Chapter 2: The Hundred-Eyed Demon and the Art of Cultivating Qi

Having successfully created his first demon, Lu Sha couldn’t help but reveal a faint smile. Blood trickled from his hollow left eye socket, staining half his face and lending that smile a ghastly, terrifying quality.

Even though he was half-crazed, Lu Sha’s cellmate was startled by this series of actions. Especially after the Hundred-Eyed Demon appeared, the deranged condemned man instinctively sensed a powerful threat that left him deeply uneasy.

With a beast-like roar, the mad prisoner lunged at Lu Sha with all the ferocity of a cornered animal. Had Lu Sha not created the Hundred-Eyed Demon, he would have been forced into a desperate struggle. But now, that was unnecessary.

In the next instant, a shadowy figure materialized before the madman. An eerie, blood-red eye fixed upon him, unblinking.

Though the Hundred-Eyed Demon was still incomplete and weak, this was only in comparison to its fully-formed self. Such creatures could bewilder the mind and drag people into horrific illusions. Against ordinary men, they were as lethal as a butcher’s knife to a chicken.

As expected, the moment the Hundred-Eyed Demon acted, the crazed prisoner froze where he stood. His body went rigid, trembling uncontrollably—he struggled in vain, unable to move a muscle.

A bloodcurdling scream tore from his throat. Whatever he witnessed in that nightmare, it drove him to claw desperately at his own face, rending flesh and drawing blood until he collapsed in a heap. There was no need for a finishing blow; within three breaths, he lay still.

Lu Sha stepped forward to examine him. The dead man’s face was twisted in terror; twin trails of blood wept from his wide, horrified eyes. He was well and truly dead.

...

“A mere demon, yet so formidable?” Lu Sha regarded the Hundred-Eyed Demon prancing in his palm, a trace of astonishment in his heart. What would it be like to create a truly supreme demon or ghost? The thought left him yearning to find out.

He intended to inspect the dead prisoner’s body for any useful materials, but a wave of pain and weakness suddenly swept over him, making his body shiver with cold.

This body was simply too frail! Weaker, even, than his previous life—let alone compared to the cultivators of this world. In his last life, Lu Sha had never neglected physical training for his career; running, swimming, boxing, fencing, skiing, skydiving—he’d dabbled in them all. He knew well that the body was the foundation of all endeavors; to live well was paramount. Otherwise, how could he pursue those extreme sports later?

Yet now, a mere injury left him barely able to endure.

Helpless, Lu Sha could only rest in the corner of the cell. After a while, a faint intuition stirred within him, and he issued a command to the Hundred-Eyed Demon.

Obeying, the demon crawled from his arm to his face and burrowed into his left eye socket. After a moment of writhing, it fused perfectly with him, leaving no trace of its presence.

The sole difference: Lu Sha’s left eye had turned a blood-red hue, emanating a strange, demonic aura.

He touched his face and eye, deepening his understanding of this miraculous power. Not only could he command the demons he created, but he could also merge them into himself and thus gain their powers.

However, wielding such power inevitably placed a burden on his body.

For instance, now that the Hundred-Eyed Demon had fused with his left eye socket, Lu Sha possessed its strength. Yet the left side of his face was numb, his body felt weighted down, and his vital energy was in disarray. Thankfully, it was still bearable.

...

“It seems that even with the power to create and control demons, I cannot wholly neglect my own body,” Lu Sha mused. “Perhaps I can integrate this world’s cultivation system with my unique ability, forging a new path entirely. A warrior who commands demonic power? That doesn’t sound half bad.”

Leaning against the wall, he pondered quietly.

At that moment, an aged yet vigorous voice rang out from the neighboring cell. “Young man, catch it quickly! That’s a good thing—don’t let it get away!”

Lu Sha turned to see a hand reaching out from the adjacent cell, pointing not at the madman’s corpse but at a plump rat gnawing on the remains.

The hand belonged to a disheveled old prisoner, filthy and wild-haired.

Lu Sha frowned in disgust and, grabbing a femur, brought it down forcefully on the rat. Despite his weakness and wounds, the blow was swift and precise. With a sickening crack, the rat’s head burst; it twitched once, then lay still.

The old man in the next cell cheered, “Splendid strike! Young man, since I discovered this delicacy, share a bit with me, will you? Half and half—if not, sixty-forty?”

Licking his lips with hunger, the old man gazed eagerly.

“I have no interest. It’s all yours,” Lu Sha replied, repulsed by the thought, and kicked the rat’s corpse over.

“Even better!” The old man snatched up the rat, tore off the crushed head, and began devouring it with relish.

The sight was so repulsive, Lu Sha closed his eyes to rest, unable to bear watching.

Soon, the old man’s voice sounded again, “Tastes marvelous! By the way, your vital energy is weak and your bones are soft—this won’t do at all. Since you treated me to such a feast, how about I teach you a cultivation technique?”

Lu Sha opened his eyes, surprised. They said every cell held its own talent; could this filthy, rodent-eating old man really be a master in disguise? Yet, like Lu Sha, he wore no iron shackles or steel nails. He shouldn’t possess any cultivation.

...

“What sort of technique?” Though skeptical, Lu Sha asked anyway. No harm in finding out.

The old man, gnawing the last rat’s paw, mulled it over before replying,

“To cultivate martial arts, you must first refine essence and transform qi, nourishing the flesh. That requires plenty of blood food. But in a death cell, you can barely fill your stomach—ordinary techniques won’t work. So I’ll teach you the ‘Turtle Spirit Breathing Art,’ which nourishes the body and strengthens vitality. Consider it thanks for the meal.”

Without further ado, the old man began to demonstrate, reciting the incantation as he moved.

“The breath of the divine turtle, steady and long. Qi enters heart and veins, spirit transforms to essence...”

Seeing how earnest the old man was, Lu Sha decided to give it a try.

He rose and followed along. After a short while, he was amazed to find his internal energy growing calm and warm, a comforting sensation spreading through him. Even the strain from merging with the Hundred-Eyed Demon had lessened.

“Not bad, not bad! Good comprehension means less effort for this old man,” the elder nodded with satisfaction after a full cycle, then promptly lay down to sleep, snoring thunderously within moments.

Lu Sha sat cross-legged, scrutinizing this odd fellow. Even with just one attempt, he could tell the technique was extraordinary. Indeed, prison held its share of hidden talents. Surely this old man had a mysterious past.

But Lu Sha did not dwell on it. After a brief rest, he practiced the art twice more. Each time, his internal energy grew steadier, gradually nourishing his body, filling him with a tingling sensation both strange and pleasant.

He wanted to continue, but sensed he had reached his limit; more would be harmful. So he dragged the two corpses to the farthest corner and lay down to sleep.

Thus ended his first day in the death cell—quite fruitful.

One demon, one technique.

The only regret was failing to harvest any useful material from the madman’s corpse. Death alone did not guarantee the birth of a demon; it depended on circumstances and environment.

...

Time crept by as a crescent moon climbed the sky. The death cell lay shrouded in darkness, save for a sliver of the outside world visible through the small window above.

In the stillness, Lu Sha, seemingly asleep, suddenly opened his eyes. A cold, bloody gleam flashed in his left eye. The eyeball squirmed, crawling from the socket, transforming into a demon.

That county constable wanted him dead—how could Lu Sha let that debt go unpaid? He would repay it tenfold.

In the night, the Hundred-Eyed Demon climbed to the window, slipped away from the cell, and soon vanished into the limitless darkness.

———

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