31: Chapter 31 The Secret Passage of the Mo Family

"Wu Xi!"

Niu Fei's voice cracked, his eyes bulging as if they were about to pop out: "Are you fucking crazy? This thing—"

Wu Xi pressed his left hand tightly against his lower abdomen. Inside, a ball of fire was burning—no, not fire, but magma, molten iron, rampaging through his Meridians.

The Bloated Ghost was going crazy inside his stomach.

It wasn't struggling; it was self-destructing. Wu Xi felt it clearly. The thing in his stomach was swelling, as if someone were desperately blowing air into it. It grew larger and larger, his skin stretched to its limit.

Dense cracks crawled out from his chest, slithering upward like snakes, crossing his neck, and climbing his cheeks. There was no blood in the torn flesh, only black Yin Qi leaking out in wisps, carrying the stench of scorched, rotting meat.

"It's over." Niu Fei's legs went weak, and he plopped onto the ground. "He's going to explode."

Wu Xi's vision began to darken. The cracks had already reached the corners of his eyes; any higher and they would reach his forehead, his temples. He could even feel the pressure inside his skull, his brain sloshing about.

Just then, a gray shadow lunged over.

Mr. Xiangli.

He ripped off the gray-white bag from his waist. The surface of the bag had fine, dense patterns, like human skin, like the skin of a living person.

Mr. Xiangli flicked his wrist, and the bag expanded in the wind. In the blink of an eye, it was as large as a mat, covering Wu Xi's head and wrapping him up entirely.

Hum—

A muffled sound, like a strike on a cowhide drum.

Wu Xi's entire body felt light.

The force that was about to tear him apart was suddenly caught and supported by something, then slowly dissipated. The human-skin bag clung to his body, cool to the touch, like a layer of breathing skin, gathering the rampaging black Yin Qi, smoothing it out, and guiding it to where it needed to go.

The torn Meridians were reconnected one by one by this force, and the damaged blood vessels were mended. Wu Xi's breathing shifted from rapid to long, then from long to deep.

He closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking.

The nodes inside his body that had been broken and blocked were forcibly cleared by the power transmitted from the human-skin bag. The ghostly Qi was no longer a disaster; instead, it was crushed, purified, and refined into a stream of pure energy, poured into the circulation route of his Cultivation Technique.

Three-Turn Heavy Origin Technique, First Turn.

"[Zhong Kui Ghost-Eating Technique (Initial)] Progress increased, current: Proficiency (50%)."

"[Three-Turn Heavy Origin Technique]: First Turn successful. Cleansing the marrow and cutting the veins, reshaping the mortal foundation, reaching the Skin-Refining Realm."

Wu Xi's body jolted violently.

The human-skin bag billowed endlessly from the wave of Qi, but it did not break. Mr. Xiangli stood three steps away, hands forming seals, his knuckles white, tightly controlling the closure of the bag.

A stick of incense burned out.

Wu Xi opened his eyes.

A flash of green light flickered in the depths of his pupils. He looked down at his hands; his skin had turned bronze, looking delicate but feeling like it was wrapped in a layer of iron. He bent his middle finger and flicked his forearm.

Clang.

The crisp sound of metal colliding.

There wasn't even a white mark on his skin.

Niu Fei scrambled up from the ground, his jaw nearly dislocating: "You... you fucking okay?"

Wu Xi stood up and brushed the dust off his shoulders. The human-skin bag slid off him, shrinking back to the size of a palm, and was retrieved by Mr. Xiangli to his waist.

"Thanks." Wu Xi looked at the old man.

Mr. Xiangli didn't say anything, just nodded. He had seen plenty of Ghost-Eating Techniques. Killing people and exorcising ghosts were common practice. But this kid before him had refined the ghostly Qi and used it to break through his Realm.

What kind of Spell was this? Mr. Xiangli had lived for most of his life and was seeing it for the first time.

Wu Xi twisted his neck, his cervical vertebrae resetting one by one, emitting a string of crisp pops like popping beans, from the back of his neck down to his shoulder blades, and then along his lumbar spine, as if someone had set off a string of small firecrackers on his backbone.

"Three brothers died. Call the men; we're going to settle the score with the Cave Master."

The Mohist disciples were filled with righteous indignation.

"Damn it! I'm going to peel that old dog's skin off!"

"Right! Settle the score!"

"They can't die in vain!"

A piece of green jade Talisman hanging from an assassin's waist cracked. He grabbed the jade Talisman, and golden light slithered into his brow like a snake.

"News just came in. The Cave Master... the Cave Master is holding the Garrison Commander's warrant and has sealed three city gates. After the Hour of the Dog, no one is allowed to walk on the streets. Violators—beheaded."

"Fuck!" Niu Fei punched the nearby tree trunk. The bark, as thick as a bowl, exploded, wood chips flying and revealing the white wood inside, like bone. "That old fox! He's been waiting for us!"

"Return to the Luban Workshop first." Mr. Xiangli said in a deep voice, putting away the human-skin bag. "To do a good job, one must first sharpen one's tools."

Mr. Xiangli led the way.

They bypassed the main road and dove into a rocky beach, where half-human-tall reeds grew in the gaps between the stones. The group walked unsteadily for about the time it takes to burn a stick of incense.

The path ahead suddenly opened up, then abruptly contracted—they arrived at a collapsed earthen slope. It was overgrown with weeds, and a few weathered boulders were piled askew, looking no different from any other barren wilderness.

Mr. Xiangli crouched down and pressed his palm against the back of a moss-covered stone. The surface of the stone suddenly lit up, fine, dense patterns appearing, with dark golden light traveling along them.

Click.

A light sound, like a mechanism engaging.

The weeds on the surface of the earthen slope, along with a thin layer of soil, collapsed as a whole, revealing a pitch-black entrance. Clods of earth from the edge of the opening fell with a rustle, revealing the rammed earth inside, and a cold, damp breath surged out from the opening.

"Enter."

Mr. Xiangli bent down and crawled in first, his figure instantly half-swallowed by the darkness, with Wu Xi following closely behind.

The tunnel was lower than he had imagined; in the first section, one had to walk half-bent.

"How was this tunnel built?" Wu Xi couldn't help but ask.

"Before the Mohists choose a Luban Workshop, they must first build an escape route."

"An escape route?"

"Mohists always prepare for emergencies." Mr. Xiangli's voice echoed in the narrow space.

Wu Xi reached out and touched the earthen wall.

The inside of the earthen wall was not natural soil but rammed earth, sandwiched with a layer of fine bamboo strips. When he dug his fingers into it, it was as hard as iron and as tough as cowhide, like the skin of some creature. Further up, less than three feet above his head, were several thumb-thick holes. He could faintly feel a weak current of air passing through them, carrying the earthy smell from the ground and the sweet scent of grass roots.

"Ventilation holes?"

"Yes." Mr. Xiangli replied. "One set every ten zhang, leading directly to the surface. You won't suffocate in the tunnel, and it can exhaust smoke. If someone sets a fire to smoke us out, these holes can draw the smoke out. Even if they can't, we'll know if there's a fire above—smoke is hot, and the holes will be scorching."

Wu Xi raised an eyebrow.

The Mohists' methods, while seemingly crude, were actually filled with ingenuity everywhere. It wasn't the flashy kind of ingenuity, but the kind that could be used for killing or escaping—the ingenuity of survival.

The tunnel grew narrower the further they walked.

In several places, they could only pass sideways. The earthen walls pressed against his chest, as if gripped by two hands, or clamped by iron pliers. Niu Fei, being bulky, got stuck in a narrow gap, his chest pressed against his back, the flesh on his stomach squeezed out of shape.

"Fuck!" Niu Fei cursed while shuffling forward. "Was this fucking built for rats?"

"It was built for smart people." Mr. Xiangli said from the front without looking back, his voice floating over with an echo. "Not for wild bulls."

Niu Fei snorted in anger, his nostrils puffing out coarse breaths, but he didn't dare to be loud, only holding his breath and squeezing forward.

In the distance, there was the sound of dripping water, from somewhere unknown, exceptionally clear in the silent passage.

He didn't know how long they had walked.

Mr. Xiangli in front paused his steps.

"We're here." On the earthen wall in front of Mr. Xiangli was a circular groove. He pressed his palm into it, his palm fitting the patterns of the groove—those patterns were like human fingerprints, circle after circle. He gave it a gentle twist.

Rumble.

The earthen slab overhead slid open to the sides, revealing a square exit. A fresh night breeze poured in, blowing away the musty smell in the tunnel and refreshing everyone, as if they had crawled out of a coffin to see the light of day again.

Mr. Xiangli braced his hands against the edge of the exit and leaped out.

Wu Xi followed and climbed up; this was the end of an alley.

On both sides were towering stone walls. At the base of the walls were stacked several foul-smelling swill buckets, with green-headed flies buzzing around them like clumps of moving sesame seeds. The sour stench made one's brain ache and one's stomach churn. Dim, yellow lamplight shone from the mouth of the alley, and the sound of rhythmic footsteps and clashing iron armor could be heard faintly.

Mr. Xiangli pressed against the wall and poked his head out, then quickly pulled it back.

"Two squads of City Guards." He reported the number, his voice pressed so low it was almost inaudible, like the buzzing of a mosquito. "Eight men per squad, half a cup of tea apart. They just passed the intersection in front of us."

Wu Xi also poked his head out to take a look.

Sure enough, in the distance, a squad of City Guards clad in iron armor was marching in formation, holding torches. In the torchlight, the Garrison Commander's emblem on their armor was clearly visible, looking like grotesque faces, like scars branded by hot irons. They walked in unison, stiffly, like a group of puppets pulled by strings.

The others also climbed out of the tunnel one after another, standing against the base of the wall one by one. Seven people, one alley, their breathing suppressed extremely low, like seven snakes lurking in the shadows.

Wu Xi flexed his wrists.

His bones emitted a slight popping sound, from his wrist bones up to his elbow joints. The Bloated Ghost's Yin Qi flowed slowly through his Meridians, like a cold snake swimming from his Dantian to his fingertips, and back from his fingertips to his Dantian. It intertwined with the masculine True Qi of the Three-Turn Heavy Origin Technique, forming a strange power that fought beneath his skin, yet also seemed to be in Fusion. His skin was tighter than before, as if wrapped in a layer of invisible armor.

He bent his fingers and flicked his forearm.

Clang.

The sound of metal, crisp and short, with no white marks, not even an indentation.

Niu Fei leaned over, staring at his arm: "This... this skin has really turned into iron?"

"Want to try?" Wu Xi extended his arm. Niu Fei actually tried, opening his mouth and taking a bite.

"Clack!" Niu Fei clutched his teeth and stepped back two paces. "Fuck! It's fucking hard!"

Wu Xi's mouth twitched. "Skin-Refining Realm..." He recited silently in his heart.