vstars Chapter 11: Painted Skin, Blood Sword, Demons and Monsters All Make Their Appearance
Chapter 11: Painted Skin, Blood Sword, Demons and Monsters All Make Their Appearance
On the rocky beach by the stream, an old man in yellow clothes squatted down. He was thin and slightly hunched over. He stretched out his hands, which were as dry as chicken claws, and scooped up a handful of dark red stream water. He brought it to his nose and took a deep sniff, with an intoxicated expression on his face.
Hearing footsteps, the old man slowly turned his head. His face was sallow and wrinkled, but his eyes were unusually bright, darting around and revealing a shrewdness and cunning.
What is most striking is that several thin, curved yellow whiskers grow on either side of his mouth, trembling slightly with his breathing.
"Oh, a newcomer has arrived." The old man grinned, revealing a set of yellowed, uneven teeth. His voice was high-pitched and hoarse. "This fellow Daoist looks unfamiliar. Are you also here for King Black Wind's Blood Apricot Feast?"
Xu Changqing stopped, his gaze calmly sweeping over the other man, and nodded slightly: "Indeed. I am Xuming, from Qingyang Mountain."
"Qingyang Mountain?" The old man's eyes lit up as he looked Xu Changqing up and down, his gaze lingering for a moment when he saw the Illusionary Demon Bell at his waist. "Could it be the 'Immortal Abbot' in person? I've heard so much about him! I'm just an old man named Huang, barely scraping by in this Black Wind Mountain area. I'm nothing special, nothing special at all."
As he spoke, he stood up and patted his clothes, which were stained with a few red marks. The yellow clothes, of unknown material, gleamed faintly in the dim light.
"So it's Fellow Daoist Huang." Xu Changqing replied calmly. "I'm new here and not very familiar with the paths. I was just about to ask for your guidance."
"Of course, of course!" Old Huang rubbed his hands together, his smile becoming even more solicitous. "Black Wind Mountain has a complicated terrain, the miasma is blinding, and there are many forks in the road. If you're not careful, you'll end up in some deadly place. This Blood Stream may look ordinary, but there are quite a few hard bones lying at the bottom of the water. They are all unlucky guys who have gone astray over the years."
He pointed to the murky stream, where a few dark red bubbles occasionally rose to the surface, their bursting bringing with them a fishy smell.
"I know this area very well, and I happen to be going to a banquet anyway. Why don't we travel together? It would be good to have someone to look after us on the way." Old Huang squinted, his yellow beard trembling slightly. "Besides, although the Blood Apricot Banquet is a good place, it's also a mixed bag. It's never a bad thing to make a few more friends."
Xu Changqing hesitated for a moment, then nodded in agreement: "In that case, I'll trouble Fellow Daoist Huang to lead the way."
"You're too kind!" Old Huang said with a smile, leading the way up a more secluded path along the stream.
He moved with light steps, seemingly old, yet he was exceptionally agile as he darted among the rocks, clearly demonstrating considerable skill.
The two walked one after the other through the increasingly dense black miasma. Old Huang was indeed very familiar with the path, twisting and turning, avoiding several seemingly flat but actually dangerous swamps and natural traps, while also keeping his mouth shut.
"Is this your first time attending a banquet at Black Wind Mountain, Fellow Daoist Xuming?" Old Huang glanced back at him, then continued without waiting for an answer, "You'd better be careful. I heard that the Blood Apricot Banquet hosted by King Black Wind this time is anything but ordinary; some distinguished guests are coming, and they're all quite important."
"Oh? I'd like to hear more." Xu Changqing asked cooperatively, keeping an eye on the surroundings while his fingertips flicked almost imperceptibly, sending a few wisps of extremely faint ethereal destiny energy silently into the rock crevices or the roots of withered trees he passed by.
"Hey, Black Wind King has a wide circle of friends, dealing with all sorts of people." Old Huang lowered his voice, with a hint of boasting. "The outcast of the Five Poisons Sect, the Painted Skin Lady of the Thousand Machine Cave, the Blood Sword who killed his own family to become a Taoist, and a Blood Monk who drinks blood and eats flesh, they've all arrived."
Xu Changqing's heart stirred slightly, but his face remained calm: "It seems this banquet is of great importance; something big is about to happen."
"Indeed!" Old Huang curled his lip. "Which of these men isn't a ruthless character with dozens of lives on his hands? Fellow Daoist, you're new here, so it's good that you keep that in mind."
Xu Changqing remained silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Fellow Daoist Huang, I have a question for you. What kind of cultivation technique does this Black Wind King practice? To be able to gather such a force, it must be no ordinary method."
Old Huang paused, glanced back at Xu Changqing, chuckled twice, and said in a slightly lower voice, "Fellow Daoist has hit the nail on the head. The Black Wind King cultivates a technique called 'Golden Pool Devouring Man Technique,' which is said to have been attained by Guanyin in a dream."
"The Golden Pool Human-Swallowing Technique?" Xu Changqing frowned slightly.
"Not bad." Old Huang licked his dry, cracked lips, his yellow beard trembling. "The so-called Golden Pool refers to the place where a person's essence and blood converge. This technique is based on devouring essence and blood, turning the essence and blood of others into one's own. It is said that when cultivated to a high level, the physical body becomes as hard as metal and stone, and the magical power becomes profound."
He paused, then lowered his voice and added, "There's another theory: he obtained this technique in a dream. The Black Wind King claims that he dreamt of Guanyin descending upon the Golden Pool and bestowing upon him this method, hence he has always referred to himself as the 'Successor of the Golden Pool.' As for whether it was a real dream or a fabrication, only he himself knows."
Xu Changqing's face was ashen, and his killing intent intensified.
As they spoke, the two had already rounded a slope covered with grotesque ghost trees, and a relatively open mountain valley appeared ahead.
The miasma here is slightly lighter, and several figures can be vaguely seen scattered around, some standing and some sitting, none of them exuding a benign aura.
At the entrance to the mountain valley, a dwarf dressed in brightly colored clothes, no more than four feet tall, was squatting down, carefully inserting a brightly colored centipede, about the thickness of a thumb, into his ear.
The centipede wriggled and struggled, but he had already grasped its tail and slowly pushed it inside. The dwarf's face showed a strange expression of both pain and pleasure, and he let out a low "hoarse" laugh.
"Look, that's 'Centipede Boy,' a traitor of the Five Poisons Sect. Now he works alone, specializing in the evil art of 'feeding the body with a hundred poisons,' turning himself into something neither human nor ghost." Old Huang introduced in a low voice, his tone clearly contemptuous. "His whole body is poison, his blood is full of venom, and he can kill a cow with a single spit."
Xu Changqing glanced at him, and the dwarf seemed to notice the gaze. He suddenly looked up, revealing a purplish-blue, swollen face covered in pustules. He grinned at them, revealing a mouthful of black teeth.
On the other side, a woman in red was lying on her side on a smooth black stone.
She had a slender figure and a charming face, with a captivating gaze. However, her complexion was too pale, with a hint of ashen skin.
She was playing with a piece of white, gleaming object in her hand. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a human finger bone. She was gently picking at the bone with her bright red fingernails, her movements as tender as if she were treating a lover's skin.
"That's the 'Painted Skin Lady' of Thousand Machine Cave." Old Huang's voice lowered even further. "It's chilling to say, but she was originally a beautiful corpse who had been dead for many years. She was buried in a place where the Yin energy of Thousand Machine Cave converged. She was nourished by the essence of the sun and moon and actually gained sentience. She created a set of evil arts called 'Peeling Skin and Painting Souls.' She loved collecting the skins of beautiful women, especially enjoying peeling them alive to keep them fresh... The bones in her hands were probably just used up."
Seemingly sensing the discussion, the Painted Skin Lady lazily glanced over, her gaze lingering on Xu Changqing's face for a moment before she lightly licked the corner of her lips with her scarlet tongue, revealing a meaningful smile.
Xu Changqing remained expressionless, only one thought flashing through his mind: "Bah, another one lusting after this humble Taoist."
Deep in the mountain valley, near a steep rock face, stood a young man dressed in black.
He carried a long sword on his back, stood tall and straight, and had a cold and stern face. At first glance, he had the demeanor of a disciple of a prestigious sect.
But upon closer inspection, one can detect a faint, lingering aura of blood around him, and his eyes are filled with bloodshot veins, staring intently at people, sending chills down one's spine.
"That's Blood Sword Liu Canyang." Old Huang's tone was unusually solemn. "He cultivates the Demonic Path of Slaughtering Sword, which uses human bones as swords. To enter the path, one must first kill one's closest relatives to prove one's loyalty. His sword is extremely demonic."
Xu Changqing listened silently, his killing intent growing stronger.
"Look over there." Old Huang suddenly nudged Xu Changqing with his elbow, gesturing for him to look at the other side of the valley.
On a protruding rock sat a gaunt old monk. He wore a tattered robe, had ordination scars on his head, and a withered face. His hands were clasped together, and he was chanting incantations. At first glance, he appeared dignified and solemn.
However, from the crevice in the rock beneath him, a dark red, viscous liquid continuously seeped out, meandering down the stone wall and emitting a strong, sweet, and fishy odor that mingled with the surrounding smell of blood, creating a nauseatingly strange fragrance. The old monk seemed oblivious to this, instead taking a deep breath, a look of intoxication on his face.
"That's the 'Blood Zen Monk,' who claims to be from the Yellow Springs Temple." Old Huang clicked his tongue. "It's said that he often bathes in human blood to enhance his evil powers. The rock he sits on probably has many talented people buried underneath."
Xu Changqing's gaze swept across the entire room, giving him a clearer understanding of the significance of the guests at this "Feast of Slaughter".
As expected, demons ran rampant, not a single one was good, and they all deserved to be killed.
Unbeknownst to him, the "Slaughtering and Refining the World Heavenly Venerable Scripture" within his body was quietly activated. The illusory image of a Taoist holding a blood sword and wearing a ceremonial crown lit up slightly in his sea of consciousness, a smile appearing on his face as he softly uttered four words: "Slaughtering and Refining the World."
Xu Changqing silently recited the Lingbao Duren Jing in his heart, suppressing the palpitations in his heart, and muttered: No rush, no rush, the banquet has not yet started.
The old man beside him turned his head, staring into his eyes, a strange light flashing in his dim old eyes: "Why did a red light flash in your eyes just now, fellow Daoist?"
Xu Changqing remained calm and said indifferently, "I was just envious of the profound cultivation of the fellow Daoists present."
Old Huang chuckled twice and didn't ask any further questions, but his eyes darted around again.