In front of the mountain gate, the morning mist lay lazily on the stone steps like an apprentice who had not woken up. Chu Xuan threw the bundle over his shoulder, and his worn-out straw sandals creaked, as if greeting the immortal mountain.
"From the mortal world?" The disciple of the mountain guard glanced sideways, his gaze sliding from the mended corner of his robe all the way to the chipped wooden box, sneering, "These days, anyone dares to dream of being a sword immortal."
Chu Xuan grinned, showing eight teeth: "Senior brother is right, I'll go up to the dream to pick up the sword."
The man was stunned by choking, and just as he was about to mock again, the young man lifted his foot and stepped onto the first step. The stone steps were icy cold, like a jade belt hanging from the clouds, and with each step, the chill climbed up the soles of the feet. He deliberately stepped harder, as if he wanted to insert the word "Fan gu" into the crevices of the stone, so that he could turn back and be seen by everyone - this line of footprints was left by him Chu Xuan.
In front of the deacons' hall at the outer gate, the young men in line were all dressed in bright robes, with jade plaques jingling at their waists. Chu Xuan's washed-up, pale blue robe was mixed in, like a grass carp that had accidentally entered the koi pond. The elder deacon lifted his eyelids and paused his pen on the register: "Chu Xuan?" Mortal native place, no spirit stone offerings, no family sponsorship..."
The sound dragged on for a long time, and immediately a chorus of low laughter rose around.
"Yes." Chu Xuan's back was straight. "In the mortal world, in Chu family Village, I was a hunter and my family's fortune was five or three coins of silver, all for the fare."
"Five or three coins?" The young man in the front row turned his head, and the gold thread on his robe dazzled his eyes. "This piece of jade at my waist is worth at least five hundred taels. Poor ghost, the immortal gate is not a good hall, go back early to hunt rabbits."
A burst of laughter. Chu Xuan scratched his hair as if he were thinking seriously, and then bowed his hands: "Senior brother reminds us that rabbits should be hunted and immortals should also be made. It's a matter of both."
The Golden thread boy turned pale from the nail that was neither too soft nor too hard and wanted to say more, but the elder deacon impatiently tapped the table: "Noisy! Chu Xuan, go to Courtyard No. 3, C.
The No. 3 courtyard, which sounds good, is actually a dilapidated house on the back of the mountain. Pushing open the crooked wooden door, a damp and musty smell hit you, and the window paper was so broken that it could Pierce your fist. The roof tiles were scattered, and the moonlight crawled in like peeping silver snakes.
"Not bad, natural skylight." Chu Xuan threw the wooden box into the corner, and the sound echoed in the empty room. He bent down to pick up the half-cut tile, rubbed it with the pads of his fingers, and the corners of his lips curled up: Abandoned spirit vein? It may be trash to others, but not to him.
The night sank. Chu Xuan sat cross-legged under the roof of Lou Yue, with his palms facing up. The so-called spiritual energy is pitifully thin, like the wind strangled by the neck, intermittent. He was not in a hurry. His breathing rhythm was as steady as if measured - born into a hunter's family, he had no shortage of patience.
On the seventh breath, the dantian suddenly quivered slightly. A wisp of air cooler than moonlight, like a fish skimming the shallows, slid silently into the meridians. Chu Xuan's heart gave a jolt: Here it comes!
That wisp of air was extremely faint, yet it carried an indescribable affinity. Wherever it passed, the blocked meridians automatically made way. It seemed to be the master of the place by nature, without knocking at all. Chu Xuan held his breath for fear of disturbing the guest. The breath made a circle around the dantian and then went up along the Ren Du, and the acupoints it passed through gave a faint, imperceptible silver glow.
The moonlight that fell through a hole in the roof suddenly flickered. A very soft "ding" rang in Chu Xuan's eardrums, like two jade pendants colliding, clear and short. Then a faint whisper, almost indistinguishable, climbed up the spine --
"Dao... "Contract..."
He suddenly opened his eyes. The night sky was sparsely dotted with stars, as if someone had casually scattered a handful of diamonds. But the sound could no longer be captured, only beating like a drum. Chu Xuan slowly exhaled a stale breath, and there was a light in his eyes: The primordial spirit finally began to open its eyes.
The next day, the morning bell broke through the mist, "clang --" and woke Chu Xuan from his meditation. He stretched his body, his bones crackled, and the wisp of spiritual energy in his meridians was like a small snake, moving up and down his back, cool and itchy.
"Boy of the House, come and get your meal!" Outside the door someone shouted at the top of his lungs, a voice rougher than a clock.
Chu Xuan pushed the door open and saw a fat disciple carrying a wooden bucket, with steam rising on his face, but it was half a bucket of thin spiritual porridge, with few grains of rice. The fat disciple squinted: "The house is abandoned in the form of C, the quota is halved, if you want to eat it or not."
Chu Xuan took it with a smile, casually touched the rim of the bucket with his fingertip, and a wisp of spiritual energy thinner than a hair crept in through the wooden wall, and immediately several plump spiritual grains floated up in the porridge, like pearls smuggled in. The fat disciple rubbed his eyes. When he looked again, Chu Xuan had walked away with the bowl in his hand, leaving only his back as leisurely as before.
"Saw a ghost?" The fat disciple scratched his head, but there was a faint cracking sound from the bottom of the bucket - Chu Xuan's wisp of spiritual energy exploded into light in the crack of the wood and dissipated silently.
...
Outer Gate Square, today's spirit test.
The stone tablet stands tall and the runes are like snakes. The disciples cut their fingertips one by one, blood drops rolled down, and the light columns on the surface of the steles determined fate: one foot of miscellaneous spirit, three feet of lower grade, six feet of middle grade, nine feet of higher grade, and above that were the legendary earth spirit and Heaven Spirit.
"Mr. Zhao, please." The elder deacon smiles at the young man with the golden thread. Zhao Tianlei straightened the gold thread on his sleeve, and it bled. Boom - The beam of light shoots up seven feet, bluish with gold, medium spirit root, half a step superior!
All around was a deluge of flattery. Just as Zhao Tianlei's lips curled up, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the figure of the green cloth at the back of the crowd, and his smile was sharp.
"Brother Chu, I'm not even a minor spirit from the mortal world?" He deliberately raised his voice.
Chu Xuan, carrying the bowl of porridge, paced forward, wiped the rim of the bowl with his fingertip, and the rice soup, mixed with blood streaks, landed on the tablet. Buzz - The light column quivered, like a dozing dragon bitten by a flea, rising less than an inch, greyish, the last of all spirits.
There was laughter all around. Zhao Tianlei made a TSK sound: "There's no spirit here. Go home and hunt the rabbit."
Chu Xuan stared at that inch of grey light, but a strange look flashed across his eyes: within the grey light, extremely fine silver threads vanished in an instant, like the shadow of the moon disappearing into the dark clouds. The primordial spirit automatically hid its spiritual energy even deeper.
He bowed his hands: "Thank you, Senior Brother Zhao, for your encouragement. Rabbits are hunted, immortals are also made." With that, he turned and drank the last mouthful of porridge in his bowl. The grain of rice entered his mouth and turned into a wisp of warm air, heading straight to his dantian. The grey light died out, but the stone tablet crumbled imperceptibly, leaving fine streaks.
The elder deacon frowned, thinking that the old stele was old, and waved the next one forward.
...
In the afternoon, on the back hill of the courtyard. Chu Xuan stepped on the crushed stones, pushed aside the vines, and an abandoned cave came into view - the stone walls were mottled but still retained the spirit gathering array patterns. He crouched down, his fingertips tracing the broken lines, and the small snake in his dantian, as if summoned, whoosh out of his palm and wanders along the lines.
Buzz - The stone wall trembled slightly, and a wisp of silver light fainter than the morning mist seeped through the crevices of the lines and was swallowed by the little snake in one gulp. There was a "ding" in Chu Xuan's mind, and the sound of jade that he had heard last night rang out again, and this time it was much clearer --
"Dao Qi... Innate... Can bind all spirits..."
Before the sound had died down, a cloud of grey mist burst out from the crack in the stone wall, with an old musty smell, but carrying a faint spirit. Chu Xuan was caught off guard. He took half a puff, his throat burned, and he coughed with tears streaming down his face, but his eyes shone: The abandoned spirit vein, indeed, still has remnants of soup!
The grey mist dissipated, and the stone wall "clicked" off a piece of stone, revealing a deeper dark streak behind it, like a broken talisman. Chu Xuan reached out his hand, and as soon as his finger touched it, the seal suddenly brightened, and the silver thread climbed up along the pad of his finger, all the way into his sleeve, cold and swift, like a snake recognizing its master.
His heart was pounding, but he heard rustling footsteps behind him.
"Oh, poor wretch digging rat holes here?" Zhao Tianlei, with his two followers, fanned his teeth and laughed, "Even a lowly spirit dares to occupy the back mountain? Get out!"
With his back to the three of them, Chu Xuan gently pressed the seal with his fingertips, and the silver thread instantly disappeared into his skin. He turned around, still a kind smile on his face: "Senior Brother Zhao, the back mountain is abandoned, the sect doesn't write anyone's name. I found the treasure, and according to the rules, whoever sees it first gets it."
"Treasure?" Zhao Tianlei sneered and kicked the crushed stone wall with his foot, raising dust. "Just this broken stone? I'll reward you!" With a flick of the folding fan, a thin blade popped out of the fan ribs, a flash of cold light, straight to Chu Xuan's shoulder - the outer gate forbade private fighting, but did not prevent "misstep".
Chu Xuan seemed to be stunned, neither dodging nor dodging, but the tip of his sleeve hooked lightly. The silver thread that had just entered his body slipped quietly into the sole of Zhao Tianlei's shoe through a crack in the ground stone. In the next moment, the thin blade was less than an inch from Chu Xuan's shoulder. Zhao Tianlei suddenly felt a numbness in the sole of his foot, as if stepping on an ice needle, his legs bent and gave a limp, "plop" to his knees, the blade slicing against the corner of Chu Xuan's clothes and cutting through a piece of green cloth.
The air was quiet. Zhao Tianlei's face turned bluish and he was about to roar when Chu Xuan bent down to support him, looking terrified: "How dare I accept such a great gift from my senior brother?" He casually brushed the dust off the other man's knee, and the silver thread slipped back into the sleeve, leaving no trace.
The two followers looked at each other. Zhao Tianlei was furious but could not find any flaw. He could only grit his teeth and say, "Let's see!" He flung his sleeve away, limping slightly.
Looking at the backs of the three, Chu Xuan's smile faded and he looked down at his palm - the silver thread turned into a tiny symbol beneath the skin, flickered and vanished. He took a deep breath, and the little snake in his chest had grown half a circle in size and was now swimming excitedly.
"Dao Qi..." " He murmured, with fire in his eyes, "It turns out that it can bind spirits."
In the distance, the setting sun was sinking, and the afterglow stretched the abandoned mountain shadows long, like a sleeping dragon. Chu Xuan turned and walked up the ridge, his back silvered by the last ray of the sun, and his feet crumbled with a "crack" of the stones, and with each step it seemed to crush the word "mortal bone" to pieces.