Chapter Six: The Method of Profound Breathing and Visualization

Mo Liang’s face was flushed as red as a boiled shrimp, veins bulging on his forehead, his eyes bloodshot—he looked every bit the demon from hell. The talisman in his hand was called the Seven Stars Blood-Burning Charm; by sacrificing his own lifespan, it pushed his power to its very peak.

In the blink of an eye, Mo Liang lunged before Lu Qian.

“Die!” Mo Liang glared at Lu Qian with venomous hatred, his pupils narrowing to beastlike slits. From within his wide sleeves, green sashes shot out, writhing in the air like serpents.

Hissing filled the space as the green sashes transformed into venomous snakes, their triangular heads crowned with ghostly green flames. They flicked black tongues, bared fangs dripping with poison, and launched themselves at Lu Qian from every direction, writhing like the tentacles of some monstrous octopus.

Lu Qian’s body stiffened—he sensed mortal danger. Mo Liang, that old cur, was indeed formidable; even after all Lu Qian’s preparations and plots against him, the old man could still counterattack with lethal force at death’s door. This sleeve-snake spell was truly formidable.

The stench of venom assaulted Lu Qian as the snakes’ fangs dripped poison that sizzled against the stone floor. He harbored no doubt about the potency of the venom. Now, there was no room to dodge—Mo Liang’s desperate strike was simply too fast.

But Lu Qian was not without recourse.

He formed a hand seal, expending the last of his vital energy. From behind him, a paper figure, three feet tall, leapt forth to shield him. This was his final paper servant, conjured with the last trace of his energy; though he had recovered a little during the fight, it was only enough to summon this small guardian.

The paper man intercepted the venomous snakes. They bit into it, injecting searing green venom that spread like wildfire, corroding the paper figure into blackened sludge.

The delay was brief, yet enough for the straw-hatted paper figure to arrive, flinging the Seven Star Darts to sever three snake heads, which fell to the ground and reverted to sashes. Three were slain—eight remained.

But the paper figure could only buy a moment before it too was incinerated by venom, turning to ash.

“Boy, I’ll skin you alive and tear you limb from limb!” Mo Liang’s hatred was palpable—this youth had ruined too many of his plans. He had killed Mo Liang’s prized disciple and tricked him, leaving him gravely wounded. After this battle, he might never recover; the feud between the two was now irreconcilable.

Mo Liang swept his sleeve again, and the remaining snakes hidden within lengthened and struck.

In this critical moment, Lu Qian did not flee. Instead, he snatched up the Bi Shui Sword and charged at Mo Liang. The paper servants had bought him mere seconds—enough, at least, to widen the gap or escape. Such decisiveness even caught Mo Liang off guard.

No one expected Lu Qian to be so unyielding, to counterattack so directly.

With a sweep, the Bi Shui Sword severed two green snakes. Ignoring the others, he thrust straight for Mo Liang’s heart.

With a sharp sound, the blade pierced through Mo Liang’s chest. His eyes widened; he tried to speak but no words came. His gaze grew vacant, and he died with boundless regret and confusion.

He could not understand how such a seemingly insignificant youth hid so many secrets, or what strange fortune he had encountered. He bitterly regretted not seeing through him sooner, having labored all these years only to pave the way for another.

It was too late—decades of scheming had come to naught.

Just as the venomous fangs were about to pierce Lu Qian’s skin, they vanished.

“As I guessed,” Lu Qian murmured, sheathing his sword and calmly wiping the blade, though he could not mask his excitement. The green-scaled snakes were powerful, swift, and unpredictable—but they had a fatal flaw. They were merely a conjured spell; once the caster died, they vanished instantly.

Lu Qian’s apparent willingness to exchange his life for Mo Liang’s had been a calculated risk all along.

The rain gradually ceased, and all was silent. Lu Qian looked up at the sky, saying nothing.

A man must rely on himself. Today’s rain had nearly ruined everything—had his paper figures gotten wet, he would have been finished. Thankfully, he had acted swiftly, killing all the guards and hiding his paper servants in the gatekeepers’ pavilion.

Now, it was all over.

From this day forth, the world was his to claim.

After a brief rest, Lu Qian thoroughly searched the place inside and out.

...

An hour later, Mo Liang’s secluded chamber was in utter disarray; floorboards pried up, plaster stripped from the walls.

“The old fox certainly hid things well,” Lu Qian thought as he surveyed the pile before him.

There were three stacks of yellow talisman paper, a pot of cinnabar ink, a dagger, an assortment of medicinal herbs, three hundred taels of silver, and ten taels of gold. Most importantly, there were three packets of Qi-and-Blood Replenishing Powder, along with their recipe—exactly what Lu Qian needed.

On the table lay a heap of manuals: Green Flame Venom Art, Profane Yin Longevity Method, Ghostly Breathing and Visualization, and the Yin Fiend Green-Scaled Serpent Transformation. There was also a thick notebook filled with Mo Liang’s cultivation insights.

Lu Qian skimmed the manuals and set them aside—their study would take time. What caught his eye were the items in a small casket: a jade pendant inscribed with “Communing with Ghosts,” a letter, five bronze coins with strange markings, half the corpse of a green-scaled serpent—its triangular head and ghostly green eyes radiating a baleful aura, as if it might spring to life at any moment—and lastly, a small pinch of black-red powder called Yin Powder.

Reading the Profane Yin Longevity Method, Lu Qian at last understood the fate of those elders who had vanished. Though Yin Powder was evil, Lu Qian did not throw it away—he kept it, in case it one day proved useful.

He cared little for whether a technique was righteous or demonic; there was no good or evil in magic—only in the user. In his current situation, any method that could increase his strength was worth learning.

The jade pendant seemed to be some sort of token.

The serpent’s corpse was a Yin Fiend Green-Scaled Serpent, native to places of extreme yin energy. Its head bore venomous fire—its poison so potent it could even burn matter. This corpse was the key material for cultivating the Yin Fiend Green-Scaled Serpent Transformation—the very spell Mo Liang had used to turn his sashes into deadly snakes.

To master this art, one must first grind the serpent’s body, mix it with ink to draw a talisman, and then swallow it. Only by doing so could one transform one’s sashes into green-scaled serpents; otherwise, they would remain ordinary snakes.

“Four hours till dawn—enough time to restore my energy and master this art,” Lu Qian thought to himself. He then took a dose of the Qi-and-Blood Replenishing Powder.

A surge of heat flooded his body, and the circulation of his vital energy quickened. Lu Qian felt as if he were soaking in a warm spring, his wounds slowly healing.

Time slipped by...

At the crow of a rooster, Lu Qian slowly opened his eyes.

Nameless Heart Method (Minor Achievement: 16/100) — Nameless Heart Method (Minor Achievement: 20/100)
Yin Fiend Green-Scaled Serpent Transformation (Entry: 0/20) — Yin Fiend Green-Scaled Serpent Transformation (Entry: 1/20)

The dark ring after the Nameless Heart Method now glowed with twenty segments—one fifth of the whole. The Qi-and-Blood Replenishing Powder truly was potent; one dose was worth four rounds of regular cultivation, raising his progress by four marks at once.

He had also successfully begun the Yin Fiend Green-Scaled Serpent Transformation, starting with a threshold of twenty segments—clearly a high bar to entry.

His training complete, Lu Qian was in no hurry to leave, but sat quietly in the chamber.

A chill wind blew, snuffing out the candle as Lu Qian’s figure slowly faded into the darkness.

Meanwhile, the others in the temple had long since finished their morning routines. Today was the end-of-month assessment, when Mo Liang would examine everyone’s cultivation progress. Those who had managed to sense their internal energy would sever all ties to the mundane world and be sent to a mysterious immortal sect for further training.

“Old Wu, have you seen Master Lu today?” one young attendant asked.

“I heard Miss Ling’er went to cause trouble for him yesterday. Maybe she beat him to death,” another replied with glee.

In any group, there are always those who get bullied. The silent, reserved Lu Qian had long been the butt of everyone’s jokes. Especially after offending Mo Ling’er, many sought to curry favor with her by joining in the mockery.

“Strange, it’s so quiet today. The doors aren’t even open,” someone noted.

A dozen young attendants gathered before the vermilion gates, waiting. The doors remained shut, and no guards appeared. Anxious unease crept into their hearts.

Creeeak...

At last, the doors slowly began to open.