Chapter 100: The Celestial Toad, Returning the Heart

Ji Ming and Wei Wulan settled inside the humble hut, then began shedding most of their clothes, revealing more of the concealed features of their demonic transformations.

Much of their skin had turned pale and rough, dotted with raised warts—altogether quite unsettling to behold.

“For orthodox disciples, practicing reversal cultivation is like crossing a narrow plank bridge—a path destined to invite much criticism, akin to forbidden dark arts,” Wei Wulan said, a somber look creasing his brow as the calculating gleam in his eyes softened.

“There is no inherent good or evil in cultivation methods,” Ji Ming responded.

“Heh,” Wei Wulan chuckled softly. The flickering candlelight cast his shadow upon the wall, resembling a dancing specter. “When people see this reversed, demonized form, how many can truly think that methods themselves are neutral?”

“True enough,” Ji Ming admitted.

Seeing that the young golden boy before him was unsettled by the complexities brought on by reversal cultivation, Wei Wulan brightened his tone. “They say it’s a narrow bridge, but many have walked it—so many, in fact, it’s crowded. Anyone aspiring to ascend the Three Realms and Six Stages dreams of a sudden breakthrough through reversal cultivation.”

Wei Wulan crouched low, resembling a toad resting on the ground before Ji Ming, his two gills pulsating rhythmically, indistinguishable now from an actual toad.

In this posture, he seemed to demonstrate the deeper changes wrought by reversal cultivation—an otherworldly transformation beyond mere physical shifts.

“The path of a demon cultivator is a dance between human and demon nature. The change is a matter of the heart alone. To succeed in reversal cultivation, the transformation of the mind is crucial. Early on, the human heart must be replaced by a demon heart; later, the demon heart must be restored to the human heart.”

“So you have already exchanged your human heart for a demon heart?” Ji Ming asked.

“Yes,” Wei Wulan said, stretching his mouth into a grin that reached his ears. From the wide opening, a long, pink tongue gradually emerged, dripping sticky saliva onto the floor with a soft plop.

Under the wavering candlelight, more demonic features emerged on his flesh: swollen, bulging eyes and webbed fingers.

Crouched there, Ji Ming could no longer discern whether Wei Wulan was man or demon.

“This is dangerous,” Ji Ming observed. Though unclear of Wei Wulan’s exact stage, his overwhelming demonic nature was unmistakable.

“Indeed,” Wei Wulan replied, his swollen eyes fixed on a mosquito outside the window as he swallowed. “If you fail to restore the demon heart to a human heart before the body fully demonizes, you can only flee to the wilds and consort with demons and monsters.”

Ji Ming gazed through the window at the dimming sky, his expression unwavering.

Though he had lived two past lives as a spirit creature, he always retained his human heart and embraced the principles of humanity. If he were to surrender to a demon heart...

On the ground, Wei Wulan slowly withdrew his demonic form—or rather, transformed his illusion back to human shape.

Seeing this illusion, Ji Ming shivered and asked, “Among the three great orthodox immortal sects, how many cultivators can transform as you do—or rather, how many surpass you?”

“Heh heh! Don’t be afraid,” Wei Wulan said, noticing Ji Ming’s wary demeanor. “Demonic forms cannot be concealed by illusion alone, unless one masters profound illusion arts. Otherwise, they’re easily pierced.”

Ji Ming recalled something and took up the Nation-Quelling Mirror from his waist. This made Wei Wulan shrink back.

“Golden boy, that’s no joke.”

“No wonder you’ve been cultivating in secret here. If you stayed in your sect, you’d have nowhere to hide.”

Wei Wulan’s face betrayed slight embarrassment. “My ‘Heavenly Toad Leg’ possesses spiritual potential. Even if I have nowhere to hide underground, I must advance my cultivation to mastery.”

“Heavenly Toad Leg?”

“Yes, Heavenly. Toad. Leg—the three-legged moon toad’s toad.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Ji Ming smiled.

“No, I know you meant ‘crippled’ leg,” Wei Wulan teased, “but you can’t fool me.”

Ji Ming let the topic pass. “The orthodox path for ascending cultivation is through the Dao Core. What if I switch to that halfway through? Would it work?”

“Interesting idea,” Wei Wulan said encouragingly, then explained, “Each sect’s secret art requires a specific demonic nature to assist it. Ascending cultivation demands the Dao Core, a synthesis of demonic nature and external alchemy. The Dao Core path is far safer than reversal cultivation, regarded by the immortal sects as the broad, sunlit avenue. But the cost is tremendous. Still, if you switched midway, yes, it could work.”

“Hmm,” Ji Ming nodded knowingly, aligning with his own thoughts.

“But...” That guttural croaking sound arose again. Wei Wulan seemed unable to restrain his demonic form, his long, pink tongue licking his lips. “The human body is so inconvenient. Why not join me in exploring this supreme mystery?”

“Don’t force me to call the Master’s Filthy Golden Vase!” Ji Ming warned sharply.

Wei Wulan shuddered, fear suppressing the surging demon nature. Then he cautiously asked, “Has the Master already passed the incantations for using the treasure to you?”

“No.”

“So you...” Wei Wulan realized he had been played, then sighed. “That’s why I’ve stayed on Purple Fusion Peak all this time. Only fear can quickly calm the sudden surges of demon nature.”

The Yixing Mountain was a blessed immortal sanctuary governed by Lady Huo De of Southern China, and many immortals had built hermitages on Purple Fusion Peak.

“Just thinking of that, my heart immediately trembles, and the demon nature settles,” Wei Wulan confessed.

Ji Ming’s expression grew serious. “I think you can no longer reach that thought.”

“Yes.” Wei Wulan lowered his head and spoke frankly, “Since my demon heart changed, my Heavenly Toad skill has advanced by reversal cultivation, and I have grown more reckless and lawless.”

“You have attained the Demon and Monster Samadhi.”

“Demon and Monster Samadhi,” Wei Wulan repeated.

Lowering his head again, then raising it, his eyes’ pupils became horizontal slits. The next moment, his flesh collided with an invisible “wall” and he was violently thrown back.

“Ribbit—”

Wei Wulan stood on one toad leg, his body bathed in moonlight, staring fixedly at the one who had struck him—Ji Ming.

Ji Ming showed no indulgence toward the resurgent demon nature in Wei Wulan. Coldly, he said, “Wei Wulan, if you want to die, I’ll call the Master.”

Wei Wulan did not doubt the truth of those words. His demon nature instantly withered, and he wiped cold sweat from his brow.

If it had been someone else—someone sentimental or hot-tempered—he would have been killed without hesitation.

The evil of the demon heart is this: once the demon nature flares, the mind seems replaced, filled with malice.

Yet this does not mean one cannot think, read others, or seek advantage and avoid harm—in fact, demons are sharper in these respects.

Wei Wulan understood that if he hesitated even a moment longer, Ji Ming would have summoned the Master to eradicate this “tumor.”

Beside such a man, Wei Wulan felt both relief and fear—relieved that the demon heart would henceforth fear him, yet fearful for the same reason.

After driving Wei Wulan away, Ji Ming took out the Crane Control Manual made of cloth.

After some inner struggle, Ji Ming stood straight and lifted his head. His neck bones cracked audibly as his neck stretched several inches out of thin air. Then, he exhaled auspicious clouds.

“The Crane Control Reversal Cultivation allows the pine and crane to breathe, scattering auspicious colors through the body, transforming into the form of a hundred birds.”

The demon nature within was drawn out completely, exhaled as auspicious clouds that hovered above his head, then drifted down softly.

They settled on his hands, face, feet, back—permeating every inch of his body, seeping into every bone and marrow.

Soon, Ji Ming was left with one overwhelming sensation—an intense itch, all over his body.

He sat cross-legged, attempting meditation, but the itch deepened, spreading to his bones and internal organs, as if his very flesh, bones, and heart were being stirred and scratched.

He knew his Crane Control Reversal Cultivation had begun, and there was no turning back.