Volume One: The Journey of the Worthless—Explosive Demon-Slaying Chapter Sixty-Four: The Way Appears Heartless, Yet Fate Brings Opportunity

Night had deepened. Yang Chengzi had intended to sleep early, but Chang Yu insisted on bathing in the creek outside. She was too frightened to go alone and stubbornly pulled Yang Chengzi along with her.

It was not easy for a pampered young lady like Chang Yu to endure several days without bathing, especially in the sweltering heat. Upon reaching the creek, she began to undress. Yang Chengzi, a man of integrity and a Daoist, naturally turned his back, waiting patiently.

Chang Yu finished undressing and stepped into the deeper part of the creek to wash. The sound of water echoed ceaselessly in Yang Chengzi’s ears. Chang Yu bathed languidly; in the heat of summer, soaking in the cool water was a blissful respite. Her graceful silhouette under the moonlight was exquisitely enchanting.

Listening to the water, Yang Chengzi recalled the first time he met Chang Yu: half-alive on the bed, tormented by the spirit bone, yet her celestial beauty had not been concealed, leaving a deep impression on him.

Later, she had sought him at Hanshan Temple. Though compelled by circumstance to travel with her, the journey was less tedious with her company. Still, the dangers along the way were truly unsuitable for her.

Lost in thought, Yang Chengzi suddenly realized the sound of water had ceased. Alarmed, he called out loudly, “Chang Yu?”

There was no response. Turning around, Yang Chengzi searched the area, sensing no ghosts nearby. Where could she have gone? Could she have drowned? Yet, the creek didn’t seem deep.

He jumped into the water and frantically searched. As he reached the deeper part, water rising past his waist—about chest-deep for Chang Yu—he grew anxious. Drowning was possible. He dove to search, but before he could swim far, someone embraced him from behind.

Yang Chengzi surfaced and, seeing the arms around him, knew it was Chang Yu. He was somewhat angry. “If you wanted to bathe, just bathe. Why hide underwater?”

Chang Yu made no sound or reply, resting her head against Yang Chengzi’s back. Finding it odd, Yang Chengzi broke free and turned around. Before he could see clearly, Chang Yu kissed him.

For Yang Chengzi, this sensation was utterly new. For a moment, he didn’t push Chang Yu away. After the kiss, Chang Yu stood atop a large stone at the creek’s bottom, her graceful form rising above the water. She asked, “Do you truly not want me?”

Yang Chengzi gazed into her eyes, never glancing elsewhere. Though he was a Daoist and had no improper thoughts toward women, he wasn’t foolish. With a girl going so far, could he really refuse her? That would hardly make him human. He stared into Chang Yu’s eyes, unable to answer for a long time.

Chang Yu, fearing disappointment, plunged herself into Yang Chengzi’s arms. Though there was no physical intimacy, Chang Yu’s lack of clothing made Yang Chengzi keenly aware.

Yang Chengzi’s open hands seemed to convey his answer, leaving Chang Yu a little disappointed.

“Go put on your clothes; the creek water is cold and damp. Be careful not to catch a chill. Once you’re done, we’ll head back.”

Chang Yu glanced at Yang Chengzi, surprised that he hadn’t claimed to be a Daoist or rejected her this time. Thinking of this, she leaped from the water, kissed him again, and said, “Turn around, I’m finished.” With that, she swam toward the shore.

Yang Chengzi reacted little, turning his back. Chang Yu dressed, and Yang Chengzi climbed ashore as well. Upon returning home, the others were all asleep, still resting in the main hall. Chang Yu had bathed comfortably, but Yang Chengzi suffered, returning still wet, able only to dry himself and sleep in a pair of oversized shorts. Chang Yu nestled beside him, gazing at his face, unable to fall asleep for a long time. She wished dearly that she could always lie beside him.

Near dawn, Chen San awoke. Though his soul force had recovered somewhat, weakness engulfed him. His limbs felt powerless; his head was dizzy; thirst tormented him, and his lips were peeling. He tried to sit up, but his body wouldn’t obey. Even clenching a fist was impossible—his fingers merely trembled, far from forming a grip.

Unable to move, he tried to call out. The sound startled even himself, resembling the whimpering of a newborn pup—soft and indistinct. He could hardly hear himself, let alone the others in the hall. After whimpering for a while with no response, he watched the flickering oil lamp, thinking it was still before dawn. Waking at such a moment was deeply frustrating.

It had been a long time since he lay quietly pondering. In Chen Family Town, Chen San lived alone: no one to converse with, and he would retire early each night. Even when he wished to speak, there was no one to answer. Occasionally, unable to sleep, he would toss and turn in bed, but those days were long past.

Having slept two full days, his spirit had recovered despite weakness in body and soul. Staring at the ceiling, thoughts drifted: he thought of Chen Xin, of the great demon beneath Chen Family Town, and of Old Tai Xuan. Knowing he would soon return home filled him with excitement. He had never traveled far; these twenty days wandering, meeting many people, had been a remarkable journey.

For Chen San, Yang Chengzi, Chang Yu, Suichang the monk, and those young men had become part of his life. Though only a few weeks had passed, life no longer felt like a soulless existence, living solely for food. Were it not for Chen Xin, he might have followed Suichang’s example, wandering with Old Tai Xuan, slaying demons and evil spirits. Such days truly felt alive—living with purpose.

Though injury and even death might come, what was there to fear? Death merely shed this mortal shell; after ascending, Daoist ancestors left powerful divine will to protect the world. To merely cling to existence in this frail shell was less worthwhile than living boldly. Perhaps, inspired by Yang Chengzi’s talk of the great Dao, Chen San was becoming more like him.

Soon, the rooster crowed. Hearing it, Chen San became spirited; though he couldn’t move, at least someone would attend to him now. Indeed, before long, someone entered the inner room with slow, shuffling steps. Who else could it be? Of course, Suichang the monk—only he and Yang Chengzi got up at dawn with the rooster. Yang Chengzi’s repeated exertions had left him exhausted and he didn’t rise.

Suichang shuffled to the bedside, looked at Chen San, who widened his eyes and blinked hard, trying to call out though no sound emerged, fearing the monk’s poor eyesight might miss his awakening. Yet, Suichang seemed not to notice and walked out again. Poor Chen San lacked the strength even to raise his hand; his whimpers failed to bring the master back.

Had Chen San not gone days without food, his body and soul depleted, he would have been furious at the master’s apparent blindness—enough to spit blood in anger. Disheartened, his hope rekindled only to soon extinguish, he resumed staring at the ceiling.

After a while, Suichang returned, carrying two bowls. He walked to the table, speaking as he went, “I saw you. Do you take me for a blind monk? How could I miss someone waking up? I went to fetch you something to eat—don’t worry, don’t worry.”

Chen San’s eyes widened. At last, the master proved reliable—he almost shed tears of relief. The monk helped him sit up and poured a bowl of water down his throat. Once he had drunk, Suichang laid him flat again, pulled a large piece of meat from the bowl, and held it to Chen San’s lips. Chen San’s eyes lit up, and he began to salivate.

After two days without food, he was ravenous. Suichang held the meat near his mouth and Chen San gnawed at it eagerly, savoring every bite. The master switched hands several times, while Chen San enjoyed simply opening his mouth, needing neither to look nor to reach.

Once the meat was finished, Chen San felt a bit stronger. He closed his eyes and began reciting the calming incantation. Before Yang Chengzi and the others awoke, the great mantra had never ceased in Chen San’s heart. Indeed, the calming spell worked wonders for the soul; after several repetitions, his soul force recovered considerably, the weakness began fading, and he could slowly clench his fists.

Chang Yu, hearing Chen San was awake, bounded into the inner room. Chen San kept his eyes closed until Chang Yu poked him with a finger, prompting him to open them.

Chang Yu smiled. “You’ve slept two days. Finally awake! Are you going back to Chen Family Town or not? Always so lazy—look at you.”

True to form, Chang Yu’s first words were to scold him. Hearing her, Chen San grinned, replying indistinctly, “We’ll leave tomorrow. Won’t delay your marriage.”

Though his words were unclear, Chang Yu understood. Hearing him banter, she felt reassured and slapped his arm hard.

“Annoying, always speaking the truth.” With that, she shyly ran out, bumping into Yang Chengzi as he entered. She kept her head down, too embarrassed to look up. Suichang, seeing Chang Yu run out with a flushed face, shook his head and smiled.

Yang Chengzi entered and sat by the bed. Chen San smiled at him. Yang Chengzi, a bit envious, said, “You’re tougher than me.” He closed his eyes, placed his palm on Chen San’s forehead, and began sensing. After a while, he found Chen San’s soul force recovering rapidly and becoming more robust, feeling puzzled. He spoke about the Daoist ancestor Chen San had summoned.

Though knowing Chen San had no memory after summoning the ancestor, Yang Chengzi recounted the entire process. When he spoke of the Qiantian Eight Trigram Celestial Array, his eyes shone, though soon he looked helpless and explained why he had learned only half.

Chen San listened, blood surging with excitement. Realizing how valiant he had been—unafraid of heavenly thunder, single-handedly slaying black-robed men and fierce spirits—he couldn’t help but feel elated. Then the master entered, hearing Yang Chengzi discuss the Daoist ancestor, and sat down to listen as well.