Under One Person: I Have a Billion Taoist Gods Within Me

Chapter 62 Wu Liuqi: You understand the assassin's mission better than I do.

Li Yuan continued westward.

As the sun gradually moved, it slowly slid from overhead toward the western mountains.

The afternoon sun shone on the official road, casting a long, slender shadow of the figure in the moon-white Taoist robe.

He didn't rush; he maintained his unhurried pace.

Each step I took was in perfect harmony with the breath of the world.

Pedestrians and merchants passed by him along the roadside; some hurried on their way, some stopped to look back, and some even rubbed their eyes.

I clearly saw people there just now, but in the blink of an eye, only the empty official road remains.

Li Yuan didn't care about any of that.

His mind was deep within the Great Luo Palace.

Within that moon-like radiance, the thread of cause and effect that had just been tied was slowly settling.

It is no longer as dazzling as when it was first born, but gradually fades into the depths of sexual light, becoming an inconspicuous thread among thousands of strands.

Li Yuan regained his composure and focused his gaze ahead.

Gradually, more and more people appeared along the official road.

Groups of farmers carried their hoes home, vendors on shoulder poles called out their last sales, and children chased and played on the ridges of the fields, their laughter ringing out.

This everyday life, day after day, year after year.

Unbeknownst to them, war was brewing in the distance.

Unbeknownst to them, the catastrophe that was about to engulf the land was drawing ever closer.

They didn't know how long their peaceful lives could last.

But they are alive.

To be alive is to have hope.

Li Yuan continued walking.

We walked through villages, through fields, and over one nameless hill after another.

As the sun began to set, he arrived at a ferry crossing.

The river is wide and flows slowly eastward.

Several fishing boats were moored on the shore, and the boatmen were tidying up their nets, preparing to go home after a day's work.

Smoke curls from the chimneys of the town on the opposite bank, and houses of varying heights can be vaguely seen.

Li Yuan paused at the ferry crossing.

The boatman looked up and saw him, paused for a moment, then grinned: "Taoist priest, are you crossing the river?"

Li Yuan nodded slightly.

The boatman quickly lowered the fishing net and called out, "Get on board! This is the last trip! Any later and you'll have to wait until tomorrow!"

Li Yuan stepped onto the bow of the boat, his moon-white Taoist robe fluttering gently in the river breeze.

The boatman started rowing, and the small boat slowly moved away from the shore.

A gentle breeze from the river caressed my face, carrying the coolness of the water vapor.

The setting sun dyed the river surface a golden red, shimmering like scattered gold.

As the boatman rowed, he sized up Li Yuan and couldn't help but ask, "Where did you come from, Daoist Master? Where are you going?"

Li Yuan gazed at the river and said calmly, "We came from where we came, and we are going to where we are going."

The boatman was taken aback, then burst into laughter: "The Taoist priest's words are just like those of the sages the storytellers talk about!"

"I don't understand any grand principles, I just know that I've been ferrying people on this river for thirty years, and I've seen all kinds of people."

"But I've never seen anyone like the Taoist priest before."

Li Yuan glanced at him sideways.

The boatman grinned and said, "Just look at it, it's like this river. It's right in front of you, but when you reach out to grab it, you can't grab anything."

"Please don't take offense at what I'm saying, Daoist Master."

A faint smile flashed in Li Yuan's eyes.

"No, it's not my fault."

The boatman rowed a few more times, then suddenly sighed, "Life goes on day by day, just like this river, flowing on and on, and we grow old."

Sometimes I wonder, what's the point of living?

"But I can't figure it out no matter how I think about it, so I've simply stopped thinking about it."

"Anyway, the boat still has to rock, and life still has to go on."

Li Yuan looked at him, and a light, barely perceptible to others, appeared in his gentle eyes.

"Being able to not think about it is a blessing in itself."

The boatman paused for a moment, then laughed again: "I like what you say, Taoist priest!"

As they spoke, the small boat had already reached the middle of the river.

Li Yuan's gaze fell upon the surging river.

The river flows eastward, never to return.

Just like the human world, day after day, year after year.

All he could do was make the river flow a little longer.

May those who work from sunrise to sunset enjoy a few more years of peace and stability.

May the children who chase and play on the ridges of the fields grow up safely.

This is his way.

The small boat docked.

Li Yuan stepped onto the ferry on the opposite bank and looked back.

The sun had already sunk halfway down, leaving only a last glimmer of golden-red on the river surface.

The boatman was rowing back, his aged figure gradually disappearing into the twilight.

Li Yuan turned around and continued westward.

Behind us, the river continues to flow eastward.

Ahead, night was falling and lights were beginning to come on.

A larger town awaited him in the twilight.

And the countless causes and effects that are waiting are also quietly lurking ahead.

The twilight, as dark as ink, permeated the mountains.

As Li Yuan stepped into the town where lights were gradually illuminating the last rays of dawn, he entered the town.

The town is strategically located at the crossroads of three rivers, and is a bustling hub of commerce.

The cobblestone streets have been polished smooth by time, and inns, taverns, and general stores line both sides of the street.

As the lanterns under the eaves were lit, their warm yellow glow spread out, casting long and short shadows of passersby that intertwined, dispersed, and intertwined again on the stone pavement, like a silent allegory of human gatherings and separations.

Li Yuan walked among them.

A white Taoist robe, spotless and immaculate, should have stood out in the midst of the everyday world.

However, as pedestrians passed by him, not a single person gave him a second glance—not peddlers carrying loads, women holding children, groups of merchants, or drunken patrons.

He seemed like just an ordinary shadow in the night.

This is what is meant by "blending with the world".

It is neither an illusion nor a trick of the eye.

Rather, it is the state of being that naturally arises from his cultivation of Tao, where his heart and mind are in harmony with the Tao and his spirit is in sync with all things.

When he wants to be seen, the world will see him; when he doesn't want to be disturbed, he blends in with all things and lives alongside the grass and trees.

He passed by pedestrians as easily as a lantern, a stone slab, or a wisp of night wind—unnoticed and unnoticed.

This is a way of being that is more profound than invisibility:

It's not about hiding oneself, but about merging into all living beings.

Upon reaching the western end of the town, Li Yuan paused slightly.

He sensed a wisp of life.

The aura was very light, as light as a spider silk suspended in the wind. If one did not possess such a profound Daoist mind that could reflect all things, one would not be able to detect it at all.

But Li Yuan caught it.

Even more strangely, that aura faintly carried a kind of—

"poison".

It's not ordinary poison, but the kind that, after being fused, tempered, and condensed with Qi, becomes part of the origin.

poison".

Li Yuan's gaze shifted slightly.

He remembered a place.

In Sichuan, the Tang Clan.

A family of assassins with a history spanning hundreds of years, renowned throughout the world for their hidden weapons and poisons.

Over the centuries, many once-powerful sects in the martial arts world have vanished, but the Tang Clan has always stood strong.

It wasn't because they had the highest martial arts skills, but because they were the best at "hiding"—hiding in the shadows, in the dark, in corners unseen by the world.

The disciples under his tutelage tested poisons on themselves from a young age, sleeping with poison day and night, living with poison night and night, refining all the world's rare poisons into their own bodies, and finally reaching the realm of "nurturing poison with the body and turning poison into qi".

Such a person makes a move without flashing blades, without the force of a palm strike, and without even any killing intent.

He just stands there, glances at you, and you're already poisoned.

He died without knowing how he was tricked, and believed that his life was over.

This is the Tang Clan.

This aura, though extremely faint, clearly carried the subtle, naturally emitted aura unique to the Tang Clan, the kind that naturally emanates after the poison has been refined into the bone marrow.

Li Yuan looked in the direction from which the breath came.

That was outside the town, in the direction of an abandoned mortuary.

In the darkness of night, the outline of the mortuary was indistinct. There were no houses or lights around, only a few old locust trees rustling in the night wind, like whispers or sighs.

Li Yuan did not hesitate.

He turned and walked towards the mortuary.

His steps remained calm and unhurried.

The mortuary appeared even more dilapidated than it did from a distance.

The door panel hung askew, barely held up to the door frame by a rusted iron ring.

The courtyard wall has mostly collapsed, and waist-high weeds grow among the broken bricks and stones.

The courtyard was overgrown with weeds up to knee-high, and several thin coffins that had not yet been placed inside were casually left under the eaves. The coffins had long since rotted, revealing the white bones inside.

The air was filled with a putrid, cold, and damp atmosphere, mixed with the stench of old corpses and decaying vegetation.

That aura of the Tang Clan emanated from deep within the mortuary.

Li Yuan crossed the collapsed courtyard wall, stepped over the knee-high weeds, and walked to the backyard.

The backyard was even more dilapidated than the front yard. A woodshed was half-collapsed, with its beams and pillars leaning and tiles scattered.

The firewood was scattered all over the ground, some of it rotten and blackened, covered with fungi.

Right next to that woodpile, a person was huddled up.

The man was in his early thirties, dressed in a dark gray outfit that was now tattered and covered in blood and dirt.

He leaned against the woodpile, his face ashen, his lips purplish-black, and his eyes sunken, clearly having been poisoned with a very potent toxin.

His chest rose and fell so faintly that it was almost imperceptible, as if he might stop breathing at any moment.

Even worse, there was a bloody hole in his left shoulder.

The edges of the blood hole were neat, not from the tearing of a sword or knife, but from the deep wound left by some kind of hidden weapon, with the white bone faintly visible.

The hidden weapon had been removed, but the flesh around the wound had an eerie bluish-black color, a sign that the poison had seeped into the bone marrow.

Li Yuan's gaze fell on the bloody hole, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Tang Clan's hidden weapons.

He himself was poisoned by the Tang Clan.

So—this is internal strife within the Tang Clan?

Or is it a pursuit by enemies? Or perhaps...

The person seemed to sense someone approaching.

On the verge of unconsciousness, on the line between life and death, he opened his eyes with difficulty, guided by the instincts of an assassin.

Those eyes were bloodshot, the whites of their eyes tinged with a faint bluish-gray, yet they remained as sharp as a wolf being hunted. Even though they were covered in wounds and on the verge of death, a flame of resentment still burned in those eyes.

He saw Li Yuan.

I saw that moon-white Taoist robe, that refined and composed face, and those warm, deep eyes.

His pupils suddenly contracted to pinpoints.

It's not fear.

Instead, it was a shock.

Even with the keen eyesight of a Tang Clan assassin, he couldn't see through the Taoist's true nature.

He couldn't even sense any natural fluctuations from the other person.

But the other person just stood there in front of him, alive and well.

There are only two possibilities:

Either this person has no cultivation and is just a mortal who doesn't know his own mortality.

Either this person's cultivation has reached a level that he simply cannot comprehend.

Would an ordinary person walk alone into this desolate mortuary in the dead of night? Would they stand before a stranger covered in blood?

will not.

So the man's lips moved, and he managed to utter a few words with difficulty: "Who...are you?"

Li Yuan did not answer.

He simply stared quietly at the person in front of him.

Looking at the wounds on his body, the edges of the blood holes were neat, marks left by the Tang Clan's "Cloud Piercing Needle".

Looking at the bruises on his face, the bluish-purple color spreading from his brow outwards was a sign of the Tang Clan's "Three Steps Down" technique.

Looking into his eyes, there was a sharpness that never faded until his death—a pride etched into the bones of an assassin.

After a moment, Li Yuan spoke.

"People from the Tang Clan."

"Poisoned, injured, being hunted down."

"They're really tough to have made it this far."

The man shuddered.

A flicker of horror flashed in those sharp eyes.

"How...how did you know..."

Li Yuan did not answer his question.

He simply bent down slightly and raised his right hand.

The movement was so slow that anyone could see it clearly and avoid it.

But the man found himself completely unable to move—not by any force, but because his body was...

His will and his instincts fell silent at that moment.

It was as if he wasn't facing a Taoist priest.

But it's—the heavens!

Li Yuan's fingertips touched his wrist pulse.

In less than three breaths.

He withdrew his hand.

"Within half an hour, the poison will penetrate your bone marrow."

"Within an hour, the poison penetrated into the five internal organs, and even a god could not save him."

"One within two hours"

Li Yuan paused, his gaze falling on the man's face: "You will die a painful death."

The man's face was deathly pale, but he still gritted his teeth and said, "I know."

"You don't need to tell me."

Li Yuan looked at him, a faint hint of approval flashing in his eyes.

"Aren't you afraid of dying?"

The man twitched the corner of his mouth, revealing a bitter smile: "People of the Tang Clan know from a young age how they will die."

"Dying from poison, dying from hidden weapons, dying in a mission."

"What's the difference?"

"We're all going to die anyway."

"It's just a matter of sooner or later whether you die sooner or later."

Li Yuan remained silent.

He simply watched the person quietly.

Looking into his eyes, I saw a sharpness that had never faded, even when he was on the verge of death, when poison had seeped into his bones, and when he was on his last breath.

It was something very pure.

It's not that I'm not afraid of death, but rather—the composure that comes after accepting my fate.

An assassin's fate is sealed from the day they enter the profession.

By using their own bodies to cultivate drugs, they are walking on a knife's edge.

Whether you die a day earlier or a day later, you'll die on the edge of a knife.

Therefore, when death actually came, they were calm.

Because they have been preparing for this for far too many years.

After a while.

Li Yuan spoke, his voice still gentle and calm, but with a hint of deeper meaning: "What's your name?"

The man paused, taken aback.

He didn't know why this unfathomable Taoist would ask this question.

But he still answered, "Tang...Tang Qiushan."

Li Yuan nodded.

Tang Qiushan.

"Do you want to live?"

Tang Qiushan was stunned.

He looked at Li Yuan, and for the first time, a hint of confusion appeared in his eyes.

Do you want to live?

Of course I do.

Who in their life wants to die?

But he knew from a young age that assassins don't have the right to "want" or "don't want" to do something.

There are only missions, only life, only death.

To survive, one must fight one's way out.

To survive, you have to be stronger than everyone else;

To survive, you must survive every mission.

But this time, he won't survive.

Having been poisoned by the Tang Clan and struck by his enemies' hidden weapons, he fled for three days and three nights, finally arriving at this desolate mortuary, prepared to die.

But the Taoist priest in front of him asked: Do you want to live?

Tang Qiushan's Adam's apple bobbed.

His voice was hoarse: "You...can you save me?"

Li Yuan did not answer.

He simply raised his right hand.

then-

A colorless and formless flame quietly emerged from the palm of his hand.

The light was extremely faint, so faint that it was almost invisible to the naked eye.

It has no color, no shape, no temperature; it seems to be merely a refraction of moonlight, or perhaps an illusion.

But Tang Qiushan "saw" something not with his eyes, but with his intuition about "poison" after years of coexisting with it.

The moment that light appeared, the poison that was spreading wildly within him and devouring his last breath suddenly stopped!

It was as if they had encountered their natural enemy.

It was as if an ant had met a god.

And this colorless and formless flame is none other than the Samadhi True Fire!

The light and flame in Li Yuan's palm slowly drifted toward Tang Qiushan.

It drifted toward the bloody hole in his left shoulder.

The deadly poison that was eroding his life force drifted into his body.

The moment the flames touched the wound, Tang Qiushan trembled violently!

That is not pain.

Rather, it is a kind of—

It felt like being burned by a raging fire, yet simultaneously cleansed by a clear spring.

His body was trembling, his consciousness was blurring, he couldn't tell if he was dead or alive, or if this was reality or a hallucination.

But he "saw" it.

Seeing the poison within his body being gradually neutralized by that colorless flame—

Refining.

It's not about expelling or neutralizing.

It is "refining".

The essence of poison, refined from "dead matter that erodes life," is—

Something that he can absorb, integrate, and make into his own use.

Tang Qiushan's eyes widened.

He has cultivated himself for over twenty years, nurturing poison within his body, and has long since integrated the poison with his own vital energy.

But he never imagined that poison could be "used" in this way.

The colorless flame circulated within his body, and wherever it passed, the stubborn, frenzied, and nearly fatal poisons all submitted.

They no longer eroded his vitality.

Instead, it lay dormant there, waiting for him to "subdue" it.

Go to "refine".

Go and "make it your own".

A short while later.

The colorless flame finally withdrew from his body, drifted back into Li Yuan's palm, and vanished in an instant.

Tang Qiushan slumped there, panting heavily.

But his face was no longer deathly pale, and his lips were no longer bluish-black.

It can even move now.

He raised his hand and looked at his palm.

There, a new force was subtly surging.

That was a power he had never felt before—a poison that, once refined, belonged to him and completely submitted to him.

This poison is stronger, purer, and more obedient than before.

It is no longer a burden, no longer a sword hanging over one's head, but a part of the body, like an arm, like an eye, like breath.

Tang Qiushan raised his head and looked at Li Yuan.

Those eyes were filled with indescribable shock and gratitude.

besides-

In awe.

True awe.

"You...you..."

He didn't know how to address the Taoist priest in front of him.

Is he a senior? A master? A deity? Or—

Li Yuan simply shook his head slightly: "No need to ask."

"No need to thank me."

"I have my reasons for saving you."

Tang Qiushan was stunned.

He looked at Li Yuan, and for the first time, a certain something appeared in his sharp eyes—

Something beyond the realm of bewilderment.

He himself couldn't explain what it was.

Li Yuan said no more.

He turned and walked out of the mortuary.

The moon-white Taoist robe fluttered gently in the night.

After taking a few steps, his voice rang out again: "Tang Qiushan."

Tang Qiushan was startled.

"Go back and tell your sect leader."

"This calamity for the Tang Clan is just the beginning."

"Greater tribulations await you in the future."

"If you wish to transcend the tribulation—"

"Let those who need to wake up, wake up."

The words fell.

The figure in the moon-white Taoist robe had already disappeared into the night.

Tang Qiushan knelt there, stunned.

half an hour.

He bowed deeply in the direction where the figure had disappeared.

He remained seated for a long time after that initial knock.

A night breeze blew by, and the dilapidated door of the mortuary creaked.

In the distance, the faint howling of wolves could be heard.

But Tang Qiushan knew—

From this night forward, he will no longer be that Tang Clan disciple waiting to die.

From tonight onwards—

He has a new mission.

Let those who need to wake up, wake up.

But who should wake up?

The sect leader naturally knew.

But will the sect leader believe it?

Tang Qiushan raised his head and looked in the direction where the moon-white figure had disappeared.

The night was dark, the stars were few, and nothing could be seen.

But he knew that direction was west.

That was the direction he fled from.

That's also the direction the Tang Sect is heading.

Tang Qiushan supported himself on the ground and slowly stood up.

The poison in his body had been refined by that colorless flame; it was no longer a death warrant, but had instead become a part of him.

He clenched his fist, and the newfound power surged in his palm, more solid and more obedient than before.

This was given to me by that Taoist priest.

No, it's not for giving.

It is "Let".

Let him make this poison his own.

Tang Qiushan took a deep breath and bowed deeply once again to the vast night.

Then he turned around.

He strode eastward, toward the Tang Clan.