Chapter Forty-Four: The Art of Distillation

Monk Three-Fires glanced at him and lowered his voice, “What’s wrong? Are you interested?”

“I am, somewhat.”

“But you people of the Nether Rites Division aren’t Daoists or Buddhists. You don’t need to meditate or cultivate; the yin energy on your bodies will grow on its own. What use have you for alchemy?”

Zhou Bai had no way to explain to him, but truth be told, the monk wasn’t wrong; for someone like him, it was more a luxury than a necessity.

Monk Three-Fires chuckled, stood up from his cushion, and drew something from his robe. “This is a demon pearl, formed by a river mussel sprite.”

King Panshan’s eyes lit up. With a wave of his palm, a suction drew the demon pearl into his grasp. He examined it carefully, unable to suppress his praise. “Remarkable! Even gravely wounded, one could cling to life by swallowing this. Done, I’ll trade.”

The swarm of rats delivered the alchemy manual to Monk Three-Fires. After a cursory look, he handed it to Zhou Bai.

Their exchange caused a brief stir, but peace soon returned. King Panshan was far too enamored with the demon pearl to pay the matter much heed, fondling it lovingly before stowing it away at his side.

Zhou Bai, turning the pages of the alchemy manual, whispered, “Is this necessary? The risk is great. What if we’re recognized?”

Monk Three-Fires grinned slyly. “Relax. We won’t be. My talisman water isn’t something just anyone can make—the main ingredient is a drop of blood from a blood demon’s heart. These little sprites can’t possibly see through us.”

“As for the demon pearl, we’ll seize a chance to reclaim it later. There will be plenty of opportunities.”

Zhou Bai nodded as the system’s notification sounded in his mind.

He closed the wooden box, and in an instant, the manual within turned to ash and dust.

What surprised Zhou Bai was that the system didn’t display “Alchemy” but instead revealed a technique called “Brewing.”

No matter; whether making pills or brewing spirits, it was better than nothing. He hadn’t the time to ponder it further.

Meanwhile, King Nanshan had opened the final wooden box. Inside was a jade vial, containing a single drop of pale golden blood.

“Refined from three thousand dragonfish—a drop of essence already containing a trace of dragon energy. It isn’t the path I walk, so today I’ll offer it up.”

At the sight of this blood, an exclamation rippled through the assembled monsters. Though dragonfish weren’t rare, to refine a drop of essence from three thousand of them was a laborious task—hardly worth the effort.

Even Monk Three-Fires could not help but marvel. “I didn’t think King Nanshan truly had something worthwhile to offer. This essence blood is intriguing, though of no use to me. But if you awaken a demon’s supernatural powers, having this drop when you assume your true form would lend your transformation a touch of dragon energy—not bad at all.”

A thought flickered in Zhou Bai’s mind. He didn’t possess demon magic yet, but who could say about the future? He would need to secure this essence blood somehow.

At this point, the grand hall was abuzz, the atmosphere at its peak as all the minor monsters revealed their trump cards.

The snake demon and the giant salamander were the most excited, each producing all their treasures.

When the salamander found its offer failed to entice King Nanshan, it gritted its teeth, stood up from its cushion, and cried out, “My lord, I have gathered seventy-five humans recently, all young and strong, their flesh the choicest. As a supplement, surely this is enough?”

Once King Nanshan’s banquet ended, the monsters would trade among themselves, and the salamander had planned to exchange these for some spiritual materials to aid its cultivation. Now, it had no choice but to reveal them early.

A stir ran through the monsters. This was Yangzhou, not some backwater; the trade in human flesh was done in secret. No monster dared speak of it openly.

King Nanshan’s tiger eyes widened as he pressed his palms together in front of his chest. “Amitabha. Are you ignorant of the taboos here?”

“What’s the problem? Is eating humans forbidden?” the salamander asked, puzzled. It was a recent arrival in Yangzhou.

A collective gulp passed through the monsters. King Nanshan’s gaze turned icy. “Eating humans is simple enough, but not here. Bringing in livestock of unknown origin will bring calamity upon us. Don’t you know that?”

The salamander showed little concern. Since arriving in Yangzhou, it had felt no pressure from the Nether Rites Division, which emboldened it.

“No need to worry, my lord. Every one of these humans has a clear provenance—some of them have even trained in martial arts. The taste should be beyond reproach.”

King Nanshan’s eyes grew wide, and a murderous aura radiated from him. “You fool—you dare target us?”

He seized the salamander and pinned it to the ground, jaws agape, ready to bite.

“My lord… have mercy! I meant no harm; I’m offering these sincerely. Please don’t betray me!”

King Nanshan, beside himself with rage, laughed coldly. None knew better than he how troublesome the Nether Rites Division could be, and for years he had taken great pains to avoid provoking them. He hadn’t expected disaster to come knocking all the same.

“With tricks like these, even if the Nether Rites Division didn’t notice you, someone would settle old scores sooner or later. This banquet is over—I must find somewhere to lie low.”

With those words, King Panshan recited Amitabha several times, his head throbbing with agitation.

“My lord! I’ll withdraw my offer—please, just spare me…”

Crunch.

The salamander’s upper body was reduced to pulp. King Panshan felt no appetite for the flesh and spat it onto the floor.

For the first time, Zhou Bai felt the true weight of the Nether Rites Division’s reputation—so much so that it could terrify monsters into panic.

King Nanshan summoned a gust of demonic wind, curling his tongue to swallow a few wandering ghosts, and was about to leave when Monk Three-Fires stepped forward.

“Do you know Master Hui-le?”

King Panshan froze, his eyes narrowing, his expression turning cold.

Monk Three-Fires gathered his aura, his skin faintly radiating Buddhist light. “Though he was expelled from the monastery for breaking his vows, he was still my uncle-master. I have awaited you in Hangzhou these many years, by the abbot’s command.”

Zhou Bai also stepped out, circulating his yin energy to disperse the faint demonic aura about him, instantly revealing the distinctive bearing of the Nether Rites Division.

King Nanshan cursed inwardly. Not only had someone come seeking vengeance, but the one faction he least wished to encounter had found him as well—his luck was truly abysmal.

“At the time, my beastly nature was untempered—I killed by mistake.”

Monk Three-Fires sneered. “A mistake? Thirty-five lives at Yue Mountain Temple—were they all mistakes? Laughable. I care not why you killed. Today, you pay with your life.”

“Since when does a tiger eat only grass? If you won’t let me eat meat, then I’ll eat you instead. Truth be told, those old monks—tough as leather, and not tasty at all.”