Chapter 28: Break the Mountain, Smash the Temple—Kill, Never Save

The crimson sea of karma refines the great elixir; the six heavenly demons chill the marrow to the bone.

Let my Nascent Soul enter my belly, and I shall be an immortal, not a mortal.

“Harvesting the Nascent Soul as medicine!?” Zhang Fan’s heart stirred, and such a thing was like…

“Cannibalizing one’s own kind—demons must be exterminated!” Old Yu said gravely.

“No one knows who the first person was to harvest the Nascent Soul as medicine, or how they appeared…”

“This lineage has no fixed method, no transmission; their existence is strange, like waves on the river, always gathering and scattering like sand in history’s long stream…”

The Five-Spirit Rainbow Disc raced along the winding mountain path, and Old Yu’s voice gradually grew quieter.

When speaking of Daoist history, this lineage can never be avoided.

“They call themselves [Wuwei], using methods of creation and destruction to seek the Wuwei path of eternal life.”

“Establish temples on mountains, set observatories by rivers, subdue all demons and ghosts under heaven, gather incense from the four seas, sweep the six directions, and quell the Dao of the cosmos…”

“Historically, this lineage was once immensely powerful, with masters emerging endlessly, terrifying enough to make all Daoist sects take notice,” Old Yu said gravely.

“These madmen believe that since ancient times, how many cultivators have achieved eternal life? The mortal world is merely a hell; true cultivation means returning from the post-heaven to the pre-heaven, stealing vitality from the midst of killing.”

“Stealing vitality from the midst of killing? That sounds somewhat reasonable.” Zhang Fan murmured softly.

“Nonsense!” Old Yu roared, and the vehicle lurched violently.

“Don’t speak such words—they invite disaster.”

“They are heretics. Throughout Daoist history, nearly every major event has been tied to this lineage. Worse still, the Daoist sects of the world have united multiple times to exterminate them. Perhaps you’ve heard of it…”

At this, Old Yu paused slightly, and even Wen He beside him fell silent.

“What?” Zhang Fan asked instinctively.

“Break the mountain, smash the temple—kill, never save!”

The simple eight characters cracked from Old Yu’s teeth.

In Daoist history, there have been nine large-scale [Breaking Mountains and Smashing Temples], the most famous being the massive purge by the Zhengyi Heavenly Master Sect, whose slogan then was: Zhengyi Alliance’s Authority, Supreme Lord’s Edict. Upholding the Three Heavens, killing ghosts and giving life. Exterminating evil and falsehood, purifying ghostly qi.

“Nine Breakings of Mountains and Smashing of Temples ultimately eradicated this lineage completely.”

“Are there any left now?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help asking.

“Harvesting the Nascent Soul as medicine… it’s already legend, long extinct,” Old Yu said coolly.

Huh…

As they spoke, the Five-Spirit Rainbow Disc followed the mountain path into a towering iron gate, where rows of green pines stood tall and majestic on either side.

“From here up the mountain, it’s all the He family’s territory,” Wen He smiled.

“That’s nearly half a mountain! Can they still buy and enclose land like this?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help saying: “Aren’t the authorities doing anything?”

“Young man, you can’t imagine the world of the rich,” Old Yu grinned.

“The He family raises Horses. Every day, countless high officials and nobles come and go—seeking power, seeking fame, seeking profit…”

“Human hearts are desire’s cradle—and the paradise of spirits,” Old Yu sighed.

In ancient times, Horse Raising was a forbidden cult, hidden only in remote countryside corners.

But now, it has transformed, rising into the halls of power, even revered as honored guests by many high officials and nobles.

Truly, as the Ancestors said: in the End Dharma Age, demons and monsters mingle among mortals and walk openly.

“So we still do business with them?” Zhang Fan muttered under his breath.

“As long as we make money, we haven’t harmed heaven or violated morality,” Old Yu said casually.

The four principles of Daoist cultivation: Method, Land, Wealth, Companion.

Especially as one advances, the cost grows ever greater—cultivating techniques, refining pills, nourishing flesh and blood—all require vast sums of money.

Zhang Fan is now at the [Qi Gong] rank; daily hauling and herb-gathering doesn’t feel burdensome, but if he wants to break through to the [Gao Gong] rank, he’ll need to burn money.

Yes, burn money—like burning offerings to his ancestors for Qingming Festival, extravagantly wasteful.

This is also one reason the Breaking of Precepts sent him to [Ye Bu Liang]: besides cultivation, he must learn how to acquire wealth.

“The He family is truly rich!”

Zhang Fan’s eyes widened—he’d thought he’d arrived at some scenic spot. Far off, a manor was half-hidden in lush greenery.

“Wen-jie, what are we delivering?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help glancing at the back seat—over a dozen jars, their mouths sealed with yellow clay and bearing Night Unlit Company’s seals.

“The rooster’s comb of the Iron Rooster,” Wen He said softly.

“Iron Rooster!?”

“A kind of rooster raised with cinnabar,” Wen He explained.

This rooster is raised from youth in the mountains, drinking mountain spring water and consuming cinnabar; only after ten years does it become a true Iron Rooster, its blood qi thick and dense, every pore glowing crimson—hence its feathers never fall…

Like human hair: when blood qi is strong, hair is thick; when blood qi weakens, hair turns brittle, split, even falls out bald.

So, those suffering baldness usually first nourish their blood qi—but such people often lack kidney water; even if blood qi is replenished, it leaks away, mostly lost…

Of course, that’s beside the point.

The Iron Rooster, with its thick, potent blood qi, never sheds feathers—hence the old saying: Iron Rooster—not a single feather given.

Moreover, its meat is exceptionally firm; even boiled over high heat for two hours won’t turn to mush.

“The foxes the He family worship adore the Iron Rooster’s comb—its entire blood qi concentrates there,” Old Yu said coldly.

Every summer, the He family orders vast quantities of Iron Rooster combs from Night Unlit—these dozen jars…

“Ten thousand yuan per jar!”

“So expensive!?” Zhang Fan glanced again, and began to grow fond of his job.

“Fanfan, you’ll help me unload the cargo later,” Wen He said softly.

…

At this moment, the He family manor.

“If you can, say yes; if you can’t, say no. What does ‘take a break’ mean?”

At this moment, a voice of dissatisfaction rang out.

“How did your cultivation become so powerful?”

He Huan slowly rose, her long, slender body exposed to the air. She tied her hair into twin buns and looked at He Fei, who lay silent beside her, her flushed face filled with confusion.

“You’re not practicing Horse Raising arts. Teach me…”

“This method is dangerous—not everyone can learn it,” He Fei shook his head. “I won’t lead you astray.”

He Huan sneered. “I don’t care. You must teach me.”

“The method I cultivate was passed to me by someone else. If you want to learn, I must ask him first.”

No sooner had he spoken than He Huan leapt up, snatched the scattered clothes from the floor, and her beautiful eyes flashed with coldness.

“You’re going to kill again.”

He Fei’s brow twitched—he knew her too well. Reckless to madness, emotionally unstable; once her spirit stirred, she would kill. The men she had toyed with and ultimately murdered were too many, far too many.

“It’s none of your business,” He Huan said, pulling on her clothes, her translucent white socks sliding slowly up her thighs.

“This isn’t ancient times. Kill too many, and trouble comes. Aren’t you afraid of backlash?” He Fei frowned, speaking gravely.

“The mortal world is a path without compassion—cut down all under heaven, never sheathe your blade… Why should we fear backlash?” He Huan sneered.

At this moment, her mood was foul—she needed blood to feel better.

“Young Master, Night Unlit’s people have arrived.”

At this moment, a low call came from outside the door.

“I know. I’ll be there shortly,” He Fei said gravely.

“I have matters to attend to. Don’t go out.”

“Hmph!”

He Huan let out a cold snort, gazing out the window down to the courtyard, where a familiar figure came into view—Zhang Fan, unloading cargo.

“Him? Tsk tsk… Looks like I don’t need to go out.”

He Huan froze, then her beautiful eyes glowed with satisfaction, like a fox spotting prey—thrilled.

(End of Chapter)