Chapter 42 Chapter Forty-Two — The Sword-Pill

The Cursed Effigy's debut was a brilliant success, to Li Daoxuan's great satisfaction.

Yet he was not carried away; crafty as it was, one must choose its targets with care — if the foe is too strong, the curse may fail, and the caster pays the price.

It was precisely this harsh drawback that kept it a mid-grade artifact, not high-grade.

He put away the doll and looked to Chen Ziyu. "Sister Yu, let us fetch that yellow-skin's corpse."

Everything else aside, that demon core is a treasure; refined into a Longhu Golden Elixir it would raise his cultivation no little.

As for the serpent demon's inner core, Li Daoxuan had given it to his master; the master said the serpent core was precious, requiring many adjunct herbs and stricter age, and was not yet fully prepared.

Chen Ziyu nodded slightly, closed her eyes, and her black tresses drifted as her body floated swiftly east.

Li Daoxuan followed with Shrinking-the-Earth Divine Striding; after about a quarter-hour the two came upon the yellow-skin's corpse.

Li Daoxuan walked over and turned the body.

A wave of blood-stench hit him!

His expression changed; a cold glint crossed his eyes.

This yellow-skin had been gutted and its demon core taken!

"Heh — it seems someone beat us to it, and a connoisseur at that…"

Li Daoxuan gave a cold smile and looked about; sure enough he saw on the ground two sets of footprints, one large, one small.

…

Under the moonlight, two figures were hurrying on their way.

Both wore Daoist robes; one looked mature, some thirty or forty, somewhat stout, smiling without mirth.

The other was only fourteen or fifteen, with a trace of childishness yet on his face.

The young Daoist hesitated, then could not help saying, "Master, we just took that demon core — is that… not a bit improper?"

That yellow-skin had plainly been wounded and fled; their act was rather unkind.

Others toil to subdue a demon, and they pick the fruit — whoever it befell would be angry.

The middle-aged Daoist glared at him. "What do you know? The yellow-skin died right before our eyes — that is fate!"

"Besides, our Wanshou Palace has its pill-refining method; not as fine as the Longhu Golden Elixir, true, but refined into medicine it would raise the cultivation. You have long failed to reach early Bigu — do you not want this pill?"

The young Daoist's eyes moved; in the end he fell silent.

He too longed to break into early Bigu!

"Still, that yellow-skin had some skill; to wound it so, that person is no pushover. Let us hurry — once in Yuzhang City, within the Lady's domain, we shall be safe!"

The two hurried on; both clearly knew light-body arts, moving far swifter than common men, leaping several zhang at a bound.

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The middle-aged Daoist stopped.

The young Daoist nearly bumped into his master. "Master, why have we stopped?"

"Silence — take the sword-pill!"

Only then did the young Daoist see that just ahead, not far off, a tall figure stood — clad in a green Daoist robe, holding an oil-paper umbrella, blocking their path exactly.

The young Daoist drew from his bosom a black pellet, somewhat like an elixir; but as he poured in mana it swiftly unfolded and lengthened, in a blink becoming a cold-glinting treasured sword.

The middle-aged Daoist produced a red sword-pill, which became a sword like red jade.

Both stood sword in hand, blade-points aimed at that figure.

"So this is the sword-pill — indeed marvelous. You are orthodox Daoist sword-cultivators; why then take without word, and steal my things?"

Moonlight lit the figure's face — clear-featured and elegant, otherworldly, but with a cold, faintly chill gaze.

None other than Li Daoxuan.

He had heard his master say that among Daoists are sword-cultivators who, for ease of carrying, refine their sword into a pill — no bigger than a bead at rest, but with mana poured in it becomes a dharma-sword.

Their swords are no common blades; from childhood they are bound to the owner's qi, nurtured for spirit, laying the foundation for the art of sword-flight.

The middle-aged Daoist raised a sword-finger; the red treasured sword hummed and floated, locking upon Li Daoxuan from afar.

The art of sword-flight!

"Treasure belongs to him of affinity, young man. You look full of vital qi and bright of spirit — surely early Bigu. Cultivation is no easy road; has your master not taught you to show Daoist elders some respect?"

Li Daoxuan looked at the middle-aged Daoist, his gaze without flinch.

"A thief — worthy to be called a Daoist elder?"

The middle-aged Daoist sneered. "Since that is so, let skill decide the matter; I would see what a little Daoist like you amounts to."

No sooner said than his sword-finger joined; the red treasured sword trembled and shot at Li Daoxuan like a red lightning-bolt.

Boom!

Red sword-qi raged, hewing countless great trees at the waist and leaving sword-marks upon the ground.

Where Li Daoxuan had stood was now a wreck; that keen sword-qi seemed to cut all things.

His figure appeared a dozen-odd zhang away, a trace wary.

So this is the art of sword-flight?

No wonder his master once said that the so-called Sword Gods and Sword Saints of the martial world cannot block a flying-sword's slash — the flying-sword art by nature overwhelms all swordplay.

Then he had thought the master exaggerated; now, having witnessed its power, he knew the master spoke truth.

Though Li Daoxuan's swordsmanship had greatly advanced, he could never have blocked that stroke — but for the Shrinking-the-Earth art, he could never have dodged it.

"Heh-heh, little Daoist — having seen my dharma-sword's might, will you not retreat? Counting us both as Daoist brethren, I may spare your life!"

The middle-aged Daoist raised his sword-finger again; the red treasured sword gave a clear cry, wreathed in keen sword-qi, pointing at Li Daoxuan.

"Heh — you think only you know magic?"

A cold light flashed in Li Daoxuan's eyes; the next moment he pinched a Paralysis Talisman, formed seals in succession, and silently intoned the incantation.

The middle-aged Daoist could hardly miss that the other was preparing talisman-art; he muttered a curse and resolved to kill.

"Divine weapon, swift as the law — sever!"

The red treasured sword became a red streamer, blazing with brilliant sword-light, shooting again and again at Li Daoxuan, like a red dragon dancing in the night.

For a time sword-shadows multiplied and sword-qi filled the air; tree after tree fell, boulder after boulder shattered, as if some great beast roamed the forest.

Li Daoxuan trod the Heavenly-Gang steps and poured all into Shrinking-the-Earth, leaving afterimages in the air and narrowly evading the red sword's edge.

But a hundred cares leave one lapse; a few breaths later his step slowed a trifle, and the red sword-light grazed his robe.

Clang!

Golden light blazed and repelled the flying sword!

It was the Six-Ding-Six-Jia Protection Talisman; Li Daoxuan had used it on himself before the chase, and now a golden glow enveloped him — even a flying sword could only strike sparks.

Like a Buddhist golden body!

The middle-aged Daoist's pupils shrank; the protection talisman on the other was extraordinary, its lineage likely no simple thing.

As he would ask the other's origin, he saw a killing intent flash in Li Daoxuan's eyes.

"Sun rises in the east, darkness blazes; eyes bewildered, heart astray; hands and feet unfit to move; primal qi, heavier than a mountain's fall — swiftly, swiftly, as the law commands: Fix!"

Li Daoxuan had finished the incantation; the Paralysis Talisman in his hand turned to golden light and in an instant stuck the middle-aged Daoist's head.

Zheng!

The red flying sword trembled violently, then, bereft of its master's control, fell dim to the ground.

The middle-aged Daoist stood motionless, but urgency flickered in his eyes — he was rallying all his mana to break the Paralysis Talisman.

Clang!

Li Daoxuan drew the Fish-Intestine Sword, a ruthless glint in his eyes.

Now — it is my turn to strike!