No taboos in the world

Chapter 279 Lingchen
The breeze is blowing and the moon is dancing.

A crow flew by, cawing, and its dark shadow cast on the window, making the scene feel even more eerie.

A small fire was burning in the shabby room.

Snapped!
A rising spark suddenly exploded, and the scattered particles bloomed like fireworks above the fire.

In the middle of the night, the shadows of the houses swayed gently with the flickering of the flames.

Like a ferocious evil spirit.

The bamboo bed next to the brazier creaked, and then two bare feet were seen stepping on straw sandals.

The leaves outside the house rustled, and the wind that came from nowhere blew the flames back and raised dust.

"Cough cough!"

He used his hands alternately to fan away the white ash floating in front of his eyes, and after a moment, a childish face was revealed.

The eyebrows are like ink paintings and the eyelashes are long.

Although his eyes were filled with fatigue, it could not conceal the bright starlight in them.

however.

Pale face and chapped lips.

The hair is dry and yellow, like some grass.

He looks no more than seven or eight years old, but he looks very sick.

To be honest, there are signs of premature death.

Hong Chen licked his cracked lips, took a breath, and slowly moved his butt off the bed. He squatted on the ground, leaned his back against the bed, and took a few breaths before reaching out to pick up the blackened pottery jar beside the brazier.

Open the lid and warm steam rises.

Slowly lift the jar and swallow it gently, one mouthful after another.

for a long time.

He held the jar and let out a long breath.

He stuck out his tongue to moisten his lips, then covered the pot and put it back.

The floor of the main room was made of compacted earth, and there was a pit next to the brazier, which fit perfectly with the base of the pottery jar.

He pulled out some chopped firewood from under the bed and carefully threw it into the brazier. When he saw the new firewood burning, he grabbed the edge of the bed and sat back with difficulty.

He twisted his buttocks and lifted his legs onto the bed.

He pulled a thin quilt to cover his legs and was about to lie down when he suddenly paused, as if in a daze, for a long while.

Then he unbuttoned his gray coarse cloth outer garment and gently pushed aside his slightly soft inner garment.

The protruding ribs can be clearly seen on the thin chest.

Looking down, even he himself couldn't help but feel horrified by the scene before him.

The left side of the chest, where the heart should be, is now empty.

An irregular hole.

The surrounding skin was charred, and black lines of varying depths and thicknesses were like spider webs, clinging to the skin and radiating in all directions.

The inner wall of the hole was covered with a dense network of red blood vessels, and fresh flesh, broken ribs and other exposed organs could be seen inside.

The breeze passed through the hideous holes and blew up the clothes behind him.

It also sent a slight chill down his spine.

Or maybe it was because he saw all of this at that moment that a chill rose from the soles of his feet, passed through his spine, and rushed straight to his head.

Yeah, I'm heartless.

If it were before this, he would have to ask: How can a heartless person live?
But now, he didn't dare to ask.

I even have to restrain myself from thinking about it.

Because he always remembers the "Death of Bi Gan" in the Romance of the Investiture of the Gods - vegetables can live without heart, but people will die without heart.

God knows why I found out that I had lost my heart just after I came here this time.

What's even more bizarre is that he is still alive even though he has no heart.

Fortunately, the ten thousand years of true qi is still there, and the nine dragon auras are still there. Although he looks like he is about to die, he is actually very powerful.

So Hong Chen was not particularly scared.

He shook his head, moving uncharacteristically quickly.

Close your inner garment, fasten your outer garment, lie down gently, and cover yourself with the quilt.

Close your eyes.

Exhale.

After a long time, I saw the closed eyelids suddenly rise and fall, obviously he was sleeping restlessly.
-
The morning light passed through the window sills, casting shadows of varying sizes on the uneven ground. The singing of birds replaced the chirping of insects at night.

Ashes accumulated in the brazier.

The door was pushed open from the outside, and the quilt on the bed was also lifted.

The man had a square face, a peach wood sword on his back, and his eyebrows were straight, almost connecting into a line.

He stepped over the threshold with his cloth shoes stained with mud, carefully holding an old sandstone flowerpot in his arms, with several corners of the rim missing.

The pot was filled with black soil, with a stem thinner than a chopstick growing in the middle, and a solitary leaf hanging from the three-inch-high top.

On the bed, Hong Chen heard the noise, slowly turned his head, and pretended to sit up with difficulty.

The Taoist priest sat beside the bed and placed the flower pot on the low table beside his bed.

"The most important thing for you from now on is to take good care of it."

"what is this?"

"Tree."

"Tree? What tree?"

The other party glanced at him, his brows tightened, and his eyes looked even sharper.

"Okay, I won't ask anymore."

“You must take good care of it.”

“Well, I will make watering and fertilizing my daily habit.”

The Taoist shook his head: "No."

He glanced at Hong Chen's sick face and said, "It only needs one thing."

"what?"

The Taoist took out a rusty dagger from his sleeve: "Your blood."

Hong Chen looked at the dagger and couldn't help twitching his face.

He sighed and said carefully: "Master, let's not talk about whether it is right or wrong to water the tree with blood. I'm afraid this dagger alone can take my life."

One sword kills tetanus, two swords kills the ancestors.

The Taoist priest said nothing, but his bony, rough-skinned palm rubbed across the dagger.

Suddenly, all the rust fell off, revealing a blade shining with cold light.

He handed me the dagger and said, "Three drops of blood a day, one drop each in the morning, noon and evening. Be sure to drop them on the leaves or trunk of the tree."

"……it is good."

"Remember, if it lives, you live; if it dies, you die."

"Hiss...I understand!"

The Taoist priest stood up, walked to the door, then suddenly turned around and looked at Hong Chen.

Seeing this, Hong Chen forced a smile on his pale face: "Master, my name is Hong Chen."

The Taoist nodded: "I remember, get up, after breakfast, I will teach you a way to strengthen your body."

"Ok!"

After the Taoist priest left, Hong Chen lifted the quilt and stood up slowly.

He picked up the still warm pottery jar and drank a sip of water, then went to a corner of the room to fetch water for washing.

He was looking forward to today's arrangements.

Because that Taoist priest is the legendary Holy Master of All Realms—Uncle Nine.

But in Uncle Jiu's world, practicing Taoism is a real thing.

Although it is not a direct way to cultivate immortality, it can at least lay the foundation.

Three days ago, Hong Chen, who had just traveled through time, lost his heart and was rescued by Uncle Jiu who happened to pass by.

The biggest impact of losing his heart on Hong Chen was that all his practice inevitably came to a standstill.

Although he couldn't say that he could grow a new heart with the help of Uncle Jiu, he would be barely satisfied if the Taoism of Maoshan could allow him to start practicing again.

After washing, he picked up the dagger and poked it lightly on his fingertips.

Suddenly, a bright red drop of blood oozed out.

Dropping onto the green leaf, the blood was suddenly absorbed quickly.

In an instant, a silver light seemed to flash across the leaf veins and stems at the same time.

Hong Chen stared blankly for a while, his brows gradually relaxed, he put away the dagger, turned around and walked out.

(End of this chapter)