Chapter 24: The Missing Shu

Just as Li Yi and the others arrived at the designated location.

In the danger zone, there was an abandoned zoo that had seen no human footstep for a full decade; inside, weeds and wild trees grew everywhere, the cartoon animal statues along the paths were faded and peeling, and all the amusement equipment had aged and broken down.

Yet what was inexplicable was that inside the cages still lay various animals, though these animals differed slightly from those people once knew.

In the tiger enclosure, a strange tiger paced slowly; its back was hunched, its body emaciated, its once-vibrant fur long faded to patchy black and white, but what unsettled observers was that in the darkness, the beast’s eyes glowed with an eerie green light, and its two canines were thick and massive, jutting out from its mouth like those of the long-extinct saber-toothed tiger.

“Roar!”

The beast growled low, its green eyes fixed through the yellowed tempered glass on a direction in the dark, its gaunt body slowly retreating, as if sensing some imminent danger approaching.

A faint glimmer emerged from the depths of the darkness.

It was two pairs of eyes.

One pair glowed clear and luminous, strangely radiant; the other glowed faintly blue in the dark, like a phantom spirit.

Merely by drawing near, the once-top-predator tiger had become prey, forced to retreat.

Yang Yi and Qin Qing now stepped together into this dangerous abandoned zoo.

Though they appeared outnumbered, as cultivators who had undergone repeated evolutions, they were now the most dangerous entities here.

“A mutated ferocious tiger?” Yang Yi saw the beast caged in the enclosure; he paused slightly, frowning: “No, wrong—it may look like one, but this thing is definitely not a tiger.”

“Then it must be the legendary… Biao.”

Beside him, Qin Qing’s green vertical pupils shifted slightly: “They say ten tigers produce one Biao; where a Biao exists, tigers are surely all dead. But strange—why is this Biao caged here? The zoo’s been abandoned for ten years; if the animals couldn’t escape, they should’ve starved to death long ago.”

“And to raise a Biao, you need a large enough tiger population… unless, after the zoo was abandoned, something took over and kept feeding the animals.”

“Yang Yi, do you think it was that thing?”

Yang Yi said: “That thing’s intelligence rivals a human’s; it’s possible it’s raising animals, but judging by this, it doesn’t seem to be doing so for food—if it only wanted sustenance, there’d be no point wasting time and effort raising a Biao.”

“Keep going.”

The two continued forward through the darkness, ignoring the Biao locked in the tiger enclosure; for them, their mission was the priority—some aberrant beasts weren’t worth their time.

Pressing on.

As they passed the monkey area, they saw a humanoid figure standing atop the zoo’s artificial hill; the thing was covered in fur, like an unevolved wild man or a gorilla, yet it bore a human face—a jarring contrast between savagery and civilization that evoked an inexplicable dread.

The gorilla with the human face stared motionless at Yang Yi and Qin Qing as they passed, its expression strangely unnatural.

“That’s the Mountain Demon… Shanxiao?” Qin Qing sensed the eerie gaze from the dark, turned her head, her green vertical pupils cold and menacing.

Their gazes met.

Round pupils locked onto vertical pupils.

In that instant, the food chain’s hierarchy was confirmed; the Shanxiao’s human face suddenly twisted in terror, then vanished with a faint *whoosh*, its movement impossibly swift.

A single glance from Qin Qing had driven it off.

“This place is full of dangers—if we don’t deal with them soon, in a few more years, whether it’s that Biao or the Shanxiao just now, they’ll both grow powerful. They say humans cultivate to become immortals, animals cultivate to become demons—they’re already passively absorbing cosmic energy; as their intelligence grows, these aberrant beasts becoming demons is inevitable.”

Qin Qing withdrew her gaze and offered a suggestion.

“Now I understand what that thing is trying to do,” Yang Yi said, a smile curling on his lips: “What ambition—it’s breeding minions, aiming to become a king. Too bad for it—it ran into me today, so its dream ends here.”

“I’ll deal with these creatures after I kill that thing. Can’t act yet—might spook it. Even though I’ve set up many outposts, if it really flees, even a Spirit Medium cultivator couldn’t stop it. I don’t have time to chase after it.”

“Understood.” Qin Qing nodded.

The two continued searching through the zoo.

Hours passed—perhaps ten minutes, perhaps twenty—until a strange, infant-like wail shattered the silence of the night.

Then, a great commotion erupted from one corner of the zoo.

Dust billowed, figures darted, thick trees toppled, and the leaking aura sent every animal in the zoo into panic, emitting eerie cries.

In a dark corner of the zoo, a battle unfolded between a supernatural entity and a cultivator.

But none of this had anything to do with Li Yi.

He and Zhang Gao, under Tao Ge’s guidance, crouched on the rooftop of an abandoned building, scanning the surroundings.

“Everything’s normal—at least nothing unusual on our side. Good. Keep it up. At dawn, we can leave.” Tao Ge withdrew his gaze; he dared not scan too far, for in the danger zone, staring too long at distant places risked attracting attention from something that might follow his gaze.

Li Yi asked: “Tao Ge, that knife you had earlier—was it special? Are you trained in blade techniques?”

“This knife isn’t special—just made from special steel, that’s all. Expensive, but I bought it only for self-defense.” Tao Ge sat back down, chatting: “I don’t know any blade techniques—just swing it with strength and accuracy.”

“No blade techniques? Then how do cultivators normally handle enemies?” Li Yi asked, surprised.

Tao Ge laughed: “You’re a new recruit, aren’t you? You don’t know anything. Tell me—what are martial arts like swordplay or fist techniques even for in our world?”

“Fighting, killing,” Li Yi replied instantly.

Tao Ge nodded: “Right. Martial arts evolved from humans fighting to kill each other. Do you think such techniques suit cultivators? Cultivators’ strength, speed, reflexes, even vitality far exceed normal humans. In ancient times, we cultivators were cultivating immortality.”

“Human martial arts applied to cultivators are laughable—just like warfare’s evolution: ancient wars relied on cold weapons, so swords, spears, halberds emerged; modern wars rely on firearms, so guns and missiles appeared.”

“If in modern warfare someone trained soldiers in swords and bows to send them to battle, wouldn’t the enemy laugh themselves to death? Similarly, cultivators won’t waste time learning ordinary martial arts—unless you can elevate martial arts to the level of ‘Shu.’ But I’ve never heard of anyone achieving that.”

Tao Ge chuckled as he spoke.

“But there’s one exception: when they train not in our world’s martial arts, but in high-level martial arts from another world.”

But then Tao Ge’s smile vanished, and he continued: “Li Yi, I know what you’re thinking—you’re saying our world has no Shu suited for cultivators. Actually, this isn’t just your thought; every cultivator has thought it. The Heaven’s Collapse Event was only ten years ago.”

“Ten years isn’t enough for our world to evolve mature Shu. I said before—I bought this knife only for self-defense, because most cultivators’ bodies haven’t yet hardened beyond the blade’s edge. And this thing’s easy to get. If I had connections, I’d rather use firearms.”

“Who calls themselves a cultivator if they won’t use a gun?”

“If I’d carried a Gatling gun earlier, I could’ve turned that spider monster into a sieve—why let it escape?”

“But whether knife or gun, they’re just transitional tools—they can’t fully adapt to our world. No matter how good a blade, it can’t cut through a supernatural creature’s scales; no matter how powerful a gun or cannon, it can’t kill a terrifying ghost. Some supernatural beings even generate energy fields that can destroy cities just by passing through.”

“Then aren’t cultivators powerless?” Zhang Gao asked curiously.

“No. Our cultivators have infinite potential.”

Tao Ge continued smoking: “I heard from Yang Yi that our cultivators can adapt to any kind of ‘Shu’ and fully unleash its power—we simply lack ‘Shu.’ In wuxia terms, we’re all masters of profound inner energy, but none know any martial techniques.”

“So we have to explore and create our own?” Li Yi asked.

“Exactly. Take ‘Eyewitness’—it’s a Shu we Spirit Medium cultivators invented, and it spread quickly. Since Spirit Medium cultivators are the most numerous, someone always finds new tricks at that level. But as you go higher, fewer cultivators remain, so fewer Shu emerge.”

Tao Ge frowned, smoking idly, giving Li Yi and Zhang Gao an impromptu lecture.

“By the way, earlier I mentioned Yang Yi—I heard from other cultivators that Yang Yi obtained some of the latest research from cultivators, then, inspired by myths and legends and using ancient artifacts as prototypes, developed his own Shu.”

Suddenly, Tao Ge remembered something and added this.

“What kind of Shu is it?” Li Yi pressed.

Tao Ge laughed: “How would I know? I only heard rumors. A Spirit Medium cultivator named He Jun accidentally saw Yang Yi practicing in the underground training ground of that building. Of course, he didn’t just tell me—many know. But Yang Yi doesn’t care; the truth can’t be hidden anyway.”