Chapter Thirty-One: The Keeper of the Lantern

Upstairs in the second floor of the Tidewatch Inn, inside a private room, a few delicate dishes were set out on the table, along with a freshly heated pot of strong liquor, steam still rising from its spout.

Yet neither cup nor chopsticks had been touched, and the food had already grown cold.

The four traveling rogue cultivators from overseas sat together; their leader, Han Lin, sat motionless, his expression calm, gazing silently at the pot of wine as if he could glimpse the shadow of a venomous snake within.

The one with the most explosive temper, the bearded Xiahou Pan, usually so brash, was now entirely subdued. He pressed his ear against the door, listening intently for a long moment before drawing back and lowering his voice to address Han Lin:

“Big Brother, I heard Qian Dahai’s footsteps going downstairs.”

As he spoke, a flash of ferocity crossed his eyes. He glared at the dishes and wine on the table, voice full of hatred:

“That old bastard really harbors ill intent! If not for the Princess’s warning, we’d almost have fallen into his trap!”

Han Lin waved his hand, signaling him to calm down, and only then spoke slowly:

“Find a place to pour all this out. No one offers kindness for nothing—such a man is either a traitor or a thief. The Princess’s prediction was correct. Qian Dahai must already see us as fish laid out on the butcher’s block.”

He paused, then continued, “Soon, we’ll pretend to have fallen for his scheme and lost consciousness. I want to see what kind of medicine he’s really selling in that gourd of his.”

Xiahou Pan carefully tipped the wine and dishes out the window into a hidden drainage channel as instructed. Even as he worked, he couldn’t help but ask:

“Big Brother, what do you think Qian Dahai’s real background is? How does he dare to pull such tricks right under the eyes of the Demon Suppression Bureau? Just how deep does his cultivation run?”

Han Lin’s gaze sharpened, his tone contemplative: “If he truly belongs to the Turbid Current cult, then his path is very different from ours. Such people are called ‘Lampbearers.’”

“To become a Lampbearer, one must at least reach the Fire-Wielding stage. If Qian Dahai is indeed the local branch master, he’s likely already stepped into the realm of the Luminous Spirit.”

“The Turbid Current cult embraces madness, harnesses the power of corruption. The lowly tainted are little threat, but from the Lampbearer upward, they can open doors to listen for whispers, draw upon the power of the Netherworld for themselves; their methods are strange, their strength far beyond those of the same level.”

Xiahou Pan shuddered at this, feeling that this modest Tidewatch Inn had become a veritable den of dragons and tigers.

Fortunately, they themselves were not without their own means.

He looked to his big brother Han Lin; though they both stood at the Luminous Spirit stage, he knew Han Lin’s spirit burned brighter. The heartfire he wielded at the time of taking his stance was true fire, surpassing mortal flame and second only to the most wondrous spiritual fire. This meant he could unleash his full strength and was unafraid of the corrupting influence of the Turbid Current.

What’s more, Han Lin had once been an elite of the Demon Suppression Bureau. Over a decade ago, during the campaign against a branch master of the Turbid Current, he had been framed by a superior and trapped in a deadly situation, his brothers slain to the last. Only the intervention of the Prince had saved him from that sea of corpses and blood.

Since then, he had left the Bureau to follow the Prince—not so much a bodyguard as a chief instructor. Now, he was the Princess’s most loyal protector, second in strength only to Shen Guizhou of the Watching Wave realm.

...

At the warehouse at the wharf’s end, Lu Chenyuan, concealed behind tattered fishing nets, held his breath and steadied his spirit. He watched as the evil cultivators untied a sack, from which a man rolled out, his hands and feet bound, mouth stuffed with burlap—it was the missing middle-aged scholar.

Seated cross-legged in the center of the warehouse, back to the others, was a man in a dark Taoist robe—the so-called Master Li.

A guttural, satisfied hum escaped Master Li’s throat, equal parts approval and a hungry snarl.

It was at that moment that Lu Chenyuan’s pupils contracted sharply!

He saw it clearly: on the back of Master Li’s neck, a fist-sized tumor began pulsing violently, as if alive.

With a soft ripping sound, the tumor split open like an overripe boil, and a bloody mouth tore through the flesh. From that gory maw, something slick and sticky slowly wriggled its way out—

It was a serpent’s head with a human face.

The face was twisted, almost grinning, almost weeping, and its eyes were blood-red, brimming with insatiable greed and malice.

The instant the serpent-head emerged, the evil aura around Master Li intensified many times over, far surpassing the monster spawned from the death of a Heart-Setting cultivator that Lu Chenyuan had witnessed the other day.

Lu Chenyuan felt his scalp crawl. He thought to himself:

“What kind of technique is this? Can someone truly command the power of transformation? No wonder the Turbid Current cult grows ever more formidable. The power of transformation is both wicked and strong; if one could harness it, it would be a tremendous asset...”

As soon as the human-faced serpent appeared, it snapped open its mouth, baring rows of sharp fangs, and lunged at the unconscious scholar, biting down savagely!

“Aaah!”

The agony jolted the scholar awake; the burlap fell from his mouth as he let out a blood-curdling scream.

He could only watch in horror as the creature tore chunks of flesh from his arm, blood and gore splattering everywhere, the sound of flesh being chewed echoing in the deathly still warehouse.

This wailing was not the only thing it roused; something deep within Lu Chenyuan, a beast long dormant, was also stirred.

A surge of intense hunger and excitement welled up from the depths of his soul.

He could clearly sense that beneath his palm, those crimson eyes had opened, staring hungrily through layers of flesh at Master Li.

The realization startled him into immediate action—he steadied his breath and recited incantations to forcibly suppress the monster within. If even a hint of his presence was detected by Master Li, he would surely face a grisly end.

He kept watching, only for something even more horrific to unfold.

While the human-faced serpent gorged itself, Master Li bent down to lift the scholar’s left hand, which now hung limp on the floor. With his withered fingers, he gently stroked the scholar’s twitching digits.

Then, without hesitation, he brought the hand to his mouth and bit down.

A sharp crack—the sound of finger joints breaking.

He chewed slowly, each bite sending blood and flesh spraying.

The scholar’s screams grew weaker and weaker, until at last they faded into silence.

Zhang, the silk merchant, was already as pale as death, shaking so hard she nearly collapsed.

Even the evil cultivators, hardened by gore, were now ashen-faced, throats bobbing as they struggled to swallow their horror.

Lu Chenyuan forced himself to suppress both his killing intent and his nausea.

He knew that his own martial arts were worlds apart from this monster’s; to act now would be nothing more than throwing himself into the fire.

This man could be none other than one of those Lampbearers the disciples of the great sects whispered about with dread!

As he’d heard it, those who joined the Turbid Current cult did so to learn the ways of harnessing its power and to become Lampbearers.

For it was said that from the Lampbearer stage onwards, “the higher the Dao, the greater the demon”—Lampbearers were almost invincible among their peers.

Now that the world’s spiritual energy was drying up, progress by righteous cultivation had become extremely difficult, so more and more people turned to dark and crooked paths.

But one question had always plagued him: if Lampbearers were so powerful, surely there must be a cost?

Looking at the carnage on the floor, Lu Chenyuan thought to himself:

“Could this be the cost? Is it necessary to feed this parasitic monster with human blood and flesh? Does it even warp the host’s very nature?”

As this thought took hold, he recalled Qian Dahai’s warning at the inn and felt a creeping dread.

“Shopkeeper Qian clearly knows much about the Turbid Current cult; his inn is almost certainly a front for evil. Could he too be a Lampbearer? Does he also require human flesh?”

Lu Chenyuan dared not wait for the creature to finish devouring the scholar. Every crunch seemed to hammer at his own heart, tempting the demon within.

The earlier stirring inside him had been a clear warning. To linger here a moment longer would be to risk both his own descent and discovery.

His thoughts raced, and he decided at once to slip away quietly.

But just then, his gaze sharpened—something was happening!

He saw that Master Li’s seemingly ordinary black Taoist robe, amid its folds and creases, was alive with countless tiny wriggling things.

Suddenly, one crease tightened, and from within, a strange eye forced its way out!

It was an eye with a yellow vertical pupil, the whites veined with blood like a spider’s web.

It spun rapidly, sweeping over every corner of the warehouse, and finally, unerringly, fixed itself on Lu Chenyuan’s hiding place.

Lu Chenyuan’s pupils shrank to pinpoints.

In that instant, all sound vanished—

The whimper of the sea wind, the groaning of the floorboards, the suppressed breathing of the evil cultivators—everything was wiped away.

Only a suffocating, absolute silence remained.

Lu Chenyuan felt his heart seize in his chest, so tight it seemed even the next beat might never come.