Return to the Temple

Shen Hui stood still, his gaze lowered to the pool of finely minced flesh at his feet.

The stench of blood mixed with scorched rot, drilling into his nostrils with every breath.

The white banner was still burning, flames licking at its pole with crackling pops, like something wailing in agony.

He watched the fire, then bent down and picked up the jadeite gourd. The stopper had rolled off somewhere unknown.

He held it up to his eye and peered into the opening—pitch black inside, nothing to see.

He shook it; no sound came.

After a moment's thought, he picked up a stone, turned it into a stopper with the Earth Transformation Art, sealed the gourd, and tucked it into his robe.

Then he raised his hand and formed a seal.

A blazing flame erupted from nothing, surging like a wave across the clearing.

Where the fire passed, withered grass turned to ash instantly. Bones gave off faint cracking sounds in the inferno, then crumbled to powder.

He walked step by step, letting the flames lick every inch of the ground.

The white banner finally burned through; the pole snapped and fell into the fire.

The scattered wood-chopping knives and cleavers reddened, warped, and melted into pools of molten iron that seeped into the soil.

He retreated to the edge of the clearing, watching the fire rise until it engulfed the whole space.

After about half an incense stick's time, only charred black remained—nothing recognizable.

He formed another seal, the Wind-Borne Art.

A cool breeze swept across the ground, lifting the remaining ash and scattering it over the cliff edge.

Then he raised his palm, and the earth began to churn.

An invisible hand seemed to plow the land, flipping the entire layer of scorched soil.

He pressed his hand down again, and the fresh earth compacted instantly, level with the surrounding ground.

The wind passed, and the grass swayed gently.

Shen Hui released his technique, stood still for a moment, then turned and left.

The road back to the temple was slower than the way there.

As he walked, he summoned the parchment interface.

[Dao Name]: Qingxuan [Bone Age]: Twenty-three [Realm]: Qi Induction (1896/10000) [Status]: Recovering Qi... [Dao Xing]: 1465 (Distributable) [Dharma Arts]: Lesser Five Elements Art • Control Fire Chapter (Minor Completion), Lesser Five Elements Art • Wood Nurturing Chapter (Initiate), Lesser Five Elements Art • Control Water Chapter (Initiate), Lesser Five Elements Art • Sharp Gold Chapter (Initiate), Lesser Five Elements Art • Transform Earth Chapter (Initiate), Aura Observation Art (Initiate) [Destined Path]: Not Manifested [Corpse Liberation Wheel]: 1 (Available for Draw)

He paused mid-step.

One thousand four hundred and sixty-five points.

"That's worth four months of bitter cultivation for me," Shen Hui muttered to himself, shaking his head.

He'd been too focused on hacking the man to pieces to notice the number change.

Now that he saw it, he realized how much it had grown.

This was his first time killing someone. A slight unease stirred within him, but he felt no regret for taking the old man's life.

From the moment he'd glimpsed those bones, he'd already made up his mind, secretly using the Aura Observation Art to glance at the old man.

And what did he see?

A thick mass of black-red aura piled atop the man's head, like a clump of aged blood scabs—dense and pure.

He even suspected that with such a fundamentally "black" aura, the old man had probably never done a good deed since leaving his mother's womb.

So he didn't believe a single word about "demons causing trouble" or "disciples dying tragically."

He'd originally planned to retreat for now and call for backup at the temple, but the old man insisted on inviting "this young friend to stand guard."

There was nothing for it—he had to make a move.

Fortunately, though the other party's aura was strong, it was scattered and unfocused; though his techniques were many, they were jumbled and impure.

Even if his realm was a notch higher, he was only on par with Second Senior Sister, not yet having formed his foundation.

He glanced at the interface again.

[Corpse Liberation Wheel]: 1 (Available for Draw)

This thing had been lying there quietly all along, in an "unactivated" state ever since he first got this panel. Only today, after killing that old man, did it change to "Available for Draw."

Could it be... that killing people was the way to earn points?

He thought it over for a moment but didn't dare click recklessly for now. He planned to investigate it more carefully once he returned to the Temple.

The mountain path grew darker the further he went, and the forest had become too dim to see the road.

He raised his hand and formed a seal, condensing a small flame above his head. Using that faint light, he continued forward.

His qi sea was empty and hollow.

After that bout of combat—fire techniques, metal qi, earthen walls deployed in turn, followed by setting the mountain ablaze, plowing the ground to bury the ashes, and all that fuss for so long—the spiritual energy in his body had already been drained to seven or eight parts.

But he also noticed that his spiritual energy was recovering on its own.

He estimated that, at this rate, by the time he returned to the Temple, he'd have recovered about three or four parts.

If he sat in meditation and regulated his breathing for one night, by tomorrow morning he'd be back to full strength.

That was good news.

He continued walking, then suddenly recalled all the old man's various methods.

Tucking his head into his belly, the black wind that corroded things, the bewitching demon eye, and that white banner, the evil spirits released from the gourd...

His style was sinister and eerie, nothing like proper Daoist techniques.

"I wonder which sect or school this man came from."

Unfortunately, the Temple had no books describing the various cultivation sects; what he'd read before were only some worldly martial arts secrets and underworld tales.

By the time he returned to the Temple, the sky was already pitch black.

The outline of the back gate was just a blurry shadow in the twilight. The two wooden doors were left ajar, with a sliver of lamplight seeping through the crack.

Shen Hui pushed the door open and saw Third Senior Brother coming out of the Dining Hall, holding an empty bowl in his hand, still chewing on something.

"Little Junior Brother?"

Qingyi called out, his voice muffled. "Where have you been all day? The food we saved for you is still warming on the stove."

"I went to the back mountain, walked a bit far."

Shen Hui answered casually. "Third Senior Brother, has Master turned in for the night?"

Qingyi shook his head. "Master stayed in the meditation room all day today, didn't even come out for dinner. Do you need something from him?"

"There are some things I'd like to ask, but it can wait until tomorrow."

Shen Hui said, then added offhandedly, "And Fourth Senior Sister?"

"Jinghui? She went back to her room this afternoon, all excited, said she was going to draw talismans. Don't bother her."

Qingyi yawned. "Alright, I'm heading back. You should rest early too."

Shen Hui acknowledged him, then went to the Dining Hall to find his meal.

In a coarse ceramic bowl was half a bowl of brown rice, topped with two chopstickfuls of pickled vegetables and a piece of salted radish.

The food at the Temple was like that—sometimes good, sometimes bad.

Luckily, Shen Hui didn't mind. He sat down on the long bench in the Dining Hall, ate slowly, then washed the bowl and chopsticks and put them away before heading to the back courtyard.

He pushed open the door to his small room, lit the flame, sat down on the edge of the bed, then pulled the Jadeite Gourd from his bosom and placed it on the table.

"Carrying you on me always feels a bit uneasy."

He muttered to himself, then pushed the gourd to the corner of the table.

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