Chapter Four: The Shattered Soul

Liu Chou had already calculated everything. The jailers’ mealtime would be in about three quarters of an hour; only after the two returned and reported to the authorities above would the guards here eat in turn. Any earlier or later, and it would not be convenient. Right now, the upper levels were on high alert—rushing in recklessly would mean certain death. The most important thing at the moment was to fill their bellies and regain their strength before taking action.

Liu Chou’s reasoning was sound, and all the monsters were convinced. They did as he suggested, leaving Husui and two or three lesser demons to keep watch, while the rest followed him down to the second level to get food first and then make further plans.

By food, Liu Chou naturally meant the cultivators imprisoned on the second level. Humans and monsters took different paths. Since the humans treated monsters with cruelty, why should monsters, in turn, treat humans as something sacred and above themselves?

Liu Chou led the monsters downward. As expected, the cells there were filled with all sorts of people, though all were thin and weak. Mo Yun and the others did not mind this. They took the keys, opened the cells, dragged the prisoners out one by one, killed them, stripped off their clothes, and hauled the bodies upstairs for the others.

In an instant, the entire prison was filled with the sounds of wailing and screaming, but not a whisper escaped the walls.

Liu Chou watched the massacre with cold eyes. Having been in this world for so long, he had grown numb to life and death; killing humans or monsters was all the same. If he cared to examine his own heart, he might even admit to siding more with the monsters. As for the humans of this world, he felt no empathy, no sense of kinship—nothing at all.

If the monsters could not eat their fill and escape, Liu Chou himself might not leave here alive. What difference would that make from the present situation? When it came down to life and death, naturally he would choose his own survival over others’. Strangers’ fates were no concern of his.

Such is the harsh reality of the mortal world.

Gazing at the blood that flowed from the carnage, Liu Chou suddenly recalled what Husui had said about the third-level seal. He mentioned this to Mo Yun and, getting only a distracted nod in return—Mo Yun was lost in a killing frenzy—he headed down to see for himself.

He had not gone far before noticing the surroundings had changed. The upper prison was built of great slabs of green stone, but here the masonry was a jumble of colored bricks, their surfaces mottled with rot and corrosion, moss and lichen clinging everywhere, utterly bare of ornament—like a tomb or burial chamber. At the end of the staircase stood a massive stone door, tightly sealed, covered with layers upon layers of talismans, their faded colors hinting at the countless years they had endured.

Just as Husui had said, something was sealed within. Liu Chou did not dare act rashly. He approached slowly, laid his hand upon the stone, but nothing stirred within. He channeled his demonic power and used the art of spectral passage.

His power seeped through the cracks in the tomb, probing gently. Liu Chou focused all his attention. Suddenly, a faint breeze whipped through the air, startling him; his concentration faltered, and just as his demonic power was about to touch the core, it dissipated without a trace.

He frowned, gathered his focus, and tried again, sending his power within. Yet now his nerves were unsettled. A stray lock of hair rose from his brow, and the hard-won demonic power scattered once more.

This time, he sensed it clearly—a strange demonic force emerged from the depths of the tomb, diverting his power, corrupting it. Twice in a row, Liu Chou could guess that the presence sealed within was now aware of him and had begun to communicate, expressing its will.

But what was it trying to say? Did it wish to draw him in, to reject him, or to urge him to leave?

Liu Chou did not know. So he tried a third time, channeling his power even more slowly, waiting for the mysterious force to appear.

Sure enough, before long, that strange power came seeking his own, gently nudging it off course. Liu Chou maintained the flow as best he could, but the longer it lasted, the more his strength waned. Soon, his power dissipated once more, consumed by the force within.

Such pure demonic corrosion—how powerful must the original owner have been? No wonder later generations spoke of terror beyond compare.

Liu Chou raised his brows, tried again. This time, the force did not divert him but instead led the way. Liu Chou understood its intention and guided his spectral power forward, feeding it strength, keeping a cautious distance to resist the pull as he advanced.

Yet the force was overwhelmingly strong. He lasted only a moment longer than before before his own power was spent. His hand trembled, jerked away from the stone, and threads of inky blood welled from his palm.

The art of spectral passage was a tremendous drain on the mind. Liu Chou had given his all; any further attempt might shatter his spirit entirely. He had no choice but to withdraw, making a mental note of all he had experienced.

After such an encounter, Liu Chou dared not proceed further. He would have to return another day.

He turned to leave, but whether the power sensed his intent or had simply waited too long, a surging force suddenly filled the tomb, roiling and immense. The talismans blazed with dazzling light. Liu Chou ducked his head quickly. When he looked again, a charred black scar ran across the stone door, where the talismans had burned away to ash.

Liu Chou bowed deeply and said aloud, “My humble power is insufficient to break this seal or sustain my strength. I must withdraw for now and return another day. Please forgive my intrusion, honored elder!”

At that moment, a sharp crackling sounded beside him, like shattering glass. In an instant, countless fractures appeared in the space around him, black and flecked with starlight. An indescribable power surged from these fissures like a raging gale, setting off thunderous roars within the tomb, as if he were caught in a storm-tossed sea.

Liu Chou’s heart quailed. He tried to marshal his power, wrapping it around his body, but the force pouring from the cracks was overwhelming. In a blink, it formed a small vortex around him, an infinite pressure that threatened to crush him to dust.

He summoned all his strength to resist, but it felt as if Mount Tai itself pressed down on him. His bones creaked, blood surged, and it seemed he would be torn apart at any moment.

Had it not been for the harsh training under Master Fulu, Liu Chou would never have withstood such crushing force. Even so, he endured with great difficulty, wracked with pain.

Yet in that agony, Liu Chou suddenly grasped something profound.

For a demon, it was not demonic skills or magic that mattered most, but the body itself. Only a strong body could sustain unceasing cultivation, endure tribulation, and ascend to the heavens!

That endless pressure was, paradoxically, a kind of awakening, revealing truths to him more profound than words or example or even intuition—something altogether more mysterious and wondrous.

The power that dwelled here had reached a level far beyond Liu Chou’s comprehension.

The vortex continued to spin, but just as Liu Chou’s understanding crystallized, the force abruptly changed course, splitting into countless currents that flowed into his body and instantly filled him with demonic power.

This pure, ancient force was even more refined than the primal energy he usually absorbed.

Liu Chou immediately began circulating his power, refining and absorbing the influx, making it his own.

It seemed an eternity passed—or perhaps only a moment—before Liu Chou awoke to find his body utterly transformed. Four vortexes of power had formed within him, demonic energy surging and abundant, swirling like endless nebulae, ceaselessly generating new strength.

It was as if the ball now rested on the goal line—one gentle nudge and he would score. The third realm was now within reach, just a blink away.

Liu Chou slowly opened his eyes, feeling a vast clarity within. Suddenly enlightened, all the frustration and darkness that had weighed on him for so long vanished without a trace. His spirit was clear and refreshed, and the vague violence that had once haunted him was gone.

He was still a demon, but his vision had utterly changed.

He rose, gazed at the silent sealed door, bowed once more, then turned and ascended. His steps were light, his whole being suffused with an inexpressible power.

Without consuming elixirs or pills, without formal cultivation, it was this purest of primordial forces that had propelled Liu Chou’s power to the threshold of the third realm. In all other aspects, too, he had made great strides, ascending directly to the sixth level, touching the summit.

Returning to the second level, Liu Chou saw that all the cells stood open, the floors slick with blood, but the monsters and prisoners were gone. Straining his ears, he heard only the sounds of frenzied chewing and swallowing from above.

Where once he had regarded the mutual slaughter and feasting of humans and monsters with cold contempt—a mixture of hatred, venom, scorn, and disgust—now he looked on with a strange detachment, as if he finally understood why these two races endlessly preyed on and slew each other, never knowing peace.

In that moment, Liu Chou experienced a revelation, and his own outlook was elevated.

Upstairs, the monsters were devouring human flesh, bones and blood scattered everywhere, feasting with abandon. When they saw Liu Chou return in high spirits, Mo Yun laughed and tossed him two fat human legs, saying, “Here, these are for you.”

The monsters jeered gleefully, the mood joyous.

Liu Chou looked at the legs in his hands—plump and pale, torn from some unfortunate cultivator. In the past, he would not have hesitated to eat, driven by hatred and loathing. But now, though he did not eat, he was utterly unmoved, accepting it calmly.

In other words, he had no appetite at the moment; had he been hungry, eating human or demon flesh would have been nothing to him. No longer did his heart stir at the difference—human or demon, it was all the same to him now.

To be human or to be demon—what difference did it make?

That once ever-present violence that suffused his being was gone. This change was subtle, an ineffable distinction—one that in later ages would be called the difference between cruelty and mere killing.

Liu Chou smiled, tossed the legs to a nearby lesser demon, and said, “I’m not hungry. You all eat.” After a brief pause, he added, “Is it almost time?”

“Half a quarter left,” replied Husui, seated beside a shriveled corpse, little more than skin and bones, having drained it dry and now resting.

Liu Chou nodded. “That’s enough. The fighting will begin soon—don’t overeat, or it will be to our disadvantage in battle.”

The monsters nodded, tossed aside the remains, and began to rest. Liu Chou closed his eyes and took that final step, entering the third realm at last.

In the past, when he ate human flesh, some shred of humanity remained within; now, though he abstained, his body and soul were wholly demon.

Perhaps that was the way of things.