One Pound Meat, One More Attribute Point

Su Heng stroked his chin and pondered seriously.

In the desolate Skull Plain, although it was Su Heng’s first visit, it was not entirely unfamiliar to him.

Previously, when the Dragon King’s Tomb had been opened, he had devoured the Divine Soul Memory of Xie Linyuan from the Demonic Elephant Sect. Xie Linyuan was born from a barbarian tribe of the Skull Plain, and from his memories, Su Heng had experienced some events from Xie Linyuan’s perspective and was also aware of some of the taboos within the Skull Plain.

For example...

In the Skull Plain, when the sun rose, it was the realm of mortals.

But once the sun went down, it became the Underworld. Ghosts would crawl out from the endless hell to hunt for food; it was a forbidden area for the living, survivable only under the protection of monks.

Su Heng looked up at the moon in the sky, which was unmistakably in the night.

However, the cold wind blew gently, and everything before him was peaceful; he hadn’t encountered anything eerie.

Was it because his strength was too great and his murderous aura too intense that all ghosts shied away? Or was the content about the night in Xie Linyuan’s memory exaggerated, and the nights on the Skull Plain were not as bizarre and dangerous as rumored? Su Heng did not know. Explore stories on empire

A few white clouds scudded across the sky, obscuring the moonlight, and suddenly the clear night turned gloomy.

Su Heng’s long hair lifted in the wind, his clothes billowing. A determination suddenly rose in his heart as he sensed an eerie atmosphere in his surroundings. The more skilled an artist, the braver he becomes; sensing the possibility of ghosts resurrecting, far from being frightened, Su Heng showed an expression of great interest on his face.

"I wonder what kind of flavor these ghosts from beyond the border have when eaten," Su Heng wondered, eager to know the answer to this question.

He furrowed his brows slightly, squinting his eyes.

After a brief search of the surroundings, he quickly found the source of the problem.

He saw grey-black mists emanating from the crevices of the rocks on a sandy beach by a distant river.

Thread by thread, wisp by wisp, like water plants swaying in the river current. But these mists were not drifting with the wind; instead, they were abnormally converging to one spot.

Su Heng did not hesitate.

Following the direction where the black mist gathered, he quickly reached its end.

It was a beige Gobi covered with broken stones and dust, utterly lifeless. It was pockmarked with holes and indentations as if a great battle had just taken place there. And in the middle of the dull yellow Gobi, a huge amount of black mist had converged into a sphere, obscuring the line of sight.

Within the black mist, two figures dashed rapidly past each other.

Bang!

A loud boom!

The gale formed by the force of compression explosion scattered the black mist that had condensed.

As a white ring of qi formed on the battlefield, it also blew away and dispersed the concentrated black mist.

A few white clouds swept across the vault of the sky, and the bright moonlight shone down once again, illuminating the battlefield.

Su Heng stood on higher ground, hands clasped behind his back, looking down.

When he clearly saw the situation on the battlefield, a look of surprise appeared on his face, followed by a light chuckle, "The world is so vast; indeed, there are no coincidences. I didn’t expect to meet an acquaintance in such a remote place."

...

Bright moonlight, surging eerie black mist, fine grains of sand falling gently...

Li Lingsu formed a sword with her fingers, lightly brushing them over the autumn-water-clear blade. Gazing at the dark bloodstain on the edge of the blade, not only did her exquisite and indifferent face show no pleasure, but her willow brow knit slightly, her complexion darkened.

In front of Li Lingsu stood a young and burly monk.

He was clad in a white robe, untainted by a speck of dust. Looking solely at the left half of his body with a fair complexion and an air of detachment, he was the very image of an accomplished, peaceful monk. Yet, from the center of his brow down, split in two, the other half of his body exuded a chilling Demonic Qi under the moonlight, pitch-black as if made of dark, silted mud.

From the deeply sunken eye sockets burst forth a blood-red light, and even the lips were protruding fangs, like those of a wild beast.

This juxtaposition of black and white, good and evil,

The two completely different temperaments forcibly condensed within the monk, emitting an eerie and indescribable aura, daunting to onlookers.

This monk with the monstrous charm was named Tai Cang, born of the Endless White Tower Temple, one of its Buddha Sons.

Among the three great Esoteric Sect powers of Skull Plain, Hundred Buddha Temple had the broadest lineage, Formless Dharma Temple had the most powerhouses, and Endless White Tower Temple was the most mysterious, with the most ancient heritage. The widely circulated "Imperial Commanding Way" on Skull Plain was first originated from Endless White Tower Temple.

Even the stunningly impressive Princess Zhao Yingluo from a thousand years ago was imprisoned in a white pagoda beneath the snow-capped mountains.

Tai Cang looked down at the wound on his chest, then showed an air of unconcern.

With a gentle sweep of his hand over it, the wound healed at a visible speed to the naked eye.

"The young lady’s swordsmanship isn’t bad, elusive as ghosts and spirits, but unfortunately, it’s useless against this monk," Tai Cang clasped his hands together and uttered an Amitabha, his gaze at Li Lingsu filled with an intense, unabashedly filthy desire.

"Surrender now," he earnestly advised, "lest that fine skin of yours be ruined, which would be quite the pity."

Li Lingsu formed a sword flower with her hand, the tip pointing at Tai Cang’s forehead.

Her face still wore an indifferent expression, neither angered by Tai Cang’s sacrilegious words just now, nor agitated by being at a disadvantage; she maintained her emotions as tranquil as a still well, completely focused on the battle before her.

"It seems the young lady won’t shed tears until she sees the coffin," Tai Cang shook his head and sighed, "Very well, let me show you my true strength. Then, you’ll understand how insignificant your so-called resistance is before me."

"Om Ah Hum, Mahakala Ye, Hum Phat!" His muscles bulged as he brought his arms together, and a flash of black light sparked in his pupils while he chanted the sacred verses.

With the ancient chanting echoing through the battlefield, the ground hummed and vibrated.

Tiny stones and dust hung suspended mid-air, swirling in the black mist and then settling down. Amidst the grating crunching sounds, clay giants as tall as three meters, black as pitch and as if made from oil and clay, emerged from the ground, appearing on the battlefield.

There were eighteen of these giants, each with four arms, black-faced and fanged, their eyes sparking with a bloodthirsty red gleam.

They now surrounded Li Lingsu on the battlefield, trapping her within.

Li Lingsu looked around her, determined, and then a light flickered in her eyes. A faint smile appeared on her lips, which, although quickly fading, still ignited a surge of desire in Tai Cang.

What surprised him even more was that Li Lingsu voluntarily laid down her long sword.

"Miss, you have recognized the situation and given up struggling," Tai Cang was overjoyed, "Very good, very good, Amitabha."

"Take a look behind you," Li Lingsu stated tersely, "Idiot."

"Thinking such simple tricks can fool me, is the young lady looking down on me too much?" Tai Cang laughed heartily, unconcerned.

"Crack!"

A crisp sound cut off Tai Cang’s laughter abruptly.

His face froze, inch by inch he turned around.

As Tai Cang fully took in what had happened behind him, his eyes widened dramatically, his face aghast as if he had seen a ghost.

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