Chapter 1000: Shaping Paper into Flesh, Blood, and Taishui

The General of Jiuyou watched the Daoist of Tongshen seated atop a porcelain jar, fingers forming a Buddhist mudra and chanting the Great Brightness Mantra; his eyes narrowed slightly, revealing a peculiar expression.

But Lunhuizhe prioritize practicality; the Daoist of Tongshen paid no mind to his Daoist robe, standing atop the copper lid, stomping repeatedly until the lotus blossoms opened and closed nine times, finally suppressing that force.

“The thing inside may not be particularly strong—it’s just not restrained by your Great Sun Obscuring Heaven or Lotus Treasure Canopy!”

The Daoist of Tongshen shouted urgently: “It’s restrained by porcelain! Quickly find ceramics…”

“Restrained by porcelain?”

The General of Jiuyou froze, then his face turned drastically pale: “Retreat! To the Lifelamp!”

He dashed toward the lantern in the southeast corner, whipping his horsewhip to draw a circle over a zhang in diameter on the ground, stained with black grease; then he ignited it with the Lifelamp, and a golden ring of fire immediately blazed up.

At that moment, the Daoist of Tongshen had no time to curse him for betraying them—the copper lids of the five large jars flew into the air with a bang, and thick, pus-filled blood gushed forth, splattering in all directions.

The beautiful woman Yu Meiren flicked her eyes and leapt backward.

The old man Ku Geng merely calmly drew a puff from his tobacco pipe, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke that instantly transformed into pale purple mist—ethereal, sublime, carrying a trace of celestial majesty—as it drifted toward the flying droplets of blood.

But the purple mist, like real clouds, was instantly pierced through by the blood droplets, which then moved like living things, drilling toward the old man.

The General of Jiuyou shouted from behind: “That’s Blood Taishui!”

“This thing is said to be the material used by Dingmu to mold humans—invulnerable to all arts; anyone who touches it turns to blood and water…”

Ku Geng snorted inwardly: “If the True Blood River Water came, I’d fear it a little—but this is merely material from a small world used to create humans? Am I one of your creations? Though I’m not among the humans Dingmu personally molded from earth, I’m still a speck of mud she flung away. What kind of material could possibly corrupt me?”

Ku Geng’s coarse farmer’s tunic unfurled, catching the splattering blood droplets within.

The droplets coalesced into a Taishui-like mass—a blood-and-flesh lump the size of a thumb, upon which an eye emerged; as Ku Geng stared, the lump grew larger, sprouting more organs, jumbled and chaotic.

The more he looked, the more his scalp prickled—the organs looked as if they had just been cut from his own body.

His Hundred-Patch Chan Robe not only failed to seal the thing—it also failed to block the invisible connection forming between them…

It was as if…

As if the thing were part of his own body; his cultivation energy and spiritual sense felt no resistance at all.

Sssss!

The Hundred-Patch Chan Robe tore open with a rip; the fleshy mass lunged forward.

Ku Geng leapt backward, but could not shake off the sensation of something clinging like a bone-deep parasite; his eyes flashed with ruthlessness, he reached back, seized Yu Meiren, and shoved her in front of him.

The exquisitely beautiful Yu Meiren touched a single blood droplet—and screamed as her entire body melted rapidly, flesh and bone dissolving into sludge.

“Seal!”

Fan Cun shouted fiercely—but too late.

A golden light, like a bell, erupted and enveloped him.

Everything around slowed to a crawl, as if time itself had frozen.

The blood and flesh sludge hung suspended midair, frozen in the act of leaping from the jars; only Fan Cun’s thoughts moved normally. His right hand opened, and a golden character “Yue” trembled on his palm.

It was clear that most of the flesh sludge from the five porcelain jars was surging toward him.

At that moment, Fan Cun felt a hunger within him—like a parched earth yearning for rain—desperate to drink the blood and flesh sludge.

The Daoist of Tongshen sat atop the last porcelain jar, a copper coin half-thrown, hovering in midair.

He slowly raised his head, forcing a strained smile; a thread of spiritual sense, like lightning, drifted slowly through the space.

“You’re Fan Cun, right? You’ve hidden yourself well. This golden talisman’s essence is extremely high—it even suppressed my Yangshen! But alas, the magic power within is too weak; it can only immobilize those Blood Taishui for three breaths.”

“And after three breaths, the object on your person that draws them will reduce you to dust and bones!”

“Hehe, by then, even I can’t save you! If you still have a trump card, I might just pull you out…”

Fan Cun’s mind flashed like lightning: “The Blood Taishui were drawn to me? Of course! The Master of Xuanzhen transformed my body using Black Taishui! Black Taishui’s essence is higher than Blood Taishui’s—in their eyes, I must be more tempting than any elixir!”

“I can still hold them for an instant—Master, please act now…”

Fan Cun’s spiritual sense carried this shout into everyone’s ears.

At that moment, the three breaths had passed; the golden light, heavy as mountains and firm as peaks, shattering instantly. Blood and flesh sludge surged again like a tidal wave toward them all. Fan Cun flipped his left palm and roared, unleashing a mirror-like beam.

“Seal!”

This time, the golden light faintly coated the surface of the Blood Taishui, freezing its form once more.

Behind Fan Cun, a hot wind blew, carrying golden flames like a golden torrent rushing toward the Blood Taishui.

Wind fueled the fire, blowing the Blood Taishui apart; blood congealed, flesh dried, and a wide path opened through the blood waterfall.

The General of Jiuyou swung the Sunlight Treasure Fan, blasting all the tomb robbers of the Jiuyou Squad into the air.

The group tumbled and scrambled, hurled against the wall behind the bronze coffin.

The Daoist of Tongshen, seated atop the porcelain jar, leapt up and lunged toward the bronze coffin—but before he could reach it, he twisted midair and landed beneath it.

The Daoist of Tongshen wiped nonexistent sweat from his brow, his heart trembling: “Almost misjudged it—this coffin’s material is identical to the Lotus Treasure Canopy! How many priceless talismans for suppressing evil had to be melted down to forge such a coffin?”

“Then what’s inside must be even more evil than the Blood Taishui?”

“The Blood Taishui resemble the Blood Spirits of my demonic Blood Sea Sect by three-tenths, but by nine-tenths they resemble the corrupted entities formed when the Yellow Mud Sect failed to achieve the Immortal Demon Body. The Yellow Mud Sect’s Yellow Mud Immortal Body stems from the legacy of the Qin Dynasty’s Creation Dao—but its essence is the lineage of the Empress Nüwa. Could there be a Dao Lord among the creators of this world who also came from the Creation Dao? Dingmu… Dingmu… could she be the Dao Lord of Creation?”

Facing Qian Chen, the Daoist of Tongshen felt only seven-tenths fear—but when he thought of the madmen of the Creation Dao, for an instant, he was utterly consumed by terror.

He raised his head again and saw the General of Jiuyou gripping Yang Qin in one hand and Fan Cun in the other, his horsewhip rising and falling, as if an invisible warhorse galloped beneath him, charging like lightning.

Ku Geng the old farmer followed close behind, stepping over the bronze coffin the instant the stillness spell shattered; the tomb corridor ahead was blocked by massive stone slabs.

No path ahead, but the Blood Taishui pressed from behind.

The tomb robbers of the Jiuyou Squad each used their methods, frantically pulling out stone slabs as thick as a man’s waist; yet the Daoist of Tongshen and the General of Jiuyou remained calm—they had already noticed that when the Blood Taishui surged forth, they deliberately avoided the direction of the bronze coffin.

Indeed, as the Blood Taishui’s fluid surged forward, it hesitated three chi before the coffin.

Gradually, it settled back into a pool of blood on the ground.

“Phew!” The General of Jiuyou exhaled, stroking his beard, swaying slightly as he sang in the Xipi fast-beat rhythm: “What a demon! Forced me into a panic, panic, panic… No path to heaven, no door to earth!”

“Thanks to this young brother, who received a lifesaving true talisman written in the palm of a celestial being—we escaped death.”

Yang Qin and Fan Cun glanced at their squad leader, unable to hide the strange expression on their faces.

Ku Geng merely said calmly: “Letting that woman retreat was fine—but using her seduction to harm me? She couldn’t be allowed to live.”

Yang Qin and Fan Cun fell silent. Yu Meiren had been their teammate for years. Half a Lunhui of mutual support—yes, there had been scheming and betrayal—but without some genuine feeling, no one could have endured so many years as teammates.

What they called “seduction” was in truth Yu Meiren’s innate charm, so deeply ingrained it made others instinctively want to protect her.

Her subtle reliance on teammates was likely real—but to accuse her of intentional harm? That was a cruel, heartless accusation.

Ku Geng said no more, sat on the ground, expressionless.

The General of Jiuyou arranged for his men to clear the tomb corridor, then said to the Daoist of Tongshen: “These stone slabs block the corridor using the mechanisms of Qimen Dunjia—pull one, and the whole system collapses. Inside, there are likely many sealed evils!”

As he spoke, a black snake, as thick as a thumb, shot out from one of the pulled slabs and lunged at the Wu Xiu of the Jiuyou Squad.

The Wu Xiu’s simple face-paint flickered like a mirage; the snake grazed his cheek and flew past, only to be split in half by the General’s horsewhip. Even severed, it writhed and bit, spewing venom that corroded small pits into the floor tiles.

“Black Snake Gu !” the General sighed, then turned: “See? One slip, and someone dies.”

“From my experience, these stone slabs block at least twenty zhang—without seven or eight hours, we won’t finish dismantling them…”

The Daoist of Tongshen nodded slightly: “But this place is perilous beyond measure—we cannot linger. Delay invites change.”

The General spread his hands helplessly: “Then what do you suggest? Retrace our steps? You’re afraid we won’t satisfy the Blood Taishui, aren’t you?”

The group sat down behind the bronze coffin, showing no interest whatsoever in investigating what lay within.

The General of Jiuyou instinctively glanced at the coffin’s engravings—and shuddered, sitting down quietly.

“This coffin isn’t meant to prevent thieves from stealing the corpse’s burial goods—it’s meant to keep what’s inside from escaping. Zi-Wu Heaven’s Mechanism Lock, Yin-Yang Soul-Sealing Coffin… so cruel! This is the secret technique of Lu Ban, designed to ensure eternal damnation!”

The Daoist of Tongshen sat for no more than two minutes before feeling unbearable unease; he rose and walked to the dismantled stone slabs of the corridor, calculating the Qimen Dunjia with his fingers.

The others leaned against the bronze coffin, staring straight ahead—not because they didn’t sense its strangeness, but because the blood and flesh sludge continued to writhe several zhang away.

Soon, Fan Cun suddenly looked up and asked: “Have you heard any music?”

Ku Geng tilted his ear slightly, sneering: “You harbor evil thoughts—of course you hear ghostly music and demonic sounds…”

But the Daoist of Tongshen walked over solemnly, holding his compass, staring at the trembling needle: “I didn’t hear anything—but the needle’s movement is… strange.”

The General of Jiuyou hurried over, first checking the mirror, then the Lifelamp.

“The mirror’s light hasn’t flickered, the lamp flame is steady. The color is unusual, tinged with blood—but that’s because the Blood Taishui are nearby… what’s strange?”

The Daoist of Tongshen’s expression turned peculiar: “The needle’s tremor is too rhythmic… as if someone were playing music beside us?”

He looked down again.

“It’s the Five Tones of Elegant Music!”

At that moment, a sudden, brief sob echoed through the underground palace; everyone turned toward the sound’s origin.

Someone, voice trembling with tears, whispered: “I… I didn’t imagine that, did I?”

“There was crying!”

Now, faint and distant, a mournful pipa melody seemed to drift from afar; everyone felt a chill run down their spines.

For the pipa and the crying sounded as if they came from right beside them. Ku Geng stared fixedly at the bronze coffin, his copper tobacco pipe raised, ready to strike.

Fan Cun shook his head: “It’s not coming from the coffin.”

His eyes locked onto a direction, pinpointing the source of the crying. Ku Geng’s gaze sharpened: “Why did you hear it first? And now that you’ve spoken, we all hear it!”

Fan Cun did not answer, but stared at a paper court lady who had lifted her sleeve to cover her face, as if dancing.

“You suspect him?” the General of Jiuyou said coldly. “But if not for him, we’d already have been devoured by the Blood Taishui!”

“I don’t suspect him,” Ku Geng said calmly. “But sometimes, hearing, seeing, knowing—these themselves are dangers. They can allow things to cross over through our perception… and the Blood Taishui seem to have a peculiar ‘interest’ in him.”

The General of Jiuyou fell silent. With his eyes, he too had noticed the Blood Taishui’s “favoritism” toward Fan Cun.

At that moment, Fan Cun still stared fixedly at the court lady. Perhaps it was the wind—or perhaps their movement disturbed the air of the tomb—the paper figure’s raised sleeve began to tremble slightly.

At first, it was the flutter of paper in the wind; soon, the trembling became the softness of fabric.

The last traces of stiffness and unnaturalness on the paper figure melted into softness…

The court lady slowly lowered her sleeve, revealing a pair of eyes swollen with tears—glistening, heartrending, filled with genuine sorrow, more alive than any living person.

At that moment, all the paper figures began to move—some plucked the pipa, others beat drums, dancing girls and palace maids bowed and swirled their sleeves, musicians played and sang in unison, and a royal orchestra gradually came alive before their eyes.

Swish!

The Nine You General blocked the tobacco pipe extended by Ku Geng.

Ku Geng still spoke calmly: “I merely told him not to look at those things. Haven’t you realized yet? Those things came alive because of him!”

The Nine You General glanced at him with contempt, staring at the animated paper figures, and whispered: “Put away your petty schemes. These are relics—things from the deeper layers of secret history. Remember: in tombs, you fear neither ghosts nor corpse transformations, but the living relics!”

“Ghosts, zombies, and malevolent spirits are all alive—they emerged from history. But relics are things sealed away within history!”

“One taboo of the Paper People Path is storing paper figures too long—over time, they gain spiritual awareness. The surface reason is fear that after their eyes are painted, they grow powerful and steal human destiny. But the true reason is that paper figures resemble humans yet are dead objects. Thus, they remain in the past yet may ‘come alive’ in the present, possibly forgotten within secret history!”

“Now, these spiritually awakened paper figures have been tainted by Blood Tai Sui—a substance that creates life—and have become monsters, neither human nor non-human.”

“The hallmark of the Immortal Sage Realm is monstrosity!”

In that instant, the thoughts of the Divine Spirit Daoist flashed like lightning; guided by the demon’s instinct, he deduced much from the Nine You General’s words.

“You mean, being neither human nor non-human, emerging from history—these are the two conditions for attaining the Immortal Sage Realm?”

The Divine Spirit Daoist’s eyes flickered, and he suddenly asked.

The Nine You General frowned, turning to look at the Divine Spirit Daoist.

“So the Immortal Sage Realm isn’t merely about becoming a monstrous being for longevity. The methods these people used aren’t corpse liberation. Thus, the key isn’t immortality—it’s history. The Immortal Sage Realm also draws upon the power of secret history!”

The Nine You General spoke gravely: “Correct. My Secret Burial Path to immortality is simple: live within ‘secret history,’ live within tombs!”

“The universe is a great tomb; a tomb is a small universe.”

“Then, sealed tombs—do they exist in the present or the past?”

“Those seeking transcendence have taken the wrong path! The farther one travels in the present world, the more false one becomes. True cultivation cannot be achieved in the present world. Thus, true sects seeking liberation cultivate ‘history’—both orthodox history and secret history. Secret history is alive; thus, closer to the source, older history changes less and is more real. False cultivators carve marks on boats seeking swords; true cultivators bury themselves in tombs, sealed within secret history.”

“Living Immortal Sages are all deluded, false immortals.”

“True Immortal Sages are buried in tombs; the present world is merely their shadow! What we call spiritual powers and spells are merely changes of the shadow. True cultivation seeks only reality.” The Nine You General sighed: “Thus, those who mold clay figures, perform operas, hoard treasures, or cultivate Dao—all may be shadows cast by some being within secret history.”

The Divine Spirit Daoist’s eyes blazed with sudden insight: “So the tomb exists both in the past and the present—it allows its occupant to ‘live’ in the past! When we intrude, past and present overlap, and the tomb’s occupant can still strike from the past. This tomb becomes a domain, a world—within a single thought, it can alter ‘reality’!”

“He lives in the past, unable to face us directly, but he can manipulate ancient objects within the tomb, altering secret history to make the reflections in the present move.”

“It’s like an Immortal Sage striking—mysterious and unfathomable!”

“These paper figures are the result of someone altering reality in the past, within secret history…”

“Ghost-cultivation tomb? It’s clearly a ghost-cultivation tomb!”

It’s not ghosts building tombs—it’s ghosts cultivating tombs…

A banner behind the Nine You General shot out, shattering one paper figure—but instantly, the figure restored itself, even more lifelike than before. Its shattered fragments were half-paper, half-flesh; as the wounds healed rapidly, they became entirely flesh and blood.

Watching the Divine Spirit Daoist chant and form hand seals, the Nine You General warned:

“Our spells cannot harm them. Use weapons instead—for they are more ‘real’ than we are!”

“Real?”

The Divine Spirit Daoist smiled faintly and spat out the Three Pure Fires, instantly igniting all the paper figures.

Watching the ashes swirl through the air, the Nine You General was stunned: “How can your spell…”

Ku Geng the old farmer sneered coldly: “Because our spells are more real!”

Yet the ashes swirled through the air and reassembled—this time, the dozens of paper figures fused completely with the bloody, fleshy sludge of Blood Tai Sui on the ground, all turning toward Ku Geng. From his tobacco pipe erupted a skyward torrent of fire and rosy light, striking the paper figures and burning holes into them.

But visibly, the effect grew weaker and weaker!

The paper figures struck, clashing with Ku Geng’s tobacco pipe—only the rustling sound of paper cutting through air was heard. Within a few moves, Ku Geng’s protective cultivation was shattered; a zombie-like claw lunged for his chest.

The Divine Spirit Daoist flicked a copper coin to the ground—the distance between the paper figures and Ku Geng suddenly tripled.

But his chest robe was already torn, and a sliver of skin had been scraped off.

“Impossible—my Hundred Patch Chan robe…”

Ku Geng looked down: the Hundred Patch Chan robe, woven from a hundred Buddhist treasure cassocks, was as thin as paper lanterns—easily torn, it ripped apart like real paper.

Even the shallow wound from the slash showed no pain—it was like tearing paper, revealing dozens of layered flaps of flesh.

“Have I become a paper figure?”

“No…” Ku Geng’s face twisted in terror: “It’s stealing my reality!”