Chapter 50: Laozi

After much explanation, Lingyu finally managed to clarify to Abi what a master-recognition contract actually was. This contract, formally known as a Soul Pact, as its name suggests, is an agreement established by the soul itself. Such pacts are not limited to master recognition; they also include exchanges, subordination, and other arrangements. However, the only type that has been passed down is the master-recognition contract—this was not something Lingyu concealed intentionally.

While Abi was still processing all this, the two of them completed the master-recognition contract. Lingyu breathed a sigh of relief. Truly, this was one foolish demon—caught up in the conversation, Abi had forgotten the crucial point and neglected to pursue the matter of her “inner core” being depleted of essence.

“Go and catch me a few wild rabbits,” Lingyu ordered, sprawling out carelessly now that she had a spirit pet at her command—one that had already taken human form, no less.

“Alright…” Abi didn’t find this odd. In the past, when she followed Qi Junqing, she also had to serve him—it was just a change of master.

Though her magical skills were lacking, catching a couple of rabbits was no trouble. Soon, Abi returned, clutching the rabbits. Together, they plucked the fur, skinned them, built a fire, and set them to roast.

Abi’s culinary skills, it had to be said, were impressive. She had even gathered some wild herbs from the forest, and before long, a mouthwatering aroma wafted through the air, making Lingyu’s mouth water uncontrollably.

Once the rabbits were done, the two devoured them with gusto. Lingyu patted her stomach and sighed contentedly. “At last, a proper meal.” In light of the roast rabbit, she decided to be a bit kinder to Abi. This spirit creature might be a bit slow and ill-tempered, but she was obedient enough—for a spirit pet, that was all that mattered.

“So, tell me, what’s the story with your so-called inner core?” Lingyu asked, leaning against the stone wall and rubbing her stomach after the meal.

Abi, who had also eaten her fill, looked baffled. “What do you mean?”

“The absorption of essence!” Lingyu prompted.

“I told you, I don’t know,” Abi shot her a disdainful look. “Why keep asking? You’ve got a terrible memory.”

Stung by the scorn of this simple-minded demon, Lingyu pressed on. “Then how do you use it, usually?”

“Well, I just keep it in my dantian, and when I cultivate, I bring it out…”

Clearly, this was something she’d picked up from some folklore or drama—likely “The White Snake.” It was a stroke of luck that, unlike other demons, she happened to have such a pearl in her body that could absorb essence; thus, she could draw on its stored energy for cultivation.

Lingyu thought it over. “From now on, I’ll teach you how to cultivate. Let me borrow that thing of yours for a bit—I want to study it.”

“Is that necessary?” Abi eyed her warily.

“I’m your master; do you really need to treat me like a thief?” Lingyu replied, exasperated. “Besides, if I teach you cultivation, it’ll be much better for you than muddling through on your own. That pearl isn’t much use in your hands anyway.”

Abi mulled it over. With her meager knowledge, she couldn’t spot any flaw, so she handed over the pearl. “Here you go. But you have to teach me how to cultivate—right now!”

“Deal!” Lingyu agreed readily, stowing the pearl in her storage pouch and taking out an immortal scripture. “I have a cultivation technique here—it’s orthodox Daoist. It’s not the same as relying on instinct. Getting started will be tough, so be prepared.”

“Got it!” Abi replied without hesitation.

“First, memorize this technique,” Lingyu said, opening the scripture and teaching her line by line.

The Scripture of the Supreme Primordial Violet Cloud Heart was not long, only a few thousand words, and this edition was written in plain language. By midday, Abi had memorized it.

At one point, she peered curiously at the pages. “I don’t recognize these characters. When will you teach me?”

“I’ll teach you when there’s time,” Lingyu replied perfunctorily. “For now, just try cultivating.”

With Abi thus occupied, Lingyu continued studying the immortal scripture herself. In truth, she had an ulterior motive—she wanted Abi to test out the technique first. If it proved effective, Lingyu would switch to it herself.

Another day passed, and still there was no word from Zhang Qingshu and the others, nor could she reach them with signal talismans. Lingyu decided to relax completely and settle in with Abi for a couple of months.

Abi’s cultivation went well; she quickly entered a meditative state and, delighted, exclaimed to Lingyu, “So this is what real cultivation feels like! No wonder I could never sense the circulation of true energy before!”

Lingyu was speechless.

When night fell, she began cultivating as well. Abi had adapted well—now it was Lingyu’s turn to try.

She placed the immortal scripture on her lap, closed her eyes, and calmed her mind, entering a state of visualization. Then, silently reciting the Scripture of the Supreme Primordial Violet Cloud Heart, she circulated her true energy as described.

Soon, she entered that peculiar state again: the spiritual energy around her first appeared as blue dots, then blue light, then blue mist, surging madly into her meridians. Strangely, the blue glow was especially intense around her knees, almost turning indigo.

“Could the cause of the abnormal spiritual energy here be this immortal scripture?” As this thought flashed through her mind, Lingyu saw the indigo gradually fade—the spiritual energy was being absorbed by the scripture itself. “So, it feeds not only on meat, but also on spiritual energy…”

With little time to ponder, she focused on the torrent of energy rushing in, which soon reached its limit—a limit much higher than yesterday’s. Perhaps different techniques allowed for different cultivation thresholds?

Lingyu concentrated on absorbing the spiritual energy, circulating her true energy with all her might, gradually converting the energy into her own.

A sudden scream startled Lingyu out of her trance. She halted her cultivation at once.

Opening her eyes, she saw Abi, who had been the one to scream. “What on earth are you doing?” Lingyu snapped. “If I go astray in my practice, will you take responsibility?”

Abi, still shaken, replied, “That technique is terrifying! If I’d kept going, I would have exploded!”

“What?”

“When I was cultivating just now, so much spiritual energy poured into me—I could barely control it!”

Lingyu paused, realization dawning. “The spiritual energy here is too dense. Your meridians can’t contain it, and your cultivation is too shallow for proper control.”

“So what do I do?”

Lingyu considered. “The fundamental solution is to improve your control. Until then, you’d better keep your distance from me when you practice.”

Abi glanced around, then moved to the deepest part of the cave. “Here?”

Lingyu closed her eyes again, her tone cool. “And no more screaming. If I go astray in my practice, I’ll chop you up.”

“Hey, who do you think you are, threatening me?”

Without opening her eyes, Lingyu retorted, “You can mouth off all you like, but don’t expect me to hold back.”

Abi tilted her head, scrutinizing her. “Aren’t you a woman? Why do you call yourself ‘old man’?”

Lingyu replied with a single sentence that left Abi speechless: “Because ‘old man’ sounds more imposing than ‘old lady.’”

Having once been a street tough, Lingyu knew full well the importance of gender in a war of words. In any verbal brawl involving gender, it was always the women who ended up insulted. Sure, being a shrew meant you were tougher than a hoodlum, but it was exhausting. Why not save a little effort if you could?

Abi, who had called herself “old lady,” was utterly defeated. She grumbled to herself for a while, but in the end chose to continue her cultivation.

Lingyu was not like Boss Qi, who tolerated endless abuse. Abi might not have been very clever, but she had one virtue: she knew when to adapt.