Patience

(This chapter is free)

A whole nest of people scrambled to confess their guilt, each terrified of seeming insincere and offending this master who could guide qi to form talismans before their eyes.

Yu Ci listened with a smile, displaying ample patience. When the surrounding noise finally died down, he tapped his sword hilt, producing a dull thud, and spoke slowly: "Yes, I was joking with you all. But what you did to me earlier—that was hardly just a joke, was it?"

The moment the words left his mouth, the crowd fell silent as one. A chill suddenly seeped through the hall, piercing flesh and bone. The steadily accumulating cold pressed down like layer upon layer of an iceberg atop everyone's heads, threatening to collapse at any moment. Whatever faint courage remained in them was ground away bit by bit under this invisible pressure.

Yu Ci's smile faded. He no longer looked at anyone, fixing his gaze solely on the campfire as he said softly: "Calling yourself a Celestial, swindling and cheating. If it were anyone else here instead of me, what would you have done?"

Though he hadn't cast a single glance their way, everyone understood perfectly. The so-called "Xuan Qing the Celestial" could no longer maintain even a shred of composure. He stepped forward and bent low in a deep bow, moving so abruptly that the "demon's head" he'd tucked into his sleeve slipped out, rolling noisily until it stopped right beside Yu Ci.

Xuan Qing paid it no mind. He bowed and scraped repeatedly, begging only to save his own life: "Celestial, see clearly, Celestial, see clearly. This disciple was just running a scam—taking some Shrimp Whisker Grass from the herb gatherers, nothing more. I swear I never intended murder or robbery..."

While he pleaded pitifully, Yu Ci found himself more interested in that "demon's head." He picked it up, turning it over in his hands, treating Xuan Qing's words like wind whistling past his ears.

The more indifferent Yu Ci acted, the more terrified Xuan Qing became. Such an air of casual arrogance—this Yu Ci Celestial was probably far beyond the Spirit Communion realm he'd first guessed. Could he have already refined the Returned Elixir? And that long sword resting across his lap, wrapped in an ordinary leather scabbard, unremarkable—who was to say it wasn't a magic sword that could slay a man from a hundred li away?

One flash of that cold light...

The thought grew heavier and more real, squeezing his heart until it thundered in his chest. Before he knew it, his knees went weak, and he dropped to the ground in a kneel. With that single act, the authority he'd built up over two years in their gang was utterly wasted. But having reached this point, all his mental resolve crumbled. He tried to speak again, but his words failed him, and tears of desperation welled in his eyes.

Seeing this, Yu Ci frowned. "A worthless little nobody. Killing you would dirty my hands."

Xuan Qing was no fool. Joy flickered through him, and he raised his head, but before he could make out Yu Ci's expression, a single syllable slammed into his ears: "Scram! "

It wasn't delivered with any particular force, yet the sound struck everyone present like a thunderclap inside their skulls, their crowns creaking in response. Xuan Qing was the first to react. He kowtowed heavily, leaped to his feet, and bolted. The rest stood dumbfounded for a moment, then, once they came to their senses, they cursed their parents for not giving them an extra pair of legs. Amidst garbled cries of "Thank you, Celestial, for sparing our lives," they swarmed out the door like a hive of bees.

Yu Ci kept his eyes on Xuan Qing. The man was agile and fast—once out of the temple, he vanished in a few bounds. As for the others, they jostled and shoved until they broke the temple gate entirely before spilling out. After another moment, their sounds faded too.

A little while later, once he was sure they were all far away, Yu Ci relaxed his grip. The demon's head thudded to the ground. The handsome Daoist wiped his hands on his clothes, then brushed the sweat from his brow. Feeling the dampness on his palm, he suddenly burst into loud laughter, shaking the roof beams, his expression brimming with delight.

Amidst the laughter, the Heart Calming Talisman hanging in the air burst apart with a crack, scattering into several streaks of light that vanished in an instant.

If anyone from Xuan Qing's group had thought to turn back, they would have seen the "Celestial" in their eyes laughing so hard he doubled over, slapping his knees and thighs. But alas, those people had been scared out of their wits. By now, they were already several li away, and even if Yu Ci laughed louder, they wouldn't hear a thing.

When Yu Ci had laughed his fill, he dropped the intimidating air he'd used to cow the rabble. He found the most comfortable position, leaning back against the incense altar behind him, and set his long sword casually aside.

Why had he recognized Xuan Qing as a fellow swindler from the start? Because big con or small con, you cheat me and I cheat you—they were all cut from the same cloth.

"Celestial, Celestial—Celestial my ass."

Yu Ci knew his own situation best. What kind of Celestial was he? At best, his cultivation was on par with Xuan Qing's. If those burly men with their decent skills had seen through him and surrounded him, he'd have been in real trouble.

Of course, he could have bypassed this temple or torn off the mask right at the door and fled before they formed a circle. But then, how would he have ended up alone in a windproof, warm spot, free and easy?

As he relaxed, he began to gauge Xuan Qing's true level. From that Calm Heart Incantation, the man could use ordinary cinnabar as a medium to draw talismans that manifested spiritual responses—a man of some Daoist attainment, probably at the peak of Orifice Enlightenment.

In the world of cultivation, Qi Movement, Long Breath, and Orifice Enlightenment were known as the "Three Mortal Gates."

Qi Movement meant an ordinary person tempered their body through breathing and guidance, working both internally and externally to generate a sense of qi—what was called "refining essence into qi."

Long Breath meant that qi sensation was abundant, forming inner breath and true qi. With every inhale and exhale, tremendous power erupted, and qi coursed through the whole body, prompting the mortal flesh to transform. At this stage, a person could extend their lifespan by sixty years, living to one hundred and fifty.

As for Orifice Enlightenment, there was no further progress in the physical body. But nourished by true qi, one's spirit and soul grew stronger, gradually opening spiritual apertures and granting some miraculous responses. At this level, if one's cultivation was sufficient, supplemented by fine cinnabar, peach wood, and other spiritual mediums, techniques like summoning wind and rain or commanding thunder and lightning were not beyond reach.

Yu Ci was exactly like that. He knew over a dozen talismans and could use talisman arts to calm the mind, settle the spirit, ward off evil, and drive away plagues. He could even manage a few palm thunder strikes with some effort—but that was all. He figured Xuan Qing was about the same.

Still, that man had no guts. The long sword across Yu Ci's lap was meant to strike first if his cover was blown, but instead, it had scared the bastard weak in the knees.

Maybe Xuan Qing had suffered at the hands of "those above"?

That wasn't impossible.

If Orifice Enlightenment was the final stage of the "Three Mortal Gates," the peak of mortal cultivation, then transcending those gates—rising one step above Orifice Enlightenment—meant truly leaping out of the cage, entering a strange group of special humans and non-humans, and a bizarre, wondrous divine realm.

The people in that group were called cultivators. And "guiding qi to form talismans" was a skill unique to them.

Xuan Qing's knowledge was too shallow to tell the difference. He'd mistaken Yu Ci for a legendary cultivator and scared himself out of his wits. But Yu Ci had seen such things with his own eyes...

Staring at the campfire, Yu Ci gradually sank into thought. Crimson flames seeped through the cracks of his eyes, twisting their eerie forms. In a daze, the fire's tongues licked at him, nearly roasting his internal organs. And from that boundless sea of fire, he leaped—lunging toward the table, toward the flash of light that could change his fate.

A thud snapped Yu Ci abruptly from his memories. He realized he'd unconsciously nudged the "demon's head" beside him and couldn't help but chuckle.

The demon's head rolled twice, its face turning toward the blazing fire. In the firelight, its crimson eyes gleamed with an eerie glow, catching Yu Ci's attention. Honestly, he didn't like this ugly thing. But when he'd used it earlier to put on airs, he'd noticed its texture was strange—it didn't feel like flesh and blood. Yet beneath its cold, bony shell, a faint warmth seemed to seep through.

Hmm, might be worth studying later.