Master, This Poor Disciple Died Again Today

The sounds of battle faded behind him, until he walked in the silent dark, neither sound nor sight to break the monotony. Once, he lifted his hand and pressed it against a handful of worms, and at a point, he broke through into another tunnel and sent its furry resident scurrying in fear, but for the most part, he tunneled quietly along, unmolested. If it wasn’t so slow, I’d probably tunnel everywhere all the time, Hui thought to himself. Besides, making tunnels for small-me is one thing. Little me is small enough to get away with simply tunneling through the earth. Full-size Hui would have to worry about things like structural integrity and the ceiling bearing loads.

The duck grew as he followed it, until the death qi construct hunched in front of him, too big to fit in his tunnel. He sent it back into his dantian with a gesture, only leaving a small scrap out to lead the way. Barely a dozen steps in, the duck grew too large again, and Hui sent the entire construct back into his dantian this time. We’re close.

He turned his tunnel upward and bored toward the surface, twining his way around tree roots. At last, he peeked through the layers of dried leaves up at a dead, rotten forest. In the distance, light flashed and fire raged, but so far away he could see no more than the largest attacks.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Hui checked to ensure he’d suppressed his qi and altered his aura, then popped out of the hole and grew back up to normal-size, carefully keeping his life qi expenditure to the minimum as he reformed. From his full height, he surveyed the forest.

Rotten trees sunk toward the forest’s center. Like ruined teeth, the white carcasses stretched upward, broken and blackened, riddled with holes. Black, tar-like gunk slid down the bark of a few trees, stinking of vinegar. Mushrooms sprouted from the trunks and roots, alongside furry moss and strange, blue-white lichens.

Thick spider webs draped from the stronger trees. The webs completely wrapped some of the trees, reinforcing them externally to provide enough support for the massive web. Human-shaped bundles hung from the webs here and there, dried out and forgotten. In a few places, skeletal remains draped half-out of the webs, dripping finger and toe bones onto the forest below.

Hui lifted a hand and gently touched one of the pale branches. It shattered in his hand, dry and brittle. I hope Han Qin doesn’t come this way. This place is a tinder box.

The trees grew more rotten in the near distance, listing toward a center point. Feet crunching over dry leaves, Hui walked over. A part of him wanted to run, to get this over with and put the fight in the distance even further behind him. And yet, the stillness, the decay heavy on the air, the silent, brittle forest—all demanded he move slowly in this place of death.

Leaves rotted to dust. The earth gave way beneath his feet, dry and lifeless. He sloped downward, descending into a bowl-shaped depression. The rot energy hung on the air, so thick as to be visible. It swirled around his ankles, a black-brown miasma that grew deeper as he descended, to his knees, then thighs. His body withered where the rot touched. The lotus fought back against the rot energy, but lost, and his legs grew shaky and dry. Hui circulated qi and life qi into them to force himself to keep moving. Ahead, the center of the depression was hidden by rot energy, the rot already so thick that it hurt Hui to breath it. He lifted his sleeve over his mouth and nose, and pressed on.

Unaffected by the solemn silence, Hui’s ducks all leaped out of his dantian and hopped into the miasma, floating on it like true ducks. Occasionally, they flopped over, butts wiggling in the air, or swam down, chasing thicker streams of the miasma.

Inside his dantian, the life qi songbirds huddled down. They clustered together as if for warmth, their heads pressed against their chest, wings fluffed up.

The rot closed over Hui’s head. His vision narrowed, as dark and murky as though he’d sunk into muddy water. He almost floated on the energy, each step light.

At last, he made out a body, lying in the depression’s center. It sprawled, head tilted, limbs splayed, untouched since the moment the demonic cultivator died. The rot energy rolled off the corpse in waves as it slowly decayed. Empty pits sunk into the cultivator’s face where her eyes and nose had been, her ears melting off, her skin dry and papery.

Hundreds of years, and her corpse is still this intact. I still have hope for my fellow Starbound Sect members’ bodies!

Though Elder Sister here is probably much higher tier than most of the Starbound Sect members…

Hui approached cautiously. This close, the rot energy clung together, almost a physical barrier. He pushed through. His robes frayed at the ends. His skin rotted, turning a putrid green-brown. A weird acidic ache spread over his body. The closer he grew to the corpse, the worse the pain got, and the faster he rotted away. Hui circulated his life qi to counteract the rot. With every passing moment, his life qi bled away, and the rot only continued to pour out. I can’t keep this up much longer. At this rate, I’ll run out of life qi, and then I’ll rot away for sure. If it keeps getting stronger, it’ll only come to pass faster.

Eight paces away from the corpse, Hui stopped. Even circulating his life qi, he couldn’t prevent his body from rotting. At eight paces, he could manage a delicate equilibrium by circulating it at top speed, but another pace, and his body began to decay, no matter how much life qi he poured into it.

He sent out a strand of qi. The rot energy immediately tore the qi apart. Hui frowned and poured more qi, changing it from a strand to a rope. This time, he managed to push through the rot qi. The rot decayed the qi as it approached, but he still managed to reach the corpse with a single, wavering strand. Hui sent his mental energy along the strand of qi, searching the corpse for clues. Is she what’s locking down this area? Can I copy this energy?

To his surprise, there wasn’t much to discover. The corpse was nothing special. Its qi passages were thick and its dantian well developed, but there was nothing else that stuck out about it. An unfamiliar space opened above her dantian, a space where remnant spiritual qi still stuck thick to the walls. Hui frowned. Is that where her Nascent Soul sat? Strange that there’s a physical space for it, but I suppose it’s not entirely unheard-of in the novels I read.

If so, she was at least sixth-realm. Do all sixth-realm cultivators decay like this? No, I doubt it. If she was a demonic cultivator, she probably cultivated this rot energy in life, and exuded it after death.

Hmm, if she was sixth-realm, then what was she doing with a second-stage spider beast?

Eh, maybe she collected low level beasts as a hobby. Or maybe she was trying to cultivate a truly venomous insect by collecting a great many venomous insects? In the end, even demonic cultivators are allowed to have hobbies—just look at Erlan and his painting. It’s not as if I can fault her. I love talisman-writing, myself. Mm-mm, everyone has their own hobbies and goals!

He continued to search the corpse, but found no hint of any kind of restriction formula, or even any special energy aside from the rot. Could it be? Does the locking-down of this area have nothing to do with the demonic cultivator’s corpse? Then… what did I even come here for?

Hui fell backward, frustrated. He frowned at the corpse, crossing his arms. I guess it was left here all this time. If it was able to lock down areas from Wandering Immortals, it wouldn’t have been discarded here and left to rot for so long.

But… does it truly mean I have to leave here empty-handed? Is there nothing… nothing worthwhile…

Hui looked down at the corpse, and his eyes brightened. The rot energy! When I play dead, I can flop over, and even begin the processes of death, but if I lie there for too long, my body will fail to rot, and it’ll become obvious that I’m playing dead. With this rot energy, I can play dead for months, and even rot realistically without permanently harming my body.

It’s really true that there’s treasure to be found everywhere, as long as one keeps one’s eyes open! To think, I was so close and yet failed to see Mount Tai. I’ll study this rot qi, and progress my false-death skills to the next level!

Hui sat down in the rot qi and assumed the lotus pose, circulating his qi slowly to examine the rot qi all around him. Carefully, he let the rot qi into his body. As it soaked through his skin, his body rotted and withered away, and yet, he let it come. Once I learn to process this q, then, like death qi, I’ll be able to use and store it properly. But until then, just like death qi, it’ll harm my body. So what I need to do is sit here and absorb the rot qi until I figure out how to properly handle it!

He glanced over his shoulder. This deep in the rot qi, he couldn’t see out of it to see the battle, but from the trembling of the earth, he knew it carried on out of his eyeshot. Once they finish, they’ll come look for me. But with Han Qin’s true form locked out of the area, can any of the others peer into this rot qi? Even for Han Qin’s sixth-realm clone, the dense rot qi should block out his senses unless he physically enters the rot qi the way I did. And who would do that? Besides someone who seeks the true immortal Dao of playing dead, like me!

I’ve found the perfect hiding spot! Assuming they see through my invincible death-faking in the first place, of course. Although… well, it does get weaker when I do it more than once in front of the same people. But hopefully my ingenuity in playing dead in different ways will protect me from them directly seeing through it. I didn’t have the flesh technique last time, after all!

Hui hesitated another moment, then nodded to himself. Hiding here is the best idea. The darkest shade is directly beneath the sun. If I run, they could chase me or trace my aura, even if I disguise it, and besides, Han Qin can lock me down outside of this mysterious area. Sometimes, the best escape technique is to patiently sit still!

Settling in, Hui carefully controlled his breathing. The rot energy flowed around him, circulating in and out as he breathed. As he circulated it, the rot’s aura replaced his own aura, and the rot qi replaced his qi. His body continued to wilt and wither, rotting away down to the core.

A day passed, then another. His outer body crumped in on itself, completely brown and withered, his insides hollowed out. Only the seed-core remained free of rot. Hui pressed on, frowning. There has to be a way to store it. Somewhere I can put the rot energy... a way to absorb it without it devouring me...

A black duck head dipped out of his soul’s dantian and snapped up a billfull of rot qi. It swallowed with relish and eyed the rest of the rot qi hungrily.

Hey! Don’t eat that! I’m training with…

Wait. Could it be?