The Immortal Cult, one of the Four Great Demonic Cults.
"The Immortal Cult... If I remember correctly, they worship the Immortal Celestial," Meng Jingzhou recalled from what he knew about the cult. "They claim the Immortal Celestial endures through eternity, undying and imperishable, and that becoming a devout believer spares you from the Three Disasters and Five Calamities of cultivation, extending your lifespan."
These were the most basic facts that anyone could dig up with a little effort, though there was no telling how much truth lay behind them.
"The Immortal Cult is recruiting new members. This is a fine opportunity. When the time comes, dragons and fish will mingle, the barrier to entry will be much lower, and background checks won't be as strict." Lu Yang was pleased. This was genuinely good news.
He had been worrying about the fact that none of the three had practiced orthodox demonic arts and whether driving ghost servants would be enough to slip through. Qin Yuanhao had delivered such a timely piece of good news—he was practically a lucky star.
"Then are we still going to kill Qin Yuanhao?" Man Gu asked. It seemed there was no longer any need to take a life.
"He's still a menace. If we can kill him, we kill him. But we shouldn't use his bone tablet," Lu Yang replied. Regardless of whether they could sneak into the demonic cult, Qin Yuanhao had to die.
For someone in a demonic cult to reach the mid-to-late Foundation Establishment stage without taking a few human lives was impossible.
Qin Yuanhao hadn't killed his lackey, but that was hardly out of mercy; it was simply because the lackey was still useful. If the lackey were ever missing an arm or a leg and had trouble moving around, he would be useless to Qin Yuanhao, and he would definitely die.
"Why can't we use the bone tablet?"
Lu Yang gestured for the two chang ghosts to bring out some skewers. Between bites, he explained, "The relations among demonic cult members aren't as cozy as we might think. We framed Qin Yuanhao, and after looking into it, his conclusion was that someone within the cult couldn't stand the sight of him.
"If we use his bone tablet to get into the demonic cult, we'll be branded with Qin Yuanhao's label. They might make things difficult for us at every turn, which would do more harm than good."
Enlightenment dawned on Man Gu.
"Still, the demonic cult is cautious enough. To keep the location of their stronghold from leaking, they're only announcing it on the final day. Are they worried our righteous sects will discover it and wipe them out?" Lu Yang gave a soft chuckle.
"Keep tailing Qin Yuanhao. Let's see if we can locate the Yanjiang Branch through him so we can prepare.
"It's getting late. Cultivate if you need to, sleep if you need to. Let's call it a night."
...
Early the next morning, Lu Yang yawned, got dressed, and got out of bed. He had breakfast with the others: beef offal soup prepared by Man Gu.
By this time, Man Gu had already pushed a handcart back from the market laden with whole sides of pork, beef, and mutton.
The broth had been simmered from beef marrow bones with a pinch of salt as a base and seasoned with other spices. After the beef offal bubbled in the pot for a while, a steaming bowl of beef offal soup was ready.
"Put in more honeycomb tripe," Lu Yang called out.
"Coming right up!"
After enjoying a hearty breakfast, everyone went about their own business.
Today was Man Gu's turn to keep watch. As soon as he finished eating, he ran upstairs, intending to sit there the entire day.
Meng Jingzhou was the restless sort, bounding off like a rabbit let loose, off to terrorize who-knew-where.
The two chang ghosts carved the pork, beef, and mutton, sliced vegetables, and threaded skewers. Over the past four days, they had grown familiar with the routine: threading skewers from morning to evening, just in time for opening and receiving guests, after which they went to the backyard to fire up the charcoal grills and cook all night.
Working from dawn till dusk, they led what one could call a thoroughly fulfilling life.
Lu Yang had his own business to attend to. He brought out Imitation Fist to see if he could grasp the basics. He had never practiced mortal martial arts before, so he felt rather uncertain.
"There's a first time for everything."
Lu Yang laid down the simplest sound-isolation array in the backyard so no outside noise could reach him and none of his own sounds could escape.
He sat cross-legged and carefully flipped through the book: "Imitation Fist: a martial art that mimics the strengths and forms of various animals, as well as depicting the combative and daily images of human figures. It encompasses Tiger Fist, Monkey Fist, Eagle Claw Fist, Snake Fist, and more. This manual contains only Tiger Fist.
"Tiger Fist emphasizes mimicking the tiger's form, adopting the tiger's techniques, uniting them through principle, and fusing them into martial intent.
"Tiger Fist routines are short, concise, and tight, with compact stances and footwork, relying primarily on the three-seven stance.
"To master Tiger Fist, the most perilous step lies in observing tigers. Ideally, one should have experience battling a tiger to deeply comprehend its fighting nature and better imitate it."
The most difficult step of Tiger Fist was actually the easiest for Lu Yang. After all, he had fought a tiger demon and won.
Lu Yang slowly closed his eyes.
Roaring, pouncing, tearing... The tiger demon's various movements during combat surfaced in Lu Yang's mind, vivid as if it were right before him.
Although he had slain the beast himself, he had to admit it had been a formidable opponent with much worth learning from.
Of course, shouting for his wife to help wasn't something he needed to learn, nor could he learn it anytime soon.
The silhouette of the tiger demon gradually overlapped with his own, merging into one, imbuing his human form with the tiger's techniques.
Over and over, Lu Yang simulated the motions of Tiger Fist in his mind. The initially awkward movements grew increasingly fluid, until it seemed as if a fierce tiger possessed him, roaring inside his head.
This was a feat only cultivators at the Foundation Establishment stage could pull off, requiring exceptionally high standards of divine sense—something mortal martial artists could never achieve.
Lu Yang opened his eyes, a fierce glint flashing within them, a tiger lurking in his gaze.
He leaped to his feet, landed firmly on the ground, and fell into a stance. Exhaling with a resonant shout to channel his power, he stomped to bolster his momentum, displaying fierce, aggressive vigor.
Inside the house, the two chang ghosts skewering meat shuddered at the sound of Lu Yang's punches, genuinely believing the tiger demon had come back to life.
They peeked around the doorframe and only returned to skewering once they saw it wasn't the beast.
After finishing a full set, Lu Yang felt unobstructed throughout his entire body, brimming with boundless energy waiting to be vented.
Riding this momentum, he executed several more sets in succession, each smoother than the last, every move and strike hard and potent.
Regardless of how practical it would be in actual combat, as far as form went right now, even a grandmaster of Tiger Fist wouldn't be able to pick a single flaw in Lu Yang's technique.
No, there's still room for improvement.
Lu Yang's movements grew faster and faster, yet his heart remained unruffled like a tranquil lake, as calm as a polished bronze mirror.
It was a marvelous state; every gesture and motion brimmed with insight into the fist art.
Punches, kicks... As his comprehension deepened, a faint illusory silhouette of the tiger demon materialized behind Lu Yang.
"Roar—"
Lu Yang's enlightenment peaked, bursting forth completely in a single tiger's roar, letting loose with utter abandon.
"Huh? Why am I on all fours?" Lu Yang snapped back to his senses, finding himself sprawled on the ground for no apparent reason. He tried to stand, but his legs felt devoid of strength. He wobbled and tried several times, yet failed to stand upright.
What's going on? Lu Yang couldn't understand. Could something have gone wrong while practicing a fist art?
He felt his martial talent was fairly high, so how could there be a problem?
A bad premonition welled up inside Lu Yang. Using both hands and feet, he crawled to the edge of the water vat.
Finally, Lu Yang saw what he looked like.
He had turned into a tiger.
Tiger Fist attained great mastery—truly worthy of celebration.
"Lu Yang, guess what I saw on the street! A tofu shop has this really interesting mascot..."
Meng Jingzhou had returned from strolling about. Hearing that Lu Yang was practicing fist arts in the backyard, he came back to see how the practice was going.
And then he saw a tiger demon leaning over the edge of a water vat, staring at its reflection.
"Holy shit! A monster!"
Chapter 58