As the distance closed, Xu Qi’an could even see a glimmer of wild joy in the Seven Deadly Parasite’s tiny bead-like eyes. It reminded him of a dissolute young noble eyeing a stunning beauty… Xu Qi’an inwardly made this wry observation, but then he noticed the Seven Deadly Parasite had vanished.
It disappeared abruptly, as if erased by an invisible force.
Was this the “Unknowable” ability of the Celestial Parasite Elder’s corpse? No, it was still there… A moment later, Xu Qi’an dismissed his guess. In his field of vision, he caught a faint shadow circling behind him.
Why did it feel like it was hunting?
Xu Qi’an suddenly had the urge to protect the back of his neck and lunge forward.
As soon as this impulse arose, a sharp pain shot through his nape. It felt as if something had forcibly cut open his flesh.
He immediately understood that the urge to protect his neck was a lingering warning of impending danger.
At the nape of his neck, the crimson Seven Deadly Parasite easily sliced open Xu Qi’an’s flesh with its sharp limb ends. Bright red blood flowed from the wound.
It drove one of its appendages deep into Xu Qi’an’s spine, seemingly connecting to the host’s nervous system.
Xu Qi’an’s eyes instantly turned crimson. An uncontrollable growl escaped his throat, and his face contorted into a manic expression born of extreme pain.
“There are seven schools of Southern Miasma parasitic arts, but regardless of the school, all parasite masters cultivate a natal parasite,” the Judicial Commissioner said, raising his hand and pressing down. An invisible force descended from the sky, immobilizing Xu Qi’an, and forcing him to endure the inhuman agony.
“The natal parasite and its host share a symbiotic relationship, living and dying together. Normally, parasite masters are implanted with their natal parasite at birth, or at the latest by age ten.”
“Both the implanted natal parasite and its host are in their infancy, allowing them to strengthen their compatibility through mutual growth while reducing the parasite’s backlash.”
Indeed, implanting a natal parasite involves backlash because the essence of this technique is the “unity of human and parasite,” which defies the natural order of life.
Therefore, to increase the success rate, parasite masters usually have their cultivation path decided in childhood.
Xu Qi’an was a grown man, and the Seven Deadly Parasite was a mature specimen, so the backlash was extreme.
A second appendage pierced his flesh, connecting to his nerves. Xu Qi’an’s entire body began to shake, the muscles in his face twitching, his lips quivering, trembling all over from the pain.
The third, fourth, fifth… Each appendage that pierced his flesh paused for half a quarter hour, giving both human and parasite sufficient time to adjust.
Xu Qi’an felt pain in every part of his body as if his cells were being torn apart. The agony was no less intense than when he had digested Wei Yuan’s blood pill.
If digesting the blood pill was a forced catalyzation of cells, compelling them to evolve, then accommodating the Seven Deadly Parasite was a destruction of cells, a devastation of the genetic chain.
He should have died from genetic collapse during the process of accommodating the Seven Deadly Parasite, but the superhuman physique of a Third-Rank warrior allowed him to withstand this backlash.
When the sixth appendage pierced his flesh and connected to his nerves, the crimson Seven Deadly Parasite retracted its six limbs. Its body gradually embedded itself in the flesh, clinging tightly to the spine, concealing itself.
Seeing this, the Judicial Commissioner produced a thin catgut thread. As if imbued with life, it automatically sutured the wound, even tying itself into a neat butterfly knot.
“How does it feel?” the Judicial Commissioner asked with a smile.
Xu Qi’an didn’t answer. He closed his eyes, sensing seven abilities originating from instinct, imprinted in his genes.
The first was called the Celestial Parasite, capable of discerning heavenly timing, understanding geographical advantages, moving stars and changing constellations, and glimpsing the workings of fate.
Most members of the Celestial Parasite clan hovered at the level of “discerning heavenly timing and understanding geographical advantages,” contributing greatly to the parasite clan’s agricultural endeavors by creating calendars and determining solar terms.
Moving stars and changing constellations was an ability only attainable at advanced levels of Celestial Parasite cultivation.
Its manifested ability, as Xu Qi’an had witnessed before, was the “Unknowable” characteristic. Years ago, the Celestial Parasite Elder had used this star-moving technique to evade the Judicial Commissioner’s perception—the core ability of the Celestial Parasite clan.
As for glimpsing fate, Celestial Parasite clan members who reached a certain level could occasionally catch fragmentary, blurry glimpses of the future.
It was this ability that had allowed the Celestial Parasite prophets to foretell the eventual awakening of the Parasite God, transforming the Nine Provinces into a world of parasites alone.
Of course, this couldn’t compare to a First-Rank Artificer’s ability to glimpse fate. If the Celestial Parasite’s glimpse of fate could be likened to a photograph without context, then a First-Rank Fate Master’s glimpse would be akin to a futuristic television drama.
The difference was fundamental.
The side effect was that the host’s emotions would fluctuate with environmental changes. For instance, on rainy days, their mood would become particularly depressed, while on sunny days, they’d be cheerful and lively…
The second was called the Force Parasite. It could sharpen the host’s five senses and six perceptions, while also enhancing strength and granting self-healing abilities.
The latter two were its core capabilities.
Force Parasite masters possessed unparalleled strength. At the same cultivation level, even warriors who had honed their physiques would be at a disadvantage when comparing raw power.
Force Parasite masters excelled at overwhelming their opponents with sheer strength. Additionally, they possessed terrifying self-healing abilities.
Below the Third Rank, as long as they weren’t killed instantly, they could recover from any injury.
However, the recovery period varied depending on the severity of the injury.
The side effect was a dramatic increase in the host’s appetite. The higher the cultivation, the more they ate.
The third was called the Emotion Parasite. It released a colorless, odorless gas that aroused the surrounding creatures, whether human, animal, or plant—none could escape its effects.
Moreover, the Emotion Parasite could implant offspring parasites in targets, making them unable to leave the host for life. Emotion Parasite masters often used these methods to control slaves or even their lovers.
Besides these abilities, the Emotion Parasite could make one’s skin smooth and grant an outstanding temperament, shaping the host into a figure highly attractive to the opposite sex.
It could even specifically modify the body, making it fit perfectly or persist tirelessly.
The side effect was that the host’s sexual desires would become extremely intense, leaving their mind preoccupied with carnal thoughts day and night.
The fourth was called the Poison Parasite. This parasite allowed the host to create various toxins using different environmental conditions, with an extremely wide range of applications.
Sometimes, certain poisons could have a lifesaving effect, though this depended on the situation.
The side effect was the need to consume a certain amount of poison daily, be it arsenic, snake venom glands, or other toxic substances.
The fifth was called the Heart Parasite. Its core ability could be summed up in four words: “heart-to-heart connection.” Heart Parasite masters could communicate with and provoke certain emotions in their targets, and then grasp these emotions to influence them.
For creatures with a certain level of intelligence, the influence was temporary, but for less intelligent beings, it could be long-lasting and continuous.
The former typically referred to humans, while the latter usually meant animals.
Thus, the Heart Parasite was also known as the “Beast-Controlling Parasite” to outsiders. Heart Parasite clan masters often used it to manipulate groups of beasts, insects, snakes, and the like.
The side effect was an irresistible urge to talk to animals and keep their company. Many Heart Parasite clan masters, due to this side effect, often developed more-than-friendly relationships with beasts.
The sixth was called the Shadow Parasite. It could conceal one’s aura and form, excelling in blending with shadows and using them to move, such as through actual shadows.
Every Shadow Parasite master was a formidable assassin, killing invisibly. One never knew when they might approach.
It’s worth noting that warriors were particularly effective against Shadow Parasite masters.
The side effect was that the host would instinctively want to crawl into any dark, hidden corner they saw. They also had to hide themselves for at least two hours every day, unseen by anyone.
The seventh was called the Corpse Parasite. The mother parasite would produce offspring parasites that inhabited corpses. The host could influence the offspring parasites through the mother parasite, thereby controlling the corpses.
The main difference from the Shaman God Sect’s corpse-controlling technique was that the latter usually only borrowed a corpse once, discarding it after use.
With the Corpse Parasite, once the offspring parasite inhabited a corpse, it would fuse with it. The offspring parasite would grow stronger as the mother parasite strengthened, and correspondingly, the corpse would become more powerful.
A Third-Rank Corpse Parasite master could produce at least twenty Fourth-Rank offspring parasites, along with various other ranks.
Another point was that if an offspring parasite inhabited a fresh corpse, it was similar to possession, retaining the deceased’s abilities and aura from when they were alive. How much was preserved depended on the parasite master’s cultivation level.
The side effect was that the host would develop an extremely strong necrophilia. Corpse Parasite masters often engaged in unspeakable acts with corpses due to this side effect.
“Very powerful. The Seven Deadly Parasite is incredibly strong. Regrettably, it’s only in its initial awakening stage, so I can only utilize some of its basic abilities. The Celestial Parasite, however, seems to have developed well. I can directly use the star-moving ability. However, the side effects of the Seven Deadly Parasite…” Xu Qi’an trailed off, his expression complex.
The side effects of the other parasites were manageable, but those of the Emotion, Heart, and Corpse Parasites seemed perfectly aligned to leave no way out.
The Heart and Corpse Parasites would make the host develop strong, more-than-friendly urges towards beasts and corpses, and then, at this critical juncture, the Emotion Parasite’s side effects would kick in…
Xu Qi’an was deeply concerned about his future psychological health.
The Judicial Commissioner clasped his hands behind his back and said with a smile, “Actually, those side effects are nutrients for the parasite’s growth. If you maintain them day after day, the Seven Deadly Parasite will gradually grow stronger, and your cultivation will improve. Even in its initial awakening state, you’ll rarely meet a match below the Fifth Rank.”
Xu Qi’an sighed, “The mortal realm is truly not worth it.”
Hearing this, the Judicial Commissioner’s smile slowly faded. He turned around and let out a soft sigh.
After a long while, he pulled out a conch shell inscribed with array patterns from his sleeve and tossed it over, saying, “If you need any help, contact him—my second disciple, Sun Xuanji.”
What kind of eccentric character would the Judicial Commissioner’s second disciple be… Xu Qi’an caught the conch shell and silently glanced at the Judicial Commissioner.
His gaze seemed to pierce deep into some painful place in the old Judicial Commissioner’s heart. The old man said flatly, “Get out of here!”
In the Grand Secretariat, First Grand Secretary Wang affixed the Grand Secretariat’s seal to the announcement, then had a clerk deliver it to the imperial palace.
Having completed this task, the First Grand Secretary rose and walked to the window. He pushed it open, his gaze moving from the courtyard to the azure sky above.
First Grand Secretary Wang gazed silently, feeling that today’s sky was exceptionally clear.
A new era had dawned!
…
A country cannot go a day without a ruler, but even more urgent than this saying was the need to clarify the truth. Dispatches were sent to local governments, detailing the events of the capital’s turmoil; notices were posted to inform the capital’s citizens of what had transpired.
The longer things were delayed, the more likely unrest would occur.
To demonstrate his difference from his father, the Crown Prince, after the previous night’s council, immediately had the Hanlin Academy draft an announcement. After the cabinet’s approval, it was finally posted on the notice walls of various city gates in the capital at the hour of Mao (5-7 AM).
As dawn broke and the court finally provided results, people immediately gathered.
“What does the notice say? Can someone literate read it?”
“Don’t ask me. I recognize some characters, but I can’t understand them when they’re strung together.”
Reading comprehension requires more than just literacy; it demands sufficient cultural knowledge.
A clerk standing by the notice wall barked, “Silence!”
In this era, the literacy rate among commoners was low, and most couldn’t understand the content of notices. So on the day of posting, officials would arrange for a clerk to read and explain the content every half hour.
After a day, news would spread throughout the capital, and readings would no longer be necessary.
The people, long accustomed to this, immediately stopped discussing and listened to the clerk’s recitation.
After the clerk finished reading the notice, most people understood. The scene instantly erupted into an uproar.
“A benighted ruler!”
“First, he cultivated for twenty years, then was bewitched by the Shaman God Sect, bringing calamity to Great Shang’s soldiers. Such a foolish emperor is rare in Great Shang’s history.”
“What a pity for the over 80,000 soldiers, killed by a misguided emperor. Even more regrettable is the loss of a pillar of the state like Duke Wei…”
“I’m ashamed. I criticized Duke Wei before, but he was truly a loyal minister, a true pillar of the state.”
Some wrung their hands and sighed, others pounded their chests in anger.
An old man carrying goods on a shoulder pole wept, beating his chest and wailing:
“Duke Wei died unjustly! What a man he was, even winning the battle at Shanhai Pass back then. Who would have thought he’d end up dying at the hands of a foolish emperor…”
“Thankfully, we had Constable Xu to uphold justice.”
A citizen with reddened eyes clenched his fists and said through gritted teeth:
“If it weren’t for Constable Xu, not only would over 80,000 soldiers and Duke Wei have died in vain, but we’d all be in trouble too. The Shaman God Sect’s iron hooves would have trampled the capital sooner or later.”
“Right, fortunately, we have Constable Xu. As long as Constable Xu is here, our Great Shang still has righteousness.”
“Constable Xu can kill corrupt officials, and he can kill foolish emperors too.”
“I believed Constable Xu was right from the start. He wouldn’t kill the emperor without reason. He said it when he stormed the palace that day: the emperor was unrighteous, and Constable Xu would strike him down. You didn’t believe him then.”
“Who didn’t believe? I’ve always trusted Constable Xu.”
While the people hated the misguided emperor and mourned the 80,000 soldiers and Wei Yuan, they were genuinely grateful that Great Shang still had Constable Xu. He had become the embodiment of justice in the people’s hearts.
Even those who were more conservative at heart and had doubts about the reasons for regicide now breathed a sigh of relief.
Constable Xu was still Constable Xu, unchanged as ever.
“If you ask me, we might as well make Constable Xu the emperor.”
A young man unconsciously voiced his thoughts.
The clamorous atmosphere immediately quieted. The crowd looked at each other, but no one reprimanded or refuted him, falling into an eerie silence.
The content of the notice spread rapidly throughout the capital. The people’s reactions were intense, gnashing their teeth at the mention of the misguided emperor, and lavishing praise upon Xu Qi’an.
Some even wept, declaring that Constable Xu was sent by heaven to save Great Shang. He was not only the conscience of Great Shang but also its savior.
Slaying 300,000 enemy troops single-handedly at Yuyang Pass, then slaying the misguided emperor and thwarting the Shaman God Sect’s plot to overthrow Great Shang—wasn’t this the very definition of a savior?
Of course, there was no shortage of people lamenting Wei Yuan’s fate. Fortunately, after Wei Yuan, Great Shang had Xu Qi’an. The people’s spirits found a new anchor.
After Wei Yuan, Great Shang has Xu Qi’an… The Great Qing Yi could die without regrets.
…
In a small courtyard in the inner city.
Mu Nanchi sat on a small stool, listening to Aunt Zhang’s incessant recounting of the notice’s contents. When speaking of the misguided emperor, she and Aunt Zhang both showed angry expressions and loudly criticized him.
When mentioning Wei Yuan, they lamented together the collapse of this pillar of the state and mourned the 80,000 soldiers who perished in the Shaman God Sect’s territory.
She looked just like a common woman gossiping with other women in a small alley.
When Constable Xu was mentioned, Aunt Zhang couldn’t stop praising him, saying: “If I were twenty years younger, I’d be like those young girls, set on Constable Xu and no one else.”
Mu Nanchi looked wary.
“By the way, Madam Mu, hasn’t your husband been away for a long time?” Aunt Zhang asked.
He used to come back every few days, showing affection for his wife, but recently he had suddenly disappeared, and she hadn’t seen Madam Mu’s husband since.
“Oh, he’s been quite busy,” Mu Nanchi said softly.
Her mood suddenly dropped, and she wasn’t very happy. She rested her chin on her hand, gazing at the flowers in the courtyard, letting out a soft sigh.
“Knock knock knock!”
The courtyard gate was knocked. Mu Nanchi’s gloomy face instantly lit up but quickly fell again. She turned her face away, refusing to open the door.
Aunt Zhang chuckled, thinking it must be her husband returning and the young madam was sulking.
So she went to open the door.
As the gate opened, a man of average appearance but gentle demeanor stood there, leading a horse.
It was indeed Madam Mu’s husband.
“I’m leaving the capital. Do you want to come with me?”
Mu Nanchi ignored him.
“Then, shall I leave?”
He turned to go, leading the horse.
“Hey!” she called out.
“Hmm?”
“I want to stay in the best inns.”
“Alright.”
“And have meat with every meal.”
“Alright.”
“And have rouge and powder.”
“Alright.”
“Don’t bully me.”
“Alright.”
“Then… I’m willing…”
…
In De Xin Yuan.
Huai Qing spread out rice paper, picked up her brush, and wrote: “Fear not that the road ahead lacks kindred spirits, for who in the world does not know you.”
She wrote again: “Take care of yourself!”
After writing, she climbed the tower and gazed into the distance, lost in thought.
…
In Shao Yin Palace.
Lin’an, wrapped in a fox fur cloak, came to the tower’s observation deck. She neither spoke nor sat, just silently gazed into the distance.
After a long while, she murmured: “I hope you return.”
…
At the Observatory Tower.
Li Miaochen sat angrily at the bedroom table, looking sulky.
Xu Qi’an hadn’t agreed to travel with her, saying that the Heavenly Sect’s Holy Maiden was too eye-catching, like a torch in the darkness, easily attracting his arch-enemy Xu Pingfeng.
This reason left Li Miaochen speechless.
“You say he’s just a waste, what can he do with that bit of parasitic cultivation? Yet he insists on roaming the jianghu alone,” Li Miaochen said angrily.
“That nasty man, who knows if he’s run off with other women,” Su Su said softly.
“Where would he get other women from? Aren’t all the other women still in the capital?” Li Miaochen pouted.
“What about that number one beauty of Great Shang?” Su Su stirred the pot maliciously.
Li Miaochen’s face suddenly stiffened, her pupils dilating!
On the seventh floor.
At the door of a certain secret room, Master Hengyuan stood in the corridor with a solemn expression, both nervous and expectant.
Chu Yuanzhen stood shoulder to shoulder with him and said in a deep voice:
“Will Song Qin’s method work?”
Hengyuan shook his head: “I don’t know, but we have to try. Thanks to Daoist Li for helping extract his soul.”
After a pause, he said softly: “He’s my only concern in the capital. If he can be reborn, I can leave the capital, roam the jianghu, and seek traces of Lord Xu.”
…
Inside the secret room, a child opened his eyes.
He stared at the ceiling in confusion, not knowing why he had suddenly appeared in this unfamiliar room.
The child sat up and instinctively made a sound: “Gong, xi, fa, cai…”
He widened his eyes in surprise; this wasn’t his voice.
Looking around, he saw the corpse of a large black dog lying beside the pallet.
He stared blankly at the black dog’s corpse. At some point, tears rolled down his cheeks, indistinguishable between sorrow and joy.
The child stood up shakily, tottering like an infant taking its first steps.
He experienced the joy of rebirth, gradually growing bolder. He looked towards another corpse in the secret room, lying on a pallet covered with a white cloth.
The child wobbled over, curiously lifting the white cloth.
Beneath the cloth was a man in cyan clothes, with graying temples and a handsome face.
He had shallow breaths but could no longer wake up.
…
Outside the city, a man of average appearance led a spirited little mare, with a woman of average appearance sitting on its back.
They complemented each other perfectly, a match made in heaven.
“Let’s go, roam the jianghu together,” he said with a smile.
The plain-looking woman gave a demure “Mm.”
The man laughed heartily: “Jianghu, here I come!”
The plain-looking woman rolled her eyes.
“Shall I sing you a song?”
“No.”
She refused haughtily.
…
I once dreamed of wielding a sword and roaming the world
To see the splendor of the world
A young heart always has some recklessness
Now the four seas are my home
…
(End of Volume Two)