I Might Be a Big Shot — Chapter 40
Changkong Zhuoyu truly admired this sect master of the Heaven-Shaking Peak. Although his speed in setting up the formation was a bit slow, he was sensible enough not to stubbornly oppose Changkong Zhuoyu despite knowing his profound cultivation, nor to foolishly insist on being a cut-down villain. Indeed, those who know the times are the wise.
“You’re quite good,” Changkong Zhuoyu said faintly, his eyes half-lowered.
Li Xinglun glanced at Xuan Minglie. Cultivators at high stages rarely looked unpleasant — and this sect master of Heaven-Shaking Peak was indeed striking. Perhaps due to the baleful energy around him, he carried a faint scent of blood, exuding an air of danger, yet this only enhanced his looks. The word “demonic” might sound a bit shameful, but it suited Xuan Minglie well.
At least compared to Changkong Zhuoyu, Xuan Minglie’s aura felt more like that of a sect master of the demonic path.
Changkong Zhuoyu deliberately projected an air of inscrutability and coldness. Though his cultivation was unfathomable, he lacked the malice and ruthlessness one would expect of a demonic sect master.
Of course, in terms of looks alone, Xuan Minglie couldn’t compare to Changkong Zhuoyu. He was even a notch below Li Xinglun. Though Li Xinglun was overshadowed by Changkong Zhuoyu, taken on his own he was also one of the most outstanding young talents in the cultivation world.
Unperturbed, Xuan Minglie asked, “I wonder what purpose the Venerable Lord has in using the Blood-Guiding Art? To find someone, or to control another’s spirit and soul?”
“What difference is there between the two when performing the art?”
“To find someone is much simpler. With just a drop of heart’s blood, I can use the art to locate them. But to use the Blood-Guiding Art to control a relative is far more difficult. First, the practitioner’s cultivation stage must be higher than that of the target. Second, one needs more than just a drop of heart’s blood.”
Changkong Zhuoyu glanced at Li Xinglun, who answered, “We only need to find someone. But if the person we seek has already died or their body has been made into a puppet, will the Blood-Guiding Art still work?”
“The Blood-Guiding Art relies on blood as its medium. If the body no longer holds living blood, it becomes useless.”
“Let’s search first,” Li Xinglun said, handing Xuan Minglie a drop of heart’s blood.
Li Xinglun’s elder female cousin and younger female cousin had been abducted, most likely to be used as cultivation furnaces — their chances of being alive were high. But…
Forget it. Better to find them first.
A faint suspicion lingered in his heart. If that suspicion proved true, his two cousins might have met a terrible fate.
Xuan Minglie began the ritual, casting several hand seals at the drop of blood suspended in the air. Under the effect of true essence, the drop of blood spun rapidly like a headless fly, darting about before finally falling helplessly to the ground, unable to locate anything.
“This is…” Changkong Zhuoyu, somewhat worried, secretly grasped Li Xinglun’s hand and gave it a light squeeze.
Li Xinglun had been mentally prepared and was not too saddened. Yet Changkong Zhuoyu’s gentle squeeze warmed his heart.
“There are two possibilities. Either the person we seek is already dead, or…” Xuan Minglie glanced at Li Xinglun. “Or the person’s blood and spirit have been refined into an artifact specifically designed to restrain those of the same bloodline.”
Li Xinglun instantly felt his blood run backward and his body go cold. He remembered that those black-clad men had intended to kill him and capture his sister. Only after his sister committed suicide did they turn to abduct his cousins. In other words, to those black-clad men, his sister had been more important.
The cultivation world harbored sinister arts capable of using close blood relations to control someone. Even if that person ascended to the immortal realm, as long as they retained their original body, they could not escape such a bond.
Could it be that those black-clad men had intended all along to kill him? And if they couldn’t kill him, they would capture his close kin to forge an artifact?
But what made him — a mere descendant of a small Foundation Building family — worth such extreme measures?
“Sect Master Xuan, if such an artifact truly exists, how can it be broken?” Li Xinglun asked.
“Sever the blood,” Xuan Minglie replied. “Wash away karma with blood, sever ties of kinship, cut off the dust of the past — only then can you break free and never again be bound by family ties. But this is a method of the demonic path. If you truly undertake it, you will fall into the demonic path and never return to the righteous sect. Of course, it has its benefits. The Blood-Severing Art is excruciating, beyond what most can endure. It requires draining all your blood and reshaping your flesh — a path that defies Heaven's Order. But if you can endure it, you will definitely ascend by an entire stage. The remade body becomes brimming with spiritual energy and exceptional roots and bones, doubling your cultivation speed thereafter. My own aptitude was mediocre and I should never have reached the Great Ascension stage. It was because I cultivated the Blood-Severing Art that I advanced so quickly. But once you’ve practiced this sinister art, don’t think you can survive the heavenly tribulation. Severing all kinship brings down immense karma, likely to summon a ninety-ninefold tribulation — capable of destroying even an immortal’s soul. No one in the cultivation world can withstand it.”
Li Xinglun’s hands grew colder. Changkong Zhuoyu immediately said to Xuan Minglie, “Sect Master Xuan, does Heaven-Shaking Peak have a secluded place?”
“Of course.”
Xuan Minglie led them to a quiet hall and left without asking anything. Changkong Zhuoyu immediately set up a formation to prevent anyone from overhearing.
“My disciple, do you truly intend to sever your blood?” Changkong Zhuoyu asked anxiously. “Do you really believe your cousins have been refined into a sinister artifact?”
Li Xinglun felt himself faltering. He leaned against Changkong Zhuoyu, pressing all his weight on him, and finally said, “Master, perhaps you’ll think me paranoid. But I just have this feeling — that these people destroyed my entire family and even want to use my kin to craft an artifact to control me, all because of me and the Time-Space Wheel. I’m just an ordinary heir to a small family, no great figure. This idea seems absurd. To undertake the Blood-Severing Art on nothing more than such a suspicion is really…”
“No,” Changkong Zhuoyu said firmly. “Your cultivation speed is among the best in the cultivation world, and you were the disciple I chose at first sight. Perhaps you really are some great figure.”
Changkong Zhuoyu’s reasoning was surprisingly convincing!
Li Xinglun seemed to recover some strength, though he still did not rise. He continued leaning on Changkong Zhuoyu and said, “This is just my guess. To fall into the demonic path for such a wild thought, Master…”
He wanted to ask, Master, do you agree? And, Master, do you mind if I become a demonic cultivator? In the end, Li Xinglun asked neither, simply gazing quietly at Changkong Zhuoyu, waiting for his answer.
“As your master, I myself practice both righteous and demonic arts — why would I care whether you are righteous or demonic? I only worry that the Blood-Severing Art is too dangerous and you might be harmed.”
“So long as Master doesn’t mind.” Li Xinglun’s voice was firm. “Master, I have this feeling that no matter the cost, I must sever the bloodline. Otherwise, something disastrous may happen — perhaps even implicating you. So even if it means falling into the demonic path, I must sever these ties.”
“Good!” Changkong Zhuoyu embraced Li Xinglun, patting his shoulder forcefully. “Since you’ve decided, I won’t stop you.”
In that warm embrace, Li Xinglun rubbed his cheek against Changkong Zhuoyu’s face.
Warm as fine jade, a comforting warmth that seeped into his heart. Li Xinglun couldn’t bear to let go and murmured against Changkong Zhuoyu’s cheek, “Master, was it really your armpit I touched when we first met?”
Somehow it didn’t seem so. Li Xinglun still remembered the sensation from back then — like the finest warm jade, the most delicate skin. How could that have been an armpit?
He harbored a guess but dared not speak it aloud. Perhaps, at that time, he had touched… some indescribable part of his master.
“I don’t quite remember,” Changkong Zhuoyu mused. “I only recall feeling a wave of tingling and gradually regaining consciousness. Before that, I seemed to have no awareness — whether I was in seclusion or asleep, I don’t know. Perhaps after Yin Changkong fell injured to the bottom of the Soul-Breaking Gorge, I entered a deathlike seclusion to heal, and only awoke when someone disturbed me?”
How could one go into seclusion and heal at the bottom of the Soul-Breaking Gorge? Li Xinglun glanced at Changkong Zhuoyu, still at a loss about his master’s true identity.
Changkong Zhuoyu was a bit like a child — everything he liked, he wanted to claim as his own. When he saw a great figure in the cultivation world, he wished he were that person and spun countless stories to make the identity plausibly his. Others believed everything he said because of his heaven-defying strength — but Li Xinglun was different.
He had once seen Changkong Zhuoyu in the Soul-Breaking Gorge, where no one could use spiritual energy — and seen him with no power at all. He had glimpsed Changkong Zhuoyu through cultivation stages, seeing a pure soul — as pure as the finest jade, flawless and transparent. Neither Xue Qianjie nor Yin Changkong, no matter how powerful, could possess such an untainted soul. Even with lost memories, the traces of the past couldn’t erase it. Changkong Zhuoyu was simply that kind of person — from appearance to soul, the most beautiful sight in the world. Li Xinglun didn’t think Changkong Zhuoyu was unworthy of the great figures’ identities — rather, those identities were unworthy of him.
Then… who was he really?
Someone who could wield Bloodthirst Banners, who was Yin Changkong, the Mount Shu sword immortal, a reincarnated Buddha cultivator, one who bore the aura of a divine artifact and even of Nüwa herself — did he truly belong to this world?
Li Xinglun didn’t want to guess, nor did he dare.
In truth, there was only one real answer — whoever Changkong Zhuoyu was, he was not someone a junior cultivator like Li Xinglun could covet.
The one he longed for was a distant moon in the sky.
To grasp even a sliver of that moonlight in his palm, he had to grow stronger!
Li Xinglun’s hesitant eyes gradually grew resolute. He released Changkong Zhuoyu, stood up, and said, “Master, I will go to Sect Master Xuan to learn the Blood-Severing Art. At that time, I’ll ask you to stand guard for me.”
~ Chapter End ~
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