Chen Shi had also begun to notice something wrong with his grandfather.
He reeked of a strange odor, eerily similar to that scholar ghost at the village entrance—both were oddly fond of the scent of incense smoke.
And lately… Grandpa hadn't eaten a single meal in front of him. Instead, Chen Shi had caught him several times secretly gnawing on candles—one after another, like chewing on radishes.
He even suspected that the chickens and ducks that had recently dropped dead in the yard… might very well have been drained of blood by his grandfather!
Yet to Chen Shi, no matter what Grandpa had become, he was still family—his closest blood kin.
"Heiguo, take him to drink his medicine," Grandpa said flatly.
Outside the Chen courtyard, a large black dog wagged its tail obediently. It trotted forward and gently bit onto Chen Shi's sleeve, pulling him toward home.
Behind them, the giant floating human head reappeared, drifting through the air.
In the heart of the village, the ancient tree stood still—yet its branches moved. One of its limbs cracked through the air like a whip, striking the massive human head with a loud smack, sending it flying away into the night.
The bitter scent of medicinal herbs began to spread.
Chen Shi drank an entire basin of dark broth, his belly round and swollen as he sat in the steaming medicinal cauldron. That basin of medicine was his dinner.
Under the cauldron, a fire crackled. The big black dog sat watchfully in front of the flames. Though a dog, it had the kindest of faces. When the fire began to die down, it fetched a stick of firewood in its mouth and tossed it into the flames.
The medicinal broth gurgled and bubbled, hot steam rising. Chen Shi grimaced, gritting his teeth.
"Heiguo, stop burning! Any hotter and I'll be cooked!" he yelped.
Heiguo—the name of the black dog. Literally "Black Pot."
It was because both grandfather and grandson often got into trouble and let the dog take the blame.
Grandpa had found Heiguo years ago and raised him on leftover scraps. The dog had grown up clever, able to understand human speech. Kind-hearted and loyal, it blinked at Chen Shi, then quietly tossed a few more sticks into the fire, as if curious to see whether Chen Shi would cook through.
The boy cried out from the heat for a while… but gradually quieted down.
He seemed to have grown used to the temperature.
The youth relaxed in the hot cauldron, leaning lazily against the edge, his fingers reaching up to the back of his head where he found a long scar.
He had little memory of how the scar came to be.
In fact, there was much he didn't remember. He couldn't recall his parents' faces, couldn't recall whether he'd ever gone to school, couldn't even remember someone prying open his skull.
When he had first woken up years ago, his head had throbbed with splitting pain. All around him was darkness. Cold, endless darkness.
In that darkness, he'd heard a strange, heavy, ancient voice—like it came from beyond the stars, guiding him forward.
He walked toward the voice, step by step, not knowing how long he'd traveled. Until finally, he saw a thread of light.
As he entered that light, the darkness receded like a receding tide. Slowly, the world around him brightened.
Only then did he realize: he was sitting in a giant medicinal cauldron, steam rising, the bitter scent of herbs choking his nose. Beside the cauldron stood a towering, broad-shouldered white-haired old man—and at his feet, a black dog tending the fire.
When he'd opened his eyes, the old man had hugged him tightly, trembling with emotion.
Later, Chen Shi learned that this old man was his grandfather.
He had been unconscious for a long, long time, and Grandpa had never left his side, using every rare and precious spiritual herb he could find to save his life.
Chen Shi remembered nothing from before the age of nine. All his memories started from the moment he woke up in the cauldron.
Strictly speaking, he was only two years old.
"So it was because someone dug out my divine embryo… That's why I became like this."
He recalled what he'd overheard from the purple-robed woman and her companions.
"I'm not some naturally useless cripple! I can cultivate too! I can become a favored child of the heavens! Li Xiaoding—the deputy magistrate's son from Shuiniu County… what grudge did we have?! Why would you do this to me?!"
Anger welled in his chest.
For two years, he had soaked in this cauldron day after day. The medicine within changed frequently—filled with bizarre herbs, even venomous snakes and scorpions at times.
He had always assumed it was to treat an illness… but what kind of illness required this much pain?
Now he finally knew the truth. Every bit of his suffering had been caused by that so-called noble young master—Li Xiaoding!
"But…"
Chen Shi frowned, puzzled. "My skull has long healed. So why does Grandpa still make me soak in the cauldron every day?"
Just then, the temperature dropped.
Even the fire beneath the cauldron dimmed, flickering green instead of its usual warm orange.
Grandpa had come into the house.
Chen Shi peeked out the corner of his eye. In the shadowed corner of the room, his grandfather stood motionless, face obscured in the dark.
He couldn't tell what Grandpa was doing—only that he was watching him. Sometimes with tenderness… other times, with murderous intent.
Chen Shi had seen that kind of killing intent before—in the eyes of a wounded leopard.
He had once tried to approach a bleeding leopard to bandage its wounds. But the moment their eyes met, a chill ran down his spine. That was the instinct of a beast under mortal threat. That was the aura of death.
After a long silence, Grandpa turned and left the room.
The fire flared back to life. The room warmed.
Chen Shi secretly let out a breath.
Heiguo did the same, quietly adding a few more sticks of wood. But his jaws trembled. Even the dog could sense Grandpa's murderous aura.
Both man and dog knew:
Grandpa was still Grandpa…
…but he was no longer human.
The old Grandpa had the smell of people.
The new one did not.
Inside the cauldron, the medicinal soup had turned clear. Chen Shi could feel strange currents surging within, slipping into his pores like countless tiny worms, boring through flesh and bone, through muscle, organs, and marrow.
Though he was submerged in liquid, it felt like he was engulfed in flames—his entire being, body and soul, was being scorched and refined.
He trembled involuntarily.
He'd long grown used to the pain, yet it never became any easier.
When the medicine's power had fully dispersed, and the liquid was clear as spring water, Chen Shi finally climbed out of the cauldron.
A ghostly green claw mark lay just over the left side of his chest—five sharp fingers splayed, as if an invisible ghost hand were gripping his heart.
Every time he finished a bath in the medicine, the mark would fade. But after a while, it would return again, just as sharp.
The mark had always been there. Since he could remember, it had never disappeared.
He dressed and stepped into the courtyard.
From the room next door came Grandpa's voice, low and wavering:
"…Atang, when are you coming home? I know you're busy… but no matter how busy, you have to come home, right… I'm old now… not much time left… Shi'er's still young, he needs someone to care for him… Take him to the city… I know it's hard, but he's your son, whether you accept it or not…"
Chen Shi stood in the yard, motionless.
His grandfather was also a cultivator. Chen Shi had no idea what his true cultivation level was—but whenever they entered the mountains together, not once had they encountered danger.
Now, he must be using a Thousand-Mile Communication Talisman to speak with Chen Tang—Chen Shi's father.
A man he had never once seen.
Maybe he had seen him before his divine embryo was taken, but since waking up… not once.
He had no memory of his mother either.
Not once.
Chen Shi pushed away the thoughts, sat cross-legged, and silently began circulating the Three Lights Righteous Qi Technique. Starlight shimmered above, flowing into his body, nourishing his blood, growing his qi.
But no matter how long he cultivated, the qi always dispersed—none of it would remain.
Still, he refused to give up.
Late into the night, after his training, he lay down to rest.
Not long after, Grandpa appeared beside his bed like a sleepwalker—silent, unmoving. He stood there, his shadow falling across Chen Shi's face.
His figure swayed—forward, backward—yet made no sound.
The suffocating killing intent returned, filling the small room like heavy fog.
It was silent.
But oppressive.
After an unknown stretch of time, the window creaked open by itself. Grandpa straightened—and silently flew out the window.
"Smelled something tasty…"
He muttered in a dazed voice. His figure vanished into the night.
Heiguo raised his head, alert. After glancing once around the yard, he tucked his snout back into his paws and went back to sleep.
Back in the room, Chen Shi opened his eyes slowly, exhaling in relief.
"Grandpa must be sick. He doesn't really want to kill me," he told himself.
But just then—agony tore through his chest!
He doubled over, curling like a boiled shrimp, skin flushed red as veins bulged all over.
He bit down on his blanket, unable to cry out or breathe. His whole body trembled, soaked in sweat.
Through blurred vision, he saw the green ghostly claw mark on his chest begin to move—the fingers curling inward, squeezing his heart!
This wasn't the first time.
Every few days, the pain returned. Sometimes, it knocked him out completely, casting him into nightmares filled with towering, terrifying shadowy figures in the dark—each extending scaled, black hands toward him.
In the past, Grandpa would always appear in time to save him.
But this time… Grandpa was gone.
Teeth clenched, Chen Shi forced himself to stand. His legs buckled. He fell from the bed.
He gritted his teeth again, dragged himself up, and began to walk the Beidou Seven Star Steps, fingers forming seals—thumb to pinky, right hand locked within the left.
In the cramped room, he walked the sacred path, muttering:
"Heaven's beginning, only gods are supreme. When chaos clouds the truth, only ghosts deceive men. Observe the heavenly way, walk the divine path. Cultivate blazing righteous qi, refine the holy embryo and divine body!"
He activated the Three Lights Righteous Qi Technique. Starlight drifted in through the open window, like fireflies in the night, landing on his skin, sinking into flesh and bone.
As the technique circulated, the pain began to subside.
The green claw mark loosened—finger by finger—no longer clutching his heart.
"Just what is this ghost claw on my chest? Why is it there?"
Eventually, the pain faded. Chen Shi, drenched in sweat, looked toward the moonlit window.
Moonlight bathed the courtyard in silver shadows.
"If I could draw sunlight and moonlight into my body—refining both solar and lunar righteous qi—perhaps this ghost claw wouldn't hurt anymore… But no matter how I cultivate, the sun and moon never respond to me."
Then, a sudden thought surged through his mind—an unsettling question:
"The sun… is said to be the twin eye of the true god in the heavens. The moon… his vertical pupil. So why do they rise and fall? Why does the moon wax and wane?"
"Could it be… there are other suns and moons?"
"Is that what the Three Lights Technique really gathers?"
Curious, Chen Shi leaned out the window and looked up at the sky. The moon hung high, bright and mysterious.
The vertical eye of the god beyond the stars.
"But if there are other suns and moons… why can't we see them?"
Lying back in bed, his thoughts swirled.
Above him, the divine eye watched. Cold. Silent.
Over the mountain forest, the floating human head streaked across the sky, struck by a sudden ray of light. It plummeted to the hills below.
Moments later, a tall figure emerged from the dark and began to feast upon the fallen head, blood soaking the earth.
"Mmm… Delicious… Ghosts taste better than humans!"