Chapter 9
Chapter 9: You Have Primordial Era Bloodline
Gu Shi Yi tucked the clay doll close and went out. Behind her, the old Daoist priest let out a long, hollow sigh into the wall.
By afternoon, rain began to fall in the mountains. Gu Shi Yi stumbled back to the temple soaked through, water dripping from her hair and sleeves. The clay figure in her arms, carefully shielded, stayed dry.
When she looked over, the old Daoist priest was still asleep in the same posture as when she left—facing inward, back to the room.
“Old man, you’re still sleeping?”
Gu Shi Yi went up and patted his shoulder. The old Daoist priest grunted and opened his eyes. He turned his head—and Gu Shi Yi jolted as if she’d been struck.
“Master… you… what happened to you?”
A faint gray, withered color clung to his aged face, like a layer of death qi. Gu Shi Yi’s voice shot up in panic. “Master, do you feel unwell?”
The old Daoist priest groaned and struggled to sit up, glaring at her. “This Daoist Master is fine. Stop cursing me!”
“But—”
Gu Shi Yi stared, frantic, and only then noticed it: the hair that used to be black streaked with white had turned completely white.
“M-Mas… Master…” Her voice trembled.
Following her gaze, the old Daoist priest reached up and touched his head, then snorted. “Why are you making such a fuss? People get old. That’s how it goes.”
“No!” Gu Shi Yi’s face tightened. “Master, something’s wrong. You—”
She grabbed his wrist and checked his pulse. She froze, then sprang up as if the bed had bitten her.
“Master… you… you dispersed your cultivation!”
Whether Daoist cultivator or martial artist, dispersing one’s power only showed when one’s life was ending. The old Daoist priest had grown older and weaker these years, sure—but completely emptying the power in his dantian wasn’t “getting old.” It meant he was dying.
Gu Shi Yi’s eyes turned red. His earlier words slammed back into her like a bell toll. He really had been leaving last words.
“Master!”
She dropped to her knees and clung to his legs, wailing like a child.
“Master, don’t die! If you die, what am I supposed to do?”
The old Daoist priest was shaken until his head swam. Bracing himself on the bed with both hands, he barked—yet even his voice sounded older, hoarser than before.
“How old are you? Useless thing—you’re thirty! If you hadn’t been wandering around outside with me, you’d be the mother of several children by now. What are you crying for? Who doesn’t die? When the old Daoist priest’s time comes, of course I die. Why cling on like a leech?”
Gu Shi Yi only cried harder. “Master… I don’t want you to die!”
No matter how old she was, she was still his apprentice.
If he died, she’d have no master.
The old Daoist priest’s nose went sour, but he refused to shed tears in front of her. He waved impatiently. “If you want to cry, cry after I die. Go cook. I’ve been hungry all day!”
Gu Shi Yi scrambled up, wiping her face with her sleeve as she stumbled out, choking on her own sobs.
The clay doll remained on the small table beside the bed. For a long moment, she stared at the old Daoist priest. He stared back.
“Master,” she asked softly, “is it because of me that you became like this?”
The old Daoist priest cracked a grin. “Your mind is sharper than that maidservant’s.”
The clay doll immediately dropped to her knees on the tabletop. “Master… I—”
The old Daoist priest waved her quiet. “Lower your voice. Don’t let that maidservant hear.”
He paused, then spoke with the weary patience of someone at the end of a long road.
“That mirror belongs to an immortal. How could a mortal easily take it into their body? Even with some cultivation, it wouldn’t work. I used my primordial spirit as an anchor, and I sealed its divine powers with most of my dao arts. Only then could Shi Yi barely store it… But when Shi Yi borrowed its power, she broke my seal.”
The clay doll’s head bowed lower, remorse heavy on her shoulders.
The old Daoist priest chuckled, not unkindly. “This isn’t entirely your fault. In the last two years, my dao arts weakened more and more, while the treasure mirror grew stronger and stronger. In this final month, I wasn’t even sure I could keep sealing it. What Shi Yi did only triggered its power early.”
Li Yan Er heard none of that as comfort. Guilt only tightened around her throat.
“But if we hadn’t forced the seal open,” she whispered, “you wouldn’t have injured your primordial spirit.”
The old Daoist priest laughed under his breath. “You even understand that? Looks like Shi Yi taught you quite a bit.”
The clay doll stayed kneeling, silent. If she had real eyes, she’d be crying.
The old Daoist priest waved his hand again, as if brushing away the whole matter. “Life and death are written by fate. For the old Daoist priest, my thirty years of planning turned into nothing—so be it. If I can accept it, you don’t need to choke on guilt.”
He looked at her steadily. “If you truly feel you owe me, then live well in this world. Your bond with Shi Yi is a strange kind of blessing. Now that you’re already here, you must live well… so you don’t waste her sincerity.”
Then he asked, “So. What do you plan to do?”
Li Yan Er quietly repeated what she’d discussed with Shi Yi earlier. The old Daoist priest nodded. “If you can use the corpse-borrowing soul-return technique, that’s best.”
He studied her for a moment. “Are you good with arithmetic?”
Li Yan Er blinked. “Back when I was in school, my math was pretty good.”
The old Daoist priest didn’t know what “math” meant, but he understood she could calculate. He nodded, then struggled up and trembled as he crawled toward the offering table.
Gu Shi Yi saw it and rushed back in. “Master, what are you looking for? I’ll do it!”
The old Daoist priest nodded. “Find the old coins in my bundle.”
Gu Shi Yi rummaged and pulled out three ancient coins—but she didn’t want to hand them over. “Master, in your state, you can still divine? Let me do it!”
The old Daoist priest sighed. “Your brains weren’t made for this.”
If it was fighting, casting, catching ghosts—fine. But mention the Zhou Tian, the sixty-four hexagrams, stars and constellations, all that… and this maidservant’s eyes went wide, her eyes rolled back, and out of nine openings, eight were open—except the one for understanding.
Gu Shi Yi chuckled awkwardly and finally handed the coins over. She helped him settle back onto the bed.
“Master, what are you divining?”
The old Daoist priest snapped, “When you’ll finally get married.”
Gu Shi Yi grinned. “Fine, fine. Then divine when I’ll marry, when I’ll have a son, and after I have a son, he’ll still learn dao arts from you!”
The old Daoist priest rolled his eyes. “Raising you alone is enough. You want me to raise your son too? Are you trying to work me to death?”
He sat cross-legged, cradled the coins, and muttered a string of incantations under his breath. Then he tossed all three onto his knees.
Gu Shi Yi and Li Yan Er leaned in to look. Li Yan Er didn’t understand anything, and Gu Shi Yi wasn’t much better.
“Master,” Gu Shi Yi asked anxiously, “what does it mean?”
“My power is too thin now,” the old Daoist priest said, frowning. “I can only see one layer…”
His lips moved, voice low and rhythmic. “The six lines are subtle and raise the six spirits. The azure dragon stirs, the vermillion bird is born. Gouchen and Tengshe sway… the white tiger and black tortoise harbor other thoughts…”
His brows knotted. He stared at the coins for a long time, then shook his head slowly.
“I can’t see it. I truly can’t see it.”
He hesitated, then added, “This hexagram is chaos. It seems… it seems…”
As if the eight directions were restless, as if heaven and earth were about to change—but with his current cultivation, he couldn’t glimpse the truth.
He lifted his head, eyes strange, looking at both his apprentice and the clay doll. Gu Shi Yi couldn’t take it anymore.
“Master, can you say it clearly? Every time you divine, you’re all mysterious. You talk and talk and it’s like you said nothing!”
The old Daoist priest rolled his eyes, then looked toward the clay doll and said, “The signs are messy. The four directions are unsettled. But… the south favors you. If you want the corpse-borrowing soul-return technique, go south.”
“The south?” Gu Shi Yi thought quickly. “Huang Capital is in the south, isn’t it? Master, didn’t you want to go to Huang Capital to find your Martial Nephew?”
The old Daoist priest nodded. He picked up the coins one by one, then said to the clay doll, “There’s a six-line divination classic in my bundle. Shi Yi doesn’t understand classics and calculations—giving it to her is useless. If you have time, read it.”
Li Yan Er’s chest tightened. She understood what that meant. She knelt at once, voice soft but steady.
“Yes, Master.”
That “Master” wasn’t borrowed from Shi Yi. It was her own sincere bow.
Gu Shi Yi watched, chuckling. “Master, you really picked the right person. Back in the gaokao, Yan Er ranked second in the whole school in science!”
The old Daoist priest didn’t know what “science” or “gaokao” were, but he caught the meaning: excellent at calculation. He nodded.
Seeing the clay doll lower her head again, and sensing the mood was about to turn heavy enough to make Gu Shi Yi cry all over again, he changed the subject.
“Where’s the food? Is it ready?”
“It’s simmering on the stove,” Gu Shi Yi said quickly. “I’ll check.”
She ran out and returned a moment later. “It’s ready, Master. I’ll help you out to eat.”
“Is there wine?” the old Daoist priest asked.
“You’re like this and you still want wine?”
“Why can’t I drink? Even if I die, this Daoist Master will die drunk!”
“Master, don’t say that. It hurts to hear!”
“Go, go, go!” He waved her off. “Don’t ruin this Daoist Master’s mood. Bring the wine.”
“There’s no wine left, Master!”
“Bullshit,” the old Daoist priest said. “You think I don’t know? Last year when the peach blossoms bloomed on the south hill, you made peach blossom brew and buried it under the east wall.”
“That wine isn’t aged enough yet,” Gu Shi Yi muttered. “If we drink it now, it’ll be a bit harsh…”
“This Daoist Master wants it harsh!”
Gu Shi Yi had no choice. She dug up the jar, cracked the mud seal, and poured the amber liquid into a bowl. The old Daoist priest sniffed it—spicier than it should be, less mellow. He nodded with satisfaction.
“Harsh is good. This Daoist Master likes it harsh.”
He held the bowl with both hands, trembling as he raised it. Gu Shi Yi’s throat tightened. It hadn’t even been long, but Master already looked older—like the rain had washed years onto his face.
He drank the whole bowl, set it down, wiped his mouth, then turned his palm up. Several teeth lay there like pale stones.
Gu Shi Yi gasped.
The old Daoist priest burst into laughter. “So I’m really dying now—my teeth are falling out!”
“Master!” Gu Shi Yi cried, eyes red.
“What are you crying for?” the old Daoist priest snapped, and with the next spit, another tooth came loose. “I’m just going to the Underworld Court. What’s there to fear? I’ve walked the mortal world for years and piled up merit. Over there, won’t I be served with incense and paper money?”
Gu Shi Yi cried anyway, voice breaking. “Master, I don’t want you to die. Or… or don’t go. Stay here with me!”
The old Daoist priest spat again. “Nonsense! People’s life and death have their own fixed number. Live well while you live, and die well when you die. If it’s time to go, then go. I’ve built up merit in this life—next life I’ll be reborn into some rich noble household. Why would I stay here and be a wandering ghost with you? Wouldn’t I be losing out!”
Gu Shi Yi had nothing to say. She only cried.
The old Daoist priest drank another bowl. Then, seeing her shaking with grief, he let out a long sigh.
“Stop crying. Life and death are nothing but a long goodbye…”
After a pause, he added, “You foolish maidservant. You were born with a pure yin body. I originally planned that once this matter was settled, I’d find a way to send you to a cultivation sect. If you cultivated, you’d get twice the results with half the effort. But you forced your own essence into the treasure mirror. Now you still have a pure yin body, but you no longer have primordial yin. Cultivating in the future will be hard.”
Gu Shi Yi’s tears trembled on her lashes.
The old Daoist priest patted the top of her head, voice lower. “Silly child. Listen—let the old Daoist priest tell you one more thing. Back then I examined your bones. There’s a strange primordial era bloodline in you. I don’t know which ancestor was from the Demon Clan, but you also have a pure yin body. That’s what I valued, so I tricked you and took you away. Now that you’ve lost primordial yin, if you still want to walk the cultivation path, you can only find a way through your bloodline.”
Gu Shi Yi jerked her head up, stunned enough to forget to cry.
The old Daoist priest nodded, satisfied that she was finally listening.
“Listen carefully. That strange primordial era bloodline of yours carries a hint of lust. Do you think I refused to let you get close to men all these years, and kept you unmarried even as you neared thirty, only because of the treasure mirror?”
Gu Shi Yi stared at him, blank.
The old Daoist priest sighed. “What I feared was that you’d marry too early. If your will wasn’t mature and you learned about men and women, it would trigger the bloodline in you. Later you’d fall into an abyss of lust and never crawl out. With pure yin power, plus all these years practicing Daoist heart-clearing arts, you originally wouldn’t have faced this tribulation… but now…”
He paused, then said each word as if hammering it into her bones.
“Silly child. Remember this. In the future, you must guard your dao heart and never break the chastity vow lightly. Yin hides yang, and yang hides yin. After you lose primordial yin essence, you can use the yang-harvesting yin-supplementing method to restore your essence. But ordinary men can’t withstand you. So… you must find a man with primordial yang, or a man who cultivates domineering primordial yang dao arts, before you can do it. Remember.”
Gu Shi Yi had never heard him speak like this. Tears still clung to her face, and her mouth hung open wide enough to swallow an egg.
“Master… then do you know what kind of great demon my ancestor was?”
“What great demon?” the old Daoist priest snorted. “In the old Daoist priest’s view, your ancestral founder was definitely Demon King stage!”
In this world, countless plants and spirit beasts had gained intelligence, taken human form, and wandered among mortals. But to hold a human shape for long periods and still produce human descendants required frightening strength. And to produce healthy descendants… that was Demon King stage territory.