Chapter 518: Little Immortal Child
Chapter 520: Little Immortal Child
“Do not pry, do not gaze upon the one who must not be gazed upon.”
The emaciated old man recalled again the words his master had once told him.
Must not pry…
He also thought of Mister Zhuang, of that layer of mist.
The mist laid by Mister Zhuang was perhaps not only to guard secrets, but also to protect anyone who might recklessly peer into that little master’s fate.
Because within that fate lay great peril.
Yet he could not comprehend how a formation prodigy barely over ten years old could be tainted with such profound, ruthless karma.
What had truly happened?
The emaciated old man frowned deeply, perplexed.
“Enough, enough… ignorance is bliss… knowing of such perilous things isn’t necessarily a good thing…”
He sighed with lingering dread.
Everything regarding Mo Hua gradually blurred in his memory.
He only remembered, beneath the blood-red skies and amidst the tide of corpses, a small figure standing resolutely.
Young Master Yun also could not recall clearly.
He remembered the Ling Shu Array, and that he had made a friend of a little formation prodigy.
But who that person was, he could not recall, only a vague, misty memory.
Only a clear, smiling face remained…
…
Elsewhere, Daoist troops’ commander Yang Jishan was submitting a report to the Dao Court.
He wished to commend Mo Hua.
In the campaign at the corpse mines—suppressing the corpse tide, subduing the Corpse King, slaying Lu Chengyun, quelling the plague of corpses, and improving the lives of cultivators in Nanyue City—this little master had contributed immensely.
Yet as he wrote, everything began to blur again.
When he tried to write “Mo Hua,” he froze.
The characters were obscured by a fog.
He could not remember the little master’s full name.
“What’s going on?”
Yang Jishan’s heart jolted.
How could I forget his name?
Soon, he realized it was not only the name—he could barely recall the little master’s appearance or voice.
Even the events at the corpse mine became fragmented.
What had truly happened at the corpse mine, and atop the grave mounds?
Yang Jishan frowned.
In his mind, he could only picture two scenes:
One, under the blood-red sky, the Corpse King roaring to heaven as countless corpses bowed in submission.
The other, amid raging flames, the Corpse King wailing in defiance, reduced to ashes.
What exactly had happened?
Yang Jishan could not remember.
How such a powerful and ferocious Corpse King had been subdued and turned to dust, he could not recall.
In the Sea of Consciousness, he only vaguely remembered a small figure that made the heavens change color and commanded the submission of thousands of corpses…
“Who was this little cultivator?”
Yang Jishan murmured, frowning.
…
With matters settled, all causality gradually became shrouded in mist.
The cultivators of Nanyue City slowly dispersed.
But half a month later, an unexpected group arrived.
Four strangely-shaped cultivators.
A youth of extraordinary beauty, yet with a pale face, as if covered by a perfectly sculpted, flawless mask of a corpse.
An old man with a sword box on his back, expressionless, eyes showing only whites.
A hulking man, burly, fingers sharp, eyes bloodshot.
And a decrepit, muttering old woman, her body exuding decay.
They stood atop a desolate hill, gazing at Nanyue City and the surrounding mines.
The old man with the sword box rasped, “Quite a spectacle, such a shame!”
The pale youth sneered, “Just a first-grade Dao Sin, never even matured…”
The hulking man grinned, revealing two fangs, face like a fierce wolf, “Your father has long tried to raise one, yet in half a lifetime, none have succeeded.”
The pale youth arrogantly said,
“Either aim for third or fourth grade and above, truly great demons, great corpses, great sins. First- or second-grade Dao-Sin Calamity are meaningless.”
The sword box old man’s voice was hoarse and detached, like drifting sand,
“You speak as if you understand Dao-Sin… Dao-Sin is exceptional, not measured by grade.”
The pale youth scoffed, clearly dismissive.
The wolf-toothed man looked around, sniffing the bloody, rotten scent in the wind, and sighed,
“Too late, otherwise we could have feasted.”
He extended his tongue, licking his lips, which bore barbs.
The sword box old man nodded, “Indeed… too bad, this Dao-Sin Calamity perished prematurely, otherwise the entire prefecture could have become a breeding ground for demonic cultivation.”
“Whose handiwork is this?” the wolf-toothed man asked.
“Who else?” the sword box old man retorted.
A flicker of caution passed in the wolf-toothed man’s eyes.
Even they did not dare speak the Daoist’s name.
The pale youth sneered, “Who knows, they spoiled the Strange Daoist’s plans…”
A trace of contempt crossed his pale face.
The sword box old man said sternly,
“You’d better show respect. Don’t assume that with your father backing you, the Daoist won’t harm you.”
The pale youth’s eyes narrowed, “My father’s cultivation surpasses his.”
The sword box old man shook his head, “You still do not understand what the title ‘Daoist’ truly means…”
The pale youth remained slightly disdainful.
The sword box old man, with eyes showing only whites, stared coldly and said,
“If that Daoist wants to kill you, not even your father can save you.
“Whether you live or die doesn’t matter, but don’t drag us into it, or we won’t let you off either…”
The pale youth was furious but did not respond aloud.
He bit his lip, drawing no blood, as if merely piercing a layer of skin.
None of the others paid him any mind.
The wolf-toothed man sniffed the mountain air like a beast, eyes darkening, and said,
“Many corpses, many cultivators, the Dao Sin’s aura is strong. It was almost matured… but then something went wrong…”
“The Daoist intervened, I bet,”
The sword box old man nodded, “No one could have ruined the Daoist’s scheme but him.”
The wolf-toothed man frowned,
“What exactly is hidden within him? Dao Court, Tianshu Pavilion, the families, sects, even we demonic factions, loners, and Daoists are all after him?”
The sword box old man’s smile was enigmatic,
“And then what?”
The wolf-toothed man was stunned.
The sword box old man said, “Until Golden Core or Nascent Soul, even if given the opportunity, what can you do?
“Can you resist Dao Court’s suppression or the demon sect’s pursuit?
“If you’re a pawn, then be the pawn.
“Our cultivation is far from sufficient to concern ourselves with black or white moves…”
His words were sharp.
The wolf-toothed man was unperturbed, instead licking his blood-red tongue and grinning,
“I cultivate demons. Seeing meat, wanting a bite, is natural, isn’t it?”
The sword box old man’s gaze was hollow, cryptic,
“Immortal flesh… eat it, your life ends.”
Immortal flesh…
The wolf-toothed man’s eyes gleamed with intensity.
The pale youth’s face flushed strangely.
All three harbored hidden intentions.
The old woman, silent until now, suddenly widened her eyes, crazed: “My child, my child!”
The wolf-toothed man frowned, “What madness is she at now?”
Ignoring him, she laughed strangely:
“I’ve found… my flesh and blood, my child lives…”
With a flash, she dashed toward a southern peak.
The three others followed.
They stopped at a small, desolate hill.
It was remote, serene, bathed in sunset glow.
On the hill was a small grave mound.
The old woman focused, hands like steel, digging through earth and stone, revealing a coffin inside.
She lightly grasped the corner, breaking it, then lifted with force, shattering the lid.
Inside lay a small zombie.
The old woman trembled as she cradled the little zombie.
“My child, my child…”
The pale youth frowned: “A zombie? Weren’t all nearby zombies burned in the cremation array? How is this one left?”
The wolf-toothed man looked around, raised an eyebrow,
“Seems someone deliberately left this zombie, buried it here…”
“Is it family to this zombie?”
“Buried here for what purpose?”
“Who knows…”
“Not for corpse cultivation, I hope.”
“This zombie is too small, too weak… what would one cultivate it for? Tea and service?”
…
The sword box old man’s expression grew grave: “This little zombie is a prime specimen for corpse cultivation: only corpse aura, no blood aura, clean and pure.”
“What’s so good about it?”
“Jade corpse…”
“What?”
He said no more: “You wouldn’t understand unless you cultivate corpses.”
The pale youth was displeased.
The wolf-toothed man realized, “So this old woman… is a corpse cultivator?”
Among the four, the sword box old man and pale youth were familiar, but the old woman was unknown.
The sword box old man nodded slightly,
“Her son died young. To revive him, she learned corpse cultivation and turned her son into a zombie.
“But she miscrafted him, producing a special blood-zombie.
“He needed human flesh and blood daily.
“She killed to feed him. Eventually Dao Court discovered her; her blood-zombie son was executed before her eyes, and she went mad, falling fully into corpse cultivation.”
“Over the years, she targeted faithless men and Dao Court cultivators.
“And she enjoyed turning children into zombies.
“All zombies she made were her children…”
“But…”
The sword box old man’s eyes narrowed,
“This little zombie… may be special…”
The old woman cherished the little zombie, cradling it like her own flesh and blood.
The pale youth clicked his tongue, then exclaimed,
“This little zombie’s chest… seems to have an array?”
“Array?” The wolf-toothed man blinked.
The pale youth, intrigued, said,
“Not an ordinary array…”
He shouted,
“Old woman, let me see this little zombie!”
The old woman ignored him.
The pale youth repeated, still no response.
Furious, “You shameless old hag…” He reached for the little zombie, but as he did, it seemed he touched her reverse scales.
Her aura shifted; face twisted, pupils vertical, skin bronze, corpse-fied into a copper zombie.
She tore with her right hand; a cold wind ripped the pale youth’s arm.
Bright red blood flowed.
Corpse toxin seeped in.
His face grew paler, yet anger flushed his cheeks with a strange red.
“You old thing, you’re courting death!”
The old woman clutched the little zombie, snarling, fangs bared.
The pale youth’s face darkened; he attempted to strike but was held back by the sword box old man.
“Don’t provoke her.”
The pale youth, wary of the sword box old man, snorted and restrained himself.
The old woman reverted from corpse form to an ordinary elder, holding the child peacefully.
The sword box old man looked up at the sky, then said,
“It’s getting late, time to depart.”
He turned to the others, expression wooden but voice grave,
“Do what we must, nothing else.”
The old man adjusted the sword box behind him.
It trembled, radiating a bloodthirsty desire.
“Be patient…”
He thought silently: “Once we find that person, the real storm will come…”
A terrifying, bloody tempest…
…
The four gradually departed.
The old woman also took the little zombie with her.
In the days that followed, quite a few cultivators with dark, eerie auras, dressed strangely and acting unpredictably, came to Nanyue City.
All were from demonic sects, both shocked by the human cultivation of Dao-Sin and lamenting the premature death of the Dao Sin.
But none of them entered the city, killed anyone, ate anyone, or did anything out of line.
Nanyue City had already entered the flow of cause and effect.
Anyone involved risked having the truth uncovered, and their own safety could not be guaranteed.
Dangerous currents surged beneath the surface.
Yet these perilous currents all skirted around Nanyue City, flowing off into the distance.
After many trials, the cultivators of Nanyue City finally welcomed long-awaited peace…
They lived their daily lives, day after day.
In Elder Su’s dwelling:
Shuisheng leaned over a small stone table, drawing formations, while Elder Su nagged beside him:
“How are you holding the brush like that? You’re wasting Divine-Sense…”
“This formation, I’ve taught you so many times, and you still don’t get it…”
“Sigh, don’t draw it that way…”
…
Shuisheng paid no attention, focusing entirely on the formations.
Whenever he didn’t understand something, he asked. Once he got an answer, he ignored Elder Su’s remaining nagging and complaints, letting them go in one ear and out the other.
All his mind was devoted to the formations.
Even if he learned slowly, even if his drawings were imperfect, he persisted.
If once wasn’t enough, he drew it twice.
If twice wasn’t enough, he drew it three times.
With repeated practice, he slowly got it…
This was how the little master had taught him.
Shuisheng remembered it firmly.
Elder Su continued muttering complaints, but then suddenly paused.
Shuisheng’s appearance was very much like Shuixian’s, and now, so focused, he reminded Elder Su of his own younger self…
Elder Su fell silent for a moment, then his expression softened, and he smiled with relief and warmth, looking at Shuisheng tenderly.
“I owe that little master a huge debt of gratitude…” Elder Su thought.
…
Life for the mining cultivators also improved greatly.
They could eat their fill, support their families, and gradually even accumulate some surplus spirit stones for themselves or their children’s cultivation.
The Lu family, which had once oppressed them, had already collapsed and was no longer a threat.
They had also heard rumors regarding the corpse mines.
“Apparently that bastard Lu Chengyun killed people, then used them to make corpses for mining, and in the end, retribution struck—he was eaten alive by the very zombies he had raised.”
“That zombie wasn’t ordinary—it was the old ancestor of the Lu family, Lu Bopi!”
“Lu Bopi, that son of a bitch, wouldn’t let us be even after death. He even became a zombie to terrorize Nanyue City…”
“So many zombies—it’s terrifying.”
“Even thinking about it now gives me goosebumps.”
“On the day the zombies besieged the city, I stood on the city wall and looked down—a mass of zombies, clawing and gnashing their teeth, thick as a forest…”
Someone shivered. “Do you think there are still zombies in the mines?”
“Maybe. So many zombies—how could they have all been cleared at once?”
“What should we do then?”
“I’m not married yet—if a zombie bites me, I’m done for!”
“I have elders above and children below…”
For a time, some were filled with fear.
“Why don’t we,” one cultivator suggested, “offer to that little immortal child in the corpse mines?”
Someone asked, confused, “Little immortal child? Who’s that?”
“The reincarnated child of an immortal.”
“Who?”
“The little immortal child who suppressed the zombie tide, subdued the Corpse King, and helped us draw formations and build the mines.”
“Really?”
“Really. I’ve seen him.”
“You’ve seen him?”
“Yes,” nodded the miner. “This little immortal child has three heads and six arms, impervious to blades and spears, and with a single punch knocked down the Corpse King…”
“You’re talking nonsense.”
“No, really. Who looks like that?”
“Exactly, that little immortal child is so handsome, fair-skinned, with sparkling eyes, and a cute smile…”
“You’re making things up. How could such a young cultivator defeat the Corpse King?”
“Then have you seen him?”
“Of course! That day on the city wall, in the midst of the zombie tide, this little immortal child, nine feet tall, broad-shouldered, immensely strong, every punch generating wind, and tens of thousands of zombies couldn’t come near him!”
“Damn, that’s a strongman, not an immortal child.”
“Exactly, if you’re gonna boast, at least make it believable.”
…
Opinions varied, and no conclusion was reached.
Finally, the eldest miner decided:
“If he’s a little immortal child, he’s surely young. Since we don’t know his appearance, we won’t draw it precisely—just a figure in ink.”
“Since he suppressed the zombie tide, the zombies must fear him. We’ll hang this image of the little immortal child in the mines. It should keep evil at bay and prevent the zombies from causing trouble…”
He sighed, “This little master helped us greatly. For us miners, he has saved our lives. Even if he couldn’t suppress the zombies, we should still honor him, wishing him success in cultivation, longevity equal to heaven and earth, and a life that benefits all living beings!”
“Exactly!”
The miners all nodded in agreement.
They commissioned several ink paintings of the little immortal child and hung them in the mines.
From then on, before entering the mines, the miners would pay their respects to the painting.
The image showed a small ink figure, clear and distinct, with a mysterious aura.
Worshiping the little immortal child could dispel evil and prevent zombie outbreaks.
They prayed for their own safety, and in their hearts, for Shuisheng’s safety as well.
In the places where Dao-Sin had flourished, cultivators offered incense and generated wishful intent, which invisibly merged with Shuisheng’s own cause and effect, forming a balance.
Yet Shuisheng knew nothing of this.
On a mountain path hundreds of miles away,
Shuisheng rode atop Dabai (Big White), gazing at the mountains and rivers shrouded in mist and clouds, setting off on the path toward Foundation Establishment…
Author Notes:
The mining storyline was finally complete.
Next comes Foundation Establishment.
This is also the final major arc of Volume Two.
It will take some time to organize the detailed outline, so tomorrow’s progress might be a bit slower.