Chapter Two: The Celestial Eye Appears

It was an utterly mysterious sensation—after the stabbing pain, a persistent itch began to spread. The scene before Chen Jiu’s eyes suddenly blurred, and in a haze, he heard a voice calling from the depths of his soul.

“Those with the Heaven’s Eye upon their brow command spirits, discern demons and ghosts, comprehend the mysteries of the world, and shine with divine light across the vast cosmos…”

Abruptly, darkness descended before Chen Jiu’s eyes. When he opened them again, he found himself standing in a spacious expanse.

All around was a boundless whiteness, silent and still, with only himself present—an isolation so profound it felt almost tangible.

Chen Jiu glanced down at his body, searching for any ropes or restraints, but found none. Nor were the two old men anywhere in sight.

He wore a look of confusion. What was going on?

Suddenly, the ground beneath him trembled, and a stone tablet, nine feet tall, burst forth like a bamboo shoot after a spring rain.

Chen Jiu frowned as he studied the towering monument before him. Its surface was inscribed with crooked, ancient characters—difficult to decipher.

Fortunately, the original owner of this body had been well-read, so Chen Jiu could recognize a few words.

“Heaven’s Eye Stone Tablet…” he murmured under his breath.

Still bewildered, he looked around once more. What on earth was happening? First, he had crossed into this strange world and immediately faced the threat of being eaten. Now, he was transported to this endless white space to encounter something called the “Heaven’s Eye Stone Tablet.” What kind of bizarre turn of events was this?

At that moment, a booming voice shattered the silence: “Comprehend the mysteries of the tablet, and receive the Divine Art of the Heaven’s Eye.”

Simultaneously, a powerful force burst forth from the stone, yanking Chen Jiu’s hand toward it.

He had no time to react—his right hand was pressed firmly against the monument.

It was cold to the touch, as if caressing a block of ice that had endured ten thousand years.

In that instant, a torrent of information flooded into Chen Jiu’s mind.

“The Heaven’s Eye upon the brow commands all spirits; when the Heaven’s Eye opens, all souls must submit.”

“I bestow upon you the first Divine Art of the Heaven’s Eye: the Art of Spirit Command.”

The voice was neither sorrowful nor joyful, neither hurried nor slow—utterly devoid of emotion, yet it resonated in the very core of his soul, shaking him to his foundation.

Now, Chen Jiu began to understand.

In novels, protagonists who transmigrate almost always receive a cheat—a golden finger. Perhaps a ring inhabited by an ancient sage, a vial that accelerates the growth of spiritual herbs, or the omnipotent “system.”

Could his golden finger be this “Heaven’s Eye”?

The term instantly brought to mind Erlang Shen, Yang Jian—his third eye on the forehead, brimming with supernatural power and awe-inspiring might.

Moments later, the voice sounded again: “When the Heaven’s Eye opens, divine sense is born. By wielding the Art of Spirit Command, the caster may seize the wandering souls of demons, ghosts, humans, and immortals, imprisoning them within this space to serve their own ends.”

“Remember, the Spirit Command may only be used to detain souls that have left the body. It cannot be used on targets whose cultivation surpasses your own, lest you suffer dreadful backlash.”

Not long after, another inexplicable stream of information poured into Chen Jiu’s mind—a method of cultivation, it seemed!

Once this method emerged, it was indelibly branded in his memory, impossible to forget.

Then, his hand—still pressed to the monument—felt another chill.

In a flash of golden light, eight strange, vertically arranged characters appeared on the stone.

“The eight characters represent the eight levels of the Heaven’s Eye. Each time one is illuminated, you will gain a corresponding divine art.”

As the voice faded, Chen Jiu watched as the first of the characters suddenly lit up.

His heart stirred, and he quickly asked, “How can I light the next one?”

After a pause, the voice replied, “The Heaven’s Eye’s powers are built upon the Art of Spirit Command. When you have seized enough souls, the next character will naturally be illuminated.”

Chen Jiu then turned his attention to the first glowing character, where four words had appeared: Spirit Command, Nether Vision, Mastery, and Divine Light.

He understood “Spirit Command,” but the next two were a mystery.

As expected, the voice explained further: “‘Nether Vision’ allows you to see the spectral world, to discern ghosts and spirits, to communicate with the underworld… ‘Mastery’ grants you perfect recall and the ability to comprehend various techniques at a single glance.”

Only “Divine Light” remained unaddressed.

Suddenly, the white curtain before Chen Jiu’s eyes split down the middle and rolled aside, revealing a new scene.

It was a dilapidated wooden hut, dimly lit, with only the fire beneath a large cauldron and a flickering candle casting feeble light.

Chen Jiu’s expression changed dramatically—weren’t those the two cannibalistic elders?

Yet, as a golden light swept through the hut, the figures of the old men began to fade.

Chen Jiu’s eyes widened.

For after the golden light passed, he saw that both elders had a weasel perched on their backs!

These weasels emitted a faint yellow glow that seeped into the old men’s bodies, controlling their every movement.

Chen Jiu was aghast.

So, the two elders had been possessed by weasels—that was why they had set out to cook him alive.

“So this is the Nether Vision!” Chen Jiu was awestruck—it really was possible to see through the disguises of demons and evil spirits.

Not only that, but he also noticed that the elders’ bodies showed no signs of life; they had been dead for some time.

Chen Jiu’s gaze turned icy. These two weasels were truly despicable.

The murderous intent in his heart surged to its peak.

Moments later, the vision before him blurred, and his sight faded to black.

When he opened his eyes again, the harsh sound of a knife being sharpened grated in his ears.

Looking around, Chen Jiu realized his suspicions were correct.

He was back in the ramshackle wooden hut.

The old woman was still sharpening her knife, while the old man tended the cauldron, adding more herbs and stirring the brew.

It seemed that, for all Chen Jiu had experienced, only a moment had passed in the real world.

After a few strokes, the old woman nodded with satisfaction.

“Not bad.”

She walked toward Chen Jiu.

“Old man, should I knock him out before I cut, or carve him while he’s alive?”

The old man, without looking up, replied, “Carve him alive! I’ve heard the flesh tastes fresher that way.”

The old woman nodded in agreement, then looked up at Chen Jiu.

The moment her gaze fell upon his face, her expression froze in shock.

“His wound! The wound is gone!” she shrieked.

Chen Jiu’s forehead was smooth and unblemished—no trace of blood or injury remained.

“What’s wrong?” the old man asked irritably, glancing up.

The amazement in the old woman’s eyes only deepened.

How could such a deep gash disappear so completely?

“You’re just a little priest with no powers! How did your wound heal?” Her voice turned icy and suspicious.

Chen Jiu narrowed his eyes and smiled. “You want to know?”

The old woman nodded eagerly.

He beckoned her closer.

Greed gleamed in the old woman’s eyes. A technique that could heal wounds so miraculously—she certainly didn’t want the old man to overhear.

As she drew near, Chen Jiu’s eyes flashed coldly, his killing intent now unchecked.

“Die.”

He mouthed the words.

In that instant, a strange sensation rose on his brow. As golden light flickered, a slender crack appeared and slowly opened, revealing a vertical eye shrouded in swirling golden radiance…