Chapter Twenty-One: The Ghost Mother

The water pool was calm, clear as crystal. Xu Zhong redirected his spiritual energy, channeling it into his eyes, and performed the art of penetrating the depths. His pupils, black as the abyss, gazed into the water's heart.

Within the pool, nothing could be seen; it was as pristine as a mirror. Yet, as he peered through that mirror, it suddenly shattered with a thunderous crash. The water began to boil; countless dragon-shaped worms leapt and danced within, their gaze fixed upon Xu Zhong. The pool was teeming with these creatures.

“This isn’t a water pool at all—it’s a mass of shell-less insect eggs,” Xu Zhong thought, his heart filled with dread.

After the dragon-shaped worms appeared, a distorted human figure began to take shape, and then a woman in red stepped out. She gripped a massive axe, advanced a step, and swung it forward.

A sizzling crack! The entire space was torn open, revealing a vast chasm. The pool water spread outward, and the dragon-shaped worms sparkled like stars. The water followed the rift, enclosing him in its embrace.

Countless dragon-shaped worms writhed and clawed, jubilantly surging toward him. Xu Zhong roared, unleashing the Art of Divine Radiance. Divine light enveloped his body, shielding his flesh. At the same time, he summoned his gourd.

The gourd spat out the Xuan Guang Sword. Its radiant blade swept and collided, fierce as the abyss, showering starlight that cleaved a path through the dispersing water pool.

With no wind, he moved; it was the art of divine movement. In an instant, he crossed dozens of yards. Yet, his speed was no match for the pool’s expansion. Gradually, the path he had carved closed behind him, leaving him trapped.

Xu Zhong spun the gourd. Qi of Geng Metal surged forth—a treasure of unparalleled power. He poured all his spiritual energy into the gourd, nearly draining himself.

The Geng Metal Qi thundered with the might of a thousand storms, its power greater than any divine punishment. It whirled and transformed into myriad sword energies, shredding the watery veil and opening a road to the heavens before his eyes.

But then a streak of white light flashed. The woman in red brought her giant axe down.

The sky split, the ground collapsed. The woman in red reached out and tore away the star-studded fabric of the heavens, yanked at its four corners, then pulled at the earth’s four corners, wrapping the entire water pool and Xu Zhong into an egg.

The axe hovered above Xu Zhong’s head, beams of divine light descended, striking the three acupoints on his head—Heaven Gate, Hundred Convergences, and Jade Pillow—manifesting a doorway straight to the Mud Pill.

A hand reached out. Slender and delicate, pale as snow, utterly devoid of blood.

If that hand passed through the doorway formed by his three acupoints, it would seize his three souls and seven spirits, leaving his body an empty shell.

The Divine Radiance shattered, unable to resist the hand.

Quick-witted in crisis, Xu Zhong opened his palm.

The eye on his palm, usually closed, suddenly snapped open.

“Fiend, how dare you stir trouble?”

The voice rang out like a great bell, echoing to the heavens.

The surrounding pool water was instantly shaken apart, and the dragon-shaped worms vanished without a trace.

The hand paused.

She reached for the axe above Xu Zhong’s head and swung it at his palm.

The eye drawn by Monk Zhenyan on Xu Zhong’s palm absorbed his essence and manifested into a small golden body, about four feet tall.

“Head for that stone stele!” Monk Zhenyan guided him, wielding Buddhist arts. Eight heavenly dragons emerged from behind his head, and eight divine elephants appeared from his heart. These were not tangible beings, but the manifestation of the monk’s formidable spirit and body.

Monk Zhenyan possessed the strength of eight dragon-elephant gods.

His golden body brimmed with tremendous power, each particle of flesh housing a dragon-elephant.

Boom! With a single punch—

That blow shattered half the water pool, crushed half the woman’s body, and sent her massive axe flying.

Xu Zhong felt a surge of joy.

But the next moment, the pool gathered and regenerated the woman’s missing half.

After that punch, Monk Zhenyan was spent. The pool shredded him, leaving only a drop of blood suspended in the water.

Blood did not dissolve in water, giving off a golden divine glow.

The woman in red opened her palm and took the drop.

By then, Xu Zhong had reached the stone stele.

Around the stele, there was no water, even though it lay at the pool’s very center.

The woman in red could not approach the stele; she circled restlessly outside it.

Xu Zhong sighed in relief.

Then he was stunned.

The drop of blood taken by the woman came alive, curling up like an infant inside the egg.

Spiritual energy flowed into the infant.

Gradually, the infant grew, transcending time, and transformed back into Monk Zhenyan.

Yet this Zhenyan was less Buddhist, more monstrous, resembling a great demon.

Upon his rebirth, Monk Zhenyan chanted a Buddhist verse, then stepped into the pool and became a dragon-shaped worm.

“Is this how these worms are created?” Xu Zhong’s face was filled with disbelief.

He had considered many sources for the worms, but never this.

“These worms are all people. But where could so many people have come from here?”

The next moment, Xu Zhong realized.

“Blood! It’s blood!”

The monk’s blood was turned into a dragon-shaped worm by the woman; so must the others.

Three thousand years ago, a great battle took place here, spilling unknown quantities of blood. That blood, brimming with vigor, sealed with Bai Zhaoju for three millennia, grew sentient and transformed into monsters.

A story formed in his mind.

But why hadn’t Bai Zhaoju killed her?

After three thousand years sealed together, Bai Zhaoju couldn’t be ignorant.

“Was she unable to kill her, or was it intentional?” Xu Zhong’s head ached. “It can’t be that she couldn’t kill her—it must be deliberate. But why?”

Suddenly, inspiration struck; he thought of Shi Yao.

“Created from blood, they might become like Shi Yao—soulless, spiritless, needing to forge souls.”

“There can’t be identical souls in the world. Once they forge souls, the original sealers won’t sit idly by.”

Those people wouldn’t want to be trapped like Situ Nan, imprisoned in the cavern.

Once these corpse demons acquire souls, conflict will erupt. No matter who wins or loses, Bai Zhaoju profits.

Xu Zhong understood it all.

The story had come full circle.

“But… how do I get out of here?” Xu Zhong sank into despair again.

“Perhaps the stele holds the answer!”

He turned to the stone stele.

On it were inscriptions from three thousand years ago, giving him a headache.

Xu Zhong sat beneath the stele, absorbing spiritual energy and studying the inscriptions.

Once his energy recovered, he began practicing the Art of Spiritual Insight.

This art could temporarily heighten one’s wisdom. Shi Yao had used it, Su Jue as well, but it was Xu Zhong’s first time.

A spark of enlightenment appeared in his mind, like a candle flame.

Unlike a candle burning wax, this spark consumed his soul.

Xu Zhong’s soul, after absorbing fragments from the Nether Demon Lord, was far stronger than ordinary.

This level of wear was well within his endurance.

With Spiritual Insight, his wisdom kept rising.

The inscriptions grew clearer in his mind.

As his wisdom soared, he abandoned interpretation of meaning and focused on the forms.

The characters on the stele were bold and vigorous, like iron strokes and silver hooks, with an overwhelming sense of familiarity.

“These aren’t words—they’re sword techniques!”

In a flash, the shackles collapsed.

The script in his eyes transformed into sword movements.

There were thirty-six characters on the stele.

Yet they embodied a single sword stroke.

With this realization, the world in his eyes shifted dramatically.

Xu Zhong now saw the stele not as stone, but as a sword soaring to the heavens.

Sword light spanned three thousand miles, sword energy pierced the skies, the entire abyss was under its radiance.

The brilliance in Xu Zhong’s gaze intensified. The gourd at his waist leapt and shuddered, eager to act. The gourd opened its lid, releasing the Xuan Guang Sword.

The sword danced about him, lively and agile.

“This isn’t the sword gaining a soul, but my intent reflecting in its blade. It’s not the sword that’s leaping—it’s me.”

Xu Zhong reached for the Xuan Guang.

The sword instantly calmed.

Its blade reflected his image, seemingly unchanged, yet the longer he looked, the more he discerned a difference.

Behind him, a stream of light could faintly be seen.

It flowed from the back of his head, its source in the Mirror Heart.

The Mirror Heart reflects the essence.

In that moment, it changed, reflecting a sword.

This was the Sword Heart.

The Sword Heart nurtures the Dao—it is Sword Dao. Sword Dao breeds intent, intent gives rise to sword energy.

Sword energy complements a person’s essence, spirit, and vitality, mutually enhancing.

Xu Zhong could sense the sword energy flowing through the world.

It surged like a great river.

The river roared, spanning ninety thousand miles; sword energy and sword light stretched as far.

“She bears a gulf of ninety thousand miles in her heart—so her Sword Dao traverses that distance.”

The capacity of the Sword Heart determines the power one can unleash.

A single tile cannot bear ninety thousand miles.

A Sword Heart as small as a tile cannot contain ninety thousand miles of Sword Dao.

Xu Zhong’s understanding deepened as he studied the script, though it grew strenuous.

Spiritual Insight had worn his soul to its limit.

He released the state, using his own wisdom to deduce the Sword Dao.

His Sword Heart swelled, encompassing more Sword Dao, his sword intent grew ever stronger.

The stele concealed Bai Zhaoju’s Sword Dao.

Xu Zhong treated it as a whetstone, sharpening his own path.

He carved his Sword Heart into a river three miles long—his limit.

“It’s not lack of wisdom, but lack of foundation,” Xu Zhong thought, regretful.

With greater foundation, his Sword Heart could be forged stronger.

Xu Zhong lifted the Xuan Guang Sword.

At the moment he touched its blade, he felt utterly transparent. For an instant, he saw not the sword, but his own hand.

“Ghost Mother devours men, blood transformed, dire and evil. I suppress Ghost Mother here. Should future generations fall into this trap, let them learn my Sword Dao—to clear the path, subdue demons, and slay monsters.”

As he mastered the sword stroke, the meaning of the thirty-six characters surfaced.

Xu Zhong gripped the Xuan Guang Sword and gazed at the Ghost Mother.