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Wujang Prefecture, within a mysterious stone chamber.
A young man, bare-chested, swallowed a crimson dicinal pill and sat cross-legged, regulating his breath.
Once his mana ebbed fiercely, reddish mist rose above his head, continuously morphing, seeming to want to condense into a red lotus. However, after several transformations, the red lotus above his head ultimately failed to take shape entirely, terminating inches from success, and he spat out a mouthful of reverse-flowing blood.
The grand door to the stone chamber was suddenly pushed open by a middle-aged scholar.
"Teng’er, are you alright, did the breakthrough fail?" the middle-aged scholar hurried to the young man’s side to help him up, saying with heartache.
In the glow of the Luminous Pearl, a teardrop-shaped, blood-colored mark was especially striking above the young man’s left chest.
"I’m sorry, Father. I still haven’t managed to break through the Qi Refinent Realm and enter the True Person Realm."
"Such a waste of a precious Blood Soul Pill."
"Next ti the ti of Yin Manor approaches, I’m afraid I won’t survive, Father," the young man said weakly. After speaking, he clenched his fist fiercely, his expression sinister, and resentnt tinged his features,
"How unjust is the Heavenly Dao. If only it granted another half a year to temper my mana, I would surely have entered the True Person Realm, and not failed at the last mont."
"It’s just a pity that I have to go to that damned place in a month."
Thinking back to his last experience in Yin Manor, a shadow of fear also surfaced in the young man’s heart.
Barely having escaped with his life, and that by sheer luck, he now feared that with this failure to reach the True Person Realm, he might not escape his fate this ti.
"No!"
"Absolutely not!"
"Teng’er, you must buck up. You can’t give up; there is still a chance. You are my only son. Your mother passed away early, entrusting on her deathbed to look after you well. You are just over fifty, yet you’ve already reached the late stage of the Qi Refinent Realm,"
"My son, you have the makings of a True Monarch!"
"Teng’er, don’t be afraid. As long as you kill another person with the mark, seize the remainder of his ti on the mark, give you another half year, and you will definitely succeed in the breakthrough."
"Within a month, even if I have to go through heaven and hell, I will find soone with the mark of Yin Manor to extend your life for you!"
"If there are no Blood Soul Pills left, I will make another for you, even if it ans the death of ten or a hundred thousand people, just to get it for you," said the middle-aged scholar, his voice echoing with pain, suppression, anger, and determination within the sealed chamber.
...
...
Yao Guandu is a secluded ancient village town.
It began hundreds of years ago, when a group of dicinal farrs surnad Guan moved here to escape calamity, gradually developing and growing into an ancient town nestled in a valley near Wujang.
With its proximity to Wujang River, the citizens of Yao Guandu slowly changed their way of life, focusing on gathering herbs as their main occupation and fishing to supplent their living.
Inside a small wooden house in Yao Guandu.
Several days ago, under the moonlit night.
Gouwazi held his breath, not daring to even let out a sigh, his eyes bloodshot as he huddled in a corner of the room, reaching for an embroidery needle to stab fiercely into his thigh whenever sleepiness crept up.
Only the sharp pain could alleviate his drowsiness.
By then, his arms and thighs were covered with densely packed pinpoint blood marks from the needle pricks, chillingly grueso to behold.
"I must not sleep!"
"Once I fall asleep, I will have that dream!"
"I’ll dream of the old clan leader!"
"Many have already died. I don’t want to die; I don’t want to die!"
"Old clan leader, please spare us, spare Yao Guandu. So many have already died!"
"We were wrong."
After stabbing himself with the needle and consuming so stimulating herbs, Gouwazi sat in a corner of the room with a vacant stare, his fingernails digging deeply into the flesh of his palm, heedless of the blood that flowed down his fingers.
If only there were such a thing as a regret dicine in this world!
If only they hadn’t done what they did that day, maybe things wouldn’t have escalated to this dire situation.
Alas, in Yao Guandu, a town founded by dicinal farrs, there’s no dicine for regret, and one cannot gather it either!
At that mont, Gouwazi’s thoughts drifted back to more than ten days ago.
Which was the day the old clan leader died.
The death of the old clan leader beca a taboo in Yao Guandu, unspoken of, as the people quietly arranged the funeral in the form of a robe-and-cap grave.
The dead are gone, and such is the life of the living.
Seven days passed, and the town folk thought it would be a normal mourning for an old man’s death, but they never imagined that from that day on, one odd occurrence after another besieged Yao Guandu.
It started with the unexplained deaths of chickens and ducks, their bodies covered with a thin layer of frost, bizarrely eerie.
The citizens began to speculate, wondering if it was a strange disease or if an evil spirit had entered the town.
The next day, a pair of grey cloth shoes were picked up by villagers at the Wujang ferry, and the whole ferry area erupted into chaos.
For they belonged to the old clan leader, and along with the shoes washed ashore were four awkwardly scrawled characters —— I’ve returned!
The handwriting was so crude it scarcely seed human, more akin to that of a wild beast.
Even chickens pecking at grains of rice would make a nicer pattern than the writing on the ground.
Around the characters were many patches of dark mud. The citizens who supplented their livelihood with fishing instantly recognized it as mud from the depths of Wujang River, wondering inexplicably how it ended up on the bank.
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On this day, the little vitality that had been restored in dicine Officer Town was crushed yet again, even more so than on the day the old clan chief had died, like a duck being strangled by the throat.
Everyone was silent and had shut their doors, whispering among themselves.
After all, the events of that day were too unsavoury to be spoken aloud.
By then, people were secretly discussing whether they should find a sorcerer to take a look.
Whether it was the old clan chief returning or not, the presence of an evil spirit was almost certain. Wouldn’t it be better to find a sorcerer to exterminate it? Otherwise, life would beco unbearable.
This idea initially spread only among a few people in secret circles, but later, like a plague, it spread throughout dicine Officer Town and garnered the support of almost the entire population.
A favor turned into a grudge!
Many people, unable to confront the situation at hand, ca up with this idea very quickly. Although a small number of people opposed it, in the spreading wave of panic, their opposition barely caused a ripple.
The sudden reappearance of the shoes belonging to the old clan chief, who had long been dead in the depths of River Wujang, and the strange ssage "I have returned," along with the inexplicable death of chickens and ducks in town, truly terrified them.
Those townsfolk who had money gave money, and those who didn’t gave goods or labor; they raised a large sum of money, ready to head to Wujang Prefecture to find a highly skilled cultivator to eradicate the demons.
The people set out on the morning of the third day.
They drove an ox cart, brought treasures, and even took with them two ginseng roots that had been aged for three to five hundred years.
These ginseng roots were relics of the old clan chief.
In his youth, the old clan chief had been the most formidable dicine gatherer in dicine Officer Town, and during his travels, he had brought back a third-rate martial arts manual, "Gecko Soaring Dragon Technique."
The cultivation technique wasn’t very strong, but it was exceedingly suitable for the townsfolk of dicine Officer Town, whose main livelihood was gathering herbs. He had selflessly taught the entire technique to the townsfolk.
The old ginseng was likely an accidental find by the old clan chief in so desperate place.
Since the old clan chief’s children and wife had all died young in accidents, he had lived alone for many years. After his death, his possessions were uncovered by townspeople while they were arranging his funeral and placed in the ancestral hall to be honored.
Now, they were put to good use, in hopes of persuading a skilled cultivator.
However, the plan to seek help from a powerful practitioner failed as soon as preparations to set out began.
The scouts returned within less than an hour.
They looked ashen and grief-stricken.
"It’s over, dicine Officer Town is finished," said Guan Daniu, who led the group, his lips trembling.
He had been a strong advocate for seeking a sorcerer and was the leader of the group. He had a good reputation in town, especially among the younger generation.
His mastery of the "Gecko Soaring Dragon Technique" had reached the level of a second-rate expert, and the art was fully cultivated to perfection.
The only reason he could be so frightened was that a thin white fog had enveloped them not long after they left the town. The farther they went, the thicker the fog beca, until they could barely see anything.
With no way to proceed, they had no choice but to hold hands and return the way they ca.
Oddly enough, as they made their way back, the fog in front of them gradually thinned.
Encouraged, they decided to press on, only for the fog to suddenly thicken again.
After repeating this three tis,
Guan Daniu lost all hope, leading the able-bodied n back to dicine Officer Town.
After this incident, the panic in dicine Officer Town intensified. Even those who were skeptical attempted to leave but ultimately returned, looking dejected.
They could no longer leave!
dicine Officer Town had beco a place of no return.
One could enter but not leave.
A palpable sense of dread was fernting, the oppressive atmosphere almost visible over dicine Officer Town.
The small town grew increasingly desperate.
At this point, people in their fright finally rembered the goodness of the old clan chief.
Because the "Gecko Soaring Dragon Technique" that many of them practiced was personally taught by the clan chief, hand by hand. His kindness to them was as if he had given them a second life.
Before practicing this technique, at least a dozen people in dicine Officer Town would die each year falling off cliffs while gathering herbs.
That ant at least a dozen families lost the mainstay of their household each year.
After learning the "Gecko Soaring Dragon Technique," the number of deaths plumted to one or two, and even their inco increased significantly.
Decades had passed, and practically every family in dicine Officer Town owed their life to the old clan chief.
That night, everyone in dicine Officer Town fell into introspection.
So snuck to the old chief’s morial mound to weep bitterly.
Others went to the riverbank at the entrance to Wujang Prefecture to kill chickens and burn joss paper.
However, those who went to the riverbank were alard to discover that the old, worn shoes of the clan chief—pushed ashore by the river—had disappeared.
A line of muddy footprints appeared on the muddy bank.
Judging by the direction of the footsteps,
they were headed into dicine Officer Town.
At that mont, four twisted, blood-colored characters appeared in the mud by the riverbank.
They were made from the remains of river fish that had been strangely mangled and devoured.
"I, am in!"
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