Morning Light

Chen Chuan fixed his gaze on the flying head. Reaching out, he drew his Wuji pistol, instantly aimed the muzzle at the urban legend's forehead, and pulled the trigger. Bang! A flash of flame burst from the muzzle. As if startled, the flying head let out a shrill squeak and shot upward, its trailing long hair instantly enveloping his entire field of view. Chen Chuan was certain he had hit it just now, but the shot seemed to pass right through its skull as though it were nothing more than an illusory phantom. Meanwhile, his other hand tightened around his hilt, and guided purely by instinct, he swept his blade upward in an ascending slash! The flying head let out another hiss. When the gunshot struck, it had seemingly done nothing, but this time, as the blade cut through, a faint resistance traveled into his hand. It felt as though he had slashed into something intangible—a hollow sensation of having failed to strike solid flesh, yet definitely making contact. At almost the exact same moment, he noticed that the blurring on his Second Self momentarily intensified. From this, he immediately knew that he had indeed harmed the creature, though the effect seemed slight. By now, the flying head had burst through the gauze curtain, circling relentlessly overhead. Chen Chuan glanced over and saw that beneath the spot where the flying head had just perched lay a pile of flesh and bone fragments crushed into a mud-like mash, completely unrecognizable. He looked back up at the flying head. Gunfire was indeed useless, yet the saber could touch it. The difference between the two was likely the mutated tissue embedded within the Xuejun Saber, though there probably wasn't enough mutated tissue in the blade just yet. If that was the case... He took a few steps back of his own accord. Seeing him back away from the altar, the flying head hovered briefly above before swooping down toward the pile of flesh and blood again. Chen Chuan planted his saber into the ground. As the head plunged toward him, he suddenly reached out as though scooping something from the air. His fingers clamped shut—and remarkably, he seized the flying head by its long hair, halting it dead in midair! His spirits lifted. It was just as he thought: because his own body possessed sufficient mutated tissue, he could physically touch this entity. Yet this did not come without a price. At the same time, the blurring on his Second Self abruptly deepened by a degree. He paid it no mind. Grasping with both hands, he let out a shout. Driving force through his waist and back, he stepped backward pace by pace, slowly dragging the thing away from the mass of flesh. Throughout the struggle, the creature thrashed violently, emitting high-pitched squeals. The thing was not large, but the power transmitting from it was immense. Because he needed to keep his Second Self in reserve to ward off unknown corruptive harm, Chen Chuan chose not to merge with it this time. Instead, he wrestled the creature using his own strength alone. Fortunately, the mutated tissue in his body had not grown for nothing; he was far stronger than he used to be, and his raw physical power seemed more than enough for now. Adjusting his breathing slightly, he worked his hands forward along the hair hand-over-hand, closing the distance step by step. Once he was close enough, he shouted and seized the skull itself, locking it tightly against his chest! The flying head seemed appalled and struggled frantically. Its sheer power threatened to lift his entire body off the ground, yet his expression remained composed, his grip not slackening in the slightest. During its frenzied thrashing, the creature nearly slipped free several times, but each time, he momentarily merged with his Second Self to reassert control. After a long while, he suddenly felt his arms empty. Looking down, he saw that the entity had vanished into thin air. He slowly straightened up and dusted off his clothes. He didn't think the thing had been destroyed; urban legends were never eliminated so easily. Most likely, the sacrificial window had simply passed. Once another sacrifice was performed, it would surely appear again. Only when a ritual took place and it failed to show up could it truly be considered banished. He walked to the altar, pulled the Xuejun Saber from the ground, turned around, and walked outside. "Expert Chen is out!" Seeing Chen Chuan emerge, Gu Mingde held up a hand to stop the men behind him and stepped forward alone. He looked Chen Chuan over, and seeing that he was unharmed, his expression relaxed slightly. "Expert Chen, how did it go?" Chen Chuan glanced at him, then at the men behind him, and said, "Captain Gu, everyone, this is going to be a war of attrition. I prevented it from feeding on the blood sacrifice. However, the rituals here cannot stop; otherwise, it might flee to another location. When the next sacrificial ritual begins, I will step in to stop it again." Gu Mingde said, "I already sent a telegram to the rear earlier. The supplies Expert Chen requested will be brought over shortly. Besides, we have plenty of provisions. As long as the method works, we can wear this damned thing down indefinitely." "Right! Expert Chen is facing the greatest danger. We're just standing guard out here—what do we have to complain about?" "Exactly. Don't worry, Expert Chen. We'll definitely have your back!" Chen Chuan nodded and said, "Well said. With all of you as my support behind me, I can focus entirely on dealing with that thing in front." Cupping his hands in salute, he added, "I leave the outside matters in your hands." The men returned the salute solemnly. Chen Chuan stepped to the side. He took out the piece of yellow jade and inspected it; half of it had already turned black. Stowing it away once more, he sat down nearby. During the fight he hadn't noticed, but now that the flying head had been dealt with, he could feel a surge of power stimulating the mutated tissue within his body. He immediately began using his breathing technique to guide and regulate it. This effect was far stronger than taking medicine normally. Had he not already ordered and stabilized the structure of his mutated tissue, this might have triggered the kind of abnormal growth Cheng Zitong had warned about. Now, however, it served only as a potent tonic. Seeing him sitting motionless leaning on his saber, the crowd assumed he was resting, which they understood completely. After all, merely approaching those flying heads made ordinary people lose their minds, yet Chen Chuan had faced a whole swarm directly—including the source flying head itself. The strain must have been immense, and they couldn't fathom how he had endured it. Thus, everyone moved about with great care, terrified of disturbing him. By noon, people from down the mountain had hauled up more sacrificial offerings, and arrangements were made for some men to conduct the prostrations and offerings. Fortunately, they did not need to step inside the temple; staying outside was sufficient. As evening approached, a few men followed Chen Chuan into the old temple to arrange the offerings on the altar. When they saw the flying heads strewn across the floor, their hearts were struck with awe. Knowing full well how troublesome these horrors were, they looked at him with sheer admiration. Chen Chuan said, "Thank you for your trouble." "No trouble at all, Expert Chen! How could our little chore compare to what you're doing?" After exchanging a few polite words, they didn't dare linger or gawk around and hurried outside. They knew well that one could not stay here for long; even having stood there for just a brief moment, they felt deeply uneasy, mildly nauseated, and dizzy. Once outside beneath the sunlight, they felt as if they had been given a new lease on life. They couldn't help marveling at how Chen Chuan could hold out inside for so long. Chen Chuan sat down on the stone steps to the side, propping the Xuejun Saber beside him. He looked upward; the sunlight filtering down through the roof was perhaps the only source of warmth in this place. He sat quietly alone in this temple from an old era, seemingly blending into it. Yet his gaze remained sharp and bright, and the long saber at his side seemed poised to unleash a keen, deadly edge at any moment. As time drifted by, the light gradually dimmed, descending into dusk. The two sacrificial rituals occurred at 6:30 in the morning and 6:30 in the evening, and the evening hour was fast approaching. Chen Chuan raised his wrist and checked his watch. Seeing that the time was near, he stood up and lit the torches mounted in a ring along the temple walls. Soon, the hall grew bright under the illumination of the fire. Yet amid the flickering firelight, the elongated shadows, the collapsed stone statues in the back, and the shredded flesh strewn about only made the surroundings appear all the more sinister and grotesque. Suddenly, the bound goat on the altar began to tremble. At the same time, its flesh split open out of thin air, and blood seeped forth, trickling outward in all directions. Chen Chuan looked up and stared above the altar. A moment later, the torches flickered violently, and then, abruptly, the flying head emerged from the shadows above. It plummeted straight toward the sacrificial offering, its long hair spreading out like a vast patch of shadow cast downward. Chen Chuan strode forward two paces, crossing five or six meters in an instant, and whipped a kick out. Striking the skull with pinpoint precision, he swept it right off the altar. Its feeding interrupted, the flying head let out a familiar shrill shriek and tried to approach the altar again. But Chen Chuan stood firm, repeatedly repelling and kicking it to prevent it from getting close. After being kicked away countless times, the flying head finally vanished once more. Chen Chuan stood for a moment, then retrieved the yellow jade from inside his coat. Seeing that it had turned completely black, he gave it a light squeeze, and it crumbled into powder, drifting down through his fingers. During this encounter, the yellow jade had absorbed part of the harm for him. Come tomorrow, he would have to endure it entirely on his own. However, he could clearly feel that the flying head had manifested for far less time than before, proving that this method was highly effective. Waving a hand, he walked out again. After explaining the situation to Gu Mingde and the others, he headed to the tent they had prepared for him to rest, silently guiding the growth of his mutated tissue. On the morning of the second day, he entered the old temple once again. The process that day was nearly identical to the previous one; each time, he successfully kept the flying head away from the sacrificial meal. Over the course of the day, however, the corruptive erosion on his Second Self worsened noticeably, though it remained within bearable limits. Yet this was indeed a war of attrition; the wear on his Second Self was continuous, and the damage accumulated. Judged this way, even without unexpected complications, his limit would be reached within a day or two. On the third day, after adjusting himself, Chen Chuan entered the old temple once more. When the ritual began and the flying head appeared, he drove it away until it vanished; this time, it had only lasted a few minutes. He had a premonition that the next time would very likely be the moment to resolve this matter once and for all. The sun tracked across the sky, and another day slipped by, seemingly slow yet surprisingly fast. When evening fell and the sacrifice was about to begin again, a commissioned operative outside suddenly shouted, pointing down the mountain, "Captain Gu, look!" Gu Mingde looked over and was startled. Black dots were swarming in from all directions—every single one was a flying head, totaling forty or fifty in all. He realized what was happening immediately. "These must have flown over from other Flying Head Cult strongholds! It seems Expert Chen's method is working!" He shouted, "Prepare to engage!" Then he added an urgent warning, "Do your best to keep them from entering the temple!" The commissioned operatives roared in agreement, raising their firearms and shooting in rapid succession. By now, no fewer than a hundred men had assembled on the mountain. The deafening gunfire startled countless birds into the air. Flying heads dropped from the sky one after another, yet roughly a third of them still managed to slip through the holes in the roof and dive into the old temple. Gu Mingde looked toward the old temple with a solemn expression. They had done everything they could; whatever made it inside would have to be handled by Chen Chuan alone. Inside the temple, Chen Chuan was waiting as the source flying head appeared once again. Following his previous tactic, dealing with it wouldn't have been difficult, but the influx of the other flying heads immediately caused interference. He sensed instinctively that if the source flying head came into contact with fresh flesh and blood, it might fully recover, which would spell disaster. In this critical moment, his eyes flashed. Darting forward two steps, he clamped the source flying head under his arm, drew his gun, spun around, and fired. Gunshots rang out in a continuous barrage—bang, bang, bang! The flying heads scattered in panic. Emptying the magazine in a single breath, he tossed the pistol aside, lunged forward with the head clamped under his arm, and swung his blade to meet them! With every slash, a flying head fell. When the final flash of saber light faded, not a single flying head remained in the vast hall. At that moment, he seemed to hear a long, deep sigh by his ear. Immediately afterward, the weight under his arm vanished. Turning his head, he saw a pile of ashes fluttering down, accompanied by countless strands of black hair scattering across the floor. Chen Chuan saw that his Second Self was trembling like rippling water, as though it had suffered a severe blow, blurred to the point of nearly dissipating altogether. At the same time, the mutated tissue throughout his body experienced an unprecedentedly intense stimulation. He frowned. To this degree... The breathing technique alone was no longer enough. Taking a deep breath, he ripped off his overcoat and began practicing Orthodox Sanshou right there. Yet after running through it several times, he felt it could hardly keep up with the rapid growth of the mutated tissue. He then tried imitating other jin stances, as well as the jin technique moves He Xiaoxing had specifically taught him. He tried again and again, time slipping away as he practiced relentlessly. Finally sensing that even this might not suffice, he simply took the Xuejun Saber in hand and unleashed heavy slash jin techniques over and over while coordinating his breathing. For a time, saber jin surged and glinted with sharp light, the remnants of the flying heads on the floor shattered to pieces under the blast of residual force. He moved like this throughout the entire night. When the first rays of morning light shone down from above, he finally stilled his blade. Raising his head, a faint gleam seemed to flash across his eyes. He exhaled a long breath and stood with his saber sheathed. After a thought, he gathered up the ashes and black hair from the ground, tidied his clothes, rested the saber across his shoulder, and walked outward. The people outside had been waiting anxiously. Gu Mingde's jaw was shadowed with stubble; none of them had slept a wink either. Ever since those flying heads swarmed into the old temple yesterday, Chen Chuan had not emerged as he usually did. Not knowing what was happening inside, now that dawn had broken, they were preparing to risk rushing inside if he didn't come out soon. Just then, they suddenly heard footsteps. Those who were sitting instinctively stood up, their eyes turning toward the entrance of the old temple. As the footsteps grew clearer, they saw Chen Chuan holding his saber in one hand, stepping out from the dim shadows pace by pace. His figure transitioned from indistinct to clear, until finally, he stood bathed in the morning light.