14. The Terrifying Sea of Blood

“Entering the Dao through martial arts! I’ve succeeded at last!” Lin Fan could hardly contain his excitement. The old man had mentioned entering the Dao through martial arts many times, but how many had truly achieved it?

With the formation of the silver meridian, Lin Fan had definitively set foot on the path of cultivation.

Eagerly, Lin Fan climbed down from his sickbed. His injuries had completely healed, his skin as tender as that of a newborn, and his heartbeat thundering like a drum, circulating vital energy throughout his body. He now possessed the strength to stand against the Purple Spirit King in battle.

“If I had this power five days ago, the Purple Spirit King wouldn’t have dared to harm me!” Lin Fan thought to himself. The silver meridian was the key to cultivation, and now he felt even more confident about ingesting the Golden Crow’s blood.

To be safe, Lin Fan refrained from rushing. Although the chance of success was high, it was better to wait until a few more silver meridians had formed. He obediently lay back on his bed. His recovery was so miraculous that if word reached Huang Qiushan, that fellow would surely find ways to make things difficult for him again.

Patience. Concealment. With these thoughts, the wild joy on Lin Fan’s face faded, replaced by the demeanor of a patient quietly nursing his body.

Time flew by swiftly—three days passed. During these days, Qi Lingshan continued to bring him meals as usual, her brows etched with worry. Lin Fan had wanted several times to tell her his injuries had healed, but restrained himself, knowing the time was not yet right. Chen Cunyuan glanced at him a few times, mostly to discuss matters concerning the Netherworld Ghost Fleet.

Chen Cunyuan had followed Huang Qiushan and often found himself targeted by him, though fortunately, nothing serious had happened.

Some others were not so lucky; upon entering the Stele Forest, they were devoured by strange humanoid creatures, leaving nothing behind.

“Brother Fan, when we entered the Ghost Ridge, we saw chilling gusts of sinister wind and countless ghostly human shapes. The feeling was bone-chilling, as if it pierced through the soul.”

“Ma Yinan and Qi Yangxia were careless and ended up as nothing but skeletons.”

Chen Cunyuan’s expression was haunted, as though the scene would never leave his memory.

“What about the two who died?”

“We carried Ma Yinan and Qi Yangxia out and buried them at the exit.”

“Hmm, at least they were given a proper burial.”

Lin Fan nodded. These days, he often heard of guards or others dying unexpectedly.

Counting the one Huang Qiushan had thrown out, already five had perished.

“Brother Fan, take good care of your injuries!” Chen Cunyuan said before leaving the ward. He had little time to rest, spending his days following Huang Qiushan in search of food.

“Chen Cunyuan has been targeted quite a bit these past three days, huh? Looks like I need to speed up my ingestion of the Golden Crow’s blood.”

Lin Fan watched Chen Cunyuan’s retreating figure. To his eyes, black energy swirled around Chen’s body—an invasion of yin energy.

The most obvious effect of yin energy entering the body was a sensation of heaviness in the head, lightness in the feet, and an indescribable soreness all over.

These days, under the guise of resting, Lin Fan cultivated silently. Beyond the original three silver meridians, he had opened three more. His strength had reached at least a thousand jin, capable of lifting a massive cauldron.

***

Lin Fan’s left hand was far stronger than his right, a sensation that felt strange to him.

But with time, he would adjust.

Besides strength, Lin Fan’s eyes had changed. It was as if he had worn thick reading glasses for decades and suddenly took them off—his vision cleared and brightened. This was the Taoist Yin-Yang Eye, with twin pupils that could see through the realm of the dead.

He hadn’t expected to master this ability here.

“Qin Fen, do you want to go out and have a look?” Lin Fan glanced at Qin Fen in the bed next to him. Over three days, Qin Fen had grown much thinner and had become reticent. The reason was Huang Qiushan had cut their food rations, reducing steamed buns and leaving only thin porridge, with barely any rice. Once five meals a day became three.

Porridge, and a pitifully scant one at that.

Under such conditions, it was no wonder Qin Fen was wasting away.

His anger burned, cursing Huang Qiushan fiercely.

“Lin Fan, you can get out of bed and walk now?”

“My injuries aren’t as severe as you think. Mostly superficial,” Lin Fan replied as he swung his legs off the bed to demonstrate.

Lying down all the time was tiring.

“Wow! On Earth, this would be a medical miracle! How long has it been? And you can already get up?”

Qin Fen’s eyes widened. Lin Fan had been badly injured and unconscious for five days. Everyone had thought he wouldn’t wake, but he did—and now, just three days later, he was walking. It truly astonished Qin Fen.

“If you don’t go, I’ll go by myself.”

“Lin Fan, wait for me!”

Qin Fen hobbled after him, supported by crutches.

“Whoosh!”

Stepping off the bed, Lin Fan saw an ancient ship resembling bronze. The sky was pitch black, shrouded in ethereal mist. At the ship’s prow stood a towering, eerie iron pole inscribed with countless runes. To the west rose uneven towers and small burial mounds. The entire ship resembled a burial ground, somber and sinister, its atmosphere heavy with dread.

They were on the ninth deck, spanning an area equivalent to four or five football fields. Lin Fan saw enormous corpses atop distant mountains—a Golden Crow and a Blood Phoenix, two mythical beasts lying in pools of blood.

Who had killed them? Who could kill such beings?

“This is incredible… We must be on the legendary ship that leads to the mythical realm,” Qin Fen said, dumbfounded by the scene before him.

Before, Chen Cunyuan and others had described their surroundings, but none had witnessed such breathtaking sights.

It was as if their former understanding of a peaceful world was being shattered piece by piece by these visions.

***

Even Lin Fan, as the heir of True Martial Mountain, could not help but feel shaken.

“What myths do you know?”

“When Tang Monk and his disciples crossed the Flowing Sand River, Guanyin’s disciple Mucha had Sha Monk remove the nine skulls from his neck and tie them into a magic formation with a rope, attaching it to a gourd from Guanyin. This formed the ‘Dharma Ship’ to help Tang Monk’s group cross the river.”

“There’s also the ‘Bottomless Ship’ that Buddha used to ferry them. When they reached Lingyun Ferry at the foot of Mount Ling, Tang Monk shed his mortal flesh and safely crossed the immortal ferry.” Qin Fen, having studied folklore in university, was very interested in these legends.

“So, do you think we’re on the Dharma Ship or the Bottomless Ship?” Lin Fan asked.

“I think we’re on the ship made by Fuxi and Nuwa…” Qin Fen replied with complexity in his voice.

Suddenly—

“Brother Fan, look! Is there something in the sea of blood?”

Qin Fen exclaimed.

Lin Fan looked down. The water was dark red—blood, shining vividly, an endless sea of blood…

Seeing this terrified Qin Fen, who had never killed even a chicken in his life.

“Come on, jump in and be freed together!”

“Come, abandon your flesh, abandon your soul, become one of us!”

“Come! Enter the land of bliss and become an immortal or a god!”

Lin Fan’s gaze sharpened. His vision was unlike ordinary eyes; naturally, he could see the humanoid ghosts in the sea of blood. They took various forms—some with long tongues, some faceless, some mutilated—and spirits from different eras. They beckoned to Lin Fan with enticing voices.

Lin Fan even saw a ghost that resembled Wu Xuzi.

“Lin Fan… This place is terrifying, like the road to the Yellow Springs, filled with dreadful sounds,” Qin Fen said, leaning against the deck, his face pale with fear. He swore he had never seen such a horrifying sight—ghosts waving at him.

“This isn’t the road to the Yellow Springs; it’s more like a gathering place for ghosts after death from some other world.”

“If you don’t listen or look, you won’t be affected by the ghosts of the blood sea.”

In his past life, Lin Fan had followed Wu Xuzi in many rituals and could naturally distinguish the ghosts in the blood sea. They were more like the spirits of cultivators; each one would be a ghost king in their own right on Earth!

Jumping into the blood sea meant being devoured completely, leaving not a scrap behind.