Chapter 37: Burial Grounds of Scorched Soil, the Yin Mountain Sect

Dusk, the setting sun like blood.

Zhang Fan sat in the back seat of the Wu Ling Hongguang, watching the towering buildings outside the window recede, his mind filled with records from the Dao Secret Record on the Northern Emperor Method.

The Northern Emperor Method originated in the Han dynasties, matured in the Jin dynasties, and evolved from faith drawn from the North Pole Purple Micro Star.

In early Tang, Daoist Deng Ziyan absorbed the General-Dispatching methods of the Celestial Masters and the spirit-summoning essence of the Three Sovereigns School, forming his own lineage, hailed as the foremost killing art of the Daoist sects.

“Northern Emperor Death Spirit Method!?” Zhang Fan murmured softly, unable to help glancing at Jiang Hu, who was driving.

“You never mastered this technique?”

“Never mastered…” Jiang Hu shook his head, not hiding anything.

“The Northern Emperor techniques aren’t easy to practice, and the rules are too many.”

The two main methods of the Northern Emperor School are the Tian Peng Method and the Fengdu Method; once practiced, one must strictly abide by the Northern Emperor Black Code, known as the strictest set of precepts in the Daoist sects.

For example, anyone practicing the Northern Emperor Method must never face north when using the toilet; violators lose three years of life, repeat offenders lose six, and upon death, they descend into the Fengdu Knife Mountain Hell.

Another example: those who practice the Tian Peng Method must spit on, curse, and humiliate all non-Daoist faiths.

“This lineage is too cruel, too ruthless, and its rules are extreme—it’s as if nothing outside their school counts as legitimate.”

Jiang Hu smirked; the Northern Emperor Death Spirit Method he obtained by chance belonged to the Tian Peng Method.

This technique is brutal and violent, and most crucially, it is extremely difficult to cultivate.

Precisely because of this, Zhang Fan couldn’t help but want to see it for himself.

“Where are we going now?”

“The suburban cemetery!”

Moments later, the sun set, and Jiang Hu drove to Taiping Biyuan, the largest cemetery in western Yujing City.

“Each grave here starts at two hundred thousand.”

Jiang Hu got out of the car and looked up; under the sparse starlight, tombstones stood thick and dense like dominoes, stretching beyond sight.

“Two hundred thousand… and that’s just the starting price?” Zhang Fan’s eyes widened.

“This is even more expensive than housing prices.”

The average price of housing in Yujing City was about thirty thousand per square meter; a grave was roughly one square meter, yet it was priced at two hundred thousand?

“Prime location,” Jiang Hu said casually. “Near the subway, convenient for tomb-sweeping, and it’s a famous school district grave.”

“What the hell? School district grave? I’ve never even heard of such a thing—can ghosts go to school?” Zhang Fan said with a strange expression.

“See that?”

Jiang Hu pointed to the distant hilltop. “That’s the famous Fengming Temple. Buried here, you hear Buddhist chants day and night, achieving liberation and rebirth sooner—your starting point is decades ahead of ghosts buried elsewhere…”

“Never skimp on ancestors, never cheapen burial grounds…”

“Insane… even ghosts are competing this hard now?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help saying.

“I’ll now transmit the Northern Emperor Death Spirit Method to you…”

At that moment, Jiang Hu’s voice pulled Zhang Fan back from his thoughts.

“Why transmit it here?” Zhang Fan asked, puzzled.

“The Northern Emperor Death Spirit Method is a technique that refines yin into deathly energy, suppressing and slaying all demons and evil spirits—it’s extraordinarily violent…” Jiang Hu said solemnly.

Daoist cultivation aims to purify all yin impurities through the yuan shen, achieving ultimate pure yang.

Thus, aside from a few rare lineages that practice yin-collecting techniques, most Daoists avoid such yin energies as if they were poison.

But the Northern Emperor Death Spirit Method requires absorbing yin energy from all directions, transforming it into deathly energy, using violence to suppress evil.

“This method circulates the yuan shen, commands true yang, and absorbs yin energy—it embodies the subtle interplay of yin and yang…” Jiang Hu explained in detail to Zhang Fan.

In cultivating techniques, the yuan shen is the core, the physical body is the vessel, and true yang is the energy source.

All techniques require the yuan shen to circulate, true yang to drive, and the physical body to manifest—only then can their wonders and powers arise.

Precisely because of this, the first of the nine ranks is Qi Gong—accumulating true yang and conditioning the body.

Some techniques require sufficient true yang, but if the body cannot withstand it, it still won’t work.

For example, the Northern Emperor Death Spirit Method requires absorbing yin energy into the body; ordinary people who attempt this will fall gravely ill, and those with weak constitutions may end up buying a grave.

“If the yuan shen is so mysterious, why not cultivate directly with it?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help asking.

“Absolutely not,” Jiang Hu’s brow twitched as he gave Zhang Fan a deep look.

“Yuan shen combat is extremely dangerous—it’s like riding a motorcycle at high speed; one misstep and you’re decapitated.”

“Don’t even entertain such thoughts.”

In Daoist combat, unless it’s truly to the death, no one will let their yuan shen leave the body for mortal struggle.

Most crucially, the yuan shen is profoundly mysterious; unless one reaches the realm of pure yang and ultimate extremity, no one can perceive its true secrets—who would dare experiment with their own yuan shen!?” Jiang Hu whispered: “I’ll now secretly transmit this method to you—listen carefully… I won’t hide it from you: transmitting this method to you, I have my own motives.”

“What motive? To keep you from quitting your job?” Zhang Fan asked instinctively.

Jiang Hu paused slightly, then shook his head. “When I was expelled from my sect, I met that elder… back then I was young and foolish, unaware of the heavens’ height and earth’s depth, thinking I’d gained a great fortune…”

“Now I realize: receiving this method carries immense karmic consequences…”

“If you truly master this method, you will likely face karmic retribution.”

At this, Jiang Hu’s gaze sharpened as he stared deeply at Zhang Fan.

“Is that why you never practiced it?” Zhang Fan said calmly.

“Not entirely… the Northern Emperor Death Spirit Method is simply too cruel and domineering. When yin enters the body, yin and yang shift abruptly, the conscious spirit stirs, and endless demonic illusions arise—darkness never lifts, and they appear right before your eyes…” Jiang Hu shook his head, his eyes filled with helplessness.

Clearly, he had once tried to cultivate this method—and failed.

In truth, if it were truly this easy to cultivate, the Northern Emperor Method wouldn’t be called the foremost killing art of the Daoist sects. “I understand.”

“I transmit this method to you; whether you learn it is up to you.”

Speaking, Jiang Hu lowered his voice and imparted the secrets: the incantations, talismanic points, celestial maneuvers, and methods for commanding spirits and ghosts.

“Indeed profound and intricate—definitely difficult.”

After receiving it, Zhang Fan processed it slightly and couldn’t help but sigh.

“Though the technique is complex, the most crucial step is True Yang Refining Profound Yin…”

At this, Jiang Hu pulled a utility knife from his backpack and slashed his palm directly, letting crimson blood drip onto the ground.

“What are you doing?” Zhang Fan raised an eyebrow.

“For cultivators, blood contains true yang—this can test whether you’re suitable to absorb yin energy, and how much you can absorb…”

Jiang Hu explained: “You can activate your yuan shen and see…”

Many things are not real to ordinary sight; only the yuan shen can perceive them. A normal person standing here would only see blood sinking into the soil—nothing else.

“Activate yuan shen!”

Zhang Fan held still, quieted his conscious spirit, and gradually his yuan shen arose. He indeed saw the soil where Jiang Hu’s blood had fallen appear to burn, turning black, faint flames spreading outward—within moments, the entire hundred-meter area was covered, and thin black vapors rose from underground.

“This is a cemetery, near Fengming Temple—yin energy isn’t intense, but with my true yang and body, I can absorb yin from a thousand-meter radius…”

Judging solely by the first stage—True Yang Refining Profound Yin—Jiang Hu had no problem cultivating this method, but each subsequent step grew harder than the last.

“Your turn…”

Jiang Hu handed the utility knife to Zhang Fan, who took it, hesitated briefly, then gritted his teeth and slashed his own palm.

Crimson blood slowly dripped, seeping into the soil.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

…

Five minutes passed; even with the yuan shen observing, the blood-soaked ground showed no reaction whatsoever.

“How is this possible? Are you unsuitable for this method?” Jiang Hu frowned.

He knew some people’s true yang could not absorb or carry yin energy—only repelling and canceling it out…

“So I’ve failed?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help asking.

“It seems so…” Jiang Hu gave a bitter laugh. “Looks like you’re not destined for this method…”

Saying this, Jiang Hu draped an arm over Zhang Fan’s shoulder, helplessly: “Brother, I can only help you this far. Fate has spoken—you’re not meant to have it.”

“It’s fine—consider it an experience,” Zhang Fan said, taking it calmly.

“Let’s head back.”

Jiang Hu, seeing the late hour, called to Zhang Fan, drove the Wu Ling Hongguang, and dropped him off.

…

Deep night.

Eleven o’clock—the ancient Zi hour, the time of heaviest yin energy in the day.

A flashy pink Lamborghini slowly pulled up before the cemetery, its headlights blinding, bringing a touch of life to the dark, eerie graveyard.

“Master, why are we coming here in the middle of the night? I… I’m scared…”

At that moment, a young boy stepped out of the car with an old man whose hair and beard were completely white; the boy looked nervously around, eyes filled with fear and caution.

“Useless fool, you’re a Daoist—what’s there to fear?” The old man cursed.

“Don’t you dare tell anyone you’re from Yin Mountain Sect—you’re embarrassing us.” Gu Yuming glared at his cowardly disciple, furious.

The Yin Mountain Sect was infamous, venerating the Yin Mountain Ancestor, one of the most mysterious lineages in the Daoist sects; since ancient times, they had practiced yin-collecting techniques for longevity, treating the very yin and demonic energies others fled from as treasures.

Thus, to other Daoist sects, the Yin Mountain Sect was both mysterious and eerie.

In truth, though Daoist lineages numbered countless, none that survived to today were simple.

“Master, I’m still scared… will there be ghosts?” Xiong Ba trembled, hiding tightly behind Gu Yuming.

“Is my resentment stronger than a ghost’s?” Gu Yuming stared bitterly at his only precious disciple, wishing he could strangle him right then.

"Today is the first time I'm taking you to gather yin energy; pay close attention."

As he spoke, Gu Yueming paid no further heed to his precious disciple, his fingers forming a seal, ready to invoke the technique—when suddenly his expression changed.

"Strange, why can't I sense any yin energy at all?"

"Master, what's wrong? Did you see a ghost?" Xiong Ba asked nervously.

"Shut up!"

Gu Yueming pressed a finger to his third eye, activating his Nascent Soul—before him, the scenery transformed utterly.

"This... this..."

Blazing flames lit the heavens; ghostly wails echoed from the depths of the earth. Where they stood, all was charred black; as far as the eye could see, devastation reigned.

"Ten li of burial ground—turned to ash!?"

"Who... could have done this!?"

Gu Yueming’s face darkened instantly, a grave weight flooding his clouded eyes.

(End of Chapter)