Chapter 186: When One Attains the Dao, Even Chickens and Dogs Ascend to Heaven

That strand of immortal qi transformed the xuanqing qi into xianxuan qi.

Those who obtain xianxuan qi can reverse their innate constitution.

Even a martial waste can become capable of cultivation under the improvement of xianxuan qi.

Although Wang Zhao's innate constitution remains poor, he now at least has a chance to enter the ranks—far more promising than raising horses.

Li Rui was born a stablehand and did not look down on those who raised horses.

In fact, it doesn't matter if Wang Zhao likes raising horses—he can keep raising them.

One can achieve great fame even by raising horses.

"Thus, those skilled in horse-rearing produce all the divine steeds of the world, revered by later generations."

Yet to become a Grand Horsemaster, one needs little martial skill at first, but to reach the pinnacle, martial arts are still necessary—how else to subdue those unruly demonic horses?

I heard the Grand Horsemaster of Annan Town is also a minor master in martial arts.

Wang Zhao had no hope before, but now he does.

Who doesn't want to grow stronger?

"Master."

Wang Zhao called softly.

Today, Li Rui suddenly came to him and said he should now address him as Master, and that he would gain two senior brothers.

He also said he would give him a strand of qi, after which he could cultivate.

Cultivate martial arts

This was what Wang Zhao had dreamed of since childhood.

Watching Liang He and Liu Tiezhu become ranked martial artists, wasn't he envious?

He was almost envious to death.

But what of it?

The world has never been one where effort alone guarantees results.

And in truth, he had already tried hard.

Proof showed that without talent, effort was futile.

From resentment to despair, then to devotedly raising horses.

This greatly tempered Wang Zhao's character.

Li Rui smiled and patted Wang Zhao: "Little Zhao, if you want to raise horses, keep raising them—become a Grand Horsemaster one day, and this old stablehand of a master can bask in your glory."

"Grand Horsemaster."

Wang Zhao's eyes lit up.

Seeing Wang Zhao's determination surge higher than ever, Li Rui was genuinely pleased.

He didn't blame Wang Zhao for his past laziness in cultivation—honestly, he himself had been just as lazy back then, seeing no hope, only wasting effort.

To strive upward, one must first see a glimmer of hope.

That's why, after his breakthrough last night, he took Wang Zhao as a disciple this morning.

Wang Zhao had followed him the longest, yet Li Rui had yet to take an apprentice.

Why?

Naturally, Li Rui had his own reasons.

Although Liang He and Liu Tiezhu each had their strengths, fundamentally, they had both learned the Changchun Art.

Wang Zhao's talent was too poor—even to enter the door was impossible.

Teaching him a technique would only leave him staring blankly.

Those who cultivate and those who don't are, at heart, two different kinds of people.

If he took Wang Zhao as a disciple, the gap in cultivation between them would grow too wide—a master and a common mortal—and the shift in status would make it hard for them to continue getting along.

Even if he held them in check, they might outwardly maintain brotherly respect, but over time, trouble was inevitable.

Social parity isn't just for marriage—it applies everywhere.

When status is unequal, even brothers cannot remain brothers.

Wang Zhao's nature is fragile; his pride might be shattered, and he might even stop raising horses—taking him as a disciple would only harm him.

If you're going to help someone, you must consider every angle.

To help someone without putting in the effort is better left undone.

Good intentions leading to bad outcomes are still bad outcomes.

The elders say: "Think carefully about everything."

That's the principle.

Li Rui felt the xianxuan qi within him—with this xianxuan qi, his three disciples' futures would no longer be bleak.

Moreover, if he took more disciples in the future, he wouldn't need to obsess over innate constitution—he could focus more on character.

It's not that innate constitution doesn't matter—it's just no longer essential.

"When one attains the Dao, even chickens and dogs ascend to heaven!"

"Is the official leaving camp?"

A guard at Anning Wei spotted Gao Zhen preparing to ride out of the military camp and hurried forward with a fawning smile.

Gao Zhen nodded:

"Patrolling outside the city."

"Yes, yes."

The guard nodded repeatedly.

As Garrison Commander, Gao Zhen had the duty to patrol—he approached only to curry favor—would he dare dictate how a sixth-rank Garrison Commander conducted himself?

He stepped back, clearing the gate.

Gao Zhen gave a sharp command; his demonic steed snorted like lightning and galloped onto the road.

That night.

He rode his horse into a deep mountain.

Ordinary horses couldn't climb mountains, but demonic steeds were different.

Gao Zhen dismounted, glanced around, and murmured: "It should be near here."

These past few days,

he had secretly inquired about the exact location where Jiang Lin had slain the Ten-Thousand-Poison Ghost.

Finally,

he'd heard whispers.

That day, Jiang Lin didn't just kill the Ten-Thousand-Poison Ghost—he also slew many elders and disciples of the Ghost Ming Sect.

After returning to camp,

he ordered Anning Wei soldiers to dispose of the corpses, to avoid unnecessary unrest.

He learned this information from those Anning Wei soldiers.

"I hope it's still there."

Gao Zhen whispered to himself.

He went to such lengths because once the Ten-Thousand-Poison Ghost died, its immortal qi would naturally disperse.

Those unaware could not detect it at all.

Only Immortal Seekers could locate it with special methods.

That's precisely why Gao Zhen had gone to great lengths to confirm whether the immortal qi had truly been left behind.

Gao Zhen left his demonic steed where it stood.

After being tamed by the Stable Supervision Hall, demonic steeds needed no tethering—they wouldn't run away.

Deep in the night, in the old forest,

Gao Zhen bent over, holding a torch, carefully searching. He carried immortal qi within him, so he could sense any within three zhang—so it wasn't truly like searching for a needle in a haystack.

He searched until the second half of the night.

Dawn began to break.

Gao Zhen had already replaced his torch for the third time, eyes bloodshot, muttering like a madman:

"Not here, not here—why still not here!"

All night,

he had scoured nearly the entire mountain—no trace of immortal qi remained.

Clearly,

the immortal qi had already been taken—perhaps by Jiang Lin, perhaps by someone else.

But one thing was certain: the immortal qi was gone.

Gao Zhen's last hope shattered; he grew frantic with rage.

=9+ Shu _ Ba

That strand of immortal qi was given to him by Blood Shadow Patriarch, who, recognizing its rarity, granted it to him as a Gao Clan disciple.

Obtaining another would be immensely difficult.

The only path now is to kill Ning Zhongtian, Li Rui, and Tan Hu.

And as quickly as possible.

The Blood Shadow Ancestor never set him a time limit, but when he made the promise, he only said that if he performed well, the Immortal Sovereign might grant him another strand of immortal qi.

What counts as performing well?

Isn't it simply better to kill them as soon as possible?

He had already received one strand of immortal qi before; he had grain at home, so his heart was not anxious.

But now he had only three-tenths of an immortal qi left; with this little, how many years would it take to reverse his root constitution?

By the time his hair turned white and he became a crumbling old man, what use would it be if his root constitution finally improved?

Gao Zhen would rather die.

He wanted fine clothes and swift horses, to crush those who once looked down on him with the brilliance of a heavenly prodigy—not to outlive them until they died.

Spiritual victory?

Meaningless.

"I must find a way to act quickly."

Gao Zhen resolved inwardly.

When he returned, he would seek out his senior brothers and sisters.

Of the Twelve Blood Disciples, ten still remain—meaning he still has nine allies he can summon; he refuses to believe he cannot kill Ning Zhongtian and those two minor officials.

As long as he kills these three.

Then everyone on the list will be accounted for, and he can go to his cheap master, the Blood Shadow Ancestor, to claim his reward.

Perhaps the Immortal Sovereign, in good spirits, might grant him more immortal qi.

Whether his senior brothers and sisters might also be pierced through like Wan Du Gui by Jiang Lin's flying sword—that is not his concern.

"Better they all die."

Gao Zhen truly despised those senior brothers and sisters.

"Worthless trash!"

Though he was only a collateral branch's illegitimate son of the Gao family of Luyang, his lineage was still a proper noble house.

He joined the Ghost Ming Sect to gain resources and become a true noble—not to mingle with demons and monsters.

Holding office is the true Dao.

Practicing the dark path is only to better serve in office; one must not reverse the order.

Gao Zhen planned to sever ties with the Ghost Ming Sect once he obtained enough immortal qi, spent a few years in the capital, and then walk away.

As he pondered.

Tap.

A single raindrop fell from the nine heavens, leaving a damp mark on his shoulder.

Gao Zhen turned his head to look.

"It's going to rain."

Though he, as a Dragon Gate cultivator, no longer feared the chill of rain, he disliked being soaked—this trip, he hadn't brought an umbrella.

Thinking this.

He turned and walked toward the demonic horse, his steps quickening.

He intended to find shelter before the heavy rain arrived.

Just as he was about to see the demonic horse—

Gao Zhen's pupils shrank sharply.

The demonic horse lay on its back, all four hooves turned skyward, a massive gash across its neck, motionless in a pool of blood.

Before the horse stood a black-clad figure, gripping a bloodied blade.

He slowly turned his head.

A Rakshasa mask covered his face, hiding his features.

"Who are you?"

Gao Zhen's right hand had already grasped the hilt of his waist sword, ready to strike at any moment.

Killing his horse was clearly premeditated.

It was aimed at him.

Was it Ning Zhongtian—or Jiang Lin the Immortal?

After much thought, only these two in Qinghe would dare and wish to kill him.

Beneath the Rakshasa mask came a grating, metallic voice: "Have you never heard a saying?"

"Never climb the mountain after dark; at midnight, ghosts knock on your door."

Almost the instant the words ended—

Clang!

A violet-gold lightning bolt split the sky, accompanied by a thunderous boom.

In an instant—

Torrential rain poured down, drenching both men as if from a tipped bucket.

Gao Zhen stared fixedly at the black-clad figure, raindrops clinging to his eyelashes, ignoring them, and slowly uttered three words:

"Mountain Yama?"

Legend says that in Yunzhou, there was a master who specialized in robbing travelers in the mountains, calling himself Mountain Yama.

Each time he killed, he would say exactly those same words.

"Never climb the mountain after dark; at midnight, ghosts knock on your door."

Gao Zhen's eyelid twitched; he cursed his bad luck inwardly.

He never expected that his first time entering the mountains, he would encounter Mountain Yama—his fortune was truly abysmal.

But he had no time to think further.

Mountain Yama's long blade had already pierced through the curtain of rain, hurtling straight for his forehead.

Accompanying it came Mountain Yama's grating voice:

"Learn a lesson—stay off the roads at night from now on."

"You might need it in your next life!"

(End of Chapter)