Chapter 3: The Seven Gates

The burly man climbed to the peak of a mountain and scanned the surroundings.

Small-Eye and Big-Eye stood guard at the mountain’s base, splitting up so one could aid the other if danger arose.

At least until they found the “June Bug,” they were still brothers bound by life and death.

The burly man on the peak suddenly made urgent hand signals to Small-Eye, telling him to come up.

Small-Eye climbed up, and the burly man pointed excitedly in one direction: “Look— isn’t that a village?”

Small-Eye looked and indeed saw, on a nearby slope, a cluster of houses half-hidden among trees.

“It must be Wangxiang Village.” Both sighed in relief, descended from the peak, and crept cautiously toward the village.

Along the way, they encountered not a single danger.

Small-Eye said: “It seems the mountain runners of Wangxiang Village are strong— the malevolent spirits dare not approach the village. We chose right.”

As they neared the houses, they heard a clinking, tapping sound, like a stonecutter carving stone.

Following the sound, they turned past a thicket of shrubs like a fence, and the view opened up— there sat a stonecutter on the slope, surrounded by scattered round stones, half of which had already been carved into human heads, beast heads, and bird heads.

The stonecutter faced away from them, still working, his iron chisel striking the stone without pause.

Just as they were about to approach and speak, they frowned, sensing something was wrong.

The stonecutter sat there, and he appeared taller than the burly man standing.

At that moment, all the carved human heads, beast heads, and bird heads on the ground turned toward them, staring straight.

The clinking stopped. The stonecutter turned around— he too had a stone-carved head!

Yet on his stone head grew wild hair and a thick beard, and his facial features moved— seeing them, he smiled happily: “New arrivals.”

“I’ll pick you a good head.”

The stonecutter began selecting among the carved stone heads, tapping and flicking them, listening to the sound, like choosing melons.

The two turned and ran.

The stonecutter did not chase; he focused on his selection, quickly choosing one he liked, then tapped it with his iron chisel.

The stone head shot through the air with a whoosh, hurtling toward the burly man.

From the burly man’s nostrils burst a shadow, rapidly swelling and bursting open— seven armored yin ghosts leapt out, claws bared, lunging at the stone head.

The stone head struck once, and the yin ghosts shrieked as each shattered.

The burly man spat blood, staggered, but dared not pause a moment— he fled at top speed.

Yet the stone head moved faster than imaginable— with a thud, it smashed his skull and took root atop his neck.

The stonecutter still grinned strangely: “Follow me. I’ll find you a place to stay.”

Among the trees, the houses had few empty ones left.

…

Having fulfilled his stepmother’s demand, Xu Yuan was still glad—he could finally go home.

He retracted the small bamboo cage, picked up his axe, and began chopping firewood.

After felling several trees, Xu Yuan wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, then suddenly felt an itch and scratched a few times.

But the scratching revealed his forehead’s skin had split open entirely!

Xu Yuan then felt his whole body begin to itch— intensely, unbearably.

Scratching, scratching—

Some spots on his back were hard to reach, so he stripped off his clothes, pressed his back against a large tree, and rubbed hard.

As he rubbed, his entire skin peeled away from his body, and Xu Yuan, like a cicada, crawled completely out through the crack in his scalp!

“Phew—” Xu Yuan exhaled deeply, finally feeling relieved.

He looked down— his hands were pale and smooth, his whole body newly skinned.

He turned back— beneath the tree lay a thin, human skin, unmistakably his own.

Only now, the skin bore strange purple-black patterns, like tattoos.

Xu Yuan patted his forehead, realization dawning: “So that’s it.”

The “June Bug” is the medicinal catalyst for a Life Cultivator.

The burly man was a Spirit Cultivator, Small-Eye a Wu Xiu— besides them, the Huang Ming had four more types: Wen Xiu, Dan Xiu, Jiang Xiu, and Fa Xiu, totaling seven.

Together called the “Seven Gates.”

Beyond Huang Ming, the vast world beyond was unknown.

To become a cultivator, one needed either a “Guide” or to ingest a “medicinal catalyst.”

Without realizing it, Xu Yuan had become a Life Cultivator.

Among the seven types, Life Cultivators were the rarest.

As the name implies, Life Cultivators cultivate “Life”— his first Life Pattern was named: No Taboos!

These past days, he had led three groups of ill-intentioned people into the mountains, just as he had with the burly man and Small-Eye— each time, he escaped by relying on the mountain’s malevolent spirits.

Like the Snake Vine, each time he came into close contact with malevolent spirits.

Unknowingly, he had been infected.

If this infection continued to accumulate, it would soon erupt completely— perhaps in sleep, perhaps while eating, perhaps while chatting with someone— suddenly turning him into a bloodthirsty malevolent spirit!

If other cultivators were nearby, he would become their trophy.

If none were around, he would slaughter wildly before fleeing into Ghost Witch Mountain…

But the “No Taboos” Life Pattern saved him.

When the infection reached a certain threshold, “No Taboos” would trigger a “Metamorphosis.”

The infection remained in the shed skin, leaving his body pure and clean again.

Xu Yuan examined the skin he had shed, carefully rolled it up— this thing still had use.

Then Xu Yuan resumed his work, chopped enough firewood for tomorrow, tied it with hemp rope, and carried it down the mountain.

By the time he exited Ghost Witch Mountain, dusk was falling; Xu Yuan quickened his pace.

At the crossroads near Mao’er Tomb, the old woman was gone— probably still rummaging through the ancient tomb’s texts.

Pushing open the back gate, Xu Yuan carried the firewood inside and found a sedan chair placed in the courtyard.

Master Qiao’s carriage had been shoved into the corner.

Master Qiao was the inn’s proprietor, a Wen Xiu with the juren degree.

The saying “The character ‘color’ hides a blade” came from his mouth.

He was the most prestigious man in Qihetown, though he rarely lived there— he resided forty li west, in Shanhe County.

Master Qiao only came to town at month’s end to audit accounts, staying three or five days.

The town’s shops had uninspired names: Lin Family Sugar Shop, Zhao’s Leather Store… but Master Qiao’s inn was named “Yifang Ting.”

When something happened in town, people didn’t go to the government first— they waited for month’s end and asked Master Qiao to “settle the matter.”

For years, Master Qiao had handled affairs fairly, and everyone respected him.

Qihetown originally had only two surnames: Chen and Hu.

Master Qiao gradually introduced many young men from the county or nearby villages to work in town, and the town gradually flourished.

Xu Yuan himself was from the county— his stepmother had asked someone to recommend him to Master Qiao, who got him hired at the inn.

Erliang, who worked in the same courtyard, warned Xu Yuan: “A noble guest has arrived in the front yard— Master Qiao came all the way from the county to host him. Don’t go near the front yard these days— if you offend the guest, we can’t bear the consequences.”

“I understand,” Xu Yuan replied.

The sedan chair, though small, was lavishly decorated— Xu Yuan wondered inwardly: Is it a woman?

(End of Chapter)