Chapter 155: Only I, the Golden Bag of Evil

The little Jiao-dragon thrashed wildly on the sandbank, striking the ground with its head in a desperate struggle to defend its sovereignty within its own mind.

A dull rumble rolled across the heavens, and suddenly a bolt of jagged lightning pierced downward. The blinding light flashed from the clouds onto the sandy earth, plunging directly into the dragon's body. The silver scales, which had only recovered a few months prior, were blasted apart.

"Ah—!"

Ji Ming and the little Jiao-dragon cried out in pain simultaneously. Before the agonizing torment could wash over them once more, Ji Ming decisively terminated the reincarnation dream.

Amidst a cluster of dark clouds in the night sky, a being with the claws of an eagle, the body of a man, and the beak of a thunder god crouched atop a cloud crest. With both hands, he formed mystic hand seals, transforming electricity into runes that imprinted themselves upon the surrounding void.

The old Daoist priest flicked his horsetail whisk, sweeping it before him. As the acrid smoke cleared, the limp, boneless Jiao-dragon was hauled right before him by a Qi-conjured Great Seizing Hand.

"Rest assured," the creature upon the cloudhead declared with a smug grin. "I held back my strength. I merely struck the soul within his body into a stupor; I didn't actually deal a fatal blow."

The old Daoist gave a slight cupped-hand salute and said, "Third Lord, the dragon's son is delicate. If he were truly beaten to death, and the River Elder Dragon Lord took offense, it would weave a heavy tangle of karmic consequences."

The Third Lord on the cloud nodded quite casually and remarked, "I am exceedingly busy with official duties, so I shall not linger here."

This Third Lord paid little heed to the old Daoist's words. He had come here specifically merely to settle an old favor; a person whose lifespan was exhausted was simply not worth the Third Lord's time.

Upon a patch of the sandbank, an arm thrust outward from a fleshy lotus bud.

The six fingers on the hand stretched and flexed, then clenched fiercely into a fist. Bolstered by the magic-infused bone, a fierce and potent罡-energy (stellar aura) burst through the bud, unfurling the fleshy lotus petal by petal.

Ji Ming stepped down from the lotus platform and immediately looked up at the dark clouds in the sky, as well as the beaked Third Lord.

"Well, well! Your good disciple has come out."

The old Daoist maintained a placid expression, though his grip on the long handle of his horsetail whisk had involuntarily tightened. As he turned his head, the little Jiao-dragon, scorched black by the heavenly lightning, slowly opened its eyes.

Within those eyes lay a piercing, chilling calm, endurance under excruciating agony, and a trace of utter bewilderment.

"Where... what is this—"

It laboriously stretched its three-toed, sharp claws, the confusion in its gaze deepening until it eclipsed the physical pain.

"No, why have I usurped this body?"

It slightly raised its dragon head and caught sight of a figure walking toward it.

Its eyes involuntarily locked onto that complex and profound gaze. In a mere fraction of a second, everything became crystal clear.

"It's you!"

"Watch out!"

The "little Jiao-dragon" and Ji Ming cried out at the very same instant. Flying Crane Daoist turned his head in astonishment, and the lightning in the sky surged once more.

A fleshy lotus, a trident, a Dharma conch, and Buddhist prayer beads—four yin-treasures—hurtled toward the "little Jiao-dragon" from different directions. Ji Ming silently recited the Dharani Heart Mantra, and those yin-treasures abruptly froze mid-air, hovering aimlessly as if they had lost all direction.

"Ha—!"

Ji Ming opened his mouth and uttered a great, resounding cry. The "little Jiao-dragon" offered no resistance whatsoever as it was sucked straight into his mouth.

Beneath his belly, muffled roars echoed continuously. This bizarre spectacle left Flying Crane Daoist utterly dumbfounded, while the Third Lord in the sky could not help but withdraw his thunder and lower his cloudhead.

Ji Ming rubbed his abdomen, feeling the struggle within his internal organ's alchemical stomach grow progressively weaker.

"What manner of spell is this?" Flying Crane Daoist asked, his face a mask of shock, secretly wondering if his master had already imparted the Supreme Heaven Grand Dharma, and resolving to contend with him for this heavenly human disciple!

The beaked Third Lord chimed in, "This is a left-hand path spell known as the 'Golden Fiend Sack'. It can refine metals and dissolve flesh; it is remarkably arcane. A spell of this caliber is no small feat—many old monsters and grand demons of the heterodox paths have tried to refine it and failed."

"Master!" Ji Ming let out a hearty burp, stepped forward to offer a formal greeting, and then gave a slight cupped-hand bow to the Third Lord, saying, "Thank you, Third Lord, for your grace in saving my life."

"Don't thank him; he's merely returning a favor," Flying Crane Daoist said, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.

"You old Daoist, what favor? I know nothing of this." With that, the Third Lord turned to Ji Ming and smiled affably. "My dear nephew is in peril; how could I possibly stand by and watch?"

How could the old Daoist not know the Third Lord's inner thoughts? It was nothing more than seeing his disciple as a latent dragon hidden in the abyss—bound to soar to greatness sooner or later—and wanting to curry favor in advance to cash in on a future debt of gratitude.

Though displeased in his heart, the old Daoist did not expose him; the Third Lord's connections would ultimately benefit his disciple.

"Retch—!"

Feigning sudden discomfort, Ji Ming opened his mouth and spewed forth a cyan skull, along with a fist-sized lump of flesh and a glittering silver nail.

"Yin Underworld Magic Bone!"

The old Daoist's eyelids twitched. He picked up the cyan skull, examined it closely, and fell into deep thought.

As he turned his gaze toward the lump of flesh, a dark shadow suddenly darted past at lightning speed, snatched the flesh in a single bite, and swallowed it down amid a series of crunching sounds.

"Thousand-Hand."

Ji Ming called out in a deep voice, putting on an expression of complete surprise.

The dark shadow settled upon Ji Ming's shoulder, raising its segmented insect body. The Third Lord's eyes lit up as he exclaimed, "What a fine flying centipede! It actually knows how to devour the blood and marrow essence of a Jiao-dragon."

Ji Ming stowed Thousand-Hand back into his poison-seed pouch, thinking that since he had taken his act this far, Flying Crane Daoist should easily be able to fill in the blanks and piece the whole story together.

Over on his side, the old Daoist understood the situation completely and deduced, "It seems Yellow-Chew intended to use you as a future vessel for corpse-possession and soul-migration, transferring his internal organs and alchemy directly into your body."

"Damn it, kid, are you blessed by the heavens? Your Third Lord has only ever read of such things in playscripts; today, I've truly witnessed a marvel."

Ji Ming said with lingering fear, "Perhaps misfortune and fortune are intertwined!"

"A fine 'misfortune and fortune are intertwined'! If those wretches struck by lightning understood this principle, they wouldn't curse me as a running dog of the Thunder God," the Third Lord said indignantly.

Ji Ming looked toward the old Daoist, who then began to make introductions.

"The Third Lord of the Ministry of Thunder acts on behalf of Heaven to mete out punishment and unleash thunderbolts. He is the one most dreaded by ghosts and demons."

"Haha!"

The Third Lord opened his thunder-god beak and laughed heartily. "What 'acting on behalf of Heaven to mete out punishment'? It's merely holding an office in the Ministry of Thunder to mop up evils and spirits across various lands."

"Well then, I still have matters in the heavens and cannot linger any longer." The Third Lord flapped his wings and soared upward, shouting down to Ji Ming, "If you ever go up to the heavens, remember to visit me at the Thunder Mansion."

"This Third Lord...?"

Ji Ming looked at the old Daoist. This figure seemed to have an extraordinarily grand background.

He had often heard of the celestial Dipper Ministry, but this Ministry of Thunder was rarely spoken of. To act on behalf of Heaven and execute punishment—just hearing it gave one a profound sense of awe.

After watching the Third Lord depart, Flying Crane Daoist smiled and said, "He is merely a minor spirit within the Ministry of Thunder. Influenced by his surroundings, he picked up a bit of thunder sorcery. Others fear his backing and call him 'Third Lord,' so as time went on, he simply adopted the title himself."

With that, the old Daoist turned his gaze to the silver nail and remarked, "Though the River Elder Dragon Lord has numerous progeny, very few are born as true Jiao-dragons. Now that this dragon son has perished, the karmic blame for it should fall squarely upon Yellow-Chew—let it be said that he tried to usurp the dragon body, failed, and accidentally slew the dragon son, and now his yin-form is hiding away in the netherworld."

A sense of settling peace washed over Ji Ming. With Flying Crane Daoist covering for him, this matter should be entirely without issue.

A trace of sorrow flickered across Flying Crane Daoist's brows, compounded by the faint aura of decline emanating from his physical form. An ominous premonition stirred within Ji Ming's heart.

With a flick of his horsetail whisk, sending the cyan skull back, the old Daoist smiled with an air of profound detachment. "Life in this world is nothing more than the morning and evening of a mayfly. I have already manifested the signs of the Five Decays of Heaven and Man, and soon I shall follow our sect's past patriarchs."

"Has Master arranged his destination after death?"

"Listen well, disciple."

The old Daoist turned serious for once, straightening his expression.

"Though our kind fear death and cling to life, there are still things we must refuse to do. If one day you become the master of this temple, even when your lifespan is exhausted and death is upon you, you must never usurp the yin-authority and divine office of the Crane-Calling Realm to prolong your life by another generation."

Before the old Daoist, Ji Ming finally spoke his true mind for once.

"If I become the temple master, I'm afraid I might hollow out whatever meager assets this temple has left."

"I understand. The path you walk is one of self-cultivation toward the Dao, untainted by worldly affections and unburdened by secular entanglements. Only thus can you forge ahead with indomitable valor."

"No!" Ji Ming shook his head and replied, " Isolated yin cannot grow, and isolated yang cannot be born. Relying solely on the self makes it impossible to attain the Great Dao."

If the heterodox spell earlier had merely startled the old Daoist's mind, then his disciple's candid revelation of his inner philosophy touched his very soul.

"Then what can attain the Great Dao?"

"To possess affection without being burdened by it; to master things without being harmed by them."

The old Daoist pursued the point, asking, "How is that interpreted?"

"Affection arises because of events; when the events pass, the affection dies away. That is all."

"You're trying to become a saint, aren't you?"