Chapter 34: Chapter Thirty-Four: Qiongqi

Although blue-tinged blood continuously flowed, the wound seemed to have little effect on the monster.

It tilted its head, making no roar or expression, slowly pulling itself free. Its body continued to “grow,” scales gradually forming and hardening, claws lengthening and sharpening, becoming stronger with every moment.

But the spear’s master followed close behind; the distance of dozens of zhang shrank to a single step beneath Jing Ziwang’s feet—he kicked it back down and swung his iron sword, severing its tough, rigid neck.

The monster’s body stiffened, its growth halted, its skin gradually dimming.

Jing Ziwang withdrew his foot, standing still as he gazed down at the corpse in silence.

Pei Ye arrived then, lowering his head for the first time to see the monster slain.

But when his gaze fell upon it, Pei Ye stood frozen like Jing Ziwang, unable to utter a word.

——The tattered, bloodstained cloth hanging from this headless corpse, seemingly stepped out of a ghost story, was precisely the one Meng Jiao had worn at noon.

“Is this your friend?” Jing Ziwang turned his head to ask him.

Pei Ye nodded slowly, his expression grave.

Meng Jiao was taken by a demon tiger—how could he have turned into such a monster? What connection existed between the demon tiger and the Candle World Cult?

Suddenly his gaze sharpened; the glow within his dantian pulsed with unmistakable, startling proximity.

He immediately drew his sword and slit open the corpse’s abdomen.

Looking down, its internal organs were rapidly “digesting”—half had already transformed into muscular tissue covered in blue scales, surging toward the limbs, while parts still retained the original shapes of liver, spleen, stomach, and other organs.

This eerie sight left Pei Ye momentarily forgetful of his purpose; he gathered his thoughts, preparing to judge the position—when his eyes suddenly narrowed.

Amid the writhing organs, a faint outline of a face was forming!

Before his body could react, a powerful yet gentle force pushed him from the side. Pei Ye flew through the air, watching the face formed from organs rapidly clarify and solidify, growing enormous, nearly bursting through the corpse’s chest and belly.

No—it was truly tearing through the chest and belly, emerging!

Organs transformed into normal flesh and even bone, hair sprouting from its surface, opening a pair of golden, magnificent vertical pupils.

A massive, mottled tiger head.

Meng Jiao’s corpse dissolved into flowing flesh, swelling and reassembling behind it into a colossal tiger body.

Pei Ye had no time to wonder how such a tiger, larger than a thatched hut, could have fit inside a stomach—the tiger’s target was precise and unmistakable: Jing Ziwang, standing right before it!

In this moment, Pei Ye deeply understood what true Mo E meant: the sheer power and strangeness, the cunning and ferocity of the beast.

When it encountered Meng Jiao, our group had not yet arrived—but it had already spared Meng Jiao, not eating him, using him as a springboard to ambush Jing Ziwang.

——Huang Er was deliberately released by it, a bait to lure a higher-quality, more delicious prey!

Whether Jing Ziwang had grasped these intricacies, he showed no sign of being deterred by the bizarre spectacle before him.

This master was exactly fifty this year; from a lowly common soldier, he rose to command three hundred soldiers and investigate lawlessness across the entire province. His life had seen countless trials.

He never learned the deep reserve expected of a provincial official—his words always revealed his anger and joy, earning him quiet criticism. But thankfully, the courage born of his wrath had not faded; no matter the circumstance or opponent, Jing Ziwang had never once retreated.

Not now either.

After the meridian tree forms, one pushes open the Heavenly Gate and ascends to the Mystic Gate, where cultivators begin to perceive the energy permeating heaven and earth—Wu Xiu call it Xuan Qi, while sorcerers call it Ling Qi.

This might suggest sorcerers began ahead of Wu Xiu—but in truth, both paths start from different points, ultimately converging.

Wu Xiu first assess their meridian tree potential, then break the seed, achieve Eight Lives, and finally enter the Mystic Gate to master Ling Qi; sorcerers, however, must possess innate sensitivity to heavenly Ling Qi, making those who can walk this path exceedingly rare—they harmonize with spiritual power, using it to purify their bodies, then trigger the formation of the meridian tree.

This is because the meridian tree not only generates and stores true qi, but also serves as a lever to manipulate the spiritual energy of heaven and earth. Without a complete meridian tree, sorcerers lose a major aid in wielding Ling Qi.

Wu Xiu require strong bones and sinews; sorcerers require spiritual insight—thus cultivators may choose their path according to their innate aptitude—though of course, most possess neither.

Moreover, once a Wu Xiu masters Ling Qi, it does not mean they must become a sorcerer; their abilities remain bound to what they learned and trained in before—various sects also possess Xuan Jing that allow control of Xuan Qi; similarly, once sorcerers form their meridian tree, they rarely have the energy to learn the subtleties of true qi, let alone comprehend the martial principles within Xuan Jing, and must continue refining Ling Jing.

Returning to the present, Jing Ziwang had no sect background; his entire martial skill was cultivated under imperial patronage, and only after entering the Mystic Gate this year did he receive the “Bi’an Shang Shi.”

This Xuan Jing draws its inspiration from Bi’an, the Great Divine Hunter who has guarded the Southern Court for a hundred years; ranked twenty-ninth in the Xuan Jing section of the “Ling Xuan Da Dian,” it can only be learned by those of upright character, and is one of the seven Xuan Jing available to Tang Dynasty military officers upon entering the Mystic Gate.

Jing Ziwang had studied it only briefly and had not yet grasped its profound subtleties—but when he struck, Pei Ye suddenly understood why he remained unmoved by the grotesque sight of a tiger growing from within.

When one wields such power, many things truly cease to be frightening.

The tiger’s paw met his fist—frost erupted instantly; within a breath, fruits, vegetables, water stains, the ground, even the nearby thatched hut—all within dozens of zhang—were coated in a black-blue frost.

Pei Ye snatched up the little girl who had just escaped the claws, leaping backward—barely avoiding the frost’s spread.

The hem of his robe, dusted with frost, stood rigid in midair; when Pei Ye touched it, it shattered into fragments.

Frost clung to Jing Ziwang’s brows and eyes, yet under this extreme cold, the power of “Bi’an Shang Shi” erupted undiminished, instantly clearing everything around him.

Fruit and vegetable baskets turned to dust, the thatched hut shattered and flew dozens of zhang away, even the earth was leveled—within a radius of several zhang, all became clean and flat.

But this was merely the ripple; greater power erupted within the tiger’s body—its flesh nearly exploded, the newly formed form shattered once more, this amorphous mass of blood and flesh launched like a cannonball into the sky.

Jing Ziwang flashed forward, chasing after it—but his second punch failed, for the mass of flesh suddenly sprouted two wings and flapped upward into the heavens.

Even at the Mystic Gate, one cannot fly; Jing Ziwang could use bursts of true qi to leap through the air, but such movement would be clumsy—facing such a formidable foe, he dared not place himself in a position of sluggishness.

He landed on the ground; in the sky, the tiger finally reformed into its original body.

Indeed, it was a “demon” tiger—not merely twice the size of an ordinary tiger, but with two sharp, curved black horns growing from its head, eyes like serpents and dragons, a tail tipped with hooked blades, and a pair of wings spanning three zhang.

Pei Ye had seen this form before; the “Classic of Mountains and Seas” described it as ferocious, fond of devouring humans, punishing the good and rewarding the wicked, utterly unfaithful and untrustworthy—a thoroughly malevolent beast.

It is called Qiongqi.