On the Path to the Great Dao

Chen Shi had barely finished speaking when his body crouched slightly. In the next instant, the vast divine embryo from his golden core surged into his legs. The violent divine embryo battered his fascia and swelled his muscles. His legs immediately expanded outward, becoming incomparably thick and robust.

Bang!

The blue stone slabs beneath Chen Shi's feet suddenly shattered, spiderwebbing with cracks. A gale instantly whipped through the air as his body flashed like lightning, charging toward Han Mingyu in the shadows at the street corner!

In his towering rage, Chen Shi struck like thunder, arriving before Han Mingyu in a heartbeat. He unleashed a punch, the gale stirred by his fist roiling the air. In that instant, doors and windows rattled along both sides of the street, with three or four dozen slamming open!

Where Chen Shi's fist passed, it even produced a thunderous roar!

Yet a faint smile suddenly appeared on Han Mingyu's face right before him. Abruptly, Han Mingyu vanished, replaced by a soaring black jar flying through the air.

The surface of the black jar was painted with talismanic patterns. At the center was the character "Solid," encircled by divine turtle shell markings and the trigrams of the Kun hexagram, symbolizing the unyielding firmness of a turtle shell and the immovable weight of a mountain.

The black jar's head suddenly swelled to the size of a small hill. Originally, the jar had been larger than the head; now the head dwarfed the jar. Rows of ferocious sharp teeth filled its mouth. It gaped wide and bit down toward Chen Shi.

This maw could probably swallow Chen Shi whole!

To cultivate a caisheng blackling to the point of steel teeth, one had to feed it iron nails daily, allowing it to absorb the metal. Its original teeth would fall out, replaced by new ones as hard as steel. At first, only one nail a day. Gradually, after the teeth fell out, two nails. Once the second row grew, the number could increase daily until rows of razor-sharp steel teeth filled the mouth. Then the feeding tapered off.

Even after forging a full set of steel teeth, the process wasn't complete. The practitioner had to activate the blackling, transforming it into a hill-sized state.

The practitioner would climb into the blackling's mouth, grinding the teeth into sawtooth edges with steel sand, then mix cinnabar with dog fetuses to paint runes on the teeth, empowering them.

This step was extremely perilous, often requiring two or three companions nearby lest the blackling's ferocity cause it to devour the practitioner.

Once refined to this stage, the caisheng blackling obeyed the practitioner's will perfectly—size adjustable at whim, swift as lightning, fast as gale winds. Nothing could withstand its bite. In battle, deploying one made victory assured, sweeping all before it.

But refining a caisheng blackling required vast sums of money. The silver spent on one—converted to gold—could fill the jar itself!

Han Mingyu had refined twelve such blacklings, investing his life's blood to create these external cores.

Chen Shi ignored the blackling's head, several times larger than his own, and drove his fist forward regardless. The fist wind surged, the thunderous roar intensifying. Amid the rumbling peals, countless sawtoothed steel teeth shattered!

The blackling's originally hideous face twisted in agony, and it began wailing piteously.

Chen Shi's left leg whipped out in a whistling arc, slamming into the jar beneath the blackling's head.

Cultivating a caisheng blackling required daily talismanic inscriptions on the jar to solidify it. The jar served as the blackling's mobile body. After over a decade of such drawings, it was incomparably hard—not weaker than the blackling itself, but tougher!

Yet Chen Shi's kick struck true. With a crash, the unbreakable jar shattered to pieces!

"No!"

Han Mingyu's shriek rang out. The jar was equivalent to the external core's mobile body, the outer furnace. The blackling's immortality relied on the jar's nurturing.

With the jar destroyed, this blackling was as good as dead.

Han Mingyu had spent over a decade refining just twelve, only for Chen Shi to smash one in the blink of an eye. How could he not feel the pain?

"Chen Shi, you destroyed my treasure! I'll fight you to the death!"

Han Mingyu roared furiously. The remaining eleven caisheng blacklings whistled into the air, pouncing toward Chen Shi!

The blackling whose jar Chen Shi had shattered suddenly gasped for breath, struggling fiercely before plummeting from the sky. Its mouth gaped desperately.

Beneath its massive head was a withered body—no limbs. Its scrawny chest connected to legs that had been neatly severed.

Sprouts of flesh budded from the stumps, still linking to the shattered jar.

Chen Shi said softly, "Little brother, no need to struggle in this sea of suffering. Let me send you on your way."

Standing before it, he ignored the blacklings swarming from all sides. He formed sword fingers, holding them before his nose. Divine embryo circulated, swiftly forming a Rebirth Talisman at his fingertips.

Once formed, the talisman blazed with golden light, illuminating the street.

Chen Shi stood solemnly, like an old monk. His sword finger pointed, and the talisman streaked onto the hill-headed blackling, burrowing into its body.

A beam of golden light erupted from within, unfurling backward into a path linking the yin and yang realms.

A seven- or eight-year-old child stood dazed on the street, looking around.

"Dad! Mom! Where are you?"

He cried out loudly, oblivious that he had died eighteen years prior.

"Go that way!" Chen Shi raised his hand, pointing to the road's end.

The child followed his gesture, dashing along the radiant path toward the underworld, calling, "Dad! Mom! Are you ahead? I'm so scared! Where are you?"

These eighteen years had been like a long dream. Now awake, he was no longer human.

"I wonder if his parents are still alive? How have they fared these eighteen years?" Chen Shi wondered silently.

By then, the eleven caisheng blacklings had closed in around him. Suddenly, light burst from the back of Chen Shi's head. A small shrine flew out from his Jade Pillow acupoint, riding the radiance to the brightest spot.

In the shrine's side hall, Red Granny sat in the secondary golden niche, peering outward. Suddenly, righteous qi from heaven and earth surged in, filling her body.

Red Granny exclaimed in surprise, "Huh? I'm being controlled like a golden core?"

Her magic power was immense; she could break free anytime. But she was too lazy to bother.

She watched her hands move under Chen Shi's control, mimicking his sword mudra. Sword qi rapidly formed in the shrine, one after another.

"Such simple swordsmanship, but so fast!"

She mused to herself.

Chen Shi's sword mudras shifted at blinding speed, dazzling the eye. In moments, eleven sword qis took shape.

Whoosh!

The eleven sword qis shot from the shrine simultaneously. Though eleven, they rang out as one unified sound!

The eleven caisheng blacklings had Chen Shi surrounded, poised to tear him apart. Suddenly—bang!—all their jars exploded at once!

"Gentlemen, let me send you on your way."

Chen Shi stood motionless as the eleven blacklings crashed to the ground around him, writhing in agony, black qi billowing from their bodies.

Chen Shi unleashed Rebirth Talismans one by one. The street grew blindingly bright. The talismans branded into the blacklings, drawing out their aggrieved souls and opening paths to the underworld.

Han Mingyu strained to activate his blacklings, intent on killing Chen Shi. But suddenly, all eleven were slain. Heartbroken and terrified, he turned and fled.

"I've toiled nearly twenty years in the Golden Core Realm, finally refining twelve caisheng blacklings—only for this brat to destroy them all!"

He sprinted frantically, inwardly full of regret.

His disciple Qiu Yingying was dead—eaten by a fellow student at the relay station, she deserved it. Why had he lost his head and gone after Chen Shi?

But wasn't this kid just a scholar headed for the exams?

How was his strength so overwhelming? He slew caisheng blacklings—such vicious things—with ease?

Could a mere scholar do this?

"With power like that, why bother taking the juren exam?"

Han Mingyu grumbled to himself.

Lost in thought, he caught up to the twelve men who had transported the jars earlier.

These twelve were neither his disciples nor Celestial Granny Association cultivators. Seeing him approach, they looked puzzled and were about to ask what happened when one man's brow was pierced by a sword qi. His head exploded from the back, brain matter splattering the nearby association members everywhere.

The remaining eleven recoiled in horror, staring fearfully toward the street corner.

Han Mingyu dashed past them, shouting, "Block him for your master!"

Chen Shi emerged from the corner, right hand in sword mudra. The air ahead shuddered violently, blurring into haziness.

In the eleven men's vision, the youth under the moonlight grew indistinct.

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

The youth's sword mudras were a technique all eleven Celestial Granny Association members knew—the Meridian-Cutting Sword method. But Chen Shi executed it so swiftly no eye could track it.

They stood frozen in the street, watching the youth approach.

Suddenly, sounds of objects falling echoed behind them. One glanced back to see a lantern hanging under a household eave split neatly in two. Half-lantern, candle still flickering, drifted downward.

At the corner, a water jar was sliced cleanly at the waist. Water gushed against the upper half, crashing down in shards everywhere.

Several homes' pillars bore cuts from some razor-sharp, invisible force. Sections slid diagonally from the gashes, bringing roofs collapsing.

At the street's end, a stone lion before a mansion lost its head. Then a sword mark about ten feet long appeared on the wall.

More faint whooshes followed. That mansion's walls and doors now crisscrossed with sword scars.

Chen Shi passed the eleven Celestial Granny Association members, pursuing Han Mingyu.

Behind him came the sounds of brain matter mixing with air from ruptured windpipes, spraying aloft, and chunks thudding to the ground.

He sat on the wooden cart, wheels rumbling forward, carefully dodging the brain stains and limbs littering the path.

In recent years, the Celestial Granny Association's influence had grown ever stronger—especially this year. Anomalies with heavenly extraterrestrial true gold: first appearing a quarter-hour early, then a crescent moon by day. The world grew more chaotic, allowing the association to expand.

In Gongzhou City, besides the main altar, the association had two incense halls: one called the Beast-Making Hall, the other the Plucked-Life Hall.

Both halls worshipped the Celestial Granny and teemed with disciples.

At the fifth watch, just as the Plucked-Life Hall disciples began morning lessons,

Disciples in the front and rear courtyards hauled jars from the cellar to bask in the moonlight—the heaviest yin qi before dawn, the most vital daily ritual for the blacklings.

Other times wouldn't do; excess moonlight later could cause mutation.

A few disciples led in black dogs, slaughtering them on-site. They extracted dog fetuses, mixed with cinnabar, and crouched before the blacklings, pens tracing the talismanic patterns atop the jars.

They worked meticulously, utterly serious.

Other disciples had easier tasks. Two took turns offering incense to the blacklings. One chuckled,

"The batch Instructor Han brought last time was top-notch. After lopping off limbs, not a single one died after over ten days.

Fragrance Master Ge plans to feed them medicine a few more days, then gut them and stuff with herbs."

The female disciple replied, "Instructor Han earned merit. Promotion to fragrance master isn't far off.

But I heard one of his disciples died. He flew into a rage, grabbed the wrong person—a Red Hall guy. Word is he slipped out at midnight to catch the real killer."

The male disciple eyed the nearby cellar, grinning. "That guy's tough! Wonder if he'll hold out.

Anyway, we only have four fragrance masters total. If Instructor Han rises, he'll equal Fragrance Master Ge. They've got bad blood—bound to clash, right?"

Just then, a stern-faced instructor approached, his visage fierce. He glared murderously and barked, "Association matters aren't for you to gossip about! Keep it up, and you'll die not knowing how. Scram! The side passage has more blacklings—go incense them!"

The pair bowed hastily. "Instructor Hu is magnanimous."

They hurried to the passage, lined with many sealed jars containing fresh blacklings, newly implanted. If they survived, they could be slowly refined.

Incensing them, one said, "Our Plucked-Life Hall's booming more than ever. More blacklings than before."

"Isn't it? World's unstable lately. The fragrance masters feel threatened, so they're rushing to refine extras for protection."

Mid-conversation—bang!—the hall gate burst open. A figure dashed inside.

Seeing the face, the male disciple blurted in surprise, "Instructor Han?

Slow down! These are fresh blacklings—can't take collisions!"

Before he finished, a sword qi slashed from Han Mingyu's neck. His head flew up, arcing into the air.

The qi grazed walls along the passage, sparking fire, vanishing in a flash past the pair's necks!

Chen Shi strode into the Plucked-Life Hall passage, killing intent blazing.

From the shrine behind his head, Red Granny whispered, "Instructor Chen, you said you'd only kill one Celestial Granny Association instructor."

"What if it's a fragrance master?"

Chen Shi's face darkened as he advanced along the passage. Silence ahead.

"This matter ends here."

Red Granny pondered atop the golden niche, then gritted her teeth, raising three fingers.

"You've got to take me out to play for three days!"