Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

Chapter 257 The Blissful Venerable

The papermaker suddenly froze.

The paper figure slipped from my hand and spontaneously combusted before it even hit the ground, turning into ashes in the blink of an eye.

He glanced down at his chest, where a dark shadow blade had appeared out of nowhere, piercing straight from his back to his chest.

No blood flowed from the wound.

A faint gray-black mist lingered around the edge of the Shadow Blade.

It was this malevolent energy that caused the skin and flesh around the wound to turn black rapidly, and even the blood was corroded away.

"This is..

'

The paper craftsman's mouth gaped open, wanting to turn around and see who had done it, but the shadow blade suddenly spun inside his chest, shredding his last glimmer of hope.

His eyes remained open until his death, with resentment still lingering deep within his pupils.

"Old Zhang!"

The old woman screamed and smashed the white paper lantern in her hand to the ground.

The green light exploded, and the faces on the lampshade simultaneously emitted shrieks, the sound waves spreading in ripples in all directions.

This is her trump card: the Soul-Locking Curse.

The resentment that had accumulated within the lantern for over a decade was detonated all at once, enough to shake the souls of all living beings within a radius of ten feet.

As the sound waves spread, she turned and ran.

The obese body suddenly burst with astonishing speed, plunging headfirst into the waist-high grass.

But she only ran three steps.

From the shadows of the thatched bushes, two more shadow blades emerged silently. One severed her legs, while the other pierced her throat from the back of her neck.

There was no blood splattering.

The malevolent energy sealed the blood vessels the instant it severed the flesh, leaving only a layer of charred black at the cut, like burnt charcoal.

Her body lurched forward, her obese frame twitching a few times in the grass before coming to a stop.

The torn white paper lantern was still lit on the ground, its green light flickering, and the faces on the lampshade began to crumble one after another.

The young corpse-driver, clutching the black rice, looked horrified and staggered back several steps.

From the moment the paper craftsman fell to the moment the mourner was killed, only two breaths passed.

Those elusive shadows moved too fast.

It happened so fast that he didn't even have time to scatter the black rice to help.

"Don't kill me..."

'

The corpse driver's pupils contracted sharply. He threw the black rice he was holding behind him and simultaneously tapped the ground with his toes, launching himself in the opposite direction.

The black rice burst open in the air, turning into countless black specks of light.

After landing on the ground, it quickly took root and sprouted, growing into jet-black vines that intertwined to form a large net on the ground.

Black rice can block the road, not only freezing the shadows of living people, but also creating a short-term restriction.

This was his escape method, capable of holding off most pursuers for at least three breaths.

Three breaths were enough for him to run out of the hills and into the pile of rocks over there.

He spun halfway through the air, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the outline of the pile of rocks.

Then, he was stunned.

A shadow blade also protruded from his own chest.

The shadow blade pierced his back, precisely passing through the gap between his ribs, and exiting from the center of his chest.

The blade was also covered with a dark gray aura, and it made a faint hissing sound the moment it touched the blood.

The young man looked down at the tip of the blade, his face ashen.

"How is that possible..."

"1

As the shadow blade was pulled from his chest, several other shadow blades slashed into his body from different angles.

Five jet-black blades emerged from the shadows, cleanly and swiftly completing the kill.

The thin body didn't even have time to fall to the ground before it was split into several pieces in mid-air.

Three corpses lay scattered among the thatched grass of the hills, the surrounding red moon casting a shadow that made it seem like a living hell.

Eight shadow puppets emerged from the shadows.

Their forms are more solid than before, no longer just blurry humanoid shadows, but their outlines and joints can be vaguely seen.

The most obvious change is the layer of gray-black malevolent energy that surrounds them.

After reaching the Condensing Fiend Realm, Chen Mo's magical power was gradually merging with the Black Dragon Xuanming Fiend.

The Shadow Puppet naturally inherited this change as well.

These malevolent energies adhered to the Shadow Blade, making the blade even sharper and adding a corrosive effect.

Ordinary cultivators who are injured by this kind of shadow blade will find their wounds extremely difficult to heal.

Qi and blood can also be polluted by evil energy, which can damage the meridians in mild cases and cause a decline in cultivation in severe cases.

The hills fell silent again.

The cold red moon shone down, and the three corpses were scattered in different places, only a few feet apart.

The paper maker lay face up with a large hole in his chest, but there was no blood around him.

The mourning woman lay prone in the thatch, her legs disappearing below the knees, and the wound on the back of her neck was charred and shiny.

The young corpse-driver suffered the worst fate; his head rolled to the side of the pile of rubble, his headless torso lay two feet away, and his two lower legs lay even further away.

The night wind blew across the hills, rustling the thatch.

Not far away, the Ghost Banner Taoist was still kneeling on the spot, not even daring to breathe loudly, for fear that the sound of his breathing would disturb the things that emerged from the shadows.

He watched the corpses on the ground wither away bit by bit in the malevolent aura, but there was no joy on his face.

"I wonder which senior sir came to my rescue? Could you please show yourself so that I can personally express my gratitude?"

Ghost Banner Taoist knelt on the ground, his voice respectful, even tinged with gratitude.

His right hand was tucked into his sleeve, three fingers gripping the last Soul-Destroying Nail tightly.

He is waiting.

Wait for the person hiding in the shadows controlling the shadow puppet to show up.

Being able to control eight of these puppets simultaneously, and each one so solidified, is definitely not something an ordinary rogue cultivator can do.

However, those who follow unorthodox paths share a common flaw: the more powerful and experienced an old monster is, the more they like to put on airs in front of their juniors.

If you adopt a humble attitude, the other party will most likely come forward and accept your bow.

By then...

Ghost Banner Taoist's Adam's apple bobbed slightly, and a flash of madness crossed his eyes.

The only sound on the hills was the wind.

The eight shadow puppets had moved their positions at some point and surrounded him from eight directions, trapping him firmly in the center.

"senior?"

Ghost Banner Taoist called out again, his voice now tinged with fear.

Fortunately, the shadow puppets stopped about ten feet away from him, and a voice came from one of the shadow puppets.

"Where has Master Baidu gone?"

The sound was transmitted through magical vibrations, and it was impossible to distinguish between men, women, young, or old.

Upon hearing this, Guiban Daoren shuddered, and large beads of sweat dripped down his nose from his forehead.

What does this person want with the Hundred Poisons Old Ghost?

Revenge?

Or is it for wealth?

Bai Du has been involved in unorthodox practices for decades, and has countless enemies.

Or perhaps it came from a storage bag...

His thoughts raced, and sweat poured down his face. For a moment, he forgot to answer.

"Where did Master Baidu go?"

The voice rang out again, this time with a hint of impatience.

"He's dead!"

Ghost Banner Taoist gritted his teeth, almost shouting it out.

"Master Baidu is dead, he died in his ruins!"

"I heard his screams, but by the time I got there, he was already a corpse!"

His voice was trembling, and his whole body was trembling.

After shouting, Ghost Banner Taoist took another deep breath, lowered his head, and tried to gauge the other party's emotions by observing the intensity of the baleful aura surging around Shadow Puppet's feet.

The silence lasted for three breaths.

But for him, it felt like three years had passed.

"Is he/she dead?"

A relieved voice emanated from the Shadow Puppet, and all the Shadow Blades slowly rose, aiming in the same direction.

Ghost Banner Taoist's pupils suddenly shrank to pinpoints.

"No!"

He roared, reached into his robes with his left hand, pulled out a palm-sized black cloth bag, and held it high above his head.

"Senior! I have a storage bag! Master Bai Du's storage bag!"

"It contains his savings of decades, magical artifacts, cultivation techniques, and everything else. Senior, whatever you want is inside."

'

"I want nothing! I'm willing to offer myself to you, senior! I only beg you to spare my worthless life!"

The shadow blade hovered in mid-air, less than a foot away from Ghost Banner Taoist's brow.

The malevolent aura wafted over, stinging his skin and causing his eyes to water.

The storage bag swayed slightly in his hand, the red knot tied at the opening standing out conspicuously under the red moon.

"senior!"

Ghost Banner Taoist gritted his teeth, his face contorted in agony, "This junior is willing to offer my very soul to serve you as a slave, senior!"

"If my senior tells me to go east, I dare not go west; if my senior tells me to kill, I will never set fire!"

"I only beg you, senior, to spare my life..."

His voice eventually became a breathy sound, as if he had used up all his strength.

The eight shadow puppets remained motionless, their shadow blades still suspended, hovering just inches away from his vital points.

"Storage bag? Living soul?"

"interesting..

'

On the other side, the night wind, carrying the stench of blood, swept through the jungle.

A ragged young man stumbled and rolled out of the bushes.

He was covered in wounds, and the sleeve of his left arm was soaked in blood, hanging limply at his side, as if the bone was broken.

He clutched a broken sword in his right hand; the blade was full of nicks and chips, and even the tip was missing.

His name is Shen Que.

A rogue cultivator, without any sect or school, barely managed to make a living in the unorthodox cultivation circle by relying on a fragmented cultivation manual he found.

He was very lucky today; not only did he sneak into the ruins, but he also became the only survivor in the side hall.

Unfortunately, his good luck seemed to have run out after the discovery of the ruins.

He was targeted by a group of highway robbers and chased for two whole hours.

"Senior, which way should we run next?"

Shen Que spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva and patted the small cloth bag wrapped around his waist.

It contained the things he had risked his life to bring out from the side hall.

After a moment of silence, a soft female voice echoed in his mind.

"Alright, just relax and don't resist."

"OK.

""

Shen Que gritted his teeth and instinctively obeyed the voice.

If it weren't for the senior who called himself the Venerable of Bliss guiding him along the way, he would have died long ago in the enemy's encirclement.

I can't run anymore. My right leg has completely lost feeling, and I'm hopping forward with my left leg.

I heard hurried footsteps and vulgar curses behind me.

"That kid ran that way..."

"Chase him! I'm going to skin him alive today!"

"He's been poisoned by the seventh brother; he can't get far!"

The firelight flickered, and seven or eight figures, wielding swords and knives, surrounded him.

The leader was a one-eyed middle-aged man with a horizontal scar across his face, stretching from his left eyebrow to the corner of his right mouth. "Shen Que, why don't you run? Why aren't you running anymore?"

He was carrying a bloodstained demon-head knife, with bits of flesh still clinging to the blade, clearly indicating that his pursuit was not a bluff.

"Boss, this kid has a cloth bag around his waist!"

A skinny man next to him, with sharp eyes, pointed at Shen Que's waist, his voice filled with barely suppressed greed.

The one-eyed man squinted and also saw the small cloth bag, no bigger than the palm of his hand.

"Shen Que, we don't have much of a grudge. Hand over what you brought out of the ruins, and I'll spare your life, how about it?"

Before the words were even finished, the seven or eight people surrounding them simultaneously took a step forward.

Shen Que remained silent, leaning against a waist-high rock behind him, his chest heaving violently.

"...Senior, please help me!"

"These few people are barely enough."

The soft female voice echoed in his mind again.

Is that enough?

Before Shen Que could react to the meaning of those three words, an unfamiliar power surged from the depths of his dantian.

I was about to speak when I realized I couldn't control my lips.

"6

.wrong.

The one-eyed middle-aged man was the first to notice something was wrong.

He has traveled all over the country for more than ten years and has seen a lot of weird things.

But I've never seen a person's aura undergo such a dramatic change in the blink of an eye.

"Something's wrong with this kid..." the one-eyed man roared, slashing his ghost-headed dagger at Shen Que's neck.

It's too late.

The young man leaning against the rock suddenly opened his eyes.

A faint red glow appeared in his black pupils.

The most bizarre thing was the expression in those eyes.

Her originally delicate features had softened, even carrying a hint of languid allure.

The eight burly robbers were all stunned for a moment.

The Blissful Venerable, who possessed Shen Que's body, raised his right hand and gently traced a line in front of him with his delicate, fair fingers.

A pink arc of light flew from her fingertips, moving so fast that it was impossible for the naked eye to see it.

Before the one-eyed middle-aged man's ghost-head blade could fall, a pink arc of light had already sliced ​​across his neck.

"

'

He was about to speak when his head tilted to the side and rolled off his shoulder.

At the incision site, the cross-section of the severed spine can be clearly seen, and the bone marrow is still pulsating slightly.

The remaining men froze, then knelt down with a thud. Only the skinny man, seeing the situation was dire, darted into the bushes and ran away as fast as he could.

"Spare me, senior, spare me..."

'

"We'll never do it again..."

'

We'll never do it again...

""

"Hehe, it's late."

The Venerable One of Bliss raised his other hand, and both hands moved in the air at the same time.

Ten slender, white fingers fluttered like butterflies, tracing graceful arcs under the red moonlight.

Those arcs coalesced in the air, transforming into pink threads of light that spread out from the tips of the ten fingers, like a spider spinning its web.

In less than a breath, those light threads wove into a large net in mid-air, enveloping everyone within a radius of several feet.

The moment their bodies touched the light threads, the pink halo clung firmly to their skin like leeches.

Starting from the point of contact with the light filament, the skin and flesh shrank at a clearly visibly rapid rate.

The flesh and blood dissolved at an alarming rate.

In less than two breaths, several living people were turned into dried corpses by those pink light threads.

As the wind blew, the dried corpse turned into a handful of grayish-white powder and dissipated in the moonlight.

A satisfied expression appeared on Shen Que's face.

"Not bad, it's quite vibrant."

He licked his lips and turned his gaze in the direction the skinny man had run off in.