Chapter Thirty-One: Body Cultivators

The toad demon surged forward like an unstoppable war chariot, barreling toward Lu Qian. Each of its steps gouged deep trenches into the ground, and its speed was so great that the others barely had time to react.

“The toad demon’s true form boasts the strength of a thousand tons—can Lu Qian handle that?” Han Bingli’s lips were stained with blood as she watched in Lu Qian’s direction. Lu Qian was full of unexpected tricks beyond his flying sword—paper men, serpentine transformations—but against a late-stage Qi Refinement toad demon, he was still outmatched.

Yu Ci, clutching his chest and leaning against a great tree, looked on with worry. He was now too weak to even lift his sword. Lu Qian’s performance today had upended everything he’d previously believed possible. Who could have imagined one man could master so many arts? Most cultivators would spend more than two hours a day performing energy circulation three times, plus three or four hours asleep—half the day gone. And Lu Qian’s main occupation was still alchemy. To find time to practice just one spell was already impressive. Yu Ci had only asked Lu Qian to join him for his skill in making pills—never expecting he’d owe his life to him now.

The toad demon leapt high and brought its massive foot down with crushing force. The full moon seemed to shine even brighter, countless beams of light converging on the demon and swelling its body even larger. With a thunderous stomp, the ground quaked, sand and stones flew.

“Kill!”

Eight paper warriors—more aptly called Guardian Generals—raised their swords, spears, and halberds, meeting the attack head-on.

Boom!

The impact shook the earth for a hundred yards, the ground splitting apart. At the very center was Lu Qian, now nowhere to be seen.

“Huh?” Yu Ci’s eyes widened. The toad demon’s foot hadn’t reached the ground—it hovered three feet above, as if held up by some unseen force. Looking closer, he saw the eight Guardian Generals were buried to their waists in earth, still raising their arms, refusing to let that foot drop.

Lu Qian lay prone on the ground, a confident smile at his lips as he uttered a single word: “Shatter!”

Boom!

The Three-Kill Yin Talisman Sword erupted with a brilliant blade three feet long, piercing deep into the toad demon’s foot. Blazing yin-fire raged within its flesh.

“Aaagh!” The toad demon screamed in agony, instinctively lifting its foot.

“Fellow Daoist, let me help you!” Yan Xinglie sprang up like a tiger, his hand turning to sharp claws. He raked them fiercely down the demon’s back.

Rip!

A chunk of flesh was torn free.

The Master of Five Ghosts Temple hurled a massive stone onto the demon’s head, followed by a blinding flash of white light.

A snow-white smoke dragon, more than ten feet long, roared as it swooped down. Upon closer inspection, its body was composed of countless threads of cold sword energy, shredding everything in its path to dust. After unleashing this attack, Han Bingli’s face turned deathly pale, and she nearly collapsed.

The smoke dragon screamed, piercing straight through the toad demon’s chest.

Boom!

The demon’s body crashed heavily to the earth. Then, everything fell silent.

The toad demon transformed into the human shape of Wanshou, clad in white, his handsome face leaning against a great stone, striking a dashing figure. This was not true transformation, but an illusion—perhaps to preserve some dignity in death.

Memories swept over him—years of bitter cultivation, suffering beyond mortal endurance. Now all was gone, everything empty. Sorrow welled up; he coughed blood in great mouthfuls, staining his robes crimson.

“Why? The masters of Tongyou Temple slaughter entire cities for their arts; I’ve only killed a thousand over decades, just to survive—so why target me?” Wanshou muttered, gazing calmly at Lu Qian as he approached. With the end near, his hatred and resentment faded, leaving only peace.

“I don’t know,” Lu Qian replied after a pause, unsure what to say. “Perhaps it’s simply the law of the jungle.”

“A fine law of the jungle, ha!” Wanshou laughed, his expression full of meaning. “Today, I’m meat on the chopping block—one day, you’ll be the same. You really think Tongyou Temple is such a fine place? Ha, I’ll be waiting for you down below.” With that, he died, his true form revealed.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Tang Bing and Yan Xinglie withdrew their spells and collapsed, spent. The others, Lu Qian included, could only just manage to stand.

“We’ve solved the lesser harvest of the Ghostface Flower and slain a Qi Refinement monster; each of us should earn at least fifty merit points,” Yu Ci thought, already planning to exchange them for a better sword and an inner organs cultivation method. The Lung Metal Sword Qi was powerful, but overuse damaged the lungs. Without proper care, an early death was certain.

On the surface, Lu Qian was calm, but his mind was elsewhere. From what he’d seen, Tongyou Temple was far from a secluded, peaceful order. It was a monstrous presence, draining the lifeblood from a thousand-mile radius. Its Daoist priests and masters dominated the region, even slaughtering cities to refine their arts—a truly terrifying reality. If he didn’t want to become someone else’s prey, he had to grow stronger and protect himself.

“Jie jie…”

Nearby, Jin Ying—who had appeared wounded—suddenly broke into triumphant laughter. His face was flushed and full of energy, showing no sign of injury. His aura surged higher and higher.

“Mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. Gentlemen, you’ve all been tricked,” Jin Ying sneered, flashing to the toad demon’s corpse. With a single stroke, he split its skull and removed a round, golden demon core.

“Wanshou’s true body has hidden for years, and I’ve searched just as long,” Jin Ying taunted, glancing around. “I owe you all my thanks for helping me retrieve this demon core.”

“What powerful cultivation—who are you really?” Yu Ci asked in disbelief. The others seemed to wake from a dream. The one they’d most looked down on had been hiding his strength all along; he was no useless fool. From what Jin Ying said, they’d been used to kill Wanshou and claim the demon core.

“You must be the true Lord of Jinyang City. The former Jinyang must have been your descendant, right?” Lu Qian calmly revealed the truth.

“Oh? You’re clever. Yes, I’m Jinyang—the previous Jinyang was my grandson, Jin Ying,” Jinyang replied with admiration. “But tell me, how did you know? Was it just a guess?”

At last, everyone understood. A city lord who’d guarded Baiyang City for a century was no fool—how could he have died so easily to a toad? Realizing this, despair set in; Jinyang wouldn’t reveal himself now unless he was certain of victory. Today, they were doomed.

“You carry a foul stench—the odor of the Filthy Yin Longevity Art. I’ve smelled it before. Cultivators who seek longevity—you must be near death,” Lu Qian said, smiling. The first time he’d met Jin Ying, Lu Qian had caught the scent. The Baiyang City lord was over 140 years old, nearly at his end. The ‘Jinyang’ city lord bore no such smell, but the young Jin Ying did. Lu Qian had kept a watchful eye in the days that followed.

“I was dying before, but not anymore,” Jinyang replied with a faint smile. Moonlight gathered around him, the Ghostface Flowers shrieked and turned to ash. Crimson lines lit up the ground, outlining a massive formation. Jinyang stepped to its center, a golden array shielding him. He gazed greedily at the demon core and the group, his face alight with excitement as he muttered to himself:

“Midnight has come! With the power of the demon toad’s core, and your vital essence, I shall fuse blood into my body and achieve the Golden Toad Pursuing the Moon bloodline! Ha ha! I have waited sixty years for this moment!”

“A body cultivator?” Lu Qian now understood everything. Body cultivation was another path—tempering the flesh, awakening one’s bloodline. In ancient times, humans and demons lived side by side, and some humans carried demon blood. Body cultivators strove to purify and elevate that blood. Lu Qian preferred to call it ‘becoming the demon.’ Some body cultivators lacked demon blood, so they seized it from others. Clearly, Jinyang was such a man. He coveted the toad demon’s golden blood, and, too old and weak to claim it himself, had used them to kill Wanshou.

As the power of the demon core flared, a golden toad’s shadow appeared in the sky. Dew rained down, falling on Jinyang.

“What’s happening? My body’s burning!”

“I can’t move!”

Everyone felt their strength drain away, their blood surging as if it would burst from their veins at any moment.

Lu Qian looked at Jinyang and poured cold water on his triumph: “By the way, I forgot to mention—when I gave you the Possession Suppressing Elixir for your Human-Faced Peach Blossom, I added a little something extra. The time should be just about up.”

“What! Ugh—ah!” Jinyang started in alarm, then clutched his chest in agony as his energy ran wildly out of control.