Strange Tales: The Seventy-Two Arts of the Earthly Fiends

Chapter 75 Yang Danzi

The pine trees stand tall amidst the clear pool, where a long sword floats and hums like a fledgling bird.

That is a sign that the flying sword embryo has completed its nurturing process today.

Song Quyou stopped his practice and calmed down. He then took out the five bottles of pills from his bosom, took one pill from each bottle, and swallowed it.

After clearing away distracting thoughts, the mind calms down, and the vital energy of the five internal organs gradually emerges.

Five unusual phenomena appeared in the five internal organs: green wood sprouting, red fire rising, yellow earth thick and heavy, white gold killing, and black water like an abyss. Under the medicinal power of the elixir, they gradually interacted and solidified, nurturing the gradually growing lightning.

This is the Qi-transformation of thunder that must be passed through in cultivating the Divine Firmament Thunder Technique. Once the thunder grows strong, it can leap to the Yellow Court, where it can combine with the thunder of the Nine Heavens to condense into a thunder pill. At that time, one can command the thunder to fight enemies.

The wisps of lightning flickered and weaved through the Qi of the five internal organs, like the flickering light of a newly born firefly.

It was still faint, but it already carried a chilling aura that could not be ignored.

Song Qu, with a focused mind and concentrated spirit, guided the lightning to generate and strengthen itself within the circulation of his five internal organs.

For a moment, he forgot the time and waited until the medicine's effects wore off.

The lightning bolt had grown into a slender loach, completely shedding its previous weak and scattered appearance.

Song Quyou opened his eyes, exhaled a breath of stale air, and a faint lightning flashed in his eyes.

With the aid of elixirs, the cultivation speed was indeed several times faster, and it wouldn't be long before the lightning was formed.

……

After finishing his cultivation, he left the Pot Heaven.

Song Quyou took some purification talismans, pushed open the door, and outside the stars were shining brightly and the moon was shining brightly.

The night owl, Hei Tan, lay on the stone table, his two glaring eyes making Song Quyou squint.

"Would you like to catch mice with me?"

Song Quyou stepped forward, scratched its fluffy chin, and looking at Black Charcoal's blissful expression, said softly:

"You catch mice at home, I'm going to go to the mountains to catch monsters."

"I'll go with you, it's been pretty boring lately."

"There are many monsters in the mountains. It's easy for me to escape if I go alone. If you go, I won't be able to take care of you."

"Hmph, fine, I won't go then. What do you mean you can't care about me..."

Song Quyou stroked the cat's head again, no longer caring about Heitan, and headed towards the Northwest Army Camp with his longsword.

……

The northwestern mountains, bathed in the bright moonlight, appear pale and desolate.

The mountain wind whistled through the treetops, making a mournful sound that sent shivers down one's spine.

In a dry river valley, a person hurriedly moved his feet, and before he could even get a firm footing, he hastily shifted his weight to the other foot.

He was Wang San, a righteous man who was invited by the government to enter the mountain to exorcise demons. He and his team of four had entered the mountain, and three of them had already been devoured by the tiger demon. He himself had escaped until now because of his excellent lightness skills.

The stench of blood drew closer from behind, and a deep tiger's roar rolled along the mountainside, sending pebbles tumbling down.

Upon hearing the tiger's roar, Wang San felt a chill run down his spine and his heart trembled violently. His already aching legs immediately went limp, and he fell heavily onto the bluestone of the riverbed.

But he dared not stop. He quickly got up, not daring to pick up the long knife he had dropped, for fear of wasting even a moment.

A bloody wind howled, and under the moonlight, a huge black shadow swept across the rock wall, several times larger than an ordinary tiger, like a colorful little mountain.

Its eyes shone with lightning speed, its body was made of steel and iron, its body was covered in black markings, and its exposed sharp teeth were still covered with bloody bits of flesh, with bloody tiger saliva hanging down.

Wang San struggled forward, tumbling and crawling, but his weak legs kept causing him to fall, his knees hitting the bluestone with excruciating pain.

The tiger demon chased after it at a leisurely pace, teasing and playing with it—this was its favorite game before it gained intelligence.

But now things were getting a bit boring. The tiger demon flashed and its huge paw pressed down firmly on Wang San's head, making it impossible for him to get up. He could only choke back sobs.

"Grandpa Tiger, please spare me..."

Wang San's heart pounded like a drum, about to leap into his throat. But the expected excruciating pain didn't come; instead, a thin, sticky, hot liquid dripped onto his face.

There was silence for a moment.

Wang San was trembling all over, his mind completely blank.

A thick, hot liquid was poured over his head, flowing down his neck and back. It was hot and thick, with a strong, rusty smell.

Immediately afterwards, the tiger's paw that was pressing down on his head suddenly loosened its grip, slid down heavily, hit his shoulder, and rolled to the ground with a dull thud.

is blood.

Wang San stood frozen in place, and it took him a long time before he dared to move a finger.

He shakily raised his head. In the moonlight, the tiger demon, as big as a small mountain, was lying slumped on the riverbed, its golden eyes half-open, its pupils already dilated, the ferocity from before gone.

Its chest and abdomen were ripped open by something, and its white ribs were sticking out, as if they had been torn apart by an enormous force.

"Young man, what place is this?"

Wang San shakily raised his head and looked in the direction of the voice, only to see an old Taoist priest with a deathly pale face, covered in dust, staring at him sinisterly.

Wang San felt as if he had been doused with a bucket of ice water, his bones turning cold. The fear he felt when the tiger demon was chasing him had not yet dissipated, and now he was terrified by the sudden appearance of the old Taoist priest.

The old Taoist priest had a pale, bluish-green face, deep wrinkles like knife cuts, and a pair of dark, unfathomable eyes.

His Taoist robe was no longer recognizable as its original color, covered in dust and dark brown stains. Even stranger, eight red toads surrounded the old Taoist, baring their fine teeth as if to intimidate him.

"Master... this is a deep mountain in the north of Jiangxi in Qiantang County."

"Qiantang..."

As the old Taoist was speaking, the eight red toads, hopping and trembling with their fat flesh, jumped in front of the tiger's corpse and began to gnaw at it with their tiny, fine teeth.

Wang San glanced at it and instantly shivered.

The tiger demon, impervious to swords and blades, was bitten by this toad and swallowed whole, like pieces of tofu.

The bulging belly grew bigger and smaller, then smaller and bigger again, in a never-ending cycle. In no time, the tiger carcass, the size of a small mountain, was reduced to a bloody skeleton.

Without the tiger meat, the eight toads turned their attention to Wang San, baring their tiny, closely spaced teeth as they hopped in front of him.

With the toad right in front of him, Wang San felt a chill run from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. He collapsed to the ground, unable to even beg for mercy.

"Step back."

The old Taoist priest uttered only two words, his voice low and even somewhat hoarse, but the eight toads stopped abruptly as if they had been whipped, letting out a low gurgling sound from their throats, and reluctantly hopped back to the old Taoist priest's side.

Wang San was drenched in cold sweat, his pants were already soaked, and he kept repeating the same sentence over and over:

"Thank you, Daoist Master... Thank you, Daoist Master..."

The old Taoist ignored him, tilting his head to look at the bloody tiger bones. After a long while, he suddenly grinned. The smile was stiff and eerie, like a crack in his face revealing yellowish teeth, devoid of any warmth a living person should have.

"Young man, do you wish to learn the Dao?"

Learning the Way?

Wang San opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word for a long time.

He felt his wet, cool trousers, glanced at the stark white tiger bones on the riverbed, and finally his gaze settled on the eight red toads crouching in the shadows.

Their cheeks puffed out, their throats gurgling, and their fine, sharp teeth gleamed coldly in the moonlight, as if they might pounce again at any moment.

Wang San was a clever man. He kowtowed repeatedly and spoke eagerly:

"Master, your disciple wishes to learn the Tao. Please teach me."

The old Taoist stared at him for a moment, his dark eyes showing no emotion. He then took out a box from his sleeve, which had two grooves inside, but contained only a single black pill.

The old Taoist priest threw the pill in front of Wang San and said sternly:

"have eaten."

Wang San picked up the pill, his fingers still trembling.

The pill felt cold to the touch and emitted an indescribable, fishy, ​​bitter smell, like rotten meat that had been infested with flies and maggots and then roasted and dried.

He swallowed, hesitated for only a moment, and then tilted his head back and swallowed it.

The pill melted instantly upon entering the throat, as if it were alive, and burrowed straight down the throat into the stomach.

A foul stench exploded from his stomach, rushing through his blood vessels to his limbs and bones. Wang San felt as if his internal organs were being gripped by an icy hand, causing him to arch his back in pain, veins bulging on his forehead, but he couldn't utter a sound.

The old Taoist priest didn't even look at him. He turned around, his steps faltering as he stepped on the gravel, disappearing into the stone wall behind him.

Eight toads hopped and scurried behind, their plump bodies jostling together, casting eight eerie shadows in the moonlight.

"Keep up."

Wang San gritted his teeth and got up from the ground. The stench in his stomach was still churning, as if something was wriggling inside.

He staggered after the toad, and only by the moonlight could he see that the stone wall was shimmering like water.

The moment I passed through the stone wall, my whole body immediately became icy cold.

Once he had landed steadily, Wang San found himself in a cave.

The cave was not large, about the size of a main hall, with uneven walls and various dusty brocade boxes piled up in the corners, their contents unknown.

The old Taoist priest, sitting cross-legged on a futon beside the mountain wall, watched Wang San, who was peeking around, and said with satisfaction:

"You unfilial disciple, kneel down now!"

Wang San dared not delay, his knees buckled and he knelt down, his forehead hitting the cold stone floor hard.

"Master, please accept my bow."

The old Taoist didn't respond. His deep eyes stared at him for a long time before he suddenly stretched out his withered hand, spread his fingers, and grabbed at his face from a distance.

Wang San felt as if a red-hot iron rod had been stabbed into his brain, causing him to convulse in pain. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out of his throat.

Countless images flashed uncontrollably before my eyes: the loss of both parents in childhood, wandering the streets as a teenager, being conscripted by the government to exorcise demons in the mountains, the fear of escaping from the jaws of death, the nausea of ​​swallowing pills... Each scene was scrutinized by an invisible hand, roughly torn apart, and then casually thrown back.

"Wang San, three yang and six yin, the word 'three' is excellent, excellent... From now on, you will be my first disciple, Yang Danzi."

Wang San pressed his forehead against the cold stone ground, not daring to breathe.

"Now that you have entered the sect, you should know some things about being a teacher."

Although I, Yang Danzi, am a Daoist incarnation, I have not received any Daoist grace. All my abilities were earned through my own efforts. Therefore, I do not respect the patriarchs, gods, Buddhas, or Heaven and Earth. I only believe that if a person does not act for themselves, Heaven and Earth will punish them.

Yang Danzi stood up from the futon, walked to a corner of the cave, kicked aside several dusty brocade boxes, revealing a black pottery urn about half a person's height behind them.

"come over."

Wang San quickly got up and staggered over.

The mouth of the urn was sealed with a thick layer of wax, and the surface of the wax was covered with crooked, densely packed runes drawn with cinnabar.

Yang Danzi stretched out his withered finger and gently scratched the wax seal, causing the wax surface to crack open.

A foul, fermenting stench emanated from the jar, so strong it almost solidified.

Wang San was caught off guard and took a breath. He immediately felt dizzy and lightheaded. The pill in his stomach seemed to be stimulated by the smell and pushed upwards, almost making him vomit.

He covered his mouth and forced himself to peek into the jar.

It was a jar of dark red, thick liquid, with an oily sheen on the surface, like blood plasma that had been sitting for a long time, but it had not coagulated.

"Put your hand in," Yang Danzi said calmly.

Wang San's pupils suddenly contracted.

"Master...Master..."

"Put it in."

The voice wasn't loud, but it felt like a needle piercing the heart, leaving one with no courage to resist.

Wang San gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and put his right hand into the jar.

The liquid was unexpectedly warm and was still pulsating slightly, which startled him so much that he almost pulled his hand back.

But the next moment, the liquid seemed to come alive, spreading up his fingers, wrists, and forearms, making his skin feel like it was being gnawed by countless tiny teeth, causing both itchiness and pain.

He tried to call out, but no sound came out of his throat.

Yang Danzi stood to the side, his stiff, eerie smile reappearing on his face, devoid of any color.

Wang San felt as if his whole body was being gnawed by millions of ants, and something was frantically crawling under his skin.

"Master...Master..."

Yang Danzi tossed aside the earthenware jar, stood with his hands behind his back, and nodded in satisfaction:

"You have no spiritual aperture. If you want to cultivate, you can only let this Gu worm from the Southern Frontier enter your body and become your spiritual aperture."

Before Wang San could even ponder what "Lingqiaozi" was, the Gu worm that had burrowed into his body suddenly began to rampage.

Beneath the skin, there were bulging, wandering marks, like countless thin snakes crawling through the flesh.

He screamed and fell to the ground, his ten fingers digging into the cracks in the stone, his fingernails torn off in two pieces, and his hands covered in blood.

Yang Danzi watched coldly from the sidelines, muttering to himself.

The eight red toads had somehow hopped around Wang San, surrounding him in the center, their low croaking echoing as if responding to Yang Danzi's incantation.

The excruciating pain lasted for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn before gradually subsiding.

Wang San lay on the ground, his body drenched in sweat, as if he had been pulled out of the water.

He shakily raised his right hand, and saw that the skin on his arm had returned to normal, but there were faint dark blue lines under the skin, like bruises.

Yang Danzi sat back on the futon, looked at Wang San crawling on his knees, and nodded appreciatively: "Not bad, much better than the person who stole my Gu pills yesterday before I came out of seclusion. His mind is still intact, so he's done well."

As he spoke, he flicked his sleeve, and a thread-bound ancient book fell in front of Wang San.

"This book, 'Nine Breaths Blood Swallowing Ascension to Immortality,' will be given to you for cultivation today."

Wang San picked up the ancient book with trembling hands. He could only recognize two or three of the seven seal characters on the cover. He flipped through the book and recognized even fewer characters.

Finally, with a bitter face, he kowtowed to Yang Danzi and said, "Master, when I was young, I only liked street fights and I don't know many characters. I can't understand this immortal book."

Wang San held the ancient book, his fingers trembling, afraid of angering his cheap master.

Yang Danzi sat on the futon, his pale and stiff face revealing no emotion.

"Can't you read?"

Yang Danzi's hoarse laughter echoed in the cave, its tone ambiguous, neither mocking nor satisfied.

"Many people seek immortal techniques but cannot obtain them, yet now these techniques are placed before you, and you cannot understand them—that is quite an interesting situation."

His tone was calm, without a trace of anger, but Wang San, kneeling on the ground, felt a chill run down his spine.