Chapter Fourteen: The Painted Skin

During a period of quiet cultivation, a cold wind swept through, forcing the window open and extinguishing the candle burning in the room.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes, sparks of Southern Fire flickering intermittently around him.

A soft singing drifted into his ears: “Ah—ah—regret meeting so late, blame departing so soon. The willow branches are long, the jade horse hard to tie, regret not asking the sparse woods to hold the slanting sunlight. The horse walks slowly, the carriage follows quickly, yet love’s longing is avoided, and parting comes early…”

Unable to restrain himself, he muttered, “Pretending to be ghosts and spirits!”

Knock, knock, knock! As he spoke, the room’s door was rapped. By the moonlight, he saw a shadow standing at the doorway.

Unthinkable—there was something strange within this tavern.

“I must see what you truly are!” As a Taoist, he steeled himself and opened the door. At the threshold stood the inn’s waiter, but his face was deathly pale, bearing no sign of the living.

“Honored guest, how about coming downstairs for a drink?” The waiter spoke, but the voice was that of a woman.

Without time to ponder, he nodded and followed the waiter down the stairs.

The tavern’s doors were tightly shut, all lanterns around had turned white, each marked with the word “Death.” Upon reaching the ground floor, the waiter vanished.

Moments later, a black bridal sedan approached from the courtyard, stopping before the table where he stood.

From the sedan, a woman descended with deliberate grace. She wore a theatrical costume, her face lightly made up. In the moonlight, she looked no different from a living person, with skin as fair as mutton-fat jade. Anyone would be captivated at a glance by her beauty.

“Do you find my appearance pleasing? You seem entranced, honored guest! Ha ha ha!” Her voice was as melodious as a nightingale’s song.

He forced himself to remain calm; an ordinary man would have already fallen under her spell, never knowing how he would die.

“Sit,” she said, gliding over and pulling out a chair before him. He could not yet discern her true intent and sat, waiting for her to reveal her nature.

“Dear sir, am I pretty?” The woman leaned close, breathing out a pink mist.

The breath ignited the flames in his eyes, and he spat out a jet of fire from his mouth.

“A Taoist? You’re a Taoist!” The woman retreated several steps. Her face, scorched by the flames, turned black as charcoal, her once clear eyes now burned white, appearing hideous and terrifying.

“A mere demon dares to seduce a Taoist!” he declared righteously.

“Kill him! Kill him!” The woman shrieked, her voice piercing and sharp.

From the courtyard, a group of people emerged, clad in various garb—waiters, the tavern’s manager, and many others he had never seen before, all brandishing weapons and staring at him.

“Let me show you the taste of Southern Fire!” He scraped his thumb across his nose, took a deep breath, and spat forth Southern Fire.

This time the flames were overwhelming. Anyone caught in his fire was instantly reduced to ashes, scattered as black dust.

He realized these “people” were not human, but paper figures.

To use paper figures against him was like moths to a flame, but their advantage lay in their swift movements and sharp hands.

The waiter sliced through a wooden table, splitting it cleanly in two.

To quickly deal with these troublesome foes, he executed a series of movements, leaped into the air, conjured a ball of real flame, and sprayed it downwards.

The flames engulfed the paper figures attempting to follow him into the air.

The sweeping fire was highly effective; as he landed, all the paper figures had been burned, black paper ash drifting through the air.

“Impressive flame magic!” The female ghost reappeared, her face restored to its original beauty, without a trace of damage. “I wonder if your companion can withstand your fire magic?”

She was holding a person in one hand—it was Xu Cheng.

“Shameless!” he cursed inwardly.

“I am shameless, indeed! Ha ha ha!” As she spoke, she sliced Xu Cheng’s neck with her pinky, drew several drops of blood, and sucked them, relishing the taste.

The situation was deadlocked.

He dared not use fire magic for fear of harming his junior brother. Nor did the female demon dare act further, lest she provoke him to risk everything—even Xu Cheng’s life—to destroy her.

“Taoist, how about this: you spare me, I spare your junior brother. From now on, we go our separate ways!”

After a moment’s stalemate, the demon proposed.

Just as he was about to agree, a cracking sound rang out, and Xu Cheng’s body split open; a whole, intact version of him stepped out.

Xu Cheng had just succeeded in his cultivation and used the body regeneration technique to restore himself completely.

Yet he was bewildered by the scene before him. By rights, his senior should have brought him back to the Heavenly Mystery Taoist Sect. Why were they now in this dim, tavern-like place?

Before he could think further, the female demon struck first, her delicate hands transforming into sharp white claws, aiming at Xu Cheng’s back.

With a ripping sound, Xu Cheng saw the white claws pierce through his chest from behind.

“Junior brother!”

He hadn’t expected Xu Cheng to regenerate, but now his heart was pierced by the demon—was he about to die?

He was about to swear vengeance when suddenly he froze.

For Xu Cheng’s body split open again, revealing yet another intact version.

Xu Cheng, having used the body regeneration technique repeatedly, was rather annoyed. He swiftly turned and unleashed the Yellow Spring Wind Mouth technique upon the demon.

The Yellow Spring Wind Mouth opened wide, sucking fiercely, the demon struggled desperately to escape the black vortex.

As she resisted the pull, a layer of skin peeled from her face, exposing her true form—a sickening skull, crawling with maggots. Seeing this, he felt it would take at least ten years of cultivation to recover from the shadow of this demon.

“No! No!” The demon shrieked, but she could not resist the pull of the Yellow Spring Wind Mouth, and was finally swallowed entirely.

“1000-7=?” Xu Cheng said, expressionless. It was a childish gesture, borrowed from an anime he’d seen in a previous life, where the protagonist recited it when angry, though he still didn’t understand its meaning.

“Wow! Xu Cheng, your arms and legs are all healed?” He grabbed Xu Cheng, rubbing his shoulders and knees as if checking whether his limbs were fake.

“Senior brother, logically speaking, shouldn’t we be at the Heavenly Mystery Taoist Sect? Where is this place?” Xu Cheng asked, his face filled with anger.

“Well, uh, junior brother, I explained everything to you on the way, and you agreed!” He scratched his head, embarrassed.

“I agreed?” Xu Cheng was puzzled. His senses had been sealed, yet he could still respond? Was he suffering from what people in his previous life called dissociative identity disorder? A second personality?

“Yes! I asked you, and since you didn’t speak, I took it as agreement. You kept silent, so I assumed you consented all along.” He hurriedly explained.

So that was it. Xu Cheng patted his chest, relieved he wasn’t mentally ill—it was just his eccentric senior brother making all the decisions.

“Senior brother, let me tell you something!” Xu Cheng approached with a smile.

“Speak, I’m listening!” He waved his sleeve, oblivious to Xu Cheng’s odd smile.

Suddenly, Xu Cheng wrapped an arm around him and opened the Yellow Spring Wind Mouth technique with the other, saying with a grudge, “Would you like to see the scenery of the Yellow Springs, senior brother?”

“No, no, no, junior brother, I know I was wrong! I don’t want to go, truly don’t want to go! Please, take back your magic! Please take it back!”

“If you ever make decisions for me again, I’ll have to let you see the beautiful scenery of the Yellow Springs!”

…