[Divine Path]

Zhang Xuan slipped between the graves, his footsteps as light as a cat's. Only after leaving the Mass Grave did he let out a long breath, his taut nerves easing a little.

But the moment he relaxed, dizziness swept over him. He staggered a few steps, caught hold of a crooked tree, and slowly slid to the ground.

"I'm dizzy with hunger..."

He tugged at the corner of his mouth in self-mockery, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the rough bark. Since waking, he had not even had a drop of water. His stomach was utterly empty, and hunger slowly sawed at it like a dull knife.

Yet the Celestial Master's Mansion had reeked of strangeness at every turn. He had not dared eat any food he found there—the Old Celestial Master's gruesome death was a warning written in blood!

A few withered yellow leaves drifted past his eyes. The late-autumn chill seeped into his marrow, and damp, cold air smelling of earth filled his lungs, clearing his head a little.

He drew a deep breath. The damp chill peculiar to a late-autumn forest, fragrant with soil, seeped into his lungs and gave him a faint sense that he was truly alive.

With only twenty-odd days left to live, someone else might already have broken down. Zhang Xuan merely pulled his Daoist robe tighter, a flicker of curiosity passing through his eyes instead.

Since the Celestial Master's Ordination had given him directions, he only had to follow them. Worry would change nothing.

"What exactly is this 'opportunity' the Celestial Master's Ordination mentioned?"

Muttering to himself, he took the two objects he had retrieved from beneath the patriarch's statue out of his robe and examined them by moonlight.

The jade pendant was icy in his hand, its surface covered in fine cracks, as though a touch would reduce it to powder. He turned it over for a while but found nothing unusual, so he put it away again.

Then his gaze settled on the other object—a yellow-covered book.

Moonlight spilled across the book, and the lettering on its cover seemed to glow faintly:

"Divine Path—Collected Essentials of Daoist Arts"

Zhang Xuan brushed his fingertips lightly over the cover. Its rough texture made his heart skip.

"Divine Path... Collected Essentials of Daoist Arts?"

"Whoa. That's one imposing title."

He read the title under his breath, bewilderment and anticipation gleaming in his eyes.

The night wind swept past, stirring the shadows of the trees as though silently urging him to open the book.

The cover had yellowed with age. Sure enough, the lettering was not Chinese, but the same tadpole-shaped Wei script.

This further confirmed his suspicion: Wei script was the common writing system of this world. The square Chinese characters he had seen on that blazing sun within the Old Celestial Master's Inner Landscape belonged to a special script, one that probably few people understood.

Zhang Xuan quickly leafed through the yellow-covered book, its pages rustling.

"Thirty-six spells, twelve talismans..."

His gaze stopped on the fourth page, which recorded the spell Jiang Jiu had used—"Four Divine Path Forms—Innate Supreme Unity Divine Thunder."

"Palm Thunder..."

Jiang Jiu had used it before, so the spell had left a deep impression on Zhang Xuan.

Zhang Xuan murmured the incantation. A sharp pain suddenly pricked his palm, as though a needle had pierced it. Then lightning flashed, and a pale-blue streak of thunderlight burst from his palm, illuminating the surrounding darkness.

"How... how is this possible?"

He froze, looking down at his hand. Thunderlight danced between his fingertips with faint crackles.

The book's contents were obscure and difficult to understand, and the incantation was horribly tongue-twisting. Yet he had only skimmed it once and could already perform it with effortless ease.

It was as though these spells had long been carved into his bones. All he needed was an opening, and everything flowed into place as naturally as water finding its course.

Before he could ponder it further, however, a savage emptiness surged through his belly, as though his insides had been scooped out.

Dizziness flooded in like a tide. The scene before him began to warp and spin, and darkness gradually swallowed his vision.

Thud!

His legs gave way, and he crashed to the ground, his back slamming into the cold earth. Pain made him bare his teeth.

The brilliant power of thunder in his hand dissipated with him.

The pain dragged him a little closer to lucidity, but the weakness in his body only grew worse.

A cold wind blew past. Zhang Xuan curled up beneath the tree, trembling all over.

Hunger, cold, exhaustion... all those miseries tangled together until he could barely think.

The spells were wondrous, but... in his current physical state, he probably could not power them.

Just then, a peculiar smell crept into his nostrils.

"Ah... what's that smell?"

Narrowing his eyes, he sniffed hard several times. As the rich aroma of food reached him, his eyes lit up. He struggled upright and looked toward the nearby path.

Deep in the woods, a faint flame flickered in the darkness like an uncanny eye.

The aroma of roast chicken drifted on the wind, so rich it was intoxicating. Zhang Xuan swallowed, and the hunger in his belly intensified.

"There's someone over there..."

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze shifting between the firelight and the darkness.

Should I go or not?

People meant danger. But that path was precisely the westward route indicated by the Celestial Master's Ordination.

"The route the system gave me should be safe..."

He murmured to himself, the Old Celestial Master's words surfacing in his mind: "The Celestial Master's Ordination knows all things, in heaven above and on earth below."

If the Celestial Master's Ordination could truly predict the future, then this little path was his only road to survival.

At that thought, Zhang Xuan swallowed the saliva that kept pooling in his mouth and started toward the firelight.

Yet the instant he left the crooked tree, the ground beneath his feet trembled slightly. Then the scenery all around began to rotate.

The path that had originally led southwest was no longer to the southwest at all, but...

—north!

Zhang Xuan noticed none of this. He followed the firelight, walking for roughly three to five minutes before finding a campfire burning beneath two crooked trees, bringing little glimmers of light to the dark woodland path.

The flickering fire revealed three figures sitting with their backs to him.

From behind, they looked like a married couple with their child. With cloths wrapped around their heads and ragged clothes covered in layer upon layer of patches, they were probably farmers from the mountains.

Zhang Xuan approached slowly, deliberately softening his voice. "Good sir, good madam, I am a wandering Daoist physician. I strayed into these mountains and lost my way. Could you point me in the right direction?"

Glancing down at his blue Daoist robe, Zhang Xuan silently congratulated himself—with this outfit, at least he did not have to invent an identity.

"Of course, of course."

The middle-aged man's voice was low and hoarse, but he never turned around.

"Please sit, Daoist priest. My wife is preparing supper. Since our paths have crossed, join us for a bite."

The aroma of roast chicken grew richer still. Zhang Xuan's stomach cramped, and saliva poured into his mouth.

Starving, he unconsciously quickened his steps.

But just as he was about to reach the three figures, a chill suddenly shot from the soles of his feet up his spine.

Something's wrong...

He stopped dead, his pupils contracting slightly.

Why haven't they turned around at all?

Out here in the wilderness, if someone suddenly spoke to them, wouldn't any normal person turn around warily to check?

And that woman is supposedly "roasting a chicken," but her hands haven't moved at all. They look frozen in place.

What, madam, are you roasting it with your eyes?

Alarm bells clanged in Zhang Xuan's mind, but it was already too late—he had stepped around in front of the three figures.

"Fuck—!"

The moment his gaze swept over them, his knees buckled, and he nearly fell.

The three "people" before him tilted their heads in perfect unison, staring straight at him with dull, vacant eyes.

Worst of all, the corners of their mouths stretched to their ears. Those grotesque curves had split their mouths open, exposing gray-white flesh.

In the crimson glow of the campfire, they gave Zhang Xuan eerie, horrifying smiles.

The flames danced, stretching their shadows into long, twisted, hideous shapes, as though they might pounce at any moment and devour him.