NOVEL NEXT Chapter 94: Hard-Earned
It had been a dangerous gamble on Feng's part.
The second Divine Art of his Sect — [Severed Heads Apostles] — was a technique that had few unique variants created throughout its entire history. The technique's direct nature of summoning previously decapitated beasts meant its purpose had fewer deviations to improve upon.
Faster summoning. Qi efficiency. Independent action among the summons. Those were avenues of improvement, yes, but they did not make the Divine Art into a distinct or exceptional variant.
Thus, rather than tamper with the technique's intricate formulas for manifestations, Feng had sought to tinker with the blueprints of headless beasts stored away instead.
He was fortunate to have access to the secret libraries and records of his Sect. From the scrolls, he explored what manner of abilities his predecessors had evolved from the [Severed Heads Apostles] Art, and took inspiration from there.
Manipulating the essence of summon creatures was not new — one of his ancestors' variants of the Art had him infusing his consciousness into the summons to tinker upon their design — but what Feng wanted to attempt was something few had succeeded.
To not only improve the summoned creatures, but to create something new entirely by melding the material he had.
A radical idea, especially given the two blueprints he had in mind. Both were far stronger than he, even years after he had beheaded them.
The possessed Avatar of the Decaying Greyroots housed within the body of a Plague Leech… and the fiery body of his deceased older sister, Hei Xingyu.
His acquisition of the latter's blueprint was a traumatic affair, one he would prefer not to revisit. However, it was undeniable that her strength was extraordinary. Xingyu never explained to him the esoteric nature of her abilities, and at the time, he had been too young to fully comprehend the strangeness of her might.
Regardless, his sister had carried a unique property, one that perhaps made combining summons possible. To use the savage blueprints of souls as raw material, before burning them in a crucible of Divine, resurrecting fire…
All attempts in the past had failed. It was only recently, when he ascended to the Fifth Step of the Tempering Realm, that some success was found. Feng's control over his Dantian had been steadily improving with his cultivation, but it was only with this latest breakthrough that his efforts at the summoning variant bore fruit.
Admittedly, combining both his sister's soul and the possessed Plague Leech was still a step too far for his standing to maintain in prolonged combat. It could have — or rather did — kill him, though his wraith had assured him it was necessary.
Some part of him had come to trust her guiding judgement, even if he was still cautious of her inhuman nature. These paradoxical feelings he had for her… They made his soul deviate at the seams. The mere sight of her was enough to unmake him at times.
Contradicting thoughts plagued him. He felt like he could trust her unconditionally. Yet he instinctively sought to avoid her presence. Either emotion felt impossibly true, yet neither offered an explanation for his rational mind to comprehend their viewpoints.
He was missing context. The wraith spoke of something she did to him long ago that resulted in this fissure… but what was it? Why could he not remember?
Feng did not know. He thought that preferable.
For all the excuses he made about her being a nuisance or distraction, he was terribly afraid of learning the truth behind her existence — and the consequences for their tenuous relationship that might arise from such a revelation.
But those were problems for another time. For now, the Young Master had other matters to turn to.
He had a beheading to perform.
~~~
"Impossible… Impossible, impossible, impossible!"
The emaciated, bald frame of a man scrambled out from the mountain of black ooze. The body of the flower woman was reduced to nothing but starry oil. The pressure of her power was gone.
From her remains, the Nascent Realm cultivator within had dug his way out. What appeared no longer bore the comely disguise of a beautiful Young Master, but a pathetic figure that looked almost corpse-like.
No, scratch that. It was a corpse.
Animated and moving it might be, but the body looked too shrivelled to be still alive. It was as if it had been preserved within the starry oil of its form. The false skin was not merely disguise, but a suit meant to safeguard it from both threat and decay.
But now the cultivator's preserving ichor was gone, his dead pale features exposed to the air. Whatever mystery it was from his Dead God that empowered him, it was rapidly fading.
There was barely any qi left in the man.
"How? How could someone from these lands possess such power?!" the man croaked, scrambling back on all fours. "You pathetic wretches! Shit and worm lovers! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!"
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The three of them approached, Feng leading the trio. The Young Master moved with noticeable exhaustion — body braced and limping with his bloody glaive as a clutch — but the murder in his eyes carried no fatigue.
"How dare you look at me like that!" The corpse man screamed. "Death is too good a fate for you! I will have the Dewa Tribes of my land experiment on your body! They will stretch your suffering out for centuries! Do you hear me?! If you dare touch me, my Clan will see that you and your whore wife will—!"
Feng sucked in a breath and spat. A boiling drop of saliva landed right in the cultivator's eye. The foreign man screamed.
Even that insignificant attack was enough to hurt him. There was no question of the man's vulnerability now.
A mere fifteen minutes ago, the trio's combined effort had barely been enough to slow the man. Now, even the weakest of cultivators would likely be able to land a killing blow.
"W-wait! Think this through!" The man held one skeletal hand out while the other clutched his weeping face. "My Clan will not stand for this! There will be consequences — disastrous consequences! — if I am not returned safely to my Sect! We have the power to reduce this worthless monastery to dust! Do you understand?!"
The trio remained silent. Feng's shadow now loomed over the man. The Young Master raised his blade.
"Stop and listen to me, damn you!" The man pleaded, outrage giving way to fear. "If you let me go… I will negotiate on your behalf! I can make my Clan overlook this insult! By my grace, you and that whore will be spared… I am giving you mercy! You… Ignorant fool! CAN YOUR IDIOT BRAIN EVEN COMPREHEND MY—!"
The man never finished.
Feng's blade lopped off his head with barely any resistance. There was no fanfare, no words exchanged, not even the slightest hint of respect.
Bihui — the Young Master of the Howling Meadows Sect — died a most ignoble death.
The three of them looked on. For several seconds, no one spoke. Perhaps some part of them all thought something would happen. Perhaps the dead heavens would strike them for such disrespect? Or perhaps the Nascent Cultivator would get up again, despite his missing head?
But nothing happened. After a full minute, Shao cleared her throat and pointed at the corpse: "I call dibs on his kidneys."
With the silence broken, Jun sighed. "Is eating all you can think about? Did you not hear what the man said? He just threatened the destruction of everything we care for."
"One, I'm hungry. Really fucking hungry, if you would pardon my language. I was burning everything I had in that fight," Shao pointed out. "Second, you didn't exactly stop the Young Master from decapitating our decomposing friend here, despite his so-called threats."
Shao kicked Bihui's severed head. A wimpy eyeball popped out as a greyish tongue lolled from white lips.
"Bihui's threats are not empty ones, but neither are they entirely truthful," Feng spoke up as he planted the glaive against the mountain of sludge and leaned against it. "The Beheaded Phoenix Sect is under the protection of Duke Kang — the sole Immortal governing these lands. The man has an iron reputation for order. He will not stand idly by if a Sect under his charge is destroyed by Inner Province Clans, especially when the fault of this debacle lies with them first."
"The Howling Meadows Sect would not let this insult stand. For their Young Master to die in foreign lands — and at the hands of an Outer Province cultivator, no less — hurts their reputation far too much for them to do nothing," Jun grunted. "But our Young Master is right. All-out eradication would be a step too far for them, given Duke Kang's presence. Doubtless — given their status — they might have got away with killing only Young Master Feng, but an entire Sect is too much for 'avenging' the blunder their own scion made."
"Oh, if only I could see their faces when they find out about this," Shao chuckled while shaking her head. "For their Young Master to die to 'inferior' Outer Province trash… Their Patriarch might end up spitting blood."
"Qi deviation would likely not be far," Jun added, finally giving in to jesting.
Feng chuckled. Now, with the threat behind them, the stress of the entire battle was finally catching up to him. He felt on the verge of collapse.
But before that, a reward was in order.
"Well!" Shao clapped her hands eagerly. "Shall I do the honours?"
'Go ahead," Feng said while waving a hand.
Jun grunted in agreement. "Pass me his lungs. Must be a good pair with all the yapping he did. Oh, and no touching the brain and the heart. The honour of the kill was the Young Master's. He deserves the best pieces."
"I know, I know! I'm not a savage, Jun." The female disciple gleefully sharpened her claws and took care of carving up the body. Her fingers plunged enthusiastically into the deceased's flanks — tearing flesh and shattering the corpse's brittle bones — before ripping out two bean-shaped organs the size of a fist.
She tossed one into her mouth. The moans she made as she chewed were decidedly indecent. Despite everything — the exhaustion, his worries for the future, and the stinking mountain of oozing slime beside them — Feng found himself flushing.
"Manners, woman," Jun sighed, though his eyes shone a little in anticipation. He accepted the lungs Shao passed to him and chewed them with stoic delight. "There is significant depth here… So this is the flesh of an Inner Province cultivator."
Feng picked up the head of Bihui. Glossy corpse eyes — one of which was drooping out from its ocular socket — and wisps of oil-slick hair stared back at him.
Despite everything, Feng thought he still felt a primitive sense of disgust as his fingers reached to pull at the hanging eyeball. Two of his fingers then reached into the cavity, scooping out a minuscule lump of greyish-pink brain from within. He placed both offal into his mouth.
The taste was indescribable — almost as unforgettably delectable as Divine flesh. Jun had been right; putting aside the man's superior cultivation, there was a flavourful depth to his meat that was absent in the flesh found within the Outer Provinces.
The richer ambient qi of the Inner Provinces… Feng felt an uncharacteristic tinge of jealousy.
To have such bountiful qi readily available at all times would have made his advancement not only easier but more spiritually profound as well. His martial learning would have been smoother, the execution of his technique made sharp, and his understanding of the Divine Arts ever greater. The meridians and Dantian evolved with each Step and Realm would have been made so much more significant as well.
All of that, denied through ill-birth and ill-luck.
Still, it was unsightly to complain about the circumstances of one's birth, and utterly pointless besides. Feng was already blessed enough as is.
Yes, he thought to himself. Feng cracked open Bihui's fragile skull and feasted on the meat within. This life… It is enough.
He had run for long enough. It was time he sought out Lianshi.