Chapter 811: He Comes from the Yellow Springs
The reason it was deemed strange was naturally because that person had many peculiarities that set him apart from ordinary people.
That person was very short. From outward appearance, Nanke was merely a twelve- or thirteen-year-old girl, but that person was two heads shorter than even Nanke.
That person was very ugly. No matter how fresh and beautiful the morning light was, when it fell upon those ears, mouth, and nose that seemed haphazardly stitched together, it became repulsive.
A large hump bulged high on that person's back, clearly indicating he was a hunchback.
That person wore black clothes, washed very clean, yet for some reason, a foul, fishy stench always seemed to emanate from him.
Seeing such a thin, short, deformed person reeking of filth, most people would feel disgust and loathing. After calming down, they might even feel some pity or sympathy.
Chen Changsheng did not.
The moment he saw this person, his sense of vigilance became overwhelmingly intense.
It was just like the feeling he had when he saw Zhou Tong under the crabapple tree in the Northern Military Administration Office Alley back then.
He felt he was witnessing an extreme, irrational, unappeasable, and undilutable evil.
This person's evil had subtle differences from Zhou Tong's—it was more yin and foul.
"Who are you?" Chen Changsheng asked the strange man.
An uneasy expression appeared on that ugly face.
Because the morning light was too bright, and he had forgotten to use his hat to cover his face.
He had been seen, which made him feel inferior again, and thus stirred within him the desire to destroy this world once more.
Thinking about destroying the world made the strange man feel much calmer, so he smiled.
This strange man's smile was also bizarre. The moment he grinned, the corners of his mouth split wide open, revealing his chaotic, sharp, beast-like teeth, which looked terrifying.
"Since I can't kill you secretly, I might as well try to see if I can kill you on the spot."
This person's voice was also unpleasant to hear, like two chipped porcelain pieces grinding against each other, very harsh.
After saying this, he extended his hands and made a gesture toward Chen Changsheng.
In the bright morning light, it could be clearly seen that his hands were covered in hair and scales, looking somewhat nauseating.
But Chen Changsheng's attention was not on that; it was entirely on the gesture those hands made.
In reality, he had never seen such a gesture before, but he had thoroughly read the Daoist Canon and once saw a similar depiction in a very ancient Daoist scripture.
This was the most orthodox hand seal of the Daoist formation, a primordial technique long lost by the state religion.
Neither the Li Palace nor the Holy Maiden Peak now possessed the inheritance of this technique.
This person exuded an aura of neutrality, harmony, and even sacred solemnity.
Yet between his hands, black qi faintly gathered, within which lightning formed, carrying an infinitely foul and yin flavor.
Using the most orthodox and ancient divine arts of the state religion while employing the most sinister methods—what kind of monster was this?
Chen Changsheng's pupils contracted slightly, and his right hand gripped the sword hilt at his waist.
Just as this sudden battle was about to begin, no one expected a new turn of events.
That hunchbacked strange man suddenly glanced upward and said in exasperation, "How many helpers do you have!"
With these words, his figure abruptly became ethereal, and he prepared to retreat out the window.
Trying to escape before Chen Changsheng and Nanke's eyes was no easy feat.
Countless sword intents flickered faintly around the kitchen, sealing off all escape routes.
With a flash of clear light, Nanke vanished from her spot.
Chen Changsheng was not worried that this strange man could escape. At such a short distance, few could outpace Nanke's speed, even if her wings had mysteriously disappeared. However... what happened next completely exceeded his imagination.
The moment Nanke vanished, the strange man also disappeared.
Countless gusts of wind howled, pulling the steam from the iron pot into countless strands, and the morning light spilling through the window flickered incessantly.
Clearly, the two were moving through the room at a speed invisible to the naked eye.
Even with Nanke's lightning-like speed, she could not catch the other party in such a short time.
The sense of alarm in Chen Changsheng's heart grew stronger, and his right hand tightened slightly on the sword hilt.
With several scraping sounds, several extremely clear sword marks appeared on the roof beam. Several swords pierced through the morning light, stabbing toward a certain spot.
A roar filled with pain and rage rang out.
The strange man was forced to reveal his form, a sword wound appearing on his right shoulder, from which blood with a foul, fishy smell slowly oozed.
Several greenish, ghostly rays shot through the air, clawing at the strange man's throat—it was Nanke's fingers.
Rip! The strange man's clothes suddenly tore apart.
Two gray shadows appeared behind him, propelling his body at an unimaginable speed to another side, dodging Nanke's attack.
So, he wasn't hunchbacked at all—the bulge on his back was actually a pair of wings!
Those wings had few feathers, looking more like gray lumps of flesh, somewhat disgusting, but they flapped very quickly.
The gray shadows moved wildly, carrying a gust of foul wind, and the strange man crashed straight through the stove with a loud bang!
Amid the chaotic swords, the stove instantly vanished, but the man was already gone.
Chen Changsheng and Nanke stood by the ruins of the stove, staring at the black hole on the ground, silent.
Nanke withdrew her divine sense and said, "It leads underground, full of filth. I don't know how he could pass through."
Looking at this scene and hearing Nanke's words, Chen Changsheng fell into thought.
It was still in that extremely ancient Daoist scripture that a similar scene had been described.
It was from a story set in a very distant era.
Tens of thousands of years ago, a certain Pope, in pursuit of the realm of great freedom, once realized an extremely sinister method of cultivation. That was to separate one's worldly thoughts and desires, creating a counterpart self outside the main soul. By observing this counterpart, one could comprehend the principles of heaven and earth, and then sever it with a single sword to achieve true purity.
That Pope had made very thorough preparations beforehand, but he never expected that the evil-thought soul would be even more foul and terrifying than anticipated. It grew at an unimaginable rate by borrowing the turbid qi of the world. When he finally tried to sever the thought, he could not fully succeed and was nearly devoured by the evil-thought soul. With no other option, at the final moment before his own soul was completely corrupted, he had to borrow the will of the twelve sages from the Hall of Light to forcibly annihilate both himself and the evil-thought soul.
That erudite and profoundly accomplished Pope died just like that.
This Daoist technique, known as Severing the Corpse, naturally became a forbidden art of the state religion, gradually fading into the river of history.
Who would have thought that this technique would reappear before him today?
Before that Pope departed, he told the archbishops of the Li Palace that if the Severing of the Corpse failed, the Yellow Springs would manifest in the world.
Could it be that this monster was the Yellow Springs?
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(There will be another chapter at eight in the evening... Well, after half a year, there are finally two chapters, though the word count isn't much. Handshake, I wish everyone a pleasant weekend.)