Slag Shou Cultivating Manual - Chapter 85

Chapter 85: Bodhi Seed

He Lang had been battling the ferocious beast before him, its gaping fangs menacing, for several rounds. At this moment, his vision blurred slightly, and he felt searing pain on various parts of his body, presumably from burns. Yet, the beast pressed relentlessly, giving him no respite. Injured as he was, he could only continue to fight.

A tingling sensation spread across his scalp as his wounds burned and throbbed with every movement. He shook his head forcefully, trying to clear his mind and prevent the pain from overpowering his will.

Just then, streaks of silver light flashed across the air. He looked up to see Jiang Hanzheng, wielding the Kunwu Sword, suddenly rushing forward. With a leap, both hands gripped the sword tightly, and while the beast’s attention was still on He Lang, Jiang Hanzheng plunged the blade fiercely into the back of its neck.

The beast’s body was covered in hard scales, impenetrable to most weapons, but Kunwu’s sharpness proved exceptional. As Jiang Hanzheng struck with all his might, the scales immediately cracked, shattered, and revealed the soft skin underneath. The sword pierced one foot deep into its neck.

The beast shuddered violently, its frightening eyes rolling back as it thrashed about, flinging both men away.

He Lang swiftly grabbed the back of Jiang Hanzheng’s collar, pulling him away from the beast. However, having tangled with He Lang for so long, the beast bore an unyielding grudge against him and continued its relentless pursuit, attempting to swallow him whole.

He Lang could only make himself a decoy to draw its attention, pushing Jiang Hanzheng toward its rear to exploit its vulnerabilities and catch it off guard.

Though not entirely telepathic with his master, Jiang Hanzheng quickly understood He Lang’s intention. He leaped into the air, twirled his sword in a dazzling flourish, and rained down streaks of cold light like countless falling stars upon the beast.

He Lang, catching sight of his resolute expression, felt a surge of relief.

Under immense pressure in this life-threatening situation, Jiang Hanzheng unleashed swift and precise swordplay, leaving no room for mercy—every strike aimed to kill.

The beast, its eyes wounded, staggered and rampaged blindly. With a sudden leap, it cornered He Lang at the edge of a cliff. A glowing mass of spiritual energy coalesced in its chest and shot directly toward him.

Jiang Hanzheng, unable to catch up, could not intervene in time. His mind went blank, buzzing with dread as he desperately sprinted forward.

He Lang’s vision blurred momentarily. When he focused again, he saw that the spiritual attack had locked onto him.

His mind raced, fully aware that there was no way to dodge it now. However, if he met the attack head-on with all his might, he stood a good chance of bringing the beast down.

He calculated that the beast, having taken a blow to its neck, a stab to its head, and losing its sight, was at the end of its rope.

Without hesitation, he steadied his stance, sinking his weight. His heart hardened with resolve as he gathered every ounce of spiritual energy from his dantian. With a powerful motion, he thrust his palms forward, unleashing a torrent of spiritual energy that collided with the beast’s attack, erupting in a blinding burst of light.

The sheer force of the spiritual energy seemed to shake Qingqu Mountain itself. New trees in the dense forest toppled in waves, startling flocks of birds and insects into a panicked exodus.

Jiang Hanzheng, his legs buckling, fell to his knees. The intense light forced him to shield his eyes, trembling as a deep sense of dread gripped his heart. His thoughts swirled in chaos, unwilling to imagine the worst.

As the light faded, a resounding thud echoed—the beast’s corpse had fallen to the ground. Jiang Hanzheng’s eyes snapped open, and he immediately sprinted forward.

He Lang lay on the ground, his body wracked with pain. His internal organs ached as though they had been torn apart. Gasping for breath, he found his limbs too weak to move. Resigned, he simply lay there, quietly circulating his spiritual energy to heal his wounds. He didn’t want his injuries to alarm his young disciple.

Truthfully, he felt a pang of frustration. He had thought his cultivation level sufficient to allow him to focus solely on completing tasks without worrying about his own growth. But in this cruel, survival-of-the-fittest world where strength was the ultimate measure, power was never enough.

Seeing his master lying there, bloodied and battered, Jiang Hanzheng’s eyes reddened. He rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside He Lang. His eyes burned, unsure whether to touch him, afraid to aggravate his injuries further.

His master had always been so composed, handling any challenge with ease, unbothered by danger. When had he ever been reduced to such a state? Jiang Hanzheng, overwhelmed by the sight, felt his mind reeling, unsure what to do. From his storage ring, he frantically retrieved every healing potion he could find, applying them all indiscriminately.

With He Lang’s spiritual energy aiding the process, his wounds began to heal within a quarter of an hour.

During this time, a crystalline white bead emerged from the beast’s body. Glistening and translucent, it floated upward as if ready to ascend to the heavens.

With a wave of his hand, He Lang caught it mid-air. Upon closer inspection, he marveled silently.

“So, the Bodhi Seed lost in Qingqu Mountain was swallowed by this beast. No wonder it was so powerful and could dominate the area.”

“What a stroke of luck.”

The frustration in He Lang’s heart dissipated, replaced by a smile. Jiang Hanzheng, however, remained sullen, staring intently at the Bodhi Seed as if lost in thought. Meanwhile, he continued to apply layer upon layer of healing ointment to his master, hoping it might offer some effect.

Although He Lang had used spiritual energy to heal his external wounds, his internal injuries were not so easily remedied. Jiang Hanzheng’s furrowed brows never relaxed, his face etched with worry. He Lang noticed his disciple’s intense concern and, suppressing the pain in his chest, swallowed the metallic taste of blood in his throat. He forced a smile.

“Don’t worry, your master is fine.”

Jiang Hanzheng bit his lip, clearly unconvinced, his expression tinged with anger at his master’s stubbornness. “Master should apply more medicine—or perhaps consume the Bodhi Seed to heal instantly.”

He Lang had no intention of using the Bodhi Seed for himself. With a stern expression, he replied, “Are you questioning your master? I don’t need the Bodhi Seed to heal. You, on the other hand, should take it immediately.”

The Bodhi Seed rested in He Lang’s palm, its light brown surface enveloped in a faint glow. Its iridescent shimmer made it evident that it was no ordinary item. Such a treasure would tempt any cultivator.

Yet He Lang handed it to him without hesitation, as if it were of no consequence. Jiang Hanzheng, feeling utterly unworthy, struggled with guilt.

Seeing his disciple’s turmoil, He Lang coaxed him gently, “Be good. Take it quickly.”

His master’s soft tone was like a spell, compelling Jiang Hanzheng to obey. However, the thought that this treasure was obtained at his master’s expense filled him with self-loathing. He couldn’t reconcile his feelings and firmly refused, “The Bodhi Seed is too precious. I am unworthy to accept it. Master, please use it instead.”

He Lang massaged his temples, finding his overly obedient disciple somewhat troublesome.

Adopting a different approach, he gripped Jiang Hanzheng’s shoulder and held up the lustrous Bodhi Seed. “If I were to consume this, I’d immediately enter seclusion for hundreds of years to ascend, leaving you alone in the mortal world. Would you be alright with that?”

Jiang Hanzheng’s lashes quivered as he blinked hard.

Although his master’s ascension would be a joyous event, Jiang Hanzheng couldn’t imagine a world without him. Torn and conflicted, he dared not voice his unwillingness, fearing such thoughts were too rebellious.

“Master… would you leave me behind in the mortal world?” His lips turned pale as his blood drained, his red-rimmed eyes fixed on He Lang.

Hé Làng was feeling his scalp tingle as his little disciple stared at him with reddened eyes. He waved his hands repeatedly. “I was just joking.”

Clearly, his method worked well, as Jiǎng Hánzhèng stopped refusing, as if he had come to some realization, and took the Bodhi seed from him, swallowing it.

However, after consuming the Bodhi seed, Jiǎng Hánzhèng suddenly changed. He no longer spoke, and quietly told him that he planned to cultivate in this sacred place.

Qīngqǔ Mountain was indeed a great location, and with the disappearance of the beast, it had become much safer. Hé Làng felt at ease and the master and disciple returned to their sect. Jiǎng Hánzhèng packed a simple bundle, intending to head to Qīngqǔ Mountain alone for a period of cultivation, telling his master not to worry.

Knowing this was an important process in his disciple’s growth, Hé Làng, although concerned, allowed him to go and cultivate on his own.

On the first day after his little disciple left, Hé Làng indeed missed him a great deal, but his life did not come to a standstill.

For some reason, it seemed as if he knew his disciple had left his side, because the very next day, Wúdìng Zhenrén arrived at his door on time and invited Hé Làng to tour his residence.

Hé Làng, unable to refuse the warm invitation, spent a pleasant day at his place.

The following day, Wúdìng invited him again, this time to visit the highest lookout tower on Tiānshān Mountain for a scenic view, or to disguise themselves and visit an art gallery at the foot of the mountain to paint, with new ideas and plans every day.

Hé Làng was somewhat puzzled, always feeling like Wúdìng was trying to win his favor. But Wúdìng was simply the type who couldn’t stand loneliness. Hé Làng didn’t dwell on it too much; whenever he declined an invitation, Wúdìng still insisted on visiting him.

One day, Wúdìng brought a table of food and wine from his storage ring and set it up in Hé Làng’s residence, inviting him to drink. Hé Làng, who usually wasn’t strict with his diet, had a few cups, but after drinking, he felt a bit guilty for indulging so freely as a cultivator. Seeing Wúdìng enjoying food and drink so heartily, seemingly forgetting that cultivators didn’t consume grains, Hé Làng couldn’t help but advise, “Wine and meat pass through the intestines, Junior Brother, don’t overindulge.”

“We’re cultivators, not monks!” Wúdìng replied, as another cup of wine went down. “Besides, I haven’t tasted food in years because of cultivation. Let me indulge a bit, it’s nothing.”

Faced with Wúdìng’s unrepentant and bold attitude, Hé Làng didn’t argue further and planned to send him off.

“Junior Brother, are you really that free? Coming to my residence every day, don’t you have a disciple to teach?”

Wúdìng blinked and gulped down another glass of wine. “It’s because I’m worried my Senior Brother has no one to look after him. I’m all alone in my cave, it’s so lonely and desolate.”

“You’re hiding something,” Hé Làng said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Wúdìng Zhenrén paused, his cup still in hand. After a moment’s hesitation, he finally confessed, “It’s not exactly a secret… but for the past few days, disturbing your peace—no, I mean taking care of you—was a request from your little disciple.”

Author’s Note: Little Zhèng’er is such an angel!