Chapter 11: Death is Normal

Chapter 11: Death is Normal

Xiao Nanfeng understood that the spiritual aether present throughout heaven and earth could be used to strengthen the physical body, and with the right technique, also the soul.

Spiritual cultivation involved suffusing one's soulspace, accessed via the center of the forehead, with environmental aether to generate spiritual power. Cultivating Body of Yin involved enlarging the soulspace to form a reservoir for spiritual power. The more advanced the cultivation, the deeper the reservoir, and the more spiritual power could be stored.

With the help of the superior yin pearl, Xiao Nanfeng managed to fully grasp twenty Daoist scriptures within just three days, significantly improving the cultivation of Body of Yin. The reservoir of spiritual power in his soulspace had already expanded multiple times.

Xiao Nanfeng smiled wryly. Others complained about not having a large enough reservoir of spiritual power, but his problem was the opposite—his reservoir was growing so swiftly that it even outpaced the rate at which he was accumulating spiritual power.

Just then, he heard the notes of a guqin from afar.

The melodious sound of the guqin carried a hint of sorrow, resonating directly with the depths of the soul. Xiao Nanfeng's spiritual power suddenly began to pulse abruptly.

To his surprise, he discovered that the aether in his environment was actively resonating and being absorbed into his soulspace at almost twice the usual rate.

"What's going on? Who's playing the guqin?" Xiao Nanfeng was shocked. Excavate this data, retracing it to n0v*lbin★

Over the past three days, he had been immersed in his scrolls and documents, consuming dry rations whenever he felt any hunger. He paid no attention even to the successive groups of people that Ye Dafu's three lackeys brought to their suite to investigate the unusual disappearance of their gold.

Whoever was playing the guqin outside was doubling the rate of his spiritual cultivation! He had to figure out just who it was.

Xiao Nanfeng walked out of the suite and onto the main deck, only then discovering that the ship had stopped short. Many disciples were on deck, all looking far into the distance. Only Ye Dafu and his lackeys were still making a fuss, anxious expressions on their faces.

"Sir, I'm telling the truth! Our banknotes have been stolen, totaling ten thousand taels of gold! Can't you search the ship again?" Ye Dafu cried out, frustrated.

"The ship's just about to reach the shore. Once everyone disembarks, we won't be able to reclaim our money!" one of his lackeys urged.

Ye Dafu and his clique were surrounding a harried Taiqing disciple, the boatswain responsible for adjudicating affairs aboard the voyage.

The disciple's face flashed with annoyance. "That's enough!"

Ye Dafu and the others fell silent.

Everyone was paying attention to the ship. A large number of Taiqing disciples stood vigilant, their faces somber and sorrowful.

"The Taiqing disciples are there to welcome the battered ship, aren't they?" Xiao Nanfeng thought to himself.

"Look! There are so many coffins on that battered ship!" a bystander cried out.

The boatswain who had been lecturing Ye Dafu and the others announced, "That ship ferries the dead Taiqing disciples whose bodies are being brought back to rest. May they rest in peace!"

"What? Don't immortals live forever? How could they die?" The prospective disciples felt as though their worldview was being torn asunder.

"Do you think that the disciples of the Taiqing Immortal Sect are all deities? That they can all transcend mortal make, to live forever and freely? That you would be able to relax and enjoy yourselves after entering the sect? If you believe that nonsense, give up now. The path to transcending your fate is perilous and filled with danger. Any moment of inattention could lead to your death. All disciples are sent out to battle—and though we try to teach them as much as we can, death is the norm."

"What?!" the prospective disciples cried out, looking at the boatswain. Death was the norm?

"Senior, may I ask who is playing that guqin?" Xiao Nanfeng pointed at a pavilion close to the harbor.

Within the harbor was a thin, elderly man in gray robes, his hair white and scattered, his eyes almost fully occluded like those of a blind man's. He was playing a guqin. A large group of Taiqing disciples surrounded him, treating him with respect and veneration, speaking in hushed tones to avoid disturbing him or the music.

"That's Elder Ku. He's playing a requiem for the dead, to guide them to peace," the boatswain replied, sighing.

"A requiem? Is it truly effective?" The prospective disciples looked toward the blind old man, not particularly impressed.

None of them had developed any spiritual power, so they didn't understand how impressive this requiem was—none but Xiao Nanfeng. This elder was a true master of his craft!

"Requiem? Elder Ku?" Xiao Nanfeng focused on the elder from afar, eagerness flashing through his eyes.

If he could apprentice under Elder Ku, his spiritual cultivation would advance by leaps and bounds.

"Alright, that's enough. The sect will surely be busy interring the bodies of the dead, so we're unlikely to be able to dock today. We'll anchor the ship here and make for shore tomorrow," he instructed.

"Yessir!" the sailors chorused.

The prospective disciples on board were far less confident and elated than they had been. They brooded, their eyes filled with doubt and fear.

In cultivation, death was the norm?