Chapter 159 – Lu Lang Forms the Golden Core, the Old Donkey Grows Scales

Boom——

Heaven’s thunder split open, blinding white light bursting before the eyes.

At the marketplace beneath the mountain, as countless bolts of lightning crashed down upon the peak, in that instant when white radiance unfurled, the townsfolk and wandering swordsmen who had been drawn by the omen all shut their eyes instinctively. Only when the brilliance at last faded, after a long moment, did they dare open them again, returning slowly from their shock.

“By heaven, that nearly scared me to death!” “What in the world just happened!?”

“Damn it all, my horse was so frightened it pissed itself.”

“Could it be that exalted cultivator within the mountain performing rites to subdue a demon? Weren’t there six who went up earlier, claiming they needed brush and ink?”

“Likely so… those six are blessed indeed. Perhaps in days to come they too shall walk among the immortals.”

“Bah! Had I known, this old man would have gone as well!”

Amidst the murmuring voices, the thunder’s rumble gradually waned. From within the ebbing glow of white light, broken tiles slid from a rooftop, shattering as they struck the ground.

Hiss~~

Outside the temple, where rainwater had pooled, electric currents snaked across the surface. The old donkey, its hide scorched and still smoking, trembled violently, hooves thrashing as it brayed in terror. The female ghost, Honglian, who had hidden herself within the painting, dared only peek out the tip of her head, but at the sound of the roof-tiles breaking she shrank back at once.

Sun Yingxian slumped against the courtyard wall, sitting amidst the rainwater, utterly drained, his limbs spasming faintly from time to time.

“Cursed be your mother’s grave… such thunder!”

At his side, the Toad Daoist lay sprawled upon the hem of his robe, two short legs limp, eyes vacant, cheeks twitching in and out, his mind still utterly blank.

Before them, through the curtain of falling rain, Lu Liangsheng stood motionless. Raindrops slid down his raincloak of palm-leaf and straw, dripping onto the ground. The brush in his hand was soaked by the rain and in an instant crumbled to ash, scattering into the ground and flowing away.

If one looked closely, Lu Liangsheng’s entire being seemed frozen in stillness. When Heaven’s thunder descended, the Dharma-images of buddhas and immortals he had manifested by the mingling of human and demon power had surged skyward, rising to meet the lightning.

At the moment when the might of Heaven’s Tribulation clashed against his own power, his very soul seemed to be drawn out of this world. His body remained utterly motionless, as though in meditation, yet his consciousness was sharp beyond compare—suspended in a vast, boundless void.

The demon core within him brimmed with life. The Four Elements and Six Symbols transformed into a swirling nebula, radiant as a river of stars.

“Dao…”

As he seemed to be transformed into motes of starlight, Lu Liangsheng beheld that majestic nebula, dazzling as a jeweled belt, revolving endlessly about his demon core.

“Is this my Dao?”

The word Dao echoed once more from his lips.

All around, as though Heaven and Earth were being split asunder, a thunderous roar resounded. The whirling nebula hastened its rotation, stirring his heart into turbulent waves, as though his very soul moved with it. From that vast demon core, fragments began to flake away, revealing within a blazing crimson heat like a burning sun, unbearable in its intensity.

Lu Liangsheng felt every change. His being dissolved into motes of starlight, swept along into the churning nebula. Drawn into the terrifying vortex, he rushed toward the blazing sun that lay at its center.

The nebula enfolded the flaming demon core. The entire void quaked violently. Endless darkness cracked and peeled away, shattering into myriad points of light that scattered as stars.

The Four Elements and Six Symbols wrapped tightly about the demon core, condensing into a perfect sphere. Bit by bit, a golden radiance suffused it. Within his vision, Heaven and Earth arose: mountains heaved upward from the land, golden light shone like the sun, and all things upon the earth sprang forth in growth.

The Golden Core was complete. Within, a small cosmos could now be beheld.

“This is my Dao!”

Cold raindrops slid from the ends of his hair, striking his eyelids. His lashes quivered, and slowly, Lu Liangsheng opened his eyes. A tranquil light rested in his gaze as he swept it across the scene—a withered well nearby.

His rain-dampened lips parted slightly.

“Recuperate well. Guard this place of Yin-fiend energy for a time. When your spirit is restored, you may depart of your own will. Yet should you face danger, you may come to Mount Qixia and seek me.”

Turning toward the courtyard wall by the temple’s gate, he stooped to lift his master—whose mind was still vacant—onto his shoulder, and with a hand gently smoothed the Daoist’s crown. 

At his touch, the man’s spasming limbs gradually calmed.

“Come. Let us go.”

His voice carried no ripple of emotion. With a beckoning gesture, a wide-brimmed straw hat flew from the open window to his hand. He settled it upon his head, the brim half-veiling his eyes, which turned toward the old donkey not far away. The beast struggled to rise, forelegs bent upon the ground. Along its spine, dark, hardened scales had emerged. Its limbs had lengthened, hooves grown thick and heavy.

Hiss~~~

Ang~~!

The donkey’s neck shook violently, coarse mane surging in wild growth, flinging rainwater from its hairs. Its face twisted, muzzle elongating into a fanged snout. Beneath the skin of its skull, bones pushed outward, swelling horns yet to break through. The cry in its throat warped, transforming into a dreadful roar: “Hou’ang——!” Its eyes squeezed shut in agony.

Puff!

The swelling burst open. Bone pushed upward in cylindrical growth, branching and angling outward, sharpening to a point. The beast convulsed in agony, hooves thrashing against the ground and splashing up sheets of rainwater. Behind it, the long tail cracked through the air like a whip; from its once-bald tip sprouted a tuft of coarse hair that danced in midair.

A lion’s mane, the antlers of a stag, the body of a great elk, dragon’s scales upon its hide, and the tail of a bull—its bearing was at once elegant and awe-inspiring, a sight that could strike terror into the heart.

Its eyes, tightly clenched shut, suddenly snapped open—pupils vertical and glowing with a faint yellow light. Its four hooves locked firm, and as a pair of fleshy whiskers sprouted beneath its chin, it threw back its head. Muzzle agape to the heavens, it let out a thunderous roar.

“Hou’ang——!”

Lightning crackled and leapt across its scaled body, arcs snapping wildly through the rain.

“Y-you… you…”

The Daoist, back pressed hard against the wall, stared in trembling shock at the beast wreathed in thunder-light. His lips quivered uncontrollably.

“Th-this poor Daoist dares not ride you anymore… by the ancestors, you’ve turned into a Qilin!”

Even Lu Liangsheng himself was taken aback. He had not expected that while he endured Heaven’s Tribulation and forged his Golden Core, the old donkey would also be blessed with such fortune. Its transformation into a Qilin must have had something to do with that strange egg it devoured back in his master’s cave upon Mount Qi and when he drew down the thunder, the beast must have shared in its baptism.

As he pondered, the Qilin tossed its mane, its tiger-like eyes fixing on him. Then it split its long muzzle in a toothy grin—tongue lolling foolishly from its mouth. With a happy clatter of hooves, it bounded toward him in short, playful leaps, lowering its head to lick his hand.

“You still remember me…”

Lu Liangsheng hesitated, then reached out to stroke its head. “Would you still be willing to carry my book-rack?”

The old donkey nodded at once. It wheeled about and galloped into the temple, drawing a startled scream from Honglian within the painting. Moments later, it trotted back, two book-racks hanging rattling from its sides, reins clenched neatly in its jaws, which it dropped before the scholar.

“Haha…”

Lu Liangsheng chuckled softly. He ran his hand once more along the mane at its neck, then set the racks upon its scaled back. From within the painting, Honglian’s voice came in a hushed whisper:

“Young Master, is this truly that old donkey of yours?”

“It is indeed…”

Lu Liangsheng sighed. Taking up the reins, he beckoned to the still-dazed Daoist. “Come. Let us be off. There are people waiting for me ten li ahead, at the roadside pavilion.”

“Uh… okay…”

The Daoist swallowed hard, following cautiously behind the old donkey, glancing left and right at every step. After some time, he grew bold enough to reach for the long tail swaying behind it.

“I don’t even know if it’s lin or qi…” [TL_Note: The word 麒麟 (qílín) refers to the mythical beast qilin, often likened to a unicorn or the Japanese kirin. The character 麒 (qí) represents the male aspect, while 麟 (lín) represents the female aspect. Though commonly joined as qílín, in older usage they could be spoken of separately as a pair (qi for male, lin for female).]

Snort!

The old donkey turned its head, glaring at him with crackling arcs of lightning. Startled out of his wits, the Daoist leapt back several paces. From within the painting, Honglian’s laughter rang out, light and clear, echoing through the rain-drenched gloom.

Outside the ruined Lanruo Temple, the six elders who had been watching stood with mouths agape. At the sound of that laughter fading into the forest, their eyes rolled back, and they all collapsed in a faint.

On the muddy road of the southern outskirts, a pavilion sheltered a small group of figures, though all were drenched through by the driving rain. Not far off, a tree stood charred black, its trunk still crackling with fire.

Yang Jian fared the best—his cousin Yang Su had raised wards to hold off wind and rain—yet the others were in a pitiful state. Gazing for a moment at the burning tree, Yang Jian turned back to his kinsman.

“Do you all have to deal with thunderstorms like this while cultivating your Dao and overcoming tribulations?”

“Yes. And the further one advances, the more perilous it becomes.” Yang Su recalled the sky filled with lightning and felt a chill within his heart. “A single misstep, and body and soul alike are annihilated.”

Yang Jian sat boldly upon the stone bench, stroking his beard as he laughed aloud. “But in truth, is it so different from what we ourselves must do? One careless move, and our clan too will perish.”

Ding… ding…

As they spoke, faint bells sounded from deep within the forest. Yang Su’s brows furrowed. He rose, peering into the rain-veiled woods. Around them, the guards—all men of martial prowess—heard it too. Every hand tightened upon the hilt of their blade.

Yang Jian himself grew curious. He pushed aside one of the guards and called out:

“Who goes there?”

“I do not know…” Yang Su shook his head. “But most likely, it is that Lu Liangsheng.”

At his words, the pupils of all present contracted sharply. From within the shadowed trees emerged a lone figure—raincloak upon his shoulders, a wide bamboo hat shading his eyes. At his side walked a beast of antlers and lion’s mane, scales dark as storm-forged iron, moving with unearthly majesty through the leaden rain.

“Qi… lin…”

Yang Su whispered the word. Yang Jian and all the guards stood dumbstruck, faces blanching, hands and feet at a loss as the pair advanced toward the pavilion.

The old donkey still retains the form of a donkey, able to shift back and forth as it wills.

As for the Tree-Demon —her tale cannot yet be told, lest the cast grow unwieldy. Soon, however, another figure you all know well will make an appearance. Go search who is the City God of Wuhu.