The previous mission was to assist a minor warlord, nearly forgotten by history, in slaying an old and a young dragon—an act that could be described as defying the heavens!
But now, the task is much simpler: survival for just seven days, straightforward and natural.
With this restriction lifted, Wu Ming could finally take the time to explore this world thoroughly and try to uncover the identity of the hidden mastermind behind everything.
“No matter how the person behind the scenes has plotted, they cannot escape the task set by the Main Temple!”
Wu Ming mused carefully: “Though I have entered the chessboard, I have also stepped outside of it, which allows me to hide my identity. I should approach those Reborn again and see which privileged player is trying to sabotage others… Hmm! If within my ability, I should also lend a hand to Li Xiuyun!”
At this, he stepped out of the side room and stood before a water vat, using it as a mirror to examine himself.
Inside the reflection was a Daoist apprentice of about fifteen or sixteen years old, with thick eyebrows, large eyes, and an otherwise plain face, except for eyebrows that reached into his hairline and a pair of eyes that carried a certain liveliness and gentle warmth.
“This is a remote Daoist temple, previously inhabited only by the old Daoist and this apprentice. There’s no need to hide our identities here. Perfect!”
Wu Ming took a few steps toward the main hall. The old Daoist had raised him in this physical form for all these years, so it was only right to give him a proper burial and settle this karmic debt.
“Hmm?”
After taking a few steps, Wu Ming furrowed his brow: “Though this temple appears dilapidated, it hides profound secrets. The old Daoist must have had some cultivation ability, though the heavy ghostly aura and overwhelming yin energy suggest he was not of the orthodox path…”
He soon arrived at the main hall, where instead of a deity, a terrifying Asura Yaksha was enshrined on the altar. Its face was grotesque and horrifying, and its forehead bore a crack with a burnt black color.
“An Evil Deity!”
Wu Ming shook his head. He knew that some unorthodox sects liked to cultivate and control evil deities, using them to gather believers’ prayers and offerings from the common people to increase their power.
Such methods were prone to being counterattacked by the very spirits they controlled and could never lead to immortality. They were considered despicable by legitimate Daoist sects.
However, although residual divine energy remained on the altar, the Yaksha deity was already gone.
Looking closer at the old Daoist, he was sitting cross-legged, blood flowing from his seven orifices, with a faint formation visible in front of him.
“He hadn’t reached the level of a true cultivator, yet he attempted soul projection. Judging by his condition, he must have tried to perform some forbidden technique, which backfired and led to his death…”
Though he was a rogue cultivator, Wu Ming still had some connection with him. He stepped forward to collect the old Daoist’s remains.
Snap!
The moment he touched the body, it crumbled into a pile of decayed bones. The Daoist robe scattered, and from it fell a scroll and a small black pouch.
“The Maoshan Sutra?”
Wu Ming picked up the scroll. The ancient book looked quite old, with yellowed pages. It contained many cruel and ruthless techniques. The first section was a basic cultivation method, but from Wu Ming’s perspective, it had many errors. It would be difficult to cultivate beyond the level of a low-tier Daoist priest, let alone reach the stage of a true cultivator.
“This is what’s called a wandering cultivator—somehow obtaining a basic cultivation method and collecting some vicious techniques. But without true Daoist teachings, one can never attain immortality, and focusing solely on the power of techniques leads only to the lower paths…”
Though Daoism was vast, some secrets occasionally leaked out into the world. Some clever and gifted individuals might obtain them and begin their cultivation journey.
But without authentic teachings, immortality remained out of reach. Obsessing over the power of techniques only led to the inferior path.
Such unorthodox sects might, with great fortune and opportunity, complete their Daoist methods and gain significant blessings, eventually becoming a recognized Daoist lineage. However, most ended up with only a few followers, eventually fading into oblivion.
“Hmm? The Yaksha Soul Transfer Technique?!”
Suddenly, Wu Ming flipped to a page in the Maoshan Sutra and, upon reading the description, felt a jolt of realization.
Instantly, a flood of memories from this body surfaced.
Most of them depicted the ancient Daoist practice of gathering impure energies and refining souls from slaughtered beasts—truly horrifying scenes.
However, the original consciousness of this body had been dull and ignorant, unable to distinguish good from evil or beauty from ugliness. Despite witnessing these horrors, he had remained indifferent and unaware, living in a daze. Ironically, this ignorance had become a blessing, for anyone else witnessing such things might have been frightened to death.
“This Daoist must have been a rogue practitioner. He treated this foolish boy kindly, but only for this purpose!”
Wu Ming gazed at the “Yaksha Soul Transfer Technique” and smiled.
This technique, recorded in the Maoshan Sutra, was one of the most sinister and ruthless methods, ranked first among many evil techniques. It was specifically designed for soul transference by cultivators below the Yuan Shen stage.
The process involved first finding a suitable new body, then cultivating and strengthening a Yaksha spirit. Once matured, the practitioner’s Yin Shen would leave its original body, destroy the Yaksha spirit’s consciousness, and merge with it. This temporary fusion would grant the Yin Shen abilities close to that of a Yuan Shen, allowing the practitioner to seize the new body and prolong their life.
“However, this method has a very low success rate. Even if successful, the fusion of Yin Shen and Yaksha spirit often leads to a gradual loss of one’s sanity… Moreover, such an act defies the natural order and invites calamity…”
Wu Ming shook his head. If even the top technique in the Maoshan Sutra was like this, the others couldn’t be much better. However, this revelation explained everything:
“The old Daoist was nearing the end of his life. Seeing this foolish boy’s weak and muddled mind, he decided to seize his body and use the Yaksha Soul Transfer Technique to extend his life! Unfortunately, this method is extremely harmful to the natural order and fraught with danger. Something must have gone wrong during the ritual, leading to the mutual destruction of the old Daoist’s Yin Shen and the Yaksha spirit…”
He was well aware that failure in such a technique would not simply result in the soul returning to the cycle of reincarnation. It would mean true annihilation—complete destruction of both soul and spirit.
“The condition of this old Daoist’s corpse suggests he must have drained all his blood, marrow, and essence to make a desperate final attempt!”
Sighing, Wu Ming fetched a broom and carefully gathered the Daoist’s robe and ashes. He then went to the back mountain of the temple to find a place to bury him.
“Though your nature was evil, you never succeeded in your plans, and you did raise this foolish boy. I must still pay you a bow of respect!”
After building a simple mound and erecting a makeshift gravestone, Wu Ming slightly bowed and then turned away, no longer dwelling on it. He returned to the temple, found some yellow essence roots, roasted them, and had a hearty meal with mountain spring water before beginning to assess his possessions.
“Hmm? I didn’t expect the old Daoist to have even prepared a Daoist ordination certificate for this fool? Oh… Probably intended for after his soul transference. ‘Zhai Xian Zi’ as the Daoist title, huh? Not bad at all!”
At night, Wu Ming lit an oil lamp and looked at the Daoist robe, ordination certificate, and some money on the table, his face lighting up.
“This saves me a lot of trouble…”
Since he had decided to blend into the crowd and hide his identity while investigating, he needed to inherit the foolish boy’s identity and his destined opportunities as a cover in this world of Zhou.
Just like assuming the identity of Oniichi Fagen in the Japanese world, hiding the ocean within a drop of water brought many advantages.
If he was to remain hidden, he couldn’t break the rules or act out of character!
For example, he was highly skilled in the Dao of Five Thunder techniques, but this foolish boy had never learned them. If he suddenly used them, even if it didn’t immediately draw attention, over time it would accumulate and make others notice the “abnormality”—whether it was the heavenly Dao of this world or the hidden mastermind behind everything.
“With this ordination certificate, I have official identification, and with the money, many things will be easier!”
Daoist ordination certificates, like Buddhist ordination papers, allowed free travel across the land and the privilege of staying at Daoist temples, offering many benefits. They were almost equivalent to being a half-scholar. Even in times of chaos, having such a certificate meant one was not just an ordinary commoner and had some advantages.
“Now that I have an identity, I also need to cover my Daoist abilities!”
Wu Ming furrowed his brows, picked up the Maoshan Scripture, and examined it: “Although it doesn’t provide the means to cultivate immortality, its techniques concentrate solely on raw power, frequently involving the refinement of souls and spirits. This places it on a lesser path, far inferior to the Five Thunder Palm techniques. Nevertheless, it will have to do for now!”
He then opened the black pouch that came with the Maoshan Sutra. A wave of filthy black energy surged out, forming a skull with two flickering green flames in its eye sockets—ghastly and eerie.
“A creature that is neither zombie nor demon, neither ghost nor anything else!”
Wu Ming instantly recognized it as a Skeleton Spirit. Among the 49 techniques recorded in the *Maoshan Sutra*, this one ranked third. It required collecting the skulls of individuals born in a Yin year, Yin month, and Yin day, totaling 36 (the number of Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches). These skulls were then refined with demonic energy and ghostly energy within the toxic fires of the earth’s core. This spirit could fly at astonishing speeds, spew black miasma capable of corrupting one’s soul, and possessed power sufficient to reach the peak of the second level. It was truly formidable.
This was a spirit the old Daoist had cultivated, and now that it was released, it naturally sought to retaliate.
But how could he fear such a thing? Normally, a single Thunder Technique would reduce it to dust, but now, a thought occurred to him. Recalling a few incantations recorded in the Maoshan Sutra, he smirked, formed a Daoist seal with his fingers, and began chanting.
“Wu wu…”
The skull flew around the room, causing the oil lamp to flicker wildly. Yet it was bound by the incantation—unable to attack Wu Ming or escape through the window.
“Haste!”
After a stick of incense burned, Wu Ming opened his eyes. A drop of blood appeared on his fingertip and quickly vanished into the black mist.
Gurgle! Gurgle!
A sound like a thirsty ghost drinking noisily echoed through the room. The black mist churned, and the skull opened and closed its jaw, seemingly satisfied. It absorbed the mist, transforming into a dark green jade talisman that fell to the ground.
“This is the core of the skeleton spirit…”
Wu Ming picked up the jade talisman. His consciousness seemed to form a slight connection with it. He pocketed it and turned to the other items in the pouch.
The pouch wasn’t large, and it didn’t contain many items.
Given the old Daoist’s level of cultivation, he was incapable of crafting a Sumeru mustard seed (a space-containing artifact). Nevertheless, he had amassed quite a collection of miscellaneous trinkets.
For example, a pair of paper horses. When attached to one’s legs, they could be used to perform the Divine Footwork Technique, enabling one to travel five hundred miles in a single day.
There were also several paper figures that could transform into celestial soldiers and generals, exuding great majesty.
“These are merely minor techniques. A basin of black dog’s blood or a few pieces of rotten peach wood could easily break them. Not to mention they are particularly vulnerable to military aura and noble presence… I should find time to refine them again!”
Nonetheless, Wu Ming estimated that the Maoshan Sutra and these scattered artifacts would be worth over a thousand merit points in the Main Temple. If an ordinary Reborn encountered them, it would be considered a significant stroke of fortune.
“What should I call this? A blessing arising from misfortune?”
Wu Ming smiled, then his expression turned serious. Misfortune may harbor blessings, and the Dao of celestial patterns and the transformation of yin and yang might be hidden within.
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