The Mercury Artifice

“Shopkeeper Li, has the cinnabar I ordered arrived?”

The pharmacy owner, mid- tally on his abacus, looked up to see the strange man in the red Daoist robe.

A fawning smile immediately spread across his face. This one was a big spender. “Heh heh, guest, I’ve been waiting for you. Thirty jin in total, all right here. Little Tiger, help the guest carry it home.”

“No need. I’ll take it myself.” Finishing the payment, Li Huowang hefted the bag in one hand and turned to walk out.

The pharmacy assistant, Little Tiger, was baffled. He asked his boss, “Shopkeeper, what does this man need thirty jin of cinnabar for? Even for medicine, ordinary people only buy a few liang at a time.”

“Dok!” The owner bent his middle finger and flicked the boy’s forehead. “Hurts, right? Good! Remember that lesson! You’re just an assistant—what business is it of yours what he buys it for? Even if he takes it home and eats it with his rice, it’s got nothing to do with us!”

With a heavy thud, the bag of cinnabar landed on the wagon. Li Huowang climbed up, whistled, and Mantou came trotting over obediently.

“Yah! Yah!” Li Huowang glanced at the cinnabar bag beside him, tugged the reins, and steered the wagon toward the west gate.

Just last night, Li Huowang had suddenly realized he had been stuck in a dead end. If others could use Heart-Elements to refine Dharma artifacts, then why couldn’t he?

His body’s healing speed was exceptional. Aside from the pain it caused him, there were almost no side effects.

More importantly, artifacts forged from a Heart-Element’s organs each possessed extraordinary abilities. They could massively boost his strength, which would be a huge help in the coming showdown with North Wind.

Clop, clop, clop. The iron horseshoes struck the stone slabs as Li Huowang gradually made his way out of the city.

He didn’t take the main roads crowded with people. Instead, he deliberately sought out remote mountain paths.

By the time the sun was setting, Li Huowang had finally found a suitable spot—a patch of flat ground in front of a few graves.

The moment Mantou arrived, he became alert, lowering his body and trembling, baring his teeth at the grave mounds in a menacing show.

“I’m borrowing the space in front of your courtyard for one night. Please don’t mind.” Li Huowang cupped his hands toward the graves, then turned to retrieve things from the wagon.

Mantou suddenly pounced, flushing out a few rats that scurried in every direction.

Li Huowang first took down the small alchemy furnace he had acquired from the Renxiao. He placed cinnabar inside it and set the finest snow charcoal beneath.

As a former disciple of the alchemical path, refining cinnabar was a simple task. An hour later, Li Huowang opened the furnace. A silver liquid laced with dregs was revealed before him.

Danyangzi had taught this back in Qingfeng Temple. The silver liquid produced by refining cinnabar was called “Maid-Silver.” In Li Huowang’s old world, it was called mercury.

Quickly straining out the residue, Li Huowang picked up a bowl and collected the Maid-Silver. But it wasn’t enough yet. He needed more.

After another round of refining, Li Huowang looked at the large shimmering bowl of Maid-Silver before him and a hint of satisfaction appeared on his face.

“That should be just about enough…”

Li Huowang turned and took out a shovel he had prepared, starting to dig a hole. He dug deeper and deeper. When it was just deep enough to stand in, he stopped.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Then he reached down to the leather pouch of torture implements at his waist and pulled out a short, gleaming dagger.

“Daoist, won’t you think it over? It really doesn’t have to be like this.” The monk rushed over, a look of reluctance on his face, trying to dissuade him.

In contrast, Red Center sat on Peng Longteng’s shoulder, looking like he was waiting for a good show.

No matter what the hallucinations around him said, nothing could shake Li Huowang’s resolve. He raised the dagger high, aiming at the center of his own scalp. He drew the blade slowly across. Soon, his scalp parted, revealing the blood-vessel-veined flesh beneath.

Then Li Huowang stripped off his clothes and stood naked in the hole he had dug. Bending down, he began to bury himself with the dirt.

Burying himself was quite difficult. Fortunately, Li Sui could help.

Under the constant lash of Li Sui’s tentacles against the soil, the earth around Li Huowang was packed tightly.

“Li Sui. Good one. Help me once more.”

At Li Huowang’s command, two tentacles emerged from his neck. They carefully rolled the large bowl of Maid-Silver from the ground and brought it closer to the wound on his crown.

Li Huowang swallowed hard. “Spread it open a bit more, then pour. Don’t spill any.”

Li Sui was obedient. She did as she was told at once, stretching the opening as wide as she could.

As the large bowl tilted, the silver liquid caught the moonlight, glittering brightly. Beautiful.

“Nngh… Ahh!!”

The process was excruciating. But Li Huowang did not dare to move a muscle, terrified of spilling the mercury.

At first, it was pain. That was something he could endure. But gradually, the pain turned to an itch. An itch that spread over his entire body, growing more intense by the moment.

When this torment of itching nearly reached its peak, Li Huowang, still buried in the earth, struggled with all his might. He felt as though ants were crawling all over him. This sensation was almost driving him mad.

He twisted his body, squirming upward like a snake. After great effort, he finally managed to squeeze himself out.

“Ha ha.” Li Huowang was trembling all over. He could no longer tell which pain was worse. He thought he had grown used to pain by now.

But when the twelfth-month wind cut like blades across his skinless body, Li Huowang still ached so much he nearly passed out.

Shaking uncontrollably, Li Huowang pulled out the True Sutra of the Fire Vestments and, in a trembling voice, began to chant the incantations.

A fiery centipede crawled slowly across Li Huowang’s body. After a few moments, his entire form was covered in burnt, charred yellow scars.

This might have hurt even more. But at least, covered in scars, Li Huowang could wear clothes again.

He dressed himself and glanced at the skin on the ground. A wave of relief washed over him. He collapsed onto the wagon, curled up tightly, wrapped his arms around himself, and fell into a dead stupor.