The Renxiao's Morning Lesson

Li Huowang stared at Hongzhong without a word, then shifted his gaze to the other three—the monk, Peng Longteng, and Jin Shan Zhao.

These things had been following him ever since they appeared. In the past, he had always assumed they were hallucinations brought on by the Heart-Element.

But now that he knew about the Renxiao from Hongzhong, he realized it might not be that simple.

And on this point, maybe Tuoba Danqing knew something, but Li Huowang didn't dare to ask, afraid that the man would deduce from that fact that he was a Heart-Element.

“If they’re not hallucinations, then what are they? Why do they follow me?” This was the first time Li Huowang had seriously considered the question.

Then he remembered Jiang Yingzi, who had appeared and then disappeared. “She came from my own shame, and then vanished when that shame was gone. Could it be…”

He felt like he was brushing against some thread of thought, but it was always blocked by a thin layer of paper. The more he tried, the less he could grasp it.

Seeing Li Huowang standing there, lost in thought, Hongzhong’s smile grew wider.

“Can’t figure it out? Want me to help you think? You know the phrase ‘playing the jackal to the tiger,’ right? They say that when a tiger eats a man, the dead man’s soul becomes a cheng ghost in its belly, luring others to be the tiger’s next meal. Maybe you’re the tiger, and we’re your cheng ghosts.”

“Cheng ghosts?” Li Huowang looked up at Hongzhong, his eyes full of disbelief. “If you were really my cheng ghosts, what have you ever done for me?”

“Besides getting in my way, you’re useless! The only effect you have on me is that when I talk to you, everyone else thinks I’m raving!” Li Huowang’s voice grew harsher.

Hongzhong’s laughter became even more exaggerated. “Maybe you are raving. I’ve always thought you weren’t right in the head.”

At these words, Li Huowang fixed Hongzhong with a glare that could kill, the veins on his forehead pulsing.

“Ooh, look at that glare! I called you a lunatic—what are you gonna do about it, little Firefly?” Hongzhong leaned back, his skinless face twisting its strips of red flesh into an exaggerated, mocking smile.

The taunt sent a surge of hot blood rushing to Li Huowang’s head, a roar filling his ears.

With a clang, Li Huowang drew his sword in one hand, his expression twisted with fury, and drove the blade straight toward his own throat. “Come on! Let’s walk the Yellow Springs Road together!”

When he saw the bright red blood spray into the air, Hongzhong panicked. “Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing?”

Before Hongzhong could finish, a long halberd pierced through his belly, lifting him into the air and slamming him hard against the ground.

It was Peng Longteng’s halberd. Filled with murderous intent, she attacked Hongzhong wildly.

The monk hurried over, his voice urgent and pleading. “You can’t die, Daoist! Don’t you still want to get rid of the Heart-Element? Don’t you want to go back to your wife? Don’t give up!”

At that moment, a writhing tentacle extended from his navel, wrapped around Li Huowang’s wrist, and held tight.

As Li Huowang sat on the ground, gasping for air, more and more tentacles emerged from his navel, firmly gripping the hand that held the sword.

The feeling was horrible, like his intestines were churning violently.

Seeing that Li Huowang had finally calmed down a bit, the monk went back to Hongzhong and muttered quietly, “Don’t provoke him anymore. The Daoist has nothing left to hold onto. He doesn’t hesitate for a second when it comes to hurting himself. He’s dry tinder—one spark, and he’s ablaze.”

Hongzhong glanced at Li Huowang from a distance, let out a cold snort, and hid his body in the nearby river water. “What a lunatic…”

With the monk’s persuasion and the tentacles’ restraint, Li Huowang gradually calmed down. When he pulled the blade from his neck, writhing black tentacles mixed with viscous fluid quickly filled the wound.

Calm now, Li Huowang reflected on his earlier self and felt a deep sense of unfamiliarity. Why had he become so extreme? Was that really him?

“Daoist, get moving! There are still people using those children for alchemy. Saving a life is better than building a thousand temples. As long as you keep doing good deeds, the Buddha is watching from heaven.”

“If you save enough people, maybe one day the Buddha will descend and help you escape this sea of suffering.”

The monk’s absurd words made Li Huowang laugh. He slowly sheathed his bloodied sword, then staggered to his feet and walked toward the spot where the candle had disappeared.

“Monk, you’re not my cheng ghost. I didn’t kill you. And honestly, it’s not even certain whether you’re really dead or not.”

The monk’s body flickered almost imperceptibly. He stared wide-eyed, astonished. “I’m not dead? Then who am I?”

Li Huowang did not answer. Silently, he walked deeper into the dark, uneven underground cave.

He had not gone far before a Renxiao with twisted limbs crawled out. It extended its long tongue, licked the blood Li Huowang had left on the ground, and then quickly scurried away.

Li Huowang, still invisible, walked in silence through the darkness, searching for the vanished Renxiao.

Now that he had found them, it was time to clean them out. He didn’t care about anything else. Right now, there was a fire in his chest, and he needed to let it out.

As he walked, he heard a sound—muddled, yet strangely synchronized.

He followed it. Soon, he saw an eerie sight: a group of Renxiao were sitting upright, reciting something along with one who wore a tattered Daoist robe.

The leader, with a black horsetail whisk stuck in the back of his neck, was the one in charge. A sheet of thick paper lay before him, and he led the chant.

Their limbs were grotesquely deformed, yet they still managed to cross their long-nailed feet.

The sight both shocked and repulsed Li Huowang. “Is this… a morning lesson? They’re holding a morning lesson?”

Watching these Renxiao at their morning devotion, Li Huowang was transported back to Qingfeng Temple. The same monsters. The same delusion of attaining immortality. The similarity made him feel a nauseating revulsion, a deep rejection from the inside out.

“What kind of garbage dares to practice cultivation?!” Li Huowang gritted his teeth and drew his sword, charging forward.

“Wait, Daoist! Find the babies first! If those children don’t make it back, how heartbroken their mothers will be!”

Hearing the monk’s words, Li Huowang’s steps slowed. After hesitating for a moment, he released his grip on the sword hilt and began feeling his way through the surrounding darkness.

Just as he was about to search for the babies, he saw a Renxiao scurry over quickly and whisper something to the one leading the morning lesson.