Chapter 103 — The Corpse-Piercing Silver Needle
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 3 of 4
. " Uncle Qiao pressed on in pursuit.
Before long he came upon the second corpse, then the third, the fourth. . . The corner of his eye twitched.
He came upon the seventh corpse: this one had no human skin. The skin had been peeled away, yet there was no blood; though flayed, not a drop had flowed out.
Uncle Qiao's face changed greatly, and he spat out a foul breath: "The Heaven-Demon Art of Creation!
This youth is a disciple of the Nether Demon Cult! " The corpse was no longer recognizable; which meant that Shen Mu might now be any one of the pursuing disciples! A savage light flashed in Uncle Qiao's eyes. He pressed on, and before long he met several Corpse Immortal Cult disciples.
They were clustered in a tight knot, warily watching all around; not having seen him approach, they all breathed a sigh of relief.
One of them cried, "Uncle Qiao. .
. " Uncle Qiao flicked his fingers in swift succession, and needles fine as ox hair flew out, swift as lightning, piercing into the space between the brows of these disciples! Their gazes went dull at once, their souls dissolving swiftly, white foam at their mouths.
These needles were Uncle Qiao's primal weapons, called corpse-slaying needles. Once struck, the soul melts away and the body becomes a walking husk with flesh but no spirit; not even the highest immortals could save them!
One woman disciple stammered, "Uncle Qiao, why. .
. " Uncle Qiao moved swiftly among them, examining the bodies of these Corpse Immortal Cult disciples, and frowned slightly. He had not found Shen Mu!
If Shen Mu possessed the Nether Demon Cult's Heaven-Demon Art of Creation, and by flaying a corpse had taken on the appearance of a Corpse Immortal Cult disciple, there should be a red line upon his skin; but none of these disciples bore a red line!
Which meant Shen Mu was not among them! "Wretched, I have fallen for it!
I killed the wrong men.
" The corner of Uncle Qiao's eye twitched. He looked at these Corpse Immortal Cult disciples and reckoned in silence: "If I leave their corpses, the patriarch and the other old ghosts may notice. Safer to destroy the bodies and erase the traces.
" He flicked his fingernails, and powder hidden beneath them flew out and fell upon the bodies.
At once the flesh and blood of these Corpse Immortal Cult disciples dissolved; even the bones and the clothing on them melted away, becoming pools of pus.
Uncle Qiao let out a breath and, narrowing his eyes, surveyed all around.
He found no trace of Shen Mu. Suddenly his body swayed, and with a clatter countless red specks poured out from beneath his Daoist robe: thousands upon thousands of corpse beetles. These corpse beetles spread their wings and went, flying off in every direction.
The moon sank in the west and the east paled; the swarm of red corpse beetles hung in the air like fireflies wandering the wilds before sunrise.
"A first-rank minister's sword.
Enough to serve as a cult-guarding treasure. " Uncle Qiao raised his head and looked at the dawn clouds in the east. He murmured, "The patriarch has sat in that seat a long while.
It is time he shifted his backside. . .
" Barren Ruins, Yincan Village. "Shen'er, time to get up and eat. Why are you still sleeping?
" Granny Zhu had no sooner spoken than she fell into a daze. Shen Mu had been gone several days, and every day since, when she cooked, she made an extra portion and called Shen Mu to come eat; every time she forgot that Shen Mu had already left the village. Granny Zhu sighed.
Alone and silent, she finished her breakfast, set pot and bowl aside unwashed, and sat at the table lost in thought.
Suddenly the little old woman rose, went on tiptoe into the room, tidied a few things, took up a basket, and on her little bound feet walked out of the house and off toward the edge of the village. At the village entrance, Master Dan and the headman were still drinking tea, easy and unhurried.