“The ancients didn’t deceive me. The only difference between righteous and heretical sects is the level of shamelessness. Who could imagine that a disciple of the honorable Dong clan would study a Soul Refining technique?” Unaware of the disaster approaching him with great strides, Xinzi joined his hands in a prayer sign and digested Dong Hui’s soul. As the number one faction of the Dongli state and a top righteous power of the Yanzhou province, the White Immortal sect’s library didn’t contain a single unorthodox skill. However, the Dong clan, its mainstay and number one lineage, hid an abundance of secret skills that most sect disciples could never lay their eyes on. And even those who did had to swear Dao oaths and suffer soul restrictions to avoid leaking those secrets.
At first, Xinzi couldn’t notice Dong Hui’s proficiency in soul skills. But by resisting the Lianist chants long enough to destroy his own eardrums, Dong Hui revealed unusual soul force that warned the lotus monk of potential foul play. That said, even without that warning, Xinzi’s soul wasn’t something the likes of Dong Hui could afford to possess. Sweeping the scene with a sideways spin, the lotus monk ranked his troubles.
First, the least guilty of the White Immortal sect disciples would soon recover from their penitence and become breathing nuisances. Xinzi had nothing to gain and everything to lose from letting them walk out of the scene alive. From the moment that he became a part of it, he couldn’t allow them to spill Dong Ling’s secret. Too many would be eager to frame him of consorting with mysterious beasts—a capital crime in the Eastern Continent. And though he had the means to drain their memories, the skill carried certain implications that he would rather not deal with.
Second, as non-sentient creatures, the Arctic Bearworms weren’t affected by Penitence and kept battering Xinzi’s Jeweled Dome Array. For the monk, killing them only required a move, but each of the ice beasts’ death empowered the lichen, which fed on the energies they released. This brings us to the third problem: the Ice-Glazed Lichen.
Bearworms aside, the Lichen would keep drawing more ice beasts and feast off their destruction. The beasts’ tidal movement would in turn draw more disciples to the scene while the Ice Qi surrounding the lichen would freeze any hand rash enough to graze it. Granted, Xinzi had all the tools needed to harvest it, he would still first have to set up a suppression formation to reduce the Ice Qi’s potency and a concealment formation to block its spiritual vibrations. Would the people on the scene watch him execute all this in silence? Unlikely. Therefore…
“Burly boy!”
“Ahtah!!!” Before Xinzi could process the words, his reflexes took over, making him throw a palm strike at the voice’s owner.
“Ugh…muh nose!” The blow struck hard, sending Dong Ling—who’d just snapped out of her penitence—crashing merely an inch away from the spinning dome of jewels. Silence ensued, with Xinzi glancing between his palm and the purple-haired snakegirl whose tail writhed to no end. “Sniff, sniff, Xinzi…you…big bald bully!” Dong Ling sobbed, still unaware of the nose bleeding provoked by Xinzi’s palm.
“Ah! A’Ling!” Alarmed by his rash move, Xinzi rushed towards Dong Ling.
“We…are not that close!” In the Eastern Continent, close friends or lovers used the “A” prefix to show affection, whereas elders and senior clansmen used the “Er” suffix. However, once a man or woman got engaged, only their future spouse could address them with the “A.” Believing that she was destined to marry Xia Hu, Dong Ling only allowed him to use that endearment. He dared not, letting Xinzi abuse it instead.
“Fine, then I guess I should take my Jeweled Dome to a more welcoming place.”
“A’Ling, Ling’er, Little Ling, Idiot Ling, Starry-Eyed punk, as long as you get me out of here, I can even let you call me grandchild!” Dong Ling turned off her shame supply and hugged Xinzi’s arm—unwittingly pressing it against her squishy melons.
“The Golden Lotus be praised. As an Enlightened Monk, I would never use such coarse words,” Xinzi said and helped up the snakegirl. The words rang so false in Dong Ling’s ears that she looked Xinzi up and down, wondering how he could spew so many lies with a straight face. Ignoring the silent scolding, the monk lowered his eyes at Dong Ling’s colorful tail, which sparkled like an array of amethyst gems. As Xinzi’s eyes dragged on her reptilian lower half, a blend of shame and rage took over Dong Ling’s mind.
“You…”
“For how long are you planning to keep this up? Not that I mind, but should a peak-stage Foundation Building expert from the Burning Hell stumble on that, we’re both going to die.” While Xinzi’s eyes and index pointed at Dong Ling’s curvaceous tail, his words reminded her of the delicate situation she’d grown oblivious to.
Whereas ordinary outer disciples scraped all corners of the Frigid Grave for scarce opportunities, most inner disciples made their bread and butter on the outskirts of the Burning Hell, whose entrance only stood a few steps away from the duo’s current location. With the Ice-Fire border that close, just like Dong Ling and her crew, other groups could return at any time. Should true experts stand in their ranks, Dong Ling’s beastly appearance would drive both Xinzi and her to ruin.
Without delay, Dong Ling summoned a green pill from her storage ring and swallowed it in one gulp. Rays of Spiritual Qi coiled up her form, forcing her reptilian tail to shift back to a pair of alluring human legs.
“How did you know that Dong Hui wanted my Monster Core?” More intrigued by this knowledge than Xinzi’s open-mindedness, Dong Ling’s eyes narrowed at the monk, who still pictured all the ways he could put that colorful tail to use.
“Mhm? Isn’t that obvious? To say nothing of him, if I had a Holy Beast King descendant standing next to me 24/7, maybe I’d snatch her core too.” If at first, she listened with rapt attention, once the “snatch” left Xinzi’s lips, Dong Ling flinched and stepped back—hugging her chest as if sheltering precious stones.
Ignoring the theatrical bout of fear, Xinzi pressed on. “Your Spiritual Sense is pretty good. If anyone asked you to become a Formation Master, what would your answer be?”
“No.” Dong Ling replied with no hesitation.
“Why?”
“The average formation talent needs five years to master the Runic Alphabet, three for Disk Arrangements and Node Permutations, and two for all the materials and properties such as Qi Refraction and Conductivity. Only after laying down this foundation can you start learning the most basic first-layer Formations. And it will still take you a year to grasp a single one. Eleven years of my life, just to become the lowest of Formation Masters, I’d be insane to do it.” As the only child of two Nascent Soul experts, Dong Ling had access to training and resources far beyond most aristocratic disciples’ reach. Yet, without superior talents in the formation arts, even she would have to waste decades on the craft for no substantial gain.
“Precisely. We Formation Masters might boast the highest battle power of all specializations, but the curriculum is so demanding that our cultivation speed suffers disproportionately. Take Dong Hui for example, if he didn’t focus on formations, with his Dual-Element root and clan resources, by now he’d at least be at the peak of Foundation Building. With that cultivation, even if he stood motionless and asked me to behead him, I’d fail to.
When a cultivator’s growth stagnates despite excellent talent, his heart can fall prey to inner demons that in turn lure him towards shortcuts. Humans may not be able to directly refine Monster Cores’ energies, but any Demonic Formation Master can achieve that by turning the victim into a Ritual Sacrifice.
Meanwhile, your cousin’s disk arrangements followed the Archaic Principle, an outlawed and demonic practice that promotes formation speed and power in exchange for stability. Need I say more?” As the words rolled off Xinzi’s tongue, the White Immortal sect disciples awoke from their forced penitence. Wrecked by the spiritual damages their souls sustained, they held their faces and winced in pain.
Including Dong Ling’s maid, seven inner disciples remained, followed by the 15 outers dragged into the crossfire. Xinzi’s Spiritual Sense locked on the 22, but as he considered how to deal with them, Dong Ling’s maid unsheathed her sword, and her confused eyes contracted into a chilling glare. Six white energy swords burst from the maid’s blade, piercing through the unsuspecting inners’ backs to skewer their hearts!
Barely had the inners’ blood spilled that a sword shadow emerged from behind the outer disciples—beheading them all in one stroke.