Chapter 49: Heavenly Demon Divine Art

I have no idea what the higher realm truly is, nor what the emergence of powerful beings signifies. But what I do know is that from now on, I must strengthen myself, or else it will be nearly impossible to survive in this chaotic world. Let alone saving others—I fear I may not even be able to save myself.

“Miss Murong, come with us. I’ve made up my mind—I want to expand our influence.” I spoke gravely. Murong Xue turned to me and said, “Do you think I haven’t yearned to leave this place? But I cannot. A thousand years ago, the Heavenly Emperor shackled my soul within the Hall of Highest Heaven. If I leave these woods, my soul will be scattered and destroyed.”

“Was what you told me last time really true?” I looked at Murong Xue, puzzled. A faint sorrow flickered in her eyes as she sighed. “Do you know? You truly resemble him. For a thousand years, I’ve been waiting for him.”

The one Murong Xue spoke of could only be Sun Wukong. But wasn’t he already dead? “Miss Murong, isn’t Sun Wukong long since dead?” I grew ever more confused.

Murong Xue picked up more herbs and placed them in the cauldron, her hands conjuring flame beneath it—there was no fuel, just her own power. This reminded me of a classic scene from Stephen Chow’s film—God of Cookery. Murong Xue watched the cauldron intently, saying, “He is not dead. I didn’t finish telling you last time. He is a Demon God; how could he easily perish at the hands of mere monsters? A thousand years ago, a mortal sealed him within a spatial rift.”

A Demon God, sealed? Could this be the Heavenly Martialist that Elder Xiaoxiang mentioned—my past self?

“Miss Murong, please, you must tell me the whole story this time.” I was determined to get to the bottom of it—Murong Xue always left her words half-finished, which was maddening.

Just as Murong Xue was about to speak, a sudden tremor shook the room. The medicine inside the cauldron splattered. She withdrew her hands, swiftly opened the door, and hurried outside. I followed close behind. Outside, everyone was staring blankly at the sky. I raised my eyes as well—the once blue heavens were now thick with rolling clouds, and a gigantic fireball was hurtling toward the earth at tremendous speed. The fireball was enormous, even larger than the sun as it usually appeared.

“Look! What is that?” The crowd craned their necks, watching the plummeting inferno.

“It was bound to come, sooner or later,” Murong Xue murmured, gazing at the sky in a daze. She must know a great deal—after all, she had spent centuries not only in the celestial realm, but also here in the mortal world, imprisoned in these woods for a thousand years, knowing nothing of the world outside.

What sin could warrant such a punishment—to confine a person so? Fury welled up in me, and I clenched my fists. Heavenly Emperor—one day, I’ll have you beneath my feet. A surge of ambition swept over me, so fierce that, for a moment, I truly wished to storm the heavens and give that old turtle a thorough beating.

“At most, it will strike the ground within a month,” Murong Xue said, watching the descending fireball.

A month? Incredible, that even at such speed it would take a month to reach the ground. The fireball trailed a long, blazing tail—I realized it must be vast. If that thing struck the earth, wouldn’t it explode upon impact? Could this be the human catastrophe Elder Xiaoxiang spoke of—Mars colliding with Earth? This was absurd! I was but a mere mortal; how on earth was I supposed to stop such a calamity?

“Miss Murong, where are Baihu and Xu Lin?” I suddenly realized I hadn’t seen Xu Lin since returning, nor did I know where Baihu had gone.

“Xu Lin is dead. As for that infected one you brought back, he’s vanished. Baihu went to cultivate at the Blood Pool; he’s been gone three days and should be back soon,” said Murong Xue. The infected one? That must be Shi Feng. No time to worry about him. Xu Lin is dead—Xu Qinghuan must be heartbroken. “Does Qinghuan know?” I asked.

Murong Xue turned to look at me. “Actually… never mind. You should ask her yourself.”

Again, leaving her words unfinished! I steadied myself and asked, “Has something happened to Qinghuan?”

Murong Xue didn’t answer, instead meeting my gaze with great seriousness. “You possess both demonic and martial bodies. Perhaps you, too, can cultivate at the Blood Pool. You are too weak. To build your power, you must first strengthen yourself.”

She was right. I truly was weak. The Heavenly Demon Canon was in my possession, yet I had barely cultivated it; aside from the Thirty-six Heavenly Demon Techniques, I hadn’t mastered any of its other arts. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to train, but ever since arriving in this otherworld, I’d been constantly beset by troubles, never able to find peace—utterly exhausting. Perhaps it was just as well; I should use this time to cultivate properly. With a month remaining, who knew how far I could get with the Heavenly Demon Canon? At present, I had only the first two volumes—the third remained lost. In this vast world, where was I to seek it?

Why worry so much? I hadn’t even finished the first two volumes—no point fretting over the third. I decided to visit the Blood Pool. According to Murong Xue, it lay at the southern edge of the Misty Forest. It took me a full hour to reach it; clearly, the Misty Forest was immense. Even at my fastest, I was moving at least fifty times the speed of an ordinary person.

The southern reaches of the Misty Forest held no trees, only a tangle of low mountains—none of them very tall, the highest only a few hundred meters, dwarfed by the trees of the forest, which were even taller and thus invisible from outside. Before a relatively large peak, a winding path was thick with fallen leaves and broken branches. Who would have thought there were mountains hidden within the woods? I followed the path upward. From below, the peak seemed insignificant, merely tall. But atop it, I found a vast, flat expanse—larger than two basketball courts combined, the summit neatly leveled, as if carved by human hands. But who would do such a thing, and why flatten a perfectly good mountain?

I hadn’t found the Blood Pool, but I had discovered a mountain. Still, I had no time to admire the view—the most important thing was to strengthen myself as quickly as possible. Why not use this opportunity to train atop the mountain? So I found a smooth spot, sat cross-legged, and took out the first volume of the Heavenly Demon Canon from my spatial ring, beginning to cultivate as the book instructed.

At first, the flow of true energy was always blocked by some nameless force, unable to pass through my meridians—over and over, the result was the same. What was the problem?

Of course—the white true energy within me must be interfering. I tried spreading the black energy throughout every cell of my body. Sure enough, it worked. I realized then that the Canon was a demonic cultivation method, while my white true energy was fundamentally at odds with demonic energy, so the two suppressed each other. With this understanding, cultivation became much easier. I spread the demonic energy further, guiding it through every delicate meridian in my body as the text instructed.

A surging power arose within me; my body trembled, and I opened my eyes.

It was a strange sensation. The energy just now was so strong that I had instinctively opened my eyes, but when I tried to slip back into meditation, the force was gone. I’d have to study this further when time allowed. For now, I decided to practice the combat forms. The Thirty-six Heavenly Demon Techniques were swift, but when I used them, they seemed to lack force—mere show to the eyes of others.

I reviewed the Thirty-six Techniques again, and at once, I felt both amused and exasperated. The Canon described them as peerless moves—swift as lightning, strong enough to move mountains.

It turned out they had to be used in conjunction with demonic energy to unleash their full might. Last time, I had skimmed carelessly and overlooked this crucial point—how foolish of me! Yet the demonic energy described in the Canon didn’t quite match what coursed through me. The Canon’s demonic energy was to be cultivated, but the power within me was a mysterious force that had appeared God knew when.

Could I fuse it with the Thirty-six Techniques? I summoned my demonic energy, ran it through my body, and began to practice: the first move, “Autumn Leaves in the Wind”; the second, “Wrath of the Thunder God.” The second move was my favorite—“Wrath of the Thunder God” resembled Qin Tian’s “Earthshaking Strike,” elegant and devastating, with a wide area of effect. Once I finished all thirty-six moves, I gathered my true energy in my dantian and took a deep breath. I hadn’t expected the Techniques, fused with demonic energy, to be so fierce.

Looking at the shattered stones and uneven ground atop the mountain, I could hardly contain my excitement. There was one last move at the end of the Techniques—“Descent of the Celestial God”—but it was marked with a red X. Was it a useless move? In fact, it was the easiest to practice, requiring only brute force, no demonic energy at all. I gave it a try, punching toward the edge of the summit and shattering a huge rock.

The move felt familiar—then I remembered: wasn’t this the same technique I’d used in the desert to kill those lizard monsters? Before I could ponder further, a sudden, splitting pain wracked my head, so intense I could hardly bear it. Clutching my skull, I collapsed to the ground and rolled in agony, feeling as if my eyes would burst from their sockets. That searing, soul-rending pain—only those who have experienced it could ever understand.