Chapter Seven: Contrasts

As Yi Xuan expounded upon his own methods, more and more members of the demon race gathered around him. In this world, whether shaman, demon, or devil, to attain profound realms seldom relied on cultivation techniques. Rather, it depended on one's innate powers and talents—over the passing of years, their cultivation would naturally deepen.

Now, as countless demons listened to Yi Xuan's teachings and combined them with their own bloodlines, several great demons made breakthroughs, advancing even further along their paths. Ten days later, several hundred great demons had come to this place to hear Yi Xuan's discourse. Among them were deadly enemies and bitter foes, yet at this moment, all had shrunk their forms, quietly sitting around Yi Xuan.

Thirty days passed, and even demon kings arrived to listen. Yi Xuan was intimately familiar with the supernatural powers of every demon clan, answering the doubts of myriad demons with a single voice. After sixty days, thirteen demon kings attended in person; the Dragon Emperor was among them, engaging Yi Xuan in discussions of the Dao. Yet the disciple Yi Xuan awaited still had not come.

Not until ninety days had passed did a human man appear, leading a child, both coming to hear Yi Xuan's teachings. The man had long black hair cascading over his shoulders, his bearing fierce and majestic, his cultivation so deep that ordinary great demons dared not meet his gaze. The child, with black hair and eyes in which golden light faintly flickered, though shallow in cultivation, regarded the great demons as if they were nothing.

For the first time, a smile appeared on Yi Xuan’s face—his long-cherished wish fulfilled—and he continued his teachings. He held nothing back, answering every question from all demon clans with sincerity. Yet, Yi Xuan’s methods were best suited to humans; the other demons found it difficult to cultivate the core of his art.

Even so, having benefited from Yi Xuan's teachings, some among the myriad demons, moved by gratitude or righteousness, would surely protect the human race. Thus, Yi Xuan's great wish to safeguard a branch of humanity was fulfilled in another way.

Ten days later, Yi Xuan’s vital energy was almost depleted, his spirit dissipating. He had overdrawn his life force many times in his life, and now, even if all the demon kings combined their strength, they could not save him.

In a trance, he dreamed of the past, seeing his wife, children, and old friends. He saw the mining tunnel where he was born, his father anxiously searching for him. At last, Yi Xuan’s flesh and blood dissolved, turning to ashes and vanishing into the air.

After his passing, all the great demons paid him the respects of disciples, bowing deeply. None among them saw a single drop of blood, shimmering with golden light, slip into the human child's hand and instantly fuse with his flesh.

...

After Yi Xuan’s body dissipated, Ji Xun’s consciousness did not depart but instead appeared within the pages of the leather-bound "Yi Xuan’s Demon King Method." The characters upon its surface seemed to come alive, shifting and transforming of their own accord. It was as if, in that moment between life and death, Yi Xuan had united his spirit with the Dao, breaking through some ancient shackle.

His method had reached a new height, extending beyond the Demon King realm.

“Let it be called the ‘Celestial Demon Yi Xuan Method’,” a faint voice murmured from nowhere.

As the writing on the leather ceased to change, the last remnant of Yi Xuan’s living flesh lost its vitality. Deep beneath the earth, this "Celestial Demon Yi Xuan Method" remained as the sole tangible trace he left behind.

...

Ji Xun’s consciousness returned to the Demon-Refining Gourd, where he quietly reflected on Yi Xuan’s life. The corpse of the serpent demon he had slain before still lay much as it had when he fell into the dream—little refined—proving that reliving Yi Xuan’s life had taken little time in the real world.

In the next moment, Ji Xun relinquished most of Yi Xuan’s memories, retaining only the "Celestial Demon Yi Xuan Method" and a few crucial recollections. His consciousness left the gourd and returned to his body.

Even with only the method and a handful of memories, Ji Xun felt as though a lifetime had passed. He knew that if he had brought out all of Yi Xuan’s memories, they would have overwhelmed him, likely driving him instantly mad. Still, with Yi Xuan’s method, he now had the foundation for his own path to enlightenment.

Seeing there was time before dawn, Ji Xun immediately began to circulate his cultivation.

Before long, he stopped, a heavy expression on his face. “I never expected this. My body’s structure differs greatly from people of that era. And it seems the world we inhabit differs in many respects as well. It appears only part of the ‘Celestial Demon Yi Xuan Method’ is suitable for the present age.”

Even a genius like Yi Xuan could not create a method that would transcend all ages.

“Next time, I should try to anchor my soul to something less ancient.”

Afterward, Ji Xun selected several secret techniques to adjust the myriad beast blood within him. As he operated the relevant part of the "Celestial Demon Yi Xuan Method," his right hand, which had been transformed in the battle with the serpent demon, reverted to its normal appearance.

...

By the following evening, Yi Xuan was sitting in his hut, regulating his breath. No one knew he had killed the serpent demon. That morning, a few serpent-descendants had come by, asking if anyone had seen a snake demon with black and blue scales. Ji Xun managed to fool them all.

He used a secret technique to temporarily restore his left arm, bitten by the snake, so that no wound showed and no scent of blood remained, though the flesh within was still healing. The myriad beast blood within him he kept hidden in the Demon-Refining Gourd, retrieving it only when needed. This way, no one could easily discern his cultivation, allowing him to lie low in the village and bide his time for another opportunity.

As Ji Xun sat in meditation, pondering his cultivation path—

Weak barks sounded from outside the door.

Ji Xun hurried to open it and saw a big yellow dog, covered in blood, holding a red plant root in its mouth. Seeing Ji Xun, the dog seemed to have fulfilled its mission and collapsed, unconscious.

“So Huang’s still alive.” Ji Xun quickly carried the dog inside. This was the dog Wang Dali, his predecessor, had raised for years. After Wang Dali’s fall and coma, the dog had gone missing. With so many days gone by, Ji Xun thought it had likely been caught and cooked.

Examining the wounds, Ji Xun saw marks from many wild animals, the worst nearly splitting the dog’s belly. “Looks like it was gored by a wild boar’s tusk.”

With the Demon-Refining Gourd, he drew out the foreign demonic energy from the dog’s wound. The gourd could refine stray demonic energies and poisons from living creatures, but only if their strength was not too much greater than Ji Xun’s own.

Next, he took some herbs from under the bed, crushed them, and applied them to the wounds. These were the very herbs the dog had gathered in the mountains, cleaned and dried for later use.

“It should survive. But what’s this root?”

At last, Ji Xun took the red root from the dog’s mouth.

[Ten-Year Blood Ginseng: Profound-grade, lower quality. Accelerates wound healing and enhances vital energy.]

Profound-grade items were divided into five ranks: lower, middle, upper, supreme, and peerless.

Looking at the intact blood ginseng, Ji Xun finally understood where the dog had been these many days. It had seen Wang Dali collapse and had gone into the mountains to gather herbs to save its master.

No wonder Wang Dali had once chased a dog thief for two miles with a hatchet to save this dog's life.

This yellow dog was truly clever—likely not far from becoming a demon itself.

Thinking thus, Ji Xun set water to boil, plucked a few ginseng fibers, and steeped them in water, sharing the drink with the dog.

“A peaceful life like this isn’t bad at all. But in these chaotic times, can there ever be true peace?”

Lying on his bed, Ji Xun sorted through the events of the past days.

That night, as more cold wind seeped into the shabby hut, Ji Xun covered the dog with the reed-flower quilt, while he himself half-slept, half-meditated, circulating his cultivation.