Chapter 8: Bloodline Power

A sharp “snap” echoed.

Qingfeng moved with lightning speed to the altar, firmly pressing a yellow talisman onto the meat.

The writhing meat instantly fell still, no longer showing any abnormality.

Wang Yu exhaled slowly, loosening his grip on the small wooden sword and stepping back.

“Good job. Thanks to your help, we might not have managed to seal this yin spirit otherwise,” said the young Daoist, tossing the meat back into the jar and resealing its mouth with thick cloth, then smiling slightly at Wang Yu.

“This thing is called a yin spirit?” Wang Yu, still shaken, asked reflexively.

“Yes. A yin spirit is a low-grade malevolent spirit born from yin energy. Though it lacks any true intelligence and acts only on instinct, if it enters a normal person’s body, it can cause severe illness—or even death. When caught, it must be sealed away for later purification,” Qingfeng replied calmly as he placed the jar among the others.

“What is yin energy? Are these ghostly things common? Why have I never heard of them before?” Wang Yu asked, his mind churning.

To him, this thing looked exactly like a ghost from Blue Star legends.

“I’ll explain yin energy later when we have time. But yin spirits are indeed rare—they’ve become more common in recent years due to special circumstances. It’s normal you didn’t know about them.”

“The other yin spirits in these jars were gradually captured by me and my master over the past two years. Like cloud patterns, these things are invisible to ordinary people—only those with spiritual sensitivity can see them. Otherwise, I’d have asked Dongyue instead of you.” Qingfeng chuckled.

Wang Yu finally understood, no longer surprised that Dongyue lacked spiritual sensitivity. After all, Master Chongyun had said spiritual sensitivity was a rare innate gift. But glancing at the jars on the floor, he couldn’t help asking:

“Big brother, was that electric light you had on your hands just now a spell? Can these talismans really seal these things?”

“You know about talismans? That’s impressive. The ones on the jars are indeed talismans—but not ordinary ones. Precisely speaking, these are spirit talismans infused with true magical power. Ordinary talismans can’t suppress yin spirits,” the young Daoist said, surprised, then raised one hand, palm open, revealing a dark wooden plaque engraved with intricate patterns. “I know a few spells, but what I used earlier wasn’t one—I merely activated this object’s lightning power. This token is forged from a hundred-year lightning-struck wood. When activated with magical power, it manifests lightning, making it extremely effective against yin spirits and other evil entities. The wooden sword in your hand was also made from scraps of lightning-struck wood, but it lacks any inscriptions, so it can’t produce lightning. Still, it has exorcism properties. I’m giving it to you—you shouldn’t help me for nothing.”

I understand a bit of magic, but what I used earlier wasn’t magic—it merely activated the token’s lightning power. This token is made from century-old lightning-struck wood; with a touch of spiritual force, it can summon lightning and is extremely effective against yin spirits and evil entities. The wooden sword in your hand is also made from scraps of lightning-struck wood, but it lacks any inscriptions, so it cannot manifest lightning power—though it still has exorcism properties. I’m giving it to you, younger brother; I can’t let you help me for nothing.

He actually had magical power—and could use spells!

Wang Yu was overjoyed. He carefully tucked the wooden sword into his robe, pondering the meaning of “inscribed things.”

Seeing Wang Yu’s delight, the young Daoist’s expression turned thoughtful. After a moment, he asked:

“Qiu Ye, would you like to learn how to suppress and seal yin spirits?”

“What? Brother is willing to teach me? Will the abbot agree?” Wang Yu asked, surprised, then quickly added, delighted.

“Don’t worry. What I’ll teach you isn’t the core secret art of Baiyun Temple—just a couple of specialized methods for suppressing yin spirits. With more and more yin spirits appearing below the mountain, I urgently need a spiritually sensitive assistant. If you agree, I’ll convince Master.” Qingfeng replied without hesitation.

“If the abbot has no objections, I’d be honored to learn,” Wang Yu nodded eagerly, fully willing.

“Good. Wait for my news. It’s getting late—I need to check the other yin spirit seals. Leave now.” The young Daoist said no more, tore off the yellow talisman from the door, and ushered him out.

Wang Yu bowed and took his leave. No sooner had he stepped outside than the dark stone door slowly closed behind him, blocking all view of the interior.

Wang Yu stood outside, staring at the stone door for a long while, then turned away with a faint smile.

Whether it was illusion or not, the burning heat inside his body had vanished completely after all that—but his skin still faintly itched.

That night, he dreamed a long dream: first, he returned to Blue Star laden with treasures, greeted by cheers and amazement from friends and family. Then, without warning, he plunged into a sea of fire. His skin melted away in chunks, yet he felt no searing pain—only a cool, soothing sensation that filled his entire body with exquisite comfort, before sinking into sweet, endless slumber.

That night, he had a long dream: first, he returned to Blue Star laden with treasures, greeted by crowds of family and friends who marveled at him—but then he inexplicably plunged into a sea of fire, his skin melting away in chunks under the flames, yet he felt no burning pain, only a soothing coolness that filled his whole body with exquisite comfort, before sinking into a sweet, deep slumber.

Wang Yu stood beside the table, holding half a clay cup, utterly bewildered.

Just moments ago, after waking, he’d felt thirsty and reached for the clay cup on the table. But the moment his fingers closed around it, the upper half shattered instantly—as if made of sand.

Wang Yu remained frozen for a long while, then tightened his grip on the broken cup.

Wang Yu took a long moment to regain his composure, then squeezed the broken cup half with a slight increase in pressure.

The remaining fragments shattered too, fine dust slipping between his fingers and scattering across the floor.

The remaining fragments of the cup shattered, tiny shards slipping between his fingers and scattering across the floor.

He muttered, lifting his hands to examine them closely. His palms seemed thicker than before—his eyes widened. Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed the wooden table corner, wrenching hard.

He murmured softly, raised his hands to examine them closely, and realized his palms had grown noticeably thicker—his eyes widened in surprise. Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed the corner of the table, wrenching hard.

The seemingly sturdy table corner broke off easily, as if made of dough.

The seemingly sturdy wooden table corner snapped off easily, as if made of dough.

Wang Yu sucked in a sharp breath, finally convinced his strength had exploded overnight. He looked down—his legs also seemed thicker; the cuffs of his pants, once fitting well, now appeared slightly too short.

He bent his knees slightly and leapt over a zhang high, easily touching the seemingly distant ceiling beam. Then he bent down and did nearly a hundred push-ups—without a trace of fatigue.

This must be the effect of the medicinal meat!

Wang Yu was stunned. The only explanation he could think of was this.

Even though Dongyue and Qingfeng had said the medicinal meat’s effects were excellent on first use, he never imagined it could transform his body so drastically in a single night.

Such a near-miraculous effect—like refining marrow and changing sinews—could only appear in legends from Blue Star.

As a modern man familiar with human physiology, he couldn’t help fearing hidden dangers from such violent bodily changes.

Wang Yu’s excitement faded. He decided to find Dongyue and ask for answers. He pushed open the door and stepped out.

In the temple courtyard, a young Daoist stood quietly, seemingly meditating. Hearing footsteps, he opened his eyes and immediately saw Wang Yu hurrying out.

In the center of the square, a young Daoist priest stood quietly, as if meditating. Hearing the noise, he opened his eyes and immediately saw Wang Yu hurrying out.

Wang Yu, surprised, quickly bowed.

“Qiu Ye, what happened to your face? And why are you suddenly so much taller?” Qingfeng studied Wang Yu, who he’d seen just the night before, with a strange expression.

“My face?” Wang Yu blinked, puzzled.

“Look for yourself,” the young Daoist said, his lips twitching. He pulled a bronze mirror from his robe and handed it over.

Wang Yu took the mirror, confused. He glanced at it—and saw a bizarre yin-yang face: the lower half normal, the upper half glowing crimson, like a boiled shrimp. Yet he felt nothing unusual.

Wang Yu took the bronze mirror with a frown, glanced at it, and saw a strange yin-yang face reflected on its smooth surface: the lower half looked normal, but the upper half was blazing red, like a freshly boiled shrimp—yet he felt absolutely no abnormality himself.

He glanced at the young Daoist opposite him—and realized the man now seemed much shorter than before.

He had indeed grown significantly overnight.

He had indeed grown much taller overnight.

Wang Yu held the mirror, utterly at a loss.

“After returning last night, did you encounter anything strange or eat anything unusual?” the young Daoist asked curiously.

“I went straight to bed after returning. Didn’t even drink water. As for strange things… oh! I ate the medicinal meat last night. Could that be related?” Wang Yu returned the mirror, thinking aloud.

“If the first dose worked well, it does improve the body noticeably—but only by making you stronger. It can’t cause such drastic physical changes,” Qingfeng shook his head.

“Big brother, my strength has also increased dramatically,” Wang Yu said hesitantly.

“Dramatically? How much?” Qingfeng glanced at him, unconvinced.

Wang Yu grinned, said nothing more, but his gaze drifted to a half-person-tall stone tripod beside the young Daoist. He walked over.

The young Daoist watched without stopping him.

Wang Yu estimated the tripod’s weight, gripped its lower sides, grunted, and the heavy-looking stone vessel began to sway. Then, with a surge of strength, he lifted it overhead, circled the young Daoist once, and slammed it back down with a thunderous crash—making the ground tremble.

Estimating the stone tripod’s weight by its size, Wang Yu gripped its lower sides with both hands, grunted softly, and the seemingly three- or four-hundred-pound tripod began to sway. Then, with a surge of strength, he lifted it overhead, circled the young Daoist priest once, and with a thunderous crash, slammed it back down, his face flushed, his breath ragged—the ground nearby trembled slightly.

He stepped over, grasped the tripod’s edge, drew a deep breath, and pushed.

The tripod wobbled slightly—then remained firmly in place.

“You’re… Qiu Ye, come with me to see Master,” Qingfeng grabbed Wang Yu’s arm without hesitation, his brow bright with excitement.

“See Master? Yes, big brother,” Wang Yu blinked, then nodded quickly and followed the young Daoist toward the main hall.

They entered the hall, passed the towering statue of Jiutian Qiu Yang Tian Shi, walked through a corridor, and arrived before a quiet chamber.

“Master, this is Qingfeng and Qiu Ye seeking an audience,” Qingfeng knocked twice and spoke respectfully outside.

“Qingfeng, what now? Didn’t I already agree to your request yesterday?” came Chongyun Daoist’s calm voice from within.

“Master, I’ve come again because of Qiu Ye. But this time, I ask you to personally accept him as your direct disciple,” Qingfeng replied softly.

At these words, not only did Wang Yu stare in shock—the room fell silent. After a long pause, Chongyun Daoist’s voice rose in surprise:

“Qingfeng, you’re usually level-headed. You wouldn’t say this without reason.”

“Master, after Qiu Ye’s first ingestion of the medicinal meat, he appears to have awakened bloodline power. But I don’t yet know what kind of bloodline.” Qingfeng replied plainly.

“What? Awakened bloodline? Come in, both of you!” Chongyun Daoist’s voice sharply rose.

Wang Yu was startled, but under Qingfeng’s urging, he stepped into the chamber.

The chamber was empty, its walls lined with blue stone bricks. Only a yellow meditation cushion sat on the floor—and upon it, seated in lotus position, was Chongyun Daoist.

The meditation chamber was empty, its walls lined entirely with blue stone bricks; apart from a yellow mat on the floor, there was nothing else, and seated upon the mat was Daoist Chongyun.