Chapter Eighty-Four: The Void Devours Spirits

The strange being, at once resembling both an old man and a child, spoke impatiently, “Boy, why do you chatter so much? I see the big pot steaming—surely you’ve cooked rice, yes? Bring a bowl for Lord Ginseng, and I’ll overlook your meddling with my household affairs!”

“Oh!” Zhou Qian scratched his head and lifted the wooden lid. A fragrant aroma wafted out, and he parted the lotus leaves to reveal rice grains the size of pearls, each plump and glistening, their scent overwhelming. Embedded among them were dates, osmanthus, lotus seeds, and longan, all shining temptingly—truly a feast fit for royalty.

“I wanted to make lotus-leaf rice, but lacking meat, and the ingredients for eight-treasure rice were insufficient, so I combined the two methods. Who knows how it tastes?” Zhou Qian lamented, pained that such precious ingredients could not be fully showcased.

He turned to see the three dishes already gone, only pristine plates left swaying on the table. The strange being wiped his mouth, savoring the lingering taste, and sighed, “Such delicious fare…”

Suddenly he spun around, glaring and roaring, “Boy, why haven’t you brought the rice yet? Are you trying to starve Lord Ginseng?”

Zhou Qian hurriedly served up a bowl of rice. The strange being, without using chopsticks, inhaled from the bowl, and the rice grains, dates, osmanthus, and other morsels flew into his mouth. His cheeks bulged as he chewed, swallowed, and finished in one gulp.

“How is it that the mortal world has such delicacies? Back in Qin, I never ate anything like this. Wasn’t food simply boiled in water?” The strange being shook his head, seemingly regretful. Seeing Zhou Qian standing dumbfounded across from him, he grew angry again and scolded, “How blind you mortals are! Can’t you see Lord Ginseng is still hungry?”

“But you’ve eaten so much already,” Zhou Qian muttered, “I haven’t had any yet…”

“A mere mortal dares to talk back to Lord Ginseng?” The strange being sneered coldly. “Do you think I can’t do without you? Bring the rice!”

The eight-treasure rice wrapped in lotus leaves flew from the air to the table. The strange being, without moving his limbs, opened his mouth and the rice streamed in, bundle after bundle, until only a few spoonfuls remained.

Zhou Qian panicked. Not even sword immortals, let alone gods, should prevent him from eating. He reached for the lotus leaf, but it slipped to the right. He grabbed right—now it moved left. Looking up, the strange being sneered, mouth agape, about to devour everything, gourd and all.

Angered, Zhou Qian launched his ultimate attack, spitting fiercely.

“Mortal, how shameless you are!” The strange being bristled and glared.

“Mmm, mmm—” Zhou Qian frantically stuffed rice into his mouth, and, hearing the accusation, tried to retort, though his words were garbled.

But the strange being seemed to understand him, slapped the table, and shouted, “True, you cooked the food, but the pot and utensils belong to me, and the fruits and vegetables outside were watered with my own excrement and urine!”

“Mmm, mmm—”

“Though this is indeed the lair of the extreme-yin little ghosts, I’ve claimed this land long ago. What can they do to me?” The strange being was smug.

“So you aren’t the Extreme-Yin Elder?” Zhou Qian swallowed the last grain and asked in surprise.

“A mere mortal dares to probe Lord Ginseng’s secrets?!” The strange being glanced at Zhou Qian with disdain. “That little Extreme-Yin fellow cannot compare to Lord Ginseng’s mastery of fate and profound cultivation!”

“Then what is your identity, elder?” Zhou Qian asked, now respectfully.

“My Dao name is Lord Longevity. I belong to no sect, a wandering immortal between heaven and earth.” Lord Longevity stroked his beard, quite self-satisfied.

Zhou Qian grew even more reverent. “So why are you in the Extreme-Yin Elder’s lair?”

“Isn’t it because that Extreme-Yin brat tried to refine me, but couldn’t manage it, so he…” Lord Longevity sighed deeply, then suddenly erupted in anger. Without any visible motion, Zhou Qian’s vision blurred as he was seized by the collar and shaken vigorously. “You’re probing Lord Ginseng’s secrets again! Probing again…”

‘You were the one who started telling!’ Zhou Qian’s eyes rolled from the shaking, powerless to resist.

Perhaps satisfied, Lord Longevity released him with a long sigh and, after a moment’s silence, said suddenly, “Actually, that Extreme-Yin fellow isn’t bad. Haven’t seen him in over a thousand years—rather miss him. I wonder if he’s survived his second heavenly tribulation?”

He glanced at Zhou Qian, who kept his mouth tightly shut, prompting another angry outburst. “How dare you ignore Lord Ginseng when he’s speaking to you, mortal!”

“I’m afraid you’ll accuse me of probing your secrets!” Zhou Qian replied, still keeping his mouth shut, clearly intimidated.

Lord Longevity huffed, “Fine, Lord Ginseng allows you to speak.” Suddenly curious, he asked, “Mortal, how did you end up in Extreme-Yin’s lair? Did his sect resume soul extraction and spirit refining?”

Zhou Qian broke out in cold sweat and hurriedly explained his treasure hunt in the Emperor’s Mausoleum, summarizing the events up to meeting Lord Longevity. “...So I came from the main hall to here, and everything after that you know.”

“You mortals are bold, daring to sneak into an immortal’s residence. Who’d have thought the Qi River would run dry—back in the day, that carp demon flourished with its waters.” Lord Longevity stroked his chin. “So Extreme-Yin passed his second tribulation? No wonder he’s been missing all these years, busy severing the three corpses. But after severing them, his cultivation drops—he must keep it from those demon brats, or he’ll be doomed!”

“Then, elder, how do I escape this formation?” Zhou Qian, now familiar with Lord Longevity, asked.

“No rush, no rush. Lord Ginseng has lingered here a thousand years—what’s the hurry? These next few days, show Lord Ginseng all your culinary skills, let me feast to my heart’s content, then we’ll talk!”

“But my brothers and teachers are trapped, and the enemy is cunning—I must help them! Please, elder! Once this is over, I’ll cook for you every day!”

“That’s a fine idea,” Lord Longevity’s eyes gleamed, but he smacked his lips. “Still, it’s useless. The area is sealed by Extreme-Yin’s Geng-Ding Five-Yin Void Womb Barrier. Even with my abilities, I can only send you out every seventh day at the third quarter of the hour of the Pig. By my calculations, two days remain—you can’t leave until then!”

“Hmm?” Lord Longevity suddenly paused, surprised. “Someone’s arrived!”

He pointed with both hands, unleashing a stream of vital energy. A verdant light, faster than an arrow, pierced through the swirling fog. With a gesture, the green light returned and circled before them, revealing a scene as clear as day: black mist everywhere, a dozen figures weaving and clashing, one of them wielding sword-light in a fierce, fiery battle.

Lord Longevity seemed displeased, shaking his head and muttering incantations. With a flourish, the scene sharpened.

Zhou Qian gasped, blurting out, “Master!”

“Master?” Lord Longevity asked, puzzled. “The one who taught you swordplay?”

Zhou Qian ignored him, eyes fixed on the vision. Lord Longevity, feeling snubbed, pursed his lips and suddenly called out, “Looks like your mortal master is in danger!”

Zhou Qian turned, anxious. “Why?”

Lord Longevity, now smug, explained, “Look at those fanged, green-faced, fur-covered, horned beings—they’re ghost servants. Lacking other abilities, but strong and tough, immune to ordinary flying swords. The South Polar Sect delights in making them. That ghost servant’s eight-foot spear is forged from ghostly energy, most poisonous—touch it as a mortal and you’re dead. Lord Ginseng pays them no mind, but for mortals, they’re more than enough.”

Yet the situation was the opposite. Zhou Xun’s Broken Gall Sword darted about, his form elusive, beyond the eye’s ability to track. His swordplay was extraordinary, wild as a demon, as if the sword drove the man, not vice versa. Many ghost servants bore sword wounds, pitted and scarred, growling low.

“Hmph! Even if he gains the upper hand for now, ghost servants possess boundless stamina while a mortal body can’t last long. One hit is fatal.” Lord Longevity’s aged face faltered.

The battle grew fiercer. Zhou Xun, for some reason, appeared entirely blood-red, his veins and sinews bulging like a fiend. With a low roar, hot white steam burst from his mouth—a thick line dispersing only after reaching a yard away.

Zhou Qian inhaled sharply, understanding the immense visceral power required. After forming the internal pill, Zhou Qian thought he might not be far behind his master, but now, he realized he’d lose within fifty moves, and die within eighty.

A tendon snapped—‘twang!’—like a bowstring by the ear, its sound shattering eardrums. Zhou Xun twisted, his body visibly swelling, thick black tendons coiling around, and the Broken Gall Sword in his hand seemed a mere dagger.

He seized a ghost servant’s neck with an iron palm, five fingers like fat carrots piercing flesh with a crunch. Sword in right hand, he twisted his body, sending a white streak through the air, followed by the explosive clash of two gunpowder shells—‘boom!’—earth-shattering. The Broken Gall Sword plunged into the ghost servant’s mouth, hilt-deep, and as he withdrew it, a grating screech rose; deep gouges marred the blade.

“Broken Sword Technique!” Zhou Qian murmured. When he used this move, he needed to combine waist and horse strength, while Master Zhou Xun required only a single arm. Yet the power was twice what Zhou Qian could muster.

The sword-light multiplied, a thousandfold, flooding in with speed and urgency. The air crackled with shockwaves. In the martial world, Zhou Xun was famed as the fastest swordsman, earning the title Sword Immortal of a Hundred Arms; Zhou Qian, despite his own reputation, was only called Young Sword Immortal. The difference was clear.

The sword-light was not only fast, but endlessly varied, the Hundred Arms Sword Technique like a hundred men wielding a hundred different moves, limbs and bodies flying.

“Impossible! How can a mortal body possess such strength?” Lord Longevity was incredulous. “There’s definitely something strange!”

A ghost servant landed at Zhou Xun’s feet. Zhou Xun sank his waist, his stance firm, then leaped five or six yards, his right leg as thick as an elephant’s trunk driving downward. The ghost servant’s head split into four, and at the same time, a hole three feet deep and a yard wide opened beneath. Ripples seemed to emanate from Zhou Xun’s body—Zhou Qian knew this was the surge of yang energy after forming the internal pill.

After some time, Zhou Qian resumed his hunched, elderly form, coughed a few times, and continued deeper into the black mist.

“So this mortal’s goal is the Void Ghost-Devouring Manual. What audacity!” Lord Longevity muttered.

‘Impossible,’ Zhou Qian frowned, increasingly uneasy. He’d witnessed Zhou Xun’s battle with the Yin-Yang Elders three or four years ago, and with his own eyes could see the changes in his master. In just four years, the difference couldn’t possibly be so vast…

‘Master, you mustn’t come to harm. If you do, then immortality is not worth pursuing…’