Gao Yang suspected that Twelve's ability was that strange voice—one that could make a person lose focus in an instant.
Senior Brother grew taller, but thinner.
Twelve became disfigured, yet gained an ability.
So, was Foundation Building essentially an exchange of equivalence?
Gao Yang pressed further. "What's Senior Brother's ability?"
Twelve shrugged carelessly. "No idea. I heard everyone who's seen it is dead. I'm not that curious."
"Oh." Gao Yang asked casually, "My maid has a lot of wounds on her body. Do you know what happened?"
Twelve glanced at him. "I won't tell you. Sixth Senior Brother is too petty. If he found out I said anything, he'd take it out on me."
Then she covered her mouth with a playful smile. "Oops, I guess I let that slip."
Gao Yang clasped his hands. "Many thanks, Twelfth Senior Sister."
Her smile faded as she warned, "Sixth Senior Brother has failed at Foundation Building four times. Even so, he's capable. He raises insects and gu—he plans to walk the path of insects. Be cautious if you intend to confront him."
Gao Yang replied calmly, "It's not that I want to fight him, but he's been targeting me. If I don't strike back, he'll keep pushing. Today it was my maid; next time, it might be me."
Twelve asked, "How will you strike back? You can't match him yet. Just a friendly warning—when I returned earlier, I saw your maid speaking with Sixth Senior Brother's worm slave. She even accepted his money. Be careful tonight. Don't let your maid poison you with gu worms in your sleep."
Gao Yang froze, wanting to question further.
Twelve yawned. "Don't ask me. I don't know anything. If you're curious, ask your maid yourself. Oh, but before that, you'd better see Master. You might already have gu worms inside you."
Her warning was timely. Gao Yang went straight to the Immortal Mistress' residence.
Knock, knock, knock.
A maid opened the door.
"I've come to see Master," Gao Yang said.
The maid nodded and went to report. "Immortal Mistress is in the alchemy chamber. Please wait."
After a short while, she returned. "Immortal Mistress says to follow me."
Gao Yang followed her through the main hall, out the back door, and into a large courtyard.
At the center stood a pitch-black cauldron. Several maids squatted in the corners, each holding a clay jar, grinding unknown materials.
Then Gao Yang's vision split again.
In that other sight, the ground was littered with bones, and the air was thick with the stench of blood. The maids laughed and chatted cheerfully.
One picked up a femur and crushed it in her mortar.
Another pried two eyeballs from a corpse.
She sliced open the chest, pulling out heart, lungs, and liver.
Then she slit open the belly—black beetles spilled out, swarming the ground.
A maid scooped up a handful, tossing them with the organs into her clay pot.
Immortal Mistress' voice snapped Gao Yang back to reality. "Thirteen, what brings you to me?"
He blinked. The maids were merely grinding herbs. The corpses were pots of fungus; the organs, thick roots and herbs. The air was fragrant with medicine—one breath cleared his mind.
He bowed. "Master, I wanted to ask when I can begin learning the incantations and immortal techniques."
Immortal Mistress looked pleased at his diligence. "Impatient, are you? Your Foundation Building isn't yet complete. Without that, incantations are useless. Immortal techniques come after. For now, you may study some Daoist arts."
"That's fine," Gao Yang replied.
She said meaningfully, "I never forbid competition among disciples. Just don't cause deaths—that is the rule. Every event in Azure Mountain Sect reaches my ears and eyes. Understand?"
Gao Yang's scalp tingled. Did that mean she knew his secret?
If she did… would he end up like the blind senior brother—eyes gouged out, skull opened?
He quickly bowed. "Disciple understands."
Immortal Mistress conjured a bamboo slip seemingly from thin air and handed it to him. "This contains three Daoist arts. They'll be useful to your current state. Return it once you've learned them."
Gao Yang clearly saw that the bamboo slip had been regurgitated from the worm's mouth.
It was still slick with mucus as he took it.
Keeping a straight face, he accepted it. "Thank you, Master."
She waved a sleeve. "Go now. Don't disturb my alchemy."
Leaving her residence, Gao Yang eagerly unrolled the bamboo slip.
The writing wasn't in any script he recognized, yet like The Detailed Explanation of Foundation Building and the blind Senior Brother's notes, he understood it just by looking.
After reading, his expression twisted. "These are… Daoist arts?"
They were more like curses.
The first was called Seven Fiends. One must draw seven specific blood patterns across the body to replace meridians and circulate Qi.
But it was temporary—once the blood dried, the Qi would stop flowing. The cost was pain; wherever the Qi flowed, it burned like fire.
Even after Foundation Building, it could be used to temporarily boost Qi circulation speed.
The second art was Seven Wounds.
Also using blood as the medium, it required mixing one's blood equally with the enemy's and painting a talisman.
Wherever the talisman was drawn, both parties would share any injury equally. The duration depended on the blood used.
The third art was Seven Kills.
To activate it, one needed a wisp of the enemy's soul.
By devouring that soul and igniting one's own, one could trade life for life.
Crude but absolute.
Immortal Mistress was right—these arts were perfect for his situation.
They were also easy to learn.
He had joined the sect seven years later than the dwarf, weaker in every way. The only path was to fight pain with pain.
Seven Kills was less a Daoist art and more a warning: whoever killed a fellow disciple must be ready to die with them.
Without hesitation, Gao Yang tucked the bamboo slip into his robe.
Against the dwarf, he wasn't without an advantage.
He had been beaten by his father all his life. His endurance was unmatched.
If the dwarf fell under Seven Wounds, Gao Yang was sure he could make him yield first.
He went to the kitchen, took a knife and a chipped bowl.
Back in his room, he locked the door and laid the bamboo slip on the table.
"Xiao Man," he ordered, "guard the door. Don't let anyone in—not even Senior Brother."
Setting the bowl down, he took the knife and aimed it at his wrist.
After a brief hesitation, he gritted his teeth and cut down.