Chapter Twenty-Three: The Martial Marquis of Great Xia

Above the second city still hung that great gate. The old demon, with a heart as hard as iron, paid no heed to the anguished wails of the citizens below, sending them en masse to the underworld—among them not a few cultivators of humble ability.

He savored the black pill that the underworld rewarded him with, relishing its taste.

“What, do you want some?” The old demon glanced at Xu Cheng, who quickly shook his head at the suggestion. “Tch! Knew you wouldn’t want any.”

Staring at the ruins below, Xu Cheng wondered if there was truly no one in this world who could stop such a fiend. If souls continued to be harvested so wantonly, would not all life in this realm eventually be wiped out?

Perhaps Xu Cheng’s silent prayer did not go unanswered. For when they reached the third city, someone did indeed appear.

This figure’s face was as pale and smooth as jade, clad in silver armor, boots embroidered with threads of silver, a black cloak and beard flowing in the wind behind him. Slung over his back was a silver spear, coiled with a fearsome flood dragon; at a glance, he seemed a heavenly marshal come down to earth.

“Who are you? Why do you slaughter the people of Great Xia?” His expression was grave, every muscle taut with vigilance, the spear behind him seeming poised to strike at Xu Cheng and the old demon at any moment.

Xu Cheng could faintly hear the murmurs of the townsfolk below: “Look, it’s the Marquis of Martial Grace!” “Marquis, kill that monster!” “Long live the Marquis of Martial Grace!”

So now, in the eyes of others, he himself had become a symbol of monstrous evil? Xu Cheng sighed, but a few black flames still slipped from between his lips.

“Me? Qiong Yue!” The old demon laughed wildly, and only now did Xu Cheng learn the demon’s name—Qiong Yue.

“Marquis of Martial Grace, Qu Wenbei!” The silver-armored marshal intoned, his voice growing ever more murderous as he pronounced his name, a shadowy dragon beginning to coil and shimmer around his spear.

“Attack!” With Qu Wenbei’s thunderous shout, it was as if a bolt of lightning had split the air.

In the next instant, Qu Wenbei’s body transformed into a streak of silver lightning, dashing before Qiong Yue almost instantly.

Yet the old demon, as if lost in a daze, made no move to defend himself with magic, simply watching as the silver spear, brimming with terrifying force, thrust into his ribcage.

“This is hardly enough to kill me!” Qiong Yue said coolly, letting the spearpoint grind against his bones, his body unscathed.

A flash of light flickered in Qu Wenbei’s eyes. Suddenly, the dragon on his spear coalesced into a solid form, every scale distinct, swelling in a blink, then lunging for the demon’s chest—

With a sharp crack, the old demon’s breastbone fractured.

“Not so tough after all!” Qu Wenbei did not press the attack but stepped back with a smile.

The demon’s bones were shattered for but a heartbeat before instantly mending—evidence of resurrection magic at work.

With a cold snort, the old demon lazily unleashed the Gate of the Underworld to once again devour the people below.

Qu Wenbei staggered backward as a silvery light shimmered over him. In the space of a breath, he transformed into a colossal silver flood dragon, maw agape, inhaling with mighty force.

The people who had nearly reached the underworld’s gate suddenly hung motionless in the air.

“How amusing! But only barely,” Qiong Yue sneered as black flames erupted around him. As he withdrew the underworld’s gate, he conjured a small black flame dragon from his hand and hurled it at Qu Wenbei.

“Despicable!” Sensing Qiong Yue’s move, Qu Wenbei hurriedly dispelled the cloud-swallowing power of his dragon form, then spat a silver spear from his mouth.

The coiling-dragon spear shot forth and clashed with the black flame dragon. Though the spear caught fire, it scattered the flaming dragon and, without losing momentum, pierced Qiong Yue.

But as the underworld’s envoy, Qiong Yue easily deflected the remaining half of the silver spear.

In that split second, the two were evenly matched.

A piercing dragon’s roar echoed from afar. Was this the Marquis’s ally?

“We go!” Qiong Yue, sensing that the newcomer’s strength rivaled Qu Wenbei’s, knew even handling one was taxing—let alone facing another. Even if he survived, he would be left in tatters.

He fled with Xu Cheng to a nearby village, hiding themselves in a cave.

“Damn! They dare to stir the earth’s dragon veins and practice the Immortal Dragon Transformation as a group!” Qiong Yue cursed under his breath.

“Immortal Dragon Transformation?”

He hadn’t expected court officials to train in such arts.

“This Immortal Dragon Transformation was never meant for mortals. Who could have spread it here?” Qiong Yue raged quietly. “Judging by your weak cultivation, you know nothing. Originally, the Immortal Dragon Transformation was bestowed by the Heavenly Court upon those appointed as Dragon Kings whose true forms were not dragons, so they could take dragon shape and govern the sea clans. It was a secret art, never to be revealed—yet now it appears among mortals? Interesting! Very interesting!”

Qiong Yue sat cross-legged, deep in thought, while Xu Cheng examined their surroundings.

Suddenly, another idea came to Xu Cheng. He remembered the demon ghost at Tianfeng Tavern who had used the Skin-Painting Art to hide. Could he not use this art to conceal his own ghastly form?

Since his Thousand-Eyes Technique had been branded with the underworld’s mark, transforming into the Eyes of the Underworld, perhaps he could modify the Skin-Painting Art to suit his new nature—and thus restore a human appearance without needing an actual human skin.

At this thought, his eyes brightened, glowing red. Tracing the runes of the Skin-Painting Art, he watched as symbols flickered before his eyes, adapting and reconstructing the spell.

Indeed, with the Eyes of the Underworld, the effort was trivial for Xu Cheng. Within moments, he had created a new spell suited to his needs—the Minor Shaping of Earth and Flesh.

Instead of human skin, he used clay to form a new body. Thus he could more easily move among the living.

The new spell required just over a hundred runes, but its effects were impressive; not only could it shape a clay body, it could also transform into gold ingots—though it was somewhat vulnerable to water.

He quickly molded the clay, pressing it onto his bones piece by piece.

After a long effort, Xu Cheng at last resembled something vaguely human.

With a mutter, he activated the spell. The clay gradually became living flesh, soft and ordinary.

At last it was done. The underworld’s true fire within him did not burn away this new flesh—could it be that the fire only targeted living bodies with blood and flesh?

He tried moving about; none of the clay crumbled or fell away. Nearly perfect—save that his new form was gaunt as a bamboo pole and his skin a deep, earthy brown.

“Hmm!” Qiong Yue sensed the magic’s pulse and turned, catching sight of Xu Cheng’s transformation. A glint of cunning flashed in his eyes.

“Who’d have thought you were capable of such arts! Perfect—make one for me as well!” The demon was instantly intrigued; the ability to harvest souls in secret appealed to him greatly. He had tried countless spells, all to no avail, but Xu Cheng’s technique had finally solved his problem.

Xu Cheng nodded and was about to help apply clay to the demon’s bones when Qiong Yue led him to a cache of white clay, the finest for making porcelain.

Clearly, Qiong Yue was exacting about his appearance and figure. He refused to let Xu Cheng help, even as he pressed the white clay to his own bones.

A long while later, the old demon had assumed a brand-new form.

Xu Cheng looked at him askance; it was no surprise that the old demon had sculpted himself into the likeness of a stunning beauty, with a slender waist and ample curves, alluring in every way—even before the shaping spell was cast.

Once the spell was enacted, the white clay turned to smooth, fair skin. When it was over, the old demon too had a human form at last.