Chapter 28: A Book Born of Heaven

The leopard, with a childlike heart, spoke frankly, "You clay idol, your words are truly unreliable. Either it can be used or it can't—what does it have to do with looking at the two of us?"

The Mountain God of Mount Funiu, his face tinged with embarrassment, replied, "It's a long story. This object is kept in the Mountain God Temple. If my benefactor would allow, I shall retrieve it for your inspection, and all will become clear."

"There's no rush yet. Does this tiger demon dwell in this cave all the time? Is there nowhere else?" the leopard asked.

The Mountain God shook his head and added, "That demon sometimes vanishes after maintaining the formation. I suspect there may be a hidden secret within this cave."

Upon hearing this, Cao Kong pondered for a moment, then employed the treasure-appraising technique passed down by the Yellow Lion Spirit—Soul Recognition Art.

At once, the scene before his eyes subtly changed. On the broadsword atop the tiger demon's brow, a faint aura shimmered—dim, only half as bright as that of the Yellow Lion Spirit's weapon.

Cao Kong's gaze then shifted with surprise to a section of the cave wall, behind which an even stronger aura flowed, outshining the broadsword.

"As expected, there's a secret here. This tiger demon is quite wealthy," Cao Kong thought to himself. He unsheathed the broadsword and approached the stone wall, tapping it with the blade. The stone rippled, revealing the fluctuation of magical power.

The Mountain God was amazed at Cao Kong's keen perception. Observing the orthodox Daoist energy that enveloped Cao Kong, the Mountain God couldn't help but feel a pang of envy.

How fortunate to have a legitimate Daoist lineage—not like himself, a mountain spirit of humble origin, bullied with no one to speak for him.

Cao Kong tightened his grip, channeled his magic into the blade, and struck the wall with force. With a thunderous crash, the wall shattered, revealing a hidden alcove.

Inside stood a massive stone bed, clearly the tiger demon's resting place, upon which rested three wooden boxes.

Cao Kong's eyes brightened—who doesn't enjoy opening a mysterious chest?

With a thought, golden light flared around him for protection, and with a wave of his hand, a gust of wind swept the boxes open.

Three items met his gaze: a book, a porcelain bottle, and another small wooden box.

With a thought, the book flew into Cao Kong's hand. Its cover bore the characters "Fiery Tail," which startled him—could this truly be a descendant of Fiery Tail Tiger?

But if this was a true inheritor of the exalted Twenty-Eight Constellations, how could he commit such evils as devouring humans and imprisoning spirits?

Besides, to judge solely by the techniques within was far too hasty.

Cao Kong pressed his brows, then dismissed the thought. Even if the demon was a true descendant, so what? Was he not also backed by a powerful patron?

He opened the book and read. There were about a dozen techniques and formations within, and the more Cao Kong read, the darker his expression grew. Most of them were blood rituals requiring human sacrifice.

There were methods for refining human blood, harvesting resentment, cultivating sinister blood-fire; others called for human bones and evil energies to forge sealing formations.

From start to finish, only two techniques could be called righteous: one drew on the power of the Fiery Tail star to cultivate fire arts; the other was a concealing formation.

Cao Kong exhaled slowly. Such wicked arts—he would never practice them. Misfortune and disaster would surely follow, but more importantly, they betrayed his very nature.

With a surge of power, he shattered all the evil techniques in the book, leaving only the two righteous arts.

He next turned to the porcelain bottle. Opening it, a stench of blood assailed him. Inside was thick, dark blood, chilling to the bone, laden with vengeful resentment.

This was human blood, refined for cultivating the evil blood-fire techniques, useful for corrupting one's own or another's magic.

Utterly vile and unclean—touching it would bring great misfortune and erode one's virtue.

Cao Kong's expression twisted in disgust as if he had seen a venomous scorpion. Without hesitation, he unleashed his magic. The porcelain bottle shattered, and golden light enveloped the contents, reducing it to nothingness.

"This tiger demon died far too easily," Cao Kong said coldly.

The leopard and the Mountain God both agreed, the latter's face especially dark, as though recalling bitter memories.

Cao Kong turned to the final item, wary—would it be yet another evil object?

He opened the box and was instantly greeted by a fragrant aroma. Inside lay a spiritual herb, three-leafed and softly glowing. This time, Cao Kong's delight was genuine—he recognized it at once.

It was the Soul-Nourishing Herb, an exceedingly rare plant that grew only in secluded, yin-rich places, requiring a century to mature.

It was recorded in the "Manual of Wine Arts" as the main ingredient for brewing Soul-Cleansing Wine. If successfully brewed, drinking this wine had two effects: it could strengthen the soul, and, by harnessing the wine's potency, temporarily enhance one's insight—a marvelous aid to cultivation and learning.

Cao Kong's mood lightened considerably. He replaced the herb in its box and stowed it carefully on his person.

The three then made their way out. Gazing at the piles of bones and severed limbs within the cave, Cao Kong said softly, "This place is accursed. It should be destroyed."

He cast a spell, invoking the fire arts taught by Ao You, and unleashed a sea of flames.

The three retreated to the cave entrance to watch.

Outside, torrential rain poured down as if to cleanse the world, while within, the raging fire blazed as if to burn away all sin.

After a quarter of an hour, Cao Kong watched the fire still roaring within the cave, then looked up at the relentless downpour and murmured, "Come."

At his command, the rain above seemed to heed his call, gathering into a dragon that surged into the cave.

In the blink of an eye, the flames recoiled as if stung, drawing back and extinguishing.

Soon, not a spark or wisp of smoke remained—only ashes on the ground bore witness to the inferno that had raged inside.

The Mountain God bowed deeply. "Benefactor, what remarkable skill. I shall return to my post at the Mountain God Temple and fetch the treasured book for you."

As he spoke, wisps of incense smoke drifted from his clay body, and his form began to fade, vanishing on the spot.

Meanwhile, in the ruined temple, a clay idol suddenly appeared out of thin air. The idol's golden body was cracked and battered, echoing the temple's dilapidation.

Cao Kong was astonished by this mysterious technique—he could not comprehend it at all.

In less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, incense smoke gathered once more, and the Mountain God's face reappeared before Cao Kong, holding a book—this one untitled.

The Mountain God smiled wryly, "One day, as I was tending the earth's veins, a breeze swept through, collided with the energy, and this book appeared."

He handed the book to Cao Kong, who took it—the cover was cool and smooth as jade.

As he held it, a line of tiny characters emerged on the originally blank cover, and he read aloud, "This book is born of Heaven. Those with spiritual clarity and profound understanding may read as they wish."

As Cao Kong spoke, the Mountain God added helplessly, "Since I obtained this book, I've never seen any content within. I know it's a treasure, but I can't read it, nor do I know how..."

He trailed off, eyes widening in sudden realization. Had his benefactor just been reading from the book? What did it mean, 'those with spiritual clarity and profound understanding may read as they wish'?

At that moment, the leopard leaned in, reading aloud as well:

"Those with great fortune may see the whole; those with insight may comprehend in meditation; the fated may glimpse a word by chance; the dull and ordinary are not destined to read at all."

With every line the leopard recited, the Mountain God's face darkened further, until by the end, it was nearly black as coal.