly turned cold. She sprang to her feet, a knife clenched in her hand—the knife she used to cut beef.

Chang'an and Yu Fu were both startled, sensing the icy killing intent.

Grandma's expression was grave and filled with regret. "I've caused trouble!" Her voice had already twisted.

It was noon, and the blazing sun hung high overhead. The old man's room, black all year round, suddenly split open down the middle. The old man still sat quietly in that high-backed chair. Exposed without warning to the fierce sunlight, he suddenly opened his eyes. They were a sea of blood-red, horrifying beyond words.

It was as though a layer of flames burned over the old man's body. Crimson fire covered him from head to toe, flickering everywhere in clustered tongues. The instant his eyes opened, they squeezed shut again. He remained motionless, but his face had already contorted into something incomparably savage.

Chang'an felt that the figure sitting there was like a monster—a demon lord.

Suddenly, a man with a purplish-red face appeared ten feet in front of the old man, carrying a short black blade as dark as ink.

The man's face was covered in patches of red scars and sunken pits. He had no facial skin. Someone had once flayed his face alive, yet he had survived, becoming this terrifying purplish-red visage.

No one could discern the expression on the red-faced man's features. His teeth were always exposed; he had no lips, no nose, no ears, no eyebrows. The only consolation was that his eyelids still remained.

His eyelids twitched, and blade-like cold light flashed in his gloomy eyes. They were the eyes of a venomous serpent, brimming with bitterness and cruelty.

The red-faced man's voice was cold, every word distorted as he enunciated them one by one. "You cannot escape, Su—Wan—tu."

The old man was called Su Wantu.

Cold sweat ran down both Chang'an and Yu Fu's faces.

Su Wantu was a great demon whose vicious name shook the martial world and whose might cowed all directions. He had killed beyond count—how could he be merely a Ten Thousand Slayer? Su Wantu was a nickname, not his true name, yet it was thunder in the ears wherever one went beneath heaven.

Chang'an inadvertently looked toward Grandma, and another savage name came to mind: Thousand Blade Scraper.

Chang'an's heart churned as heaven and earth overturned within him, leaving him in utter chaos. The reputation he had carved out through his own wandering exploits was like a speck of dust beside a mountain when measured against those two names—there was no comparison. Ten Thousand Slayer and Thousand Blade Scraper: even the three great dynasties, the Great Qian Dynasty, the Great Zhou Dynasty, and the Peacock Dynasty, could not control them. They were Heaven-ranked fiends of the martial world, outlaws beyond the law—legends among legends, myths made real.

Thousand Blade Scraper rasped, "Ink Splatter Blade, why must you keep hounding us so relentlessly... We have already retired into seclusion and withdrawn from the martial world..."

The red-faced Ink Splatter Blade sneered. "Withdrawn from the martial world? Wherever there are people, there is the martial world. Where can you withdraw to? Unless you die. Why? For vengeance! Anyone who cultivates the Demonic Art deserves to die. Back then, I suffered a crushing defeat in battle and was flayed alive. I watched him ravage an entire region, slaughter cities and murder innocents. Not one of my kin was spared. I swore long ago that unless Su Wantu died, I would never rest. He has sat trapped in this room for eighteen years, and I have waited eighteen years. Here and now, I will fight him again and wash away my hatred with revenge. Su Wantu's Demonic Art will never be passed down."

In an instant, Ink Splatter Blade looked toward Chang'an and swung his blade as though splashing ink with a brush. Wherever the short blade passed, black shadows lingered in the air like ink stains.

The blade moved as though guided by a god.

Thousand Blade Scraper sighed. "You have no chance. This Heart Sutra is not a Demonic Art either."

Su Wantu suddenly rose to his feet and opened his eyes. A demon had awakened. With a fierce leap, his bloody shadow flashed, and he descended from the sky to land before Ink Splatter Blade.

Ink Splatter Blade's gleam of steel flashed. Su Wantu shifted sideways one step, evading it with profound and mysterious precision, then threw a punch.

Bang!

It was as though Ink Splatter Blade had rammed into the punch himself. He was sent flying at once, his chest caved in and split apart.

He stared fixedly into Su Wantu's eyes. Those eyes were unfathomably deep, without the slightest trace of bloody light. Black and white were sharply distinct, gleaming with a clear brilliance.

He sprayed out a mouthful of blood and tried to speak, only to choke on another mouthful. His eyes rolled upward, and he died with them still open.

Su Wantu suddenly turned around. Chang'an only saw a blur before he was already clutched in Su Wantu's hand. A chaotic, hoarse voice sounded by his ear: "Movement Heart Sutra!"

Chang'an discovered a force seeping into his body. Unable to resist, he began circulating it according to the cultivation method. Su Wantu had already brought him before Ink Splatter Blade's corpse. Chang'an looked over instinctively and saw streams of energy pouring from the body, like air escaping from a punctured leather ball, returning to heaven and earth. In the unseen dark, Chang'an instinctively reached out his hand and found an inexplicable drawing force in his palm, pulling those streams that were about to dissipate into himself. The instant they entered his body, a scorching heat swept through him. Every bone and limb seemed to ignite, and his strength surged fiercely along with those flames, rising without end. Even he himself could feel it.

Too wicked.

Seeing this, Su Wantu released Chang'an, unfurled his body, and returned to the ruins of the room. He lifted a great stone slab, revealing the entrance to an underground passage, then immediately slipped inside. He swiftly dragged the slab back into place, sealing himself in darkness.

Chang'an suddenly came back to himself and stared blankly at his hands. A faint gray Lotus Pattern had appeared on each of his palms.

That sensation of strength increasing was intoxicating, something no martial artist could resist.

Chang'an could not resist it either. It all felt like a dream.

Yu Fu looked at Chang'an strangely.

Grandma slowly appeared behind Chang'an and sighed softly. "Child, do not become addicted to it. I once heard the old man say that the first layer of this Heart Sutra is exceedingly easy to enter, but it is a trial. Like a Demonic Art, it can devour the cultivation of others. But you must never lose yourself in this path and stray onto crooked roads. The old man entered the demonic path because of this back then, falling into the lower realms and never again able to advance. Yet the cultivation of the dead can be absorbed—but you must never kill for the sake of training. This is Grandma's lifelong insight, the wisdom of experience. You must remember it well. All right, the storm has passed. Help Grandma bury the Ink Splatter Blade Swordsman beneath the honey locust tree. Then help the old man repair his house. Grandma will not keep you any longer. Go, both of you, and attend to your affairs."

"Grandma..."

Chang'an wanted to speak, but stopped himself.

Thousand Blade Scraper was seasoned and shrewd, able to see fire through water. She had already sensed the misgivings and wariness of the two young people. Keeping the two children here any longer would only make things awkward and unsuitable. Grandma smiled. "Grandma knows. I understand. Our reputation is poor, and anyone would be wary of us! This cultivation method is yours by right. Your father's final wishes were not something the old man dared disobey. Ning Shengdao was a man worthy of respect in his lifetime. In the future, you must make the name Ning Chang'an shine..."

Chang'an nodded earnestly, unable to say any of the words he wished to speak.

Three days later, Chang'an and Yu Fu departed.

Grandma saw them off for a long way before reluctantly returning to the old man's room. Su Wantu had already returned to the repaired black room, sitting as before. He said, "The child is good—a fine seedling. He entered the cultivation method within three days, and gray lotus patterns appeared on his palms. He was a full sixty times faster than I was back then..."

Thousand Blade Scraper said, "A tiger father has no dog son. This child is exceptionally gifted and fated for this Heart Sutra! The Ink Splatter Blade Swordsman is dead too. Our great enemies should all be wiped out by now, shouldn't they? No one will be watching us every moment anymore. This time, those two children unknowingly did us a great favor. At last, they lured out that cold venomous serpent, the Ink Splatter Blade Swordsman. Your demonic thoughts have also been mostly dispelled. It is time for us to enjoy our old age and seek a higher realm of martial arts, isn't it?"

Su Wantu said, "The rest depends on that child's fortune. We have done all we can and owe Ning Shengdao nothing. Why not go to Dragon Green Mountain as well? That old man Yang has always said it is suited for spending one's twilight years..."

The old couple had kept Chang'an behind to rebuild the ruined house and carefully observed him for three days. This had been their purpose all along.

At dusk that day, a carriage slowly passed out through Danyang City's gate. It traveled straight beyond Qingshan Prefecture, heading for Dragon Green Mountain in Taichang Prefecture, Changshan Province. An old woman drove the carriage, and the curtains hung extremely low, tightly sealed against even the faintest ray of light.

Chang'an made a trip to Moon Concealing Pavilion and discovered that Su Yueru was no longer there. Things remained, but people had changed.

Then the two returned to Rugui Inn to lead away Green Ox.