Upon Entering the Spiritual Void 64: Lakong Heals

The crown of Master Tianhong’s head was struck by Monk Li Kong’s finger, causing his body to move slightly of its own accord. He felt a surge of warmth flow straight down from the top of his head. Monk Li Kong, acting swiftly, pressed Tianhong’s “Back Crown Point” and immediately withdrew his hand, saying, “Cough quickly and expel the stagnant blood.” Master Tianhong obeyed and coughed, spitting out a mouthful of dark purple blood.

Monk Li Kong let out a breath, cast his gaze over the Scholar in Distress and Mo Dao, and said, “Gentlemen, I must treat his injuries at once, but any disturbance would be disastrous. I’d like to ask you both to act as guardians. Would you accept this responsibility?” The Scholar in Distress laughed boldly, “How could I refuse such a duty?” Mo Dao also agreed. Monk Li Kong bowed slightly, then glanced up at the Scholar in Distress and added, “If anyone approaches, regardless of who they are, you must turn them away.” The Scholar in Distress smiled faintly and replied, “Rest assured. My fists are still good for a few exchanges.”

Monk Li Kong immediately began, with remarkable speed, to press a series of points along Tianhong’s “Back Crown Point.” In the blink of an eye, he had pressed all forty-five major points along Tianhong’s Governor Vessel. The Scholar in Distress stood aside, watching as Li Kong moved his fingers with speed and precision, identifying each point accurately and applying equal force. Astonishingly, for each of the forty-five points, he used a different technique. The Scholar in Distress could not help but admire him silently, thinking: This is truly an art unseen and unheard of!

He watched the old monk’s point-pressing movements, mesmerized, mouth agape, while Mo Dao also nodded in praise. When the Governor Vessel points were done, Li Kong sat cross-legged on the ground, closed his eyes, and regulated his breath. Suddenly, he leapt up and said to Master Tianhong, “No matter what pain you feel, you must endure it. Even if something alarming occurs, do not open your eyes or speak.” Master Tianhong nodded in silent assent.

Li Kong was about to begin pressing the thirty-five major points along the Conception Vessel when he suddenly drew his hand back, listening intently, his demeanor suggesting he had detected someone approaching. Mo Dao looked around, but the surroundings were utterly silent; not even the wind stirred the grass. He wondered: Can his ears really detect sounds so far away?

Li Kong turned and walked toward Huang Sanlou, saying, “How are your injuries? Are you able to manage?” Huang Sanlou, though earlier shaken and short of breath, felt much better after calming his energy. He saw the old monk approach—though they had not met before, Li Kong’s serene demeanor and his conversation with Tianxie made it clear he was a highly cultivated monk. Huang Sanlou hurriedly stood, bowed respectfully, and said, “My injuries are not serious. After a bit more rest, I shall recover fully.”

Li Kong reached into his robe and produced a small medicine bottle, uncorking it and pouring out six pills. “These are my Great Strength Divine Pills. They work wonders for injuries—take one or two and your spirit will be revived instantly.” He handed two pills to Huang Sanlou. Huang Sanlou swallowed them; a fragrant aroma rose within him, and his spirits soared. He bowed again. “Thank you for your generous gift, venerable master.”

Li Kong smiled faintly. “No need to thank me. Sit and regulate your energy; soon, I shall need your assistance.”

The Scholar in Distress, hearing this, mused: This old monk is so stingy—does he count as a true man of the cloth? If he doesn’t need someone, he won’t even share his Divine Pills!

The old monk then stepped before Qingzhenzi, looked down, and saw Huang Silou with eyes tightly shut—his injuries seemed more severe than Huang Sanlou’s. Li Kong pressed his right palm on Huang Silou’s “Crown Point,” saying, “Quickly expel the stagnant blood from your heart—I’ll help your blood circulate, and then you’ll be fine.” Huang Silou felt a surge of warmth flood down to his lower abdomen, coughed forcefully, and spat out a mouthful of dark purple blood. The pressure in his chest vanished, his blood flowed unobstructed, and his complexion became rosy. Li Kong withdrew his hand. “Is your blood flowing freely now?”

Huang Silou was about to rise and bow, but Li Kong pressed his shoulder, extended his left palm, and said, “Don’t move. Take two pills and then regulate your energy.” Huang Silou remained seated, swallowed the pills, and began to meditate. Li Kong turned and, in a flash, stood before the Scholar in Distress, extending his palm and smiling, “Do you feel I’m stingy, sir?”

The Scholar in Distress was startled—how could the old monk know what he was thinking? He hesitated, then smiled, “I did feel that way earlier.”

Li Kong said, “It’s only natural. Please take these two pills, and then I’ll explain.” The Scholar in Distress took the pills and smiled, “One should not accept reward without merit. If I take these pills, even if they don’t kill me, I’ll surely break into a sweat. Am I right?” Li Kong nodded, “You’re quite right. But you don’t know how difficult these pills were to make. I spent years and poured my heart into them—only eight pills in all. I’ve never allowed myself to take even one.”

The Scholar in Distress said, “Aren’t you reluctant to give them to us?” Li Kong shook his head. “Though I feel pain at parting with them, I have no choice. If I didn’t, all our lives might be lost here in this desolate wilderness.”

He paused briefly, then continued, “Please take the pills and meditate to activate their effects.” The Scholar in Distress swallowed the pills and laughed, “These aren’t life-saving Divine Pills—how can they protect us?” Li Kong replied, “Don’t doubt—wait and see the results.” With that, he turned and, stepping lightly, floated over to Mo Dao. “Master, I don’t need the pills,” Mo Dao said. Li Kong shook his head, “Please, take them.” Unable to refuse, Mo Dao accepted and swallowed the pills. At once, he felt a strange sensation—his limbs and bones were invigorated, and his strength seemed inexhaustible.

Li Kong then went to Master Tianhong, rapidly pressing the major points along his Conception Vessel. This time, his technique was even faster and more powerful—the arm trembled with each point pressed. Such skill was truly breathtaking: swift as lightning, yet never missing a single point. Li Kong’s fingers moved ceaselessly, treating Tianhong’s injuries, finally pressing all thirty-five points in one breath.

The Scholar in Distress, after taking Li Kong’s Great Strength Divine Pills and meditating, felt his exhaustion vanish, his spirit renewed and his energy abundant.

He leapt forward and landed before a tree so large two people could not encircle it. He punched the trunk, and with a thunderous crash, the tree snapped and fell. Startled, he retreated several steps, thinking: Had I taken these pills earlier, Tianxie would have been crushed beneath my fists! There’d have been no need for the monk’s intervention.

He glanced at Monk Li Kong, whose fingers continued to rapidly press Tianhong’s Shenwei Vessel points. This time his technique was different yet again. After completing the twenty-five major points of the Shenwei Vessel, sweat appeared on his bald head.

The Scholar in Distress exhaled and thought: Strange—such point-pressing heals injuries but requires immense internal energy. When he was dueling with Tianxie earlier, he wasn’t sweating at all. No wonder he said healing through point-pressing must not be disturbed. At such a time, even an ordinary martial artist could strike him dead with one blow.

Suddenly, a series of long howls echoed from afar, drawing closer. Looking toward the sound, they saw eight figures racing like the wind. In an instant, they arrived nearby.

The eight halted a pace before the Scholar in Distress. The leader was small and thin, with a pointed head, long neck, and mouth wide as a bowl. His face was pale as paper, eyes bulging like copper bells. Clad in a white robe, he looked like a ghoul—unspeakably hideous.

The seven behind him also wore white robes and tall, spotless hats, each one unique. Six of them were grotesque in appearance, all aged between forty and fifty, carrying strange weapons on their backs, and their piercing gazes revealed deep internal strength.

The last was a girl of eighteen or nineteen, whose beauty was extraordinary. Such a stunning maiden among seven odd-looking men was a mystery.

Huang Sanlou and his brother suddenly leapt up, swords at the ready. A glance revealed these eight eccentrics were the Eight Ghosts of Ezhou, but why was the Poison Maiden Jiang Qing absent? Instead, a strikingly beautiful and youthful girl had joined them.

Huang Sanlou surveyed them coldly, asking, “Aren’t the Eight Ghosts of Ezhou always inseparable, with their grudges entwined? Why is the Poison Maiden missing today?”

The leader, the Hanging Ghost Duan De, sneered, “Are you blind? Aren’t the eight of us standing here together?”

Huang Sanlou shouted angrily, “How dare you insult me! I’ll teach you a lesson.” He thrust his sword swiftly and fiercely, its cold light flashing and emitting a sharp hiss. He was surprised—he hadn’t used all his strength, yet the force was tremendous. It seemed that Li Kong’s Great Strength Divine Pills truly had incredible power.

Duan De, confident in his own skill, hadn’t taken his opponent seriously. But as he saw the sword’s fierce glare rushing toward him, it was too late to dodge. He quickly leaned back, performing a masterful Iron Bridge technique—his back only five inches from the ground—thinking himself safe.

But Huang Sanlou was a renowned master. His sword did not withdraw; stepping forward, he unleashed “Xiang Zhuang Attacks the Tiger,” stabbing fiercely at Duan De’s abdomen.

Duan De saw Huang Sanlou advancing, pressed his hands to the ground, and swiftly executed “Monkey King Kicks the Fight,” kicking at Huang Sanlou’s sword-wielding right wrist.

He reacted quickly, but Huang Sanlou’s sword moved even faster. Without retreat, his right hand performed “Flowing Clouds Like Arrows,” slicing suddenly at Duan De’s raised calf.