Gu Chengming lowered his head, gazing at that puddle at his feet—an existence that had already lost all semblance of human form—and his brow knit slightly.
Well, the scene was a touch brutal, but at least he'd now figured out how to unlock the Hundred Heavens Emperor CG.
Yet if he truly wanted to grind this CG to completion, where on earth was he supposed to find so many Eternal Life Sect cultists for him to kill?
Gu Chengming heaved a somewhat troubled sigh.
Ever since the Drunken Dream Boat case, the Eternal Life Sect had hidden itself away completely.
Finding some evil spirits to hunt down would be easy enough, but blasting apart an evil spirit produced no such scene of flesh and blood flying everywhere.
Oblivious to Gu Chengming's worries, the Hundred Bones Resonance was rather pleased.
[It looked at the wreckage strewn across the ground and reminded him: "Emperor Gu! Emperor Gu! Remember to go grab his storage pouch."]
"All right, all right."
Gu Chengming crouched down, answering with amusement.
That punch had been far too powerful; the other party's flesh and bones were practically all mixed together.
Gu Chengming had no choice but to endure the pungent stench of blood, wrapping his palm in spiritual power as he carefully rummaged through that red-and-white mire.
If anyone else had seen this, they might well have thought he was the Eternal Life Sect cultist himself.
As Gu Chengming was thinking this, his fingertips suddenly brushed against a hard, foreign object.
It was two items.
One was a grey storage pouch stained all over with blood, its surface somewhat worn but not destroyed; the other was a bell of antique, simple design.
Gu Chengming picked up the bell between his fingers and held it before his eyes, examining it carefully.
This ought to be the child-bell of the "Six Harmonies Spirit-Sealing Bells" that the steward just now had used to lay down the restriction.
Only now, this magical implement—which had once coursed with spiritual charm—had its surface covered with dense, fine cracks, looking dull and lusterless. Clearly it had suffered grave damage in the aftershock of that punch.
"No telling whether it can still be used."
Gu Chengming tentatively mobilized the sliver of true essence that had only just recovered within his body, slowly channeling it into the bell.
The bell trembled faintly. Although its sound was somewhat hoarse, and that sluggish, stagnant sensation was extremely heavy, it nonetheless gave some response—it had not been entirely ruined.
Gu Chengming was a little surprised.
After all, the punch he'd just blasted out by borrowing the power of the Hundred Bones Resonance could shatter even a black-iron wall.
Yet this bell had merely cracked in a few places—proof enough of how tough and durable its material was.
He thought to himself that, as expected of a work from the hand of a grandmaster-class figure like Qin Qing—even though it was only a child-body that had drifted out into the world back in those years, it was still enough to suppress a Third-Realm cultivator.
"Fine thing."
Gu Chengming tucked away the bell and then gave the bloodstains on the storage pouch a simple cleaning.
Having done all this, he took two pills from his bosom and swallowed them, then sat cross-legged regulating his breath for about the time it takes two sticks of incense to burn. Once his complexion had regained some of its ruddiness and that drained, weak feeling within his body had largely dissipated, Gu Chengming finally rose to his feet again.
He glanced at that puddle of mangled flesh on the ground and sighed.
After all, this was important evidence; he couldn't very well just leave it lying in the middle of the street.
He rummaged through his storage pouch and dug out the hempen sack that Elder Ren had left for him, then shoveled that puddle of unspeakable matter, dirt and all, into it.
Walking along the road carrying such a sack of "evidence," even with spiritual power sealing off the smell, that heavy, dragging weight in his hand and the dark-red bloodstains that occasionally seeped out from the bottom of the sack still made the passersby along the way shun him as if avoiding a plague.
Gu Chengming, for his part, paid no mind to the looks of others; he merely quickened his pace somewhat and strode straight through the solemn gate of the Night-Watch Bureau, heading toward the courtyard where the Vice-Commander was.
Since this matter involved the Eternal Life Sect, he naturally had to find someone who could make the call.
...
The Night-Watch Bureau, the Vice-Commander's office.
Vice-Commander Liu sat behind the broad desk, the teacup in his hand suspended in midair, motionless for a long while.
His gaze first fell upon that hempen sack and the lump of something revealed through its open mouth, and then shifted to Gu Chengming.
After a long silence, he asked in a rather odd tone: "Little Gu, if I remember correctly, what you practice ought to be the sword, no?"
Gu Chengming nodded.
"Then tell me—" Vice-Commander Liu pointed at that puddle of mangled flesh on the ground, "—just what sword-stroke did you use to do this?"
As the Vice-Commander of the Night-Watch Bureau, Liu Batian did have a certain discernment.
With a single glance he could tell that this Eternal Life Sect cultist had been "crushed" apart by some brutish, enormous force.
"The situation was critical at the time; this subordinate could only resort to a bit of brute force in the heat of the moment."
"A bit of brute force?"
Vice-Commander Liu's mouth twitched. Looking at that puddle of fleshy paste, he thought to himself: You call this "a bit"?
In his mind there involuntarily surfaced an image of Gu Chengming pounding a person into fleshy paste with a technique like beating rice cakes with a sword-hilt, and then he hastily flung that image out of his head.
"This puddle... this corpse, I'll have someone deal with it, and report to the Director as soon as possible."
Unable to make sense of it, Vice-Commander Liu decided to stop dwelling on the question, and instead asked:
"Did you figure out the purpose of this Eternal Life Sect cultist coming to find you?"
Gu Chengming shook his head, then recounted in full, point by point, his earlier conversation with that black-robed steward in the alley.
Having heard out Gu Chengming's account, Vice-Commander Liu slapped the desk hard with his palm:
"This pack of gutter rats—they're practically at the point where everyone's crying out to beat them, and yet they're still thinking of recruiting people into their ranks? 'A fine bird chooses its tree to roost in'? If you ask me, they've cultivated that whatever-the-hell damned demonic artifact until they've cultivated their brains to rot!"
But for all his cursing, a trace of worry flashed through Vice-Commander Liu's eyes.
"Still—since they've set their sights on you and even dispatched a steward carrying a child-bell, it shows your value in their eyes is no small thing. This time it failed; next time their methods will likely be even more sinister and underhanded."
Gu Chengming nodded, and took the chance to ask: "This subordinate is newly arrived and knows very little of the Eternal Life Sect's inner workings. What exactly is this demonic artifact...?"
Hearing this, the anger on Vice-Commander Liu's face receded somewhat, and he explained in a grave voice:
"The Great Qian authorities still have no definitive, settled explanation for this thing, because the manner of its birth is simply far too miscellaneous and bizarre. But based on our Night-Watch Bureau's many years of investigation and seizures, it has to do with the Eternal Life Sect's core doctrine—that 'all things may serve as sacrifice.'"
"They believe that a person's flesh and blood, soul, and even resentment can all be put to use, and the demonic artifact is the vessel that holds it."
"As for the origins of these demonic artifacts, according to the Bureau's existing intelligence, they fall mainly into two kinds."
"The first kind is the ones they make themselves. Just like artifact forging, they scour everywhere for materials of utmost yin and utmost malice, even using the bones and blood of living people as the base, forging a demonic artifact from nothing. These demonic artifacts tend to be extremely vicious in nature, and may even turn upon and devour their own master."
At this point, Vice-Commander Liu paused:
"And the second kind is 'alteration'—they use special means to pollute and remake existing, ordinary magical implements."
Vice-Commander Liu explained: "A magical implement that has been remade not only retains most of its original might, but also gains the added trait of a 'vessel,' becoming able to devour flesh, blood, and soul."
Hearing this, Gu Chengming had a sudden flash of understanding.
No wonder the "Six Harmonies Spirit-Sealing Bells" that Qin Qing had forged back then were so prized by the Eternal Life Sect that they spared no cost to plunder them.
Those were top-tier magical implements to begin with; subjected further to this kind of "alteration," coupled with their inherent spirit-sealing trait, they were practically a deadly weapon tailor-made for hunting down cultivators.
At this thought, Gu Chengming fished from his bosom that crack-covered bronze bell and set it on the desk.
"This bell is the one this subordinate stripped off that steward. From what he said, it should be one child-bell from that set of Six Harmonies Spirit-Sealing Bells that Senior Qin lost back in those years."
Vice-Commander Liu examined it for a while, and after a moment nodded with a somewhat grim expression:
"That's right. The restriction-patterns on it still faintly bear the mark of Senior Qin's craft from those years."
Vice-Commander Liu looked at the bell, fell silent for a moment, then sighed. He did not take it into the public treasury, but rather pushed it back before Gu Chengming.
"Since this thing was seized by you, and it concerns Senior Qin too... then you take it to her yourself and explain."
"All right, tidy up this floor."
Vice-Commander Liu waved a hand, looking at the hempen sack on the ground with a face full of distaste:
"Next time there's something like this, remember to wrap it up tight—don't go fouling my whole room with that bloody reek before you've even come through the door."
Gu Chengming gave an awkward smile, hurriedly picked up the hempen sack, and bowed his way out.
Out of the Vice-Commander's office, the air outside seemed a good deal fresher.
Gu Chengming did not return to his lodgings right away, but instead turned and headed toward the rear mountain of the Night-Watch Bureau.
The Night-Watch Bureau's rear mountain, the Artifact Forging Workshop.
As if sensing the familiar footsteps, Qin Qing gave a lazy hum:
"What? You've decided already, this fast, what you want that jiao-core forged into?"
Gu Chengming cupped his hands in salute. He did not bring up the matter of forging the sword directly, but rather took out from his bosom that battered old bell still carrying a faint smell of blood, and gently set it on the stone platform at Qin Qing's side.
Qin Qing was slightly startled, then sat up straight.
She reached out and stroked the cracks on the bell's surface.
After a long while, Qin Qing let out an extremely faint sigh, as if mocking herself, and as if letting go.
"This child-bell... ought to be the 'Dui' Bell, I suppose."
Her voice was somewhat low. With a flick of her fingertip, the wisp of resentment lingering within it was burned utterly away by the spirit-flame bursting from her finger, giving off a shrill "sizzling" sound.
Gu Chengming stood to one side and, trimming away the superfluous and keeping it brief, recounted how he had been waylaid and attacked by the Eternal Life Sect steward this morning, and how the other party had tried to use this object to seal off his true essence.
Having heard out Gu Chengming's telling, the expression on Qin Qing's face shifted several times.
"Good. Very good indeed."
Qin Qing gripped the bell, her knuckles turning slightly white:
"That you could, relying on the Myriad Forms Creation Fist, forcibly beat this thing into uselessness—that counts as venting a measure of foul rage on my behalf, too."
With that, Qin Qing seemed to have made some decision, and tossed the bell up and down in her hand:
"All right. Since this thing is the spoils you seized, then it's yours."
"Though this bell is broken, its foundation is still there; with a bit of mending and patching it can still be used. Only..."
She looked Gu Chengming up and down and pursed her lips:
"You brat are a sword cultivator after all; even if it were repaired, it wouldn't be of much use to you."
"As it happens, the main materials of this bell are Sea-Stilling Black Gold and Element-Sealing Stone—I can help you fuse them into the sword to neutralize the jiao-core's liveliness and viciousness."
Gu Chengming hesitated no longer, and cupped his hands: "Then let it be as Senior says!"
Qin Qing nodded with satisfaction and casually tossed the bell into the artifact-forging furnace beside her.
"Then come collect the sword three days from now."
The agreement made, Gu Chengming no longer disturbed Qin Qing's forging, and went down the mountain alone.
Three days, for a cultivator, was no more than the snap of a finger.
Qin Qing stood before the forging platform, and seeing Gu Chengming come in, her face wore a few notes of smugness.
"You're here?" She casually held the sword out before Gu Chengming: "Here, your sword."
This sword was three-tenths heavier than an ordinary Dharma Sword; the moment Gu Chengming took it, a sense of heavy pressure came transmitting up through his palm.
He lowered his head and examined this newborn Dharma Sword closely.
The body of the sword was a deep, ghostly white all over—not like metal, but more as though ground and polished from the bones of some unknown colossal beast.
Upon that ghostly-white spine of the blade, faint dark patterns like ripples of water could be seen flowing slowly—that was the jiao-core's water-element spiritual power circulating without cease.
And at the sword's guard, where there ought to have been ornamentation, Qin Qing had ingeniously refined a miniature bronze-bell relief.
"Zheng—"
Gu Chengming crooked a finger and gave the blade a light flick. There was no crisp ring of a sword; instead it gave off a low, droning hum, like the chant of a dragon and like the striking of an ancient bell.
"A third-tier Dharma Sword?"
Gu Chengming raised his head and looked toward Qin Qing somewhat uncertainly.
"More or less."
Qin Qing rubbed her somewhat aching wrist, picked up a wine flask from beside her, and took a swig.
"That jiao-core was of superb quality to begin with; add the boost of the Sea-Stilling Black Gold, and third-tier is no surprise."
"I can't be bothered to rack my brains over a name for it either—you come up with one yourself."
Gu Chengming gripped the hilt, and into his mind surfaced the scene of slaying the jiao that day.
"Then let's call it Jiao-Slayer."
The hand with which Qin Qing held the wine flask paused, and her expression turned somewhat subtle.
She smacked her lips, yet couldn't help admiring this lad's audacity:
"Forging a sword from the inner core of the Fubai Dragon Lord's offspring, and naming it Jiao-Slayer on top of that... you're just terrified the East Sea side won't come fight you to the death, aren't you?"
But on second thought—this lad was practically cut from the same cloth as Zhou Qingmu, even their manner of doing things so alike; no wonder Zhou Qingmu was so fond of him.
At this thought, Qin Qing waved a hand: "If some day you really do get hunted by that old jiao of the East Sea till you've nowhere to run, come find me again to repair your sword."
Gu Chengming smiled, sheathed the Jiao-Slayer sword, and made a deep bow to Qin Qing:
"Many thanks to Senior for granting this!"
Walking out of the Artifact Forging Workshop, Gu Chengming stirred a thought.
"Hummm—"
Five swords came forth in unison, hovering in midair.
That originally vacant fifth sword-slot, with the homecoming of [Jiao-Slayer], was at last fully lit up.
[Bond / Dharma Sword (5/5) activated!]
[Bond effect upgraded: Riding the Sword on the Wind, Taking a Head from a Thousand Miles.]
[Effect: When you simultaneously equip or control five "Dharma Sword"-class weapons, the sword formation advances.]
No sooner had Gu Chengming withdrawn his examining gaze than there came a stir within his sea of consciousness.
[The «Huiyuan Sword Formula» couldn't help exclaiming in wonder; though it was but a basic sword formula, its perception of a fine sword was instinctive.]
[The earlier Wave-Listening Sword had been a fine piece too, but this destined Dharma Sword, forged with a Third-Realm jiao-dragon as its main material, was without doubt the finest Dharma Sword it had ever seen.]
[It looked now at the faintly coursing dragon-pattern on the blade, now at you, and couldn't help giggling foolishly.]
Gu Chengming spun a sword-flourish and said with a smile: "You like it?"
[The Huiyuan Sword Formula looked at you with cheeks all rosy, thinking inwardly that now that it had this sword, the help it could bring you would be all the greater.]
[The likes of the Hundred Bones Resonance, the likes of Flowing Cloud Moon-Following—mere foes to be beaten in a single bout!]
[And there was its lifelong nemesis, the Qingxin Formula!]
[By the time you grew ever more reliant upon it, even the Qingxin Formula would be no more than an opponent it could easily knock down—not worth mentioning!]
Gu Chengming watched the Huiyuan Sword Formula's inner theatrics and found it amusing.
So tell me—just when exactly did the Qingxin Formula become your lifelong nemesis?
Just as Gu Chengming was filled with delight, in a grim, gloomy place a thousand miles away, it was an altogether different scene.
The Eternal Life Sect, a branch altar, the Visage of All Living Beings.
In the very center of the great hall knelt a trembling cultist.
His forehead pressed tight against the carpet—soft to the point of being sickening—cold sweat had already soaked through the black robe on his back.
As the "Wanderer" responsible for relaying intelligence in the Capital region, at this moment he dared not even draw a deep breath, for the news he brought was enough to shake the entire branch altar.
"You're saying... he's dead?"
A voice, warm and gentle as jade, without the faintest trace of anger, drifted down from the high dais.
There stood a white-bone lotus throne, its layer upon layer of bone-petals all ground and polished from the skull-caps of Fourth-Realm cultivators, giving off a lustrous, jade-like sheen.
Seated upright upon the lotus throne was a man who looked no more than thirty-odd years of age. He wore a snow-white Daoist robe untouched by dust, his features handsome to the point of near-demonic strangeness, a dot of deep-red cinnabar between his brows, his eyes half-open and half-closed, exuding an air of compassionate mercy that grieved for heaven and pitied mankind.
This man was none other than the one in charge of this branch altar—a Fifth-Realm great cultivator of the Eternal Life Sect, an Elder ranked among the honored "Heaven-Nigh."
Within the Eternal Life Sect's strict hierarchy, the Fifth Realm was called "Heaven-Nigh," meaning that even without ascending, one could match the heavens in longevity—heaven near at hand; while the Fourth Realm was called "Cauldron-Guard," meaning one who guards and upholds the cauldron-furnace of the sect's fortune-qi.
As for those below, they were all but firewood.
Along both sides of the great hall sat, in rows, four elders clad in purple robes, all of them "Cauldron-Guard" Elders of the sect.
Hearing this, an elder seated at the head of the left-hand row knit his brows tightly; the string of human-bone prayer beads he was toying with abruptly stopped, and he said in a grave voice:
"Though that steward was not core to our sect, his cultivation had nonetheless reached the Third Realm, and he held a child-bell of the 'Six Harmonies Spirit-Sealing Bells.' That Gu Chengming is no more than a mere Second-Realm sword cultivator... how did he manage to mobilize his spiritual power and true essence?"
This elder was named Kurong, and what he cultivated was the "Withered-Bloom Rebirth Method"; his temperament was the most impatient of all.
"In reply to Cauldron-Guard Kurong... that Gu Chengming didn't use spiritual power at all."
"Didn't use spiritual power?"
Elder Kurong was taken aback, and the several elders around him likewise cast over looks of astonishment.
"Yes."
The cultist drew a deep breath and said with difficulty:
"According to the on-site examination, that steward had his body-protecting dharma shield blasted apart by a single punch, and then his whole person directly burst open, turning into a puddle of..."
He dared not go on, but that single word "puddle" was already enough to explain everything.
Having heard out the cultist's report, the Heaven-Nigh Elder did not fly into a rage; he merely narrowed his eyes slightly, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest:
"Elder Kurong, what do you make of this matter?"
At these words, Elder Kurong turned and made a long, deep bow toward the Heaven-Nigh upon the high dais, and said with utmost loathing: "He must be killed, and that child-bell taken back, so as to set right the Great Dao of Eternal Life."
After a moment, the Heaven-Nigh lightly clapped his hands and praised:
"Good. Cauldron-Guard Kurong is indeed wholehearted for the sect."
"Since that's so, then you shall be the one to go kill him."
"..." The expression on Elder Kurong's face froze instantly.
"What is it?" The Heaven-Nigh leaned his body forward slightly, his gaze full of concern: "Could Cauldron-Guard Kurong have some difficulty?"
"Gulp."
Elder Kurong's Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty.
Go to the Capital to kill Gu Chengming? What kind of joke was this!
Setting aside the fact that the Capital had dragon-qi holding things down, so that one couldn't bring one's full strength to bear—that Gu Chengming was, moreover, a seedling whom Zhou Qingmu thought highly of.
If he really did go and kill him, this whole body of eternal-life cultivation of his would have to be returned to the heavens.
"This... well..."
Elder Kurong's momentum deflated at a visible-to-the-naked-eye speed; he hemmed and hawed, his gaze wandering, his two hands rubbing back and forth inside his sleeves:
"Lord Heaven-Nigh, this subordinate is not afraid to fight—it's only that this subordinate has lately reached a critical juncture in cultivating the Withered-Bloom Rebirth Method, and his qi-mechanism is somewhat unstable. Were I to enter the Capital rashly, I fear I'd be jolted by the dragon-qi. That my Dao-foundation be ruined is a small matter—but should the mission fail and the holy sect's face be lost, that would be the great matter!"
"Oh—" The Heaven-Nigh drew out the tail of the syllable, with the look of one suddenly enlightened: "So it's that your cultivation has hit a bottleneck. That's a major matter; indeed it mustn't be delayed."
Elder Kurong had only just let out a breath of relief.
But the Heaven-Nigh's gaze had already drifted lightly over to another elder on the right-hand side: "Then—Cauldron-Guard Yinsha?"
The named Elder Yinsha shuddered all over, nearly failing to hold his teacup steady.
He hurriedly rose to his feet—even more decisively than Elder Kurong—and, clutching his chest, simply began to cough, coughing fit to tear his heart and rend his lungs, as though he'd breathe his last the next second: "Cough, cough, cough! Lord Heaven-Nigh, forgive me! This subordinate... this subordinate suffered a backlash while refining corpses some days ago; his soul was injured and has yet to heal. Truly the spirit is willing but the strength is lacking!"
"Cauldron-Guard Bloodriver?"
"Aiya! That furnace of blood-pills at this subordinate's home has reached the critical moment of pill-formation—it can't be left unattended!"
"Cauldron-Guard Ghostface?"
"That... this subordinate has lately been observing the celestial phenomena by night, and noticed that the Ziwei Star blazes bright in the direction of the Capital—a most ominous portent. To enter the Capital at this time would be, I fear, I fear, unwise."
Looking at this pack of old foxes below, shirking and wrangling, the Heaven-Nigh upon the high dais was not angered.
He sighed, as if he had long foreseen this outcome.
He slowly leaned back against the chair, his fingers lightly tapping the white-bone armrest, producing a crisp "tap-tap" sound.
"Never mind. Now that this seat considers it carefully, this isn't entirely a bad thing, either."
"Our sect often says: all living beings suffer; only eternal life can deliver them. And among those mortal bodies who do not believe in the true meaning of our sect, what sort of person is the easiest to draw onto the path?"
Elder Kurong ventured: "Those who cling to life and fear death?"
The Heaven-Nigh gave a light laugh: "Clinging to life and fearing death is human nature; such people, once they enter our sect, are no more than ants."
He rose to his feet, swept his great sleeve, and pointed at the cultist still kneeling on the ground: "Describe once more, in fine detail, that scene of Gu Chengming killing, for the Cauldron-Guards here."
The cultist dared not be remiss, and spoke again:
"In reply to my lords. Beneath that one punch, the steward's breastbone was utterly shattered, his five viscera and six bowels all reduced to fleshy pulp, flesh and bone-shards mingled together—impossible to make out their original form at all. And after killing him, that Gu Chengming turned and left without the slightest hesitation."
Such methods, such a disposition—truly ruthless in the extreme.
The Heaven-Nigh, however, listened and laughed aloud, clapping his hands, his eyes full of appreciation: "Do you all hear that? Is this the sort of method a righteous-path sword cultivator ought to have?"
"Without borrowing spiritual power, killing purely through brutal physical might, blasting a man into fleshy pulp."
"What does this show?"
The Heaven-Nigh swept his gaze around, lowering his voice as if expounding some truth:
"It shows that this lad's viciousness runs to the bone, his demonic roots planted deep."
"He regards human life as worthless as weeds, acts entirely on his own whim, unbound by the so-called rules of the righteous path."
"A man of such deep-seated demonic nature, a fellow so decisive in slaughter—he ought by rights to enter our Eternal Life Sect and cultivate alongside the likes of us."
The surrounding elders listened in a daze.
Though they felt there was something a bit off about these words, when they mulled it over carefully...? It actually seemed to make a certain sense?
A righteous-path disciple whose strikes were more brutal than an evil cult's—did that not, after all, prove his demonic nature ran deep?
"Lord Heaven-Nigh is brilliant!" Elder Kurong was the first to come to his senses, and at once cried out: "If this lad could enter our sect, he would surely become a Holy Son of our sect!"
"Just so."
The Heaven-Nigh nodded with satisfaction, sat back down, and his gaze, passing over the crowd, fell upon that Third-Realm cultist.
Since the elders were all unwilling to go to their deaths, and since killing him by force wouldn't work, then they'd switch to another method.
"Since this lad has an affinity with our sect, then we mustn't be too crude."
The Heaven-Nigh looked, all smiles, at that cultist named "Wang Zheng," his tone gentle to the point of being hair-raising:
"Since you're the one in charge of intelligence for the Capital region, and you witnessed with your own eyes his potential to enter the path, then this task is handed over to you."
Wang Zheng pointed at his own nose, his face full of bewilderment: "Me?"
"That's right."
The Heaven-Nigh took from his sleeve a pitch-black command-arrow and casually tossed it down; the command-arrow landed on the carpet with a muffled thud.
"If you do it well, this seat will bestow upon you a Lesser Eternal Life Pill, and grant you entry as a Cauldron-Guard candidate."
Hearing the words "Lesser Eternal Life Pill," Wang Zheng gritted his teeth and accepted:
"This subordinate accepts the order, and shall not fail Lord Heaven-Nigh's grave trust—I will surely lead that Gu Chengming... onto the righteous path!"
"Go."
Having taken on that task—who knew whether blessing or calamity—Wang Zheng dared not linger long at the branch altar.
Through the night he deployed his escape-arts, racing several thousand miles, and at last hurried back to the spot he had long since arranged outside the Capital.
Only after burrowing into that cold, damp underground secret chamber did his hanging heart settle a half-measure, whereupon he immediately set about his preparations in intense, urgent haste.
One day later.
In the western outskirts of the Capital, beneath a long-abandoned earth-god temple.
In the gloomy secret chamber, seven bronze oil lamps were arranged according to the positions of the Big Dipper. Wang Zheng sat cross-legged at the center of the formation, his face pale as paper, his eye-sockets sunken.
As a cultist of merely mediocre standing within the Eternal Life Sect, the reason he had survived to this day—and had even been named by the Heaven-Nigh and entrusted with a heavy charge—was entirely thanks to this life-preserving evil art called the "Seven-Malice Blood-Fetus Puppet."
This art required offering up vast quantities of flesh and blood to a demonic artifact, dividing one's soul among the seven oil lamps.
Within seven nights of utmost yin, each lamp-flame could grow a flesh puppet indistinguishable from the main body.
Wang Zheng looked at those seven flickering ghost-fires and felt slightly more at ease.
He was not, like that steward who had died earlier, skilled at offensive combat.
That steward had been a talisman cultivator; though he'd had a killer move that worked in concert with the "Six Harmonies Spirit-Sealing Bells," his temperament was too arrogant, making him prone to underestimating opponents.
He began to review the cause of that steward's death.
"Before he died, that steward must have struck a lofty, high-and-mighty posture—sealing off spiritual power and threatening with words—and that was what provoked Gu Chengming's killing intent."
Wang Zheng stroked his chin, his eyes flickering:
"This Gu Chengming made his name young and is exceedingly proud, and he's a favorite of the Night-Watch Bureau too. With a young man of this sort—who yields to gentleness but not to force—coming on hard simply won't work."
"I have to make him feel I've come to deliver a fortuitous opportunity, not to pick a fight."
Having made up his mind, Wang Zheng drew a deep breath and formed a hand-seal with his fingertips.
"Rise!"
The oil lamp at the "Tianshu" position suddenly blazed bright; the flame twisted and stretched, and in an instant transformed into an ordinary-faced fellow clad in coarse cloth.
The clone moved its limbs a little, nodded toward the main body, then turned and slipped out of the cellar.
Jishan Ward, the sun at its height.
Gu Chengming had just returned from answering the roll-call at the Night-Watch Bureau, carrying in his hand two parcels of osmanthus cakes bought from the Suxiang Pastry House. His gait looked leisurely, yet his brow was slightly furrowed.
The unlock progress bar of [CG / Hundred Heavens Emperor, Aid Me] had stuck at 40% and wouldn't budge for the life of it.
This troubled him quite a bit.
The judgment mechanism of that punch was very strange: it had to be the kind of fist-meets-flesh—one might even say horrifyingly brutal—sense of impact in order to wheedle any progress out of the Hundred Bones Resonance.
But the Capital was, after all, the premier model of good order; where was he to find so many evil cultists to slaughter?
Gu Chengming sighed, just as he was mulling over whether to go take on a hunt-and-kill mission somewhere farther off from the bounty board.
Just then, a somewhat timid figure rounded the mouth of the alley and blocked his way.
It was a fellow who looked honest and simple, wearing a set of coarse cloth washed pale; seeing Gu Chengming approach, he stopped while still a good distance off and cupped his hands.
"Greetings, Lord Gu."
"This humble one is named Wang Zheng, a believer of the Eternal Life Sect. Today I risk death to bar your path with no ill intent whatsoever, only..."
"The Eternal Life Sect?"
Gu Chengming's originally somewhat absent-minded gaze, the instant he heard these three characters, abruptly lit up.
That look was not like one regarding an evil cultist, but rather like a wolf starved for three days catching sight of a plump, fatty cut of pork belly.
Wang Zheng had kept his head bowed all along and did not see this horrifying gaze; he went on speaking there according to his prearranged script:
"Indeed. Earlier our sect's steward gave much offense—that was his failing to know better. This little one has come this time specially to relay an apology on behalf of the sect's elders. So long as Lord Gu is willing..."
"Hummm—"
Before Wang Zheng had finished speaking, he felt the air around him suddenly grow heavy.
He instinctively raised his head, only to see a fist rapidly enlarging in his field of vision.
No idle chatter, no fluctuation of spiritual power—not even the chance for him to recite out his apology-gift.
"Bang!"
A muffled explosive sound burst open in the alley.
That painstakingly nurtured blood-fetus clone, without so much as a groan, was instantly beaten into a burst cloud of blood-mist that splattered all over the bluestone wall of the alley.
Gu Chengming withdrew his fist, shook off the bloodstains that weren't there on his hand, glanced at the progress bar that had ticked up once in his sea of consciousness, and felt rather subtle inside.
So there really was such a thing as someone handing you a pillow just as you grew drowsy?
...
The western outskirts, the underground secret chamber.
"Pffft—!!!"
Wang Zheng's main body, sitting cross-legged at the center, abruptly spewed out a mouthful of fresh blood, his whole person tipping backward, nearly toppling to the floor.
The oil lamp at the "Tianshu" position shattered with a "crack" and went out.
Wang Zheng clutched his sharply aching chest, full of bewildered confusion.
He had clearly lowered his posture so far, hadn't even let slip the slightest killing intent, hadn't even laid down a restriction—so why had the man, without a word, simply struck?
"Could it be that I acted too humble, making him think I was a useless discarded pawn, so he killed without scruple?"
Wang Zheng wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, a flicker of ferocity crossing his eyes.
"It seems I can't be too humble. I have to let him see the Eternal Life Sect's deep foundation, see our sincerity!"
He gritted his teeth and formed the hand-seal again.
"Tianxuan, rise!"
The next day at dusk, the long street outside the Night-Watch Bureau.
Gu Chengming had just walked out of the yamen when he saw a middle-aged scholar, clad in brocade and of extraordinary bearing, coming toward him.
"Lord Gu, please stay a moment."
The scholar cupped his hands and came straight to the point, his voice resonant:
"This humble one is an emissary of the Eternal Life Sect. The various misunderstandings of before were all due to poor communication. Today this humble one comes solely to deliver unto Lord Gu a great fortune."
"So long as Lord Gu nods his head, our sect is willing to honor you as Holy Son; the sect's resources will be yours to deploy as you please, and the Great Dao of Eternal Life..."
"The Eternal Life Sect?"
Gu Chengming once again confirmed this key term.
A self-satisfied smile appeared on the scholar's face: "Indeed. Our Eternal Life Sect's foundation runs deep, and the might of our demonic artifacts..."
"Boom—!!!"
The familiar sound of rending air, the familiar sharp pain, the familiar darkness.
Gu Chengming stepped over the residue on the ground, glanced at the progress bar, and couldn't help laughing out loud.
One a day, even?
He looked at that puddle of mangled flesh and began to feel a touch of anticipation.
Would another come tomorrow?
Within the secret chamber.
Wang Zheng again spewed out two mouthfuls of blood.
The Tianxuan lamp, extinguished.
His whole body was trembling—from pain, from anger, and even more from fright.
"Unreasonable! Utterly beyond all reason!"
"I even laid out the terms of Holy Son! How could he still hit me?!"
In all his many years knocking about the cultivation world, he had seen the greedy, seen the brutal, and seen the hypocritical.
But the likes of Gu Chengming—who wouldn't hear a person out at all, who struck the moment he'd confirmed your identity—that he truly had never seen.
—Oh, wait, except for Zhou Qingmu.
"I refuse to believe it! Try again!"
The third time.
This time Wang Zheng wised up: since getting close meant certain death, then he'd communicate from a distance.
He controlled the clone to stand atop a roof a hundred zhang away, and had just called out a single line: "Lord Gu, the Eternal Life Sect has a word to—"
Gu Chengming directly unfurled his sword formation, shearing that rooftop flat, and the man too was ground into fragments by the sword-qi.
Although he hadn't used his fist this time and the progress bar didn't rise, Gu Chengming felt he couldn't indulge this bad habit of standing up high.
The fourth time.
Wang Zheng tried to disguise himself as an old farmer delivering vegetables, hoping to first become a familiar face.
As it turned out, he'd only just walked up to the door when Gu Chengming, with a mere glance at him, used the Yin-Yang Creation Strategy to identify who he was—and another punch.
The fifth time...
...
In just three short days.
Of the seven oil lamps in the western-outskirts secret chamber, only the last two now remained, eking out a feeble existence.
Wang Zheng by now had completely lost his initial composure.
His hair was disheveled, his eye-sockets sunken like a ghost's, his whole body covered in dried bloodstains—the aftereffects left by repeated soul-division backlash.
He huddled in the corner, his body shaking violently beyond his control, muttering neurotically:
"Can't go anymore... absolutely cannot go anymore..."
"He doesn't care at all what the Eternal Life Sect says, nor does he care about eternal life or not. He just wants to kill!"
After throwing away five lives, Wang Zheng at last comprehended the truth that drove him to despair.
There was no poor communication, no misunderstanding.
In that Gu Chengming's eyes, he, Wang Zheng—or rather, the people of the Eternal Life Sect—were not "people" at all, but rather walking, yelping wooden training-posts, one and all!
"Run! I must run!"
Wang Zheng leapt up abruptly and began gathering his things in a frantic fluster.
To stay in the Capital was a dead end; this Gu Chengming was too uncanny, his murderous nature so heavy he hardly seemed human!
Yet just as he had rushed to the door of the secret chamber, his hand only just resting on that cold stone-door mechanism—
"Thud."
A light sound came from the ground above his head.
It was the sound of boot-soles treading on soft, loose earth—very faint, but in Wang Zheng's ears it was no different from a thunderclap.
Immediately after, a voice carrying a few notes of familiar mirth came clearly through the thick layer of earth into the secret chamber:
"We've only just met—why are you in such a hurry to leave?"
"From what I saw, you were quite enthusiastic on these past few 'visits'—how is it that now, here at your true body, you've turned so distant and aloof instead?"
"Plip."
In that instant, the blood throughout Wang Zheng's body congealed.
How was it possible? Every time he'd used a blood-fetus clone; his main body had never once left this secret chamber by even a half-step! And outside this secret chamber were laid layer upon layer of isolating formations, able to screen out even divine sense!
How had he found his way here?!
"Could it be... could it be..."
Through Wang Zheng's mind there suddenly flashed the images of those five deaths over these past days.
Each time a clone died, though its soul scattered, that share of karma belonging to Wang Zheng had fallen, solidly and truly, into Gu Chengming's hands.
The Red Dust Art?!
"Rumble—!!!"
The stone door was not opened—rather, it was directly blasted apart from outside by a terrifying enormous force.
Amid the flying rubble, Gu Chengming patted the dust from his body and walked in at an unhurried pace.
He looked at Wang Zheng, huddled in the corner, his face ashen as death.
"This clone technique of yours really is ingenious."
Gu Chengming swept his gaze around the secret chamber, his eyes falling on those remaining two oil lamps, and he nodded.
"A pity—the clones died too quickly to let me have my fill."
Wang Zheng was so terrified his liver and gall split; his whole person pressed flat against the wall: "No, no—"
Gu Chengming wasn't listening at all to what he was begging for; he merely set his stance on his own. The air behind him faintly twisted, as if an invisible phantom of a god-demon were slowly surfacing.
"Since the Eternal Life Sect has shown such sincerity, calling at my door again and again to deliver gifts."
"This punch, then, shall count as my return gift."
"Boom—!!!"
Within the cramped secret chamber, it was as though a blazing sun had risen.
The terrifying fist-wind instantly filled every inch of space, grinding those pleas for mercy and screams of agony, together with the two oil lamps still burning, all to powder amid a dazzling white light.
The earth trembled faintly.
After a moment, the smoke and dust dispersed.
Gu Chengming stood amid the ruins, looked at the progress bar in his sea of consciousness that had finally reached completion, let out a long, satisfied breath, and laughed aloud:
"Glorious!"
[The Hundred Bones Resonance cheered just the same: Glorious!]
The Eternal Life Sect's branch altar, the "Visage of All Living Beings" great hall.
When the news from the Capital was relayed back once more, and the elders saw the wretched manner of death of every one of Wang Zheng's clones—
The great hall fell into a silence even longer than last time.
Below, those several Cauldron-Guard Elders who had originally been thinking of how to chime in with Lord Heaven-Nigh and how to praise Gu Chengming's "deep-seated demonic nature" had now, one and all, entered a state of playing dead.
The human-bone prayer beads in Elder Kurong's hand had stopped turning too; he lowered his head, staring fixedly at the ground before his toes, not daring to lift it even a fraction even when his neck grew sore.
Elder Yinsha's hand holding the teacup hung in midair; the tea had long gone stone-cold, yet he seemed utterly unaware.
"Cough..."
After a long while, someone—who, no one knew—gave an awkward cough from a corner of the great hall.
That sound seemed especially jarring in the deathly-still hall.
The Heaven-Nigh opened his mouth, as if wanting to say a few more words like "this is a good thing" or "he's fallen deeper into demonhood" to salvage the situation a little.
The Cauldron-Guard Bloodriver beside him at last asked, ever so cautiously:
"Lord Heaven-Nigh, this lad Gu Chengming..."
"Isn't his demonic nature a bit too heavy?"
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