Becoming an immortal from a canal worker

The corner is not far ahead.

Chen Ping kept his steps unchanged, carrying two jars of wine, turned the corner, and stood against the wall.

The dragging footsteps behind me grew closer and closer.

In the span of half a breath that the thing peeked out from around the corner.

A dark shadow suddenly appeared in front of it.

Swift as a feather.

As his figure appeared, Jingye raised his sword, his blade flashing, and slashed horizontally.

Chen Ping felt the blade cut into him, but there was no feeling of flesh and blood, only a hollow, light resistance, as if he were cutting into a dried cloth.

Chen Ping frowned slightly and raised his eyes.

The thing was pulled back by the blade, its face tilting upwards.

That wasn't a living person's face at all.

The skin and flesh of his entire face peeled off like damp plaster, revealing a grayish-white, smooth, and featureless dead shell underneath.

There was nothing in the place where the eyes were, just two dark, bottomless holes.

The severed arm lay on the ground, just a piece of empty skin, with nothing inside.

Chen Ping quickly took five steps back, holding Jing Ye in his hand, his eyes fixed on the object.

The thing slowly bent down, picked up the human skin from the ground, and held it in its hand.

Suddenly, a crack appeared in its chest.

Like a mouth, slowly, slowly opening.

Flesh and blood surged out from the crevice, forming a mouth with thick, grayish-white lips that were not closed. Something was wriggling inside, wet and resembling a tongue, but its shape was wrong; it looked like several things tangled together.

With the movement of his lips, the sound was squeezed out from that dark, hollow chest cavity.

"Your chest, that area, I want it."

Seven or eight voices squeezed out of that mouth at the same time, men and women, young and old, high and low, overlapping and interfering with each other. Each word seemed to be squeezed out from a different throat. After speaking, the mouth remained open, and the contents inside were still wriggling, as if there were still words left unsaid.

My neck feels cold.

Chen Ping looked down at his chest.

Rakshasa corpse core.

He understood that this thing preferred cold and shady places, and it was the aura of the corpse core that had attracted it here.

He didn't rush to move. He scanned the creature with his eyes, memorizing its size, posture, and the position of its chest beating.

With a cold snort, he vanished.

As soon as the thing turned its head, Chen Ping appeared to its side, but this time he did not use his full strength. He merely probed the thing by punching it in the side of its waist.

boom!

That punch landed squarely.

The creature was blasted back two steps, letting out a piercing scream that echoed in the silent night like the screams of dozens of people at the same time.

"It hurts! It hurts!"

It got up from the ground.

The crack in the chest grew wider and wider, and flesh and blood gushed out from it, rolling and churning, pushing the entire human skin open from the inside out, covering it, and devouring it. The grayish-white human skin quickly disappeared under the wrapping of flesh and blood, replaced by a twisted humanoid monster made entirely of flesh and blood.

It stood there, trembling, then let out a scream and charged at Chen Ping in a twisted manner.

Flesh-and-blood tentacles, thick and thin, long and short, kept extending from behind, flailing wildly in the air with a sticky tearing sound.

Chen Ping dodged with divine speed, and Jingye slashed down, severing one of the tentacles.

The tentacles landed on the ground and did not stop wriggling.

It twisted on the ground twice, then suddenly bulged up from the broken end, slowly swelling into a fleshy ball the size of a fist, from which four thin fleshy legs grew, crawling towards Chen Ping like worms.

The other severed tentacle fell to the base of the wall. Instead of crawling, it stuck to the wall and slowly seeped in, disappearing into the wall in the blink of an eye.

A moment later, a meaty bulge the size of a walnut appeared strangely on the brick wall.

The skin and flesh slowly stretched open, and an eyeball was actually squeezed out of the brick wall.

His eyes were covered with black blood vessels, and his dark yellow pupils were filled with extreme resentment as he stared intently at Chen Ping.

Then came the second one, and the third one.

The entire wall bulged up one after another, and eyes squeezed out one by one, making half the wall pitted and uneven, all staring at Chen Ping's eyes.

Chen Ping ignored the crawling little fleshy balls, moving with divine speed while maintaining a distance. Jing Ye continued to slash, observing the creature's reaction with each strike, noting where the injury was most severe and where healing was slowest.

Each time the blade severed a tentacle, Chen Ping could feel a very slight stagnation in the blood and qi in his palm.

The chilling aura emanating from this thing was trying to seep through the hilt of the knife and corrode him, but it had little effect on him.

In an instant, Chen Ping's figure suddenly rose higher, appearing out of thin air directly above the evil spirit's head.

The Nightfall Blade in his hand was powerful and heavy, slashing down from above.

The blade cut into the creature's body with immense resistance, like chopping through a tangled mass of ironwood roots; every inch of penetration required immense effort. The blade sliced ​​through, flesh churning on either side of the blade. In that split second, Chen Ping, with his sharp eyes, spotted a pulsating yellow abscess deep within.

I understand.

The thing screamed in agony as its severed body began to heal, flesh gushing from both sides towards the center like countless maggots at an incredible speed. Chen Ping sheathed his sword and retreated, using his divine speed to move swiftly, this time cutting towards the abscess with every strike.

It screamed, "Why can't I see you! I can't see you! I can't see you!"

Hundreds of eyes darted around frantically, trying to track Chen Ping's figure, but he was nowhere to be found within five steps of Shenxing. No matter how fast those eyes darted around, they could only see the afterimages of Chen Ping appearing and disappearing, and they had no time to react.

Tentacles stretched out wildly from all parts of his body, growing longer and more numerous, sweeping across the entire alley and shrinking Chen Ping's living space more and more.

At the same time, the little fleshy balls crawling on the ground stopped, turned around, and pounced on Chen Ping. The eyes on the wall also began to wriggle, squeezing out more flesh and blood from the wall and slowly crawling out.

Chen Ping didn't step on those little fleshy balls; he moved around freely, always keeping his distance.

The tentacles stretched longer and longer, four meters, five meters, almost covering the entire alley. But Chen Ping also noticed that the longer the tentacles were, the thinner the flesh covering the core became, and the outline of the yellow abscess inside the flesh became clearer and clearer.

and so on.

Just as the yellow abscess was partially exposed from the flesh, he seized the opportunity, used his divine speed to appear directly in front of the thing, raised his sword with all his might, and slashed at the core.

Snapped.

The abscess burst open under the blade, and yellow liquid gushed out, emitting an unbearable stench.

The monster's movements suddenly stopped.

All the tentacles drooped down at the same moment, lying limply on the ground, no longer moving.

The little fleshy balls on the ground stopped crawling, deflated, and turned into a pile of rotten flesh.

The eyes on the wall slowly lost their luster, closed one by one, and slid off the wall, falling to the ground with a thud.

The entire mass of flesh began to collapse, deflated from the inside out, and finally lay softly on the bluestone slab, turning into a pool of dark red minced meat, with a pungent stench.

The alleyway quieted down.

Chen Ping stood beside the pile of minced meat, wiped Jing Ye with a burlap sack, and put away his knife.

Moonlight slanted in from the alley entrance, and something in the pile of minced meat reflected the light. It was gray and tiny. Chen Ping squatted down and picked it up.

The size of a little finger, gray in color, resembles a dull crystal. It feels heavy in the hand, with fine cracks on its surface, and a faint, chilling aura seeps out from the cracks.

Chen Ping placed the crystal in his palm and looked at it in the moonlight.

I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.

This thing's methods are truly bizarre.

Its flesh is as hard as ironwood and can regenerate. The speed at which its tentacles lash out is such that an ordinary Blood Refining Realm martial artist would probably not be able to dodge it. Its chilling aura can also block the circulation of Qi and blood.

Without Shenxing today, the outcome is uncertain.