12dz Chapter 77 Spirit Dog, Gu Technique
Chapter 77 Spirit Dog, Gu Technique
The old man spoke.
The glint in Song Quyou's eyes vanished, and he cupped his hands, saying, "Senior's writing is truly divine, able to make the door gods manifest their true forms. This junior is in awe."
"No, I am just an old man who paints for future generations by imperial decree, painting soldiers and door gods to ward off evil spirits and villains."
As soon as the old man finished speaking, two divine generals stepped forward and stopped behind him.
Song Quyou looked up at the two golden-armored generals. The one wielding double maces had a face as red as a date, while the one wielding a single whip had a face as black as iron. Cloud patterns flowed on their golden armor, exuding a majestic and thunderous aura.
"General Qin and General Yuchi?"
"Young friend, you actually recognize these two generals?"
"Before I became a monk, I studied for a few years and learned that hundreds of years ago, two generals guarded the palace gates, allowing the emperor, who was possessed by evil spirits, to sleep peacefully for one night. Later, every household in the country began to follow suit, posting portraits of the two generals on their doors to protect their homes."
However, for some reason, the imperial court later strictly prohibited the posting of this portrait.
"Young friend, you even know about this old story?"
"When I was at home, I didn't like the teachings of sages, but I preferred unofficial histories and anecdotes."
The old man recalled: "Back then, the reason for choosing these two generals as door gods was twofold: firstly, to reward meritorious officials, and secondly, to share incense offerings."
As a cultivator, you should know that all the deities who receive offerings are controlled by the Celestial Court. Even though the door gods are minor deities, they still need to be officially appointed by the Celestial Court to manifest their divine power.
After all, the number of people in the world is countless. If every household posted these offerings, the incense and prayers would flow like a mighty river, yet they were all consumed by two mortals who hadn't even entered the ranks of immortals. The Heavenly Court was losing so much of its incense offerings. Naturally, over time, some people would become restless.
"I see. The struggle for incense offerings has never been just a matter for the mortal world."
The old man said, "Fortunately, the Celestial Court is now closed off, and its influence in the mortal realm is diminishing. The Earth Official has also disappeared for various reasons. The Western Religion has infiltrated and consolidated its influence. The imperial court is no longer willing to sit idly by and plans to distribute the divine positions in the mortal realm to those who have rendered meritorious service. I, too, will have the opportunity to return to this world for a visit..."
Song Quyou held his sword and didn't say much.
The old man laughed heartily, picked up his brush, and added another stroke of gold to the unfinished door god portrait, giving General Qin's armor a lifelike lion head on the shoulder.
……
The surrounding clouds and mist dispersed, the white light faded, and the crowds and noise that had just disappeared reappeared.
Looking through the gaps in the crowd, there was no longer any gaunt old man, only a middle-aged painter, dipping his brush in colored ink and applying it little by little.
"This Mr. Wu, as expected of a disciple of the Sage of Painting, his brushwork is truly exquisite..."
……
Song Quyou withdrew his gaze and walked along the official road outside the city toward the northwest military camp.
A gentle night breeze blew, and the moonlight was like frost. Black Charcoal stretched lazily on his shoulder, gently stepping on it with its paws, and making a satisfied purring sound in its throat.
Suddenly, the black charcoal ears turned and twitched, and the golden eyes narrowed slightly in the moonlight.
"Someone is following us."
Before the words were finished, a childish voice called out from behind, "Taoist priest, please slow down! Please wait!"
Song Quyou turned around and saw a tiny figure, no bigger than a palm, with short legs that moved like wheels, holding a scroll longer than itself, running over eagerly.
As the little man approached, panting, he held the scroll high above his head, the two ends of the scroll hanging to the ground, leaving two shallow streaks of dust.
It was dressed in indigo short brown, with a small square scarf on its head. It had delicate features and looked like a little scholar. However, it had a faint scent of ink about it, unlike a body of flesh and blood.
The little boy looked up, his voice childish but not at all shy: "My master said that the Taoist priest had met the patriarch, so he specially ordered me to deliver this painting to express my gratitude."
Song Quyou took the scroll. It was cool to the touch and was not ordinary paper or silk. It was more like some kind of extremely fine silk.
When you open it, you'll find a large expanse of golden yellow inside. It's a round, yellow and white puppy with a bell hanging from its neck, its tongue lolling out, looking adorable, standing in front of the wooden gate.
"This painting..."
Before he could finish speaking, a large tongue suddenly emerged from the painting and quickly licked Song Quyou's face.
Song Quyou was startled by the sudden wet lick and instinctively tilted his head back.
The yellow and white puppy in the painting was completely unaware that it had startled someone. It poked half its head out of the painting, its pink tongue hanging from its mouth, and its wet eyes staring longingly at Song Quyou. Its curved tail was wagging so much on the canvas that it was just a blurry shadow.
The tiny, ink-sharp pageboy was so anxious he stamped his feet, clutching the handkerchief with both hands and pulling it down, his voice trembling with tears.
"You fool! Master said you should wait until the Taoist priest takes you home before you come out, but you're the one who greets people right away!"
Song Quyou wiped the drool off his face with his sleeve, unsure whether to be angry or amused.
After looking at it for a while, he slowly rolled up the scroll. When the little dog saw that the scroll was about to close, it hurriedly pulled its head back and whimpered twice.
"Please thank your master for me. I will accept this painting. Is there anything else your master would like you to convey?"
The young page, overjoyed at being granted a pardon, bowed respectfully and said, "Master, my master only said that this painting, 'The Dog Guarding the Wood,' will be left to you for protection and to safeguard the house. Also..."
As he spoke, the young page pulled out a plain bottle from his bosom and held it above his head: "Seeing that the Taoist priest is heading northwest, I suppose he is going to hunt demons. My master would like to ask the Taoist priest to help collect some demon blood to make pigments."
Song Quyou took the plain bottle. It was quite heavy in his hand. The glaze on the bottle was warm and smooth like cream, and the ink color could be faintly seen flowing within it.
"Your master is certainly not polite, offering both paintings and demanding blood; he's doing a shrewd business."
The little ink spirit chuckled and didn't argue, "Once the Daoist has collected enough demon blood, this bottle will go home by itself. At that time, the Daoist can just let it leave."
Having finished his explanation, the little ink spirit bowed deeply, and his figure transformed into a wisp of ink smoke, dissipating into the night.
Song Quyou put the plain bottle into his bosom, carefully tied the painting scroll, and slung it diagonally across his back.
After walking a few steps, the scroll on its back trembled slightly, and a large, dark nose emerged from the gap in the scroll, sniffing the night breeze.
The black dog on the shoulder had been annoyed with the puppy for a long time. When it saw the puppy sticking out its nose, its golden eyes narrowed slightly, and it grinned wickedly, slapping the black nose with its paw.
Black Nose shrank back when it was slapped, but then stubbornly poked its head out again, squeezing out a pair of bright, round eyes through the gap in the scroll, looking at Black Charcoal with a pitiful expression.
Black Charcoal swung its tail and slapped at the target with its paw again.
This time the puppy was smarter; it quickly pulled its nose back into the painting, and the charcoal-colored paw missed its target, striking the scroll with a dull thud.
Woof woof...
Black Charcoal was so angry that his beard trembled, and he slapped the scroll with his claws one after another, making a loud banging sound.
Song Quyou wasn't going to let it cause trouble on her body. She reached out and patted the black charcoal's forehead twice, whispering, "Stop messing around."
Black Charcoal, after being scolded, flicked its tail twice in dissatisfaction and let out a muffled grumble, but didn't extend its claws again.
……
The moon is high in the sky.
They arrived at the military camp.
The Northwest Training Ground was more lively than during the day. Piles of bonfires illuminated the camp, and squads of soldiers entered and exited the camp with solemn expressions and hurried steps.
Before Song Quyou could get close, he was stopped by the soldiers.
"stop!"
The torches crackled, casting flickering light on the soldier's face as his hand rested on his waist knife.
Before Song Quyou could speak, other soldiers took out yellow tallies and walked over, holding them up.
The yellow talisman glowed faintly in the firelight, and when it was almost pasted onto Song Quyou's face, nothing seemed amiss.
The soldier breathed a sigh of relief: "He's a human, not a demon."
The soldier who had been holding the sword loosened his grip, but still warily eyed Song Quyou:
"What are you doing at the military camp in the middle of the night?"
"I am a righteous man invited by the government yesterday to exorcise demons. After entering the mountain, I ran out of talismans, so I went out during the day to buy some more talisman paper and have just returned."
The soldier put the yellow talisman back into his pocket, his expression softening slightly, but he still asked sternly, "Are there any teammates in the camp?"
"During the day, a scholar named Lu obtained a registration as a demon-slaying guard. If he is in the military camp, he can prove my identity."
The soldier glanced back at his comrade, one of them nodded, and then quickly ran back into the camp. A moment later, a scholar carrying an iron fan trotted out.
Upon seeing Song Quyou, the scholar bowed to the armored soldiers with a sigh of relief and said, "Thank you all. This Taoist priest is indeed here to exorcise demons. He registered at the training ground during the day, and I can vouch for that."
The soldiers then completely lowered their guard, clasped their hands in apology, and made way for him.
Lu Shusheng led Song Quyou into the camp, whispering as they walked, "Daoist, you're finally back. After you left, a strange thing happened in the camp."
"What's wrong?"
Lu Shusheng closed his iron fan and lowered his voice: "Daoist Master, do you still remember that silly guy who was eating a pancake during the day?"
"Was he the only one from the entire team who returned?"
"That's right, that kid suddenly fell ill in the evening and started biting people he saw."
Moreover, the bitten man, like him, had white spots in his eyes, his muscles were spasming, and his strength was terrifying; several people couldn't hold him down. Fortunately, there was a highly skilled monk in the military camp who captured the two men.
Upon entering the military camp, one sees a campfire encircled in an open space, with a large hitching post standing in the center.
Two disheveled men were tightly chained to stakes, their mouths stuffed with hemp seeds, yet they still struggled incessantly, letting out beast-like growls.
Their eyes rolled back, leaving only a cloudy white film. By the firelight, one could see the veins bulging on their necks, and something seemed to be wriggling faintly under their skin, like slender worms or snakes crawling between their muscles.
Three zhang away from the hitching post, a monk dressed in a gray robe sat cross-legged, his posture calm and dignified, like a large bell.
A nine-ringed tin staff lay horizontally in front of him. The staff was dark and heavy, and the copper rings occasionally jingled softly in the night wind, producing a clear and melodious sound.
The monk sensed someone approaching and slowly opened his eyes. His eyes were calm and still, lingering briefly on Song Quyou before closing them again to chant sutras.
Song Quyou did not disturb the monk, but instead looked at the two bound men.
The two men made hoarse noises, drool dripping from their chins and soaking a large area of their shirts.
The bare wrists were covered with dark marks, gnarled and protruding like the roots of an old tree. The outline of the wriggling thing under the skin became clearer and clearer. It was as thin as a spider's thread, but there was more than one, as if dozens of nematodes were shuttling and swimming in the flesh.
"These symptoms seem like I'm being parasitized by something," Lu Shusheng said, his voice muffled as he covered his mouth and nose with an iron fan.
"The monks managed to subdue them by sealing their acupoints, but once the acupoints were released, they went even crazier."
"It's not parasitic, it's more like a poison."
The monk's chanting suddenly stopped, and he looked up:
"Indeed, as you said, these two have been afflicted by Gu. Ordinary Gu worms either devour blood and flesh or control people's minds, but they are still in insect form."
However, the essence within these two donors has already been transformed into their meridians and integrated with the host's qi and blood.
"I tested it with my internal energy, and it turns out that thing can absorb Qi. If I hadn't stopped in time, I'm afraid even I would have fallen victim to its trick."
The monk slowly rose, and the copper rings on his nine-ringed staff emitted a series of clear sounds.
Song Quyou turned his head to look. The monk was tall and upright, as steady as an ancient pine. When he stood up, he was nearly ten feet tall, a full head taller than him.
"Where does the master reside regularly?"
The monk clasped his hands together and nodded slightly: "This humble monk is Yuande, from Jingye Temple. When I passed through Qiantang, I heard that the government was recruiting righteous men to exorcise demons, so I came here."
"Master Yuande, is there any way to cure this Gu worm?"
Yuan De shook his head and said, "This humble monk is ashamed. This Gu is no ordinary insect Gu; it has replaced the meridians of these two benefactors."
To remove it, the substance must be forced out of the host's body inch by inch, and then burned away with intense fire.
However, when forcing the Gu out, the host must endure the excruciating pain of having their skin peeled and tendons pulled out. Even if the Gu is removed, without the meridians, the person is mostly crippled.
Upon hearing this, Lu Shusheng gasped, tapped his palm with his iron fan, and muttered, "Does this mean these two are already dead?"
Monk Yuande lowered his eyes and remained silent, reciting a few lines of scripture before saying, "This humble monk is of limited talent and shallow learning, and truly has no perfect method."
Looking at the two people tightly bound by chains, Song Quyou also shook his head and sighed softly, "They can't be saved!"
As soon as Song Quyou finished speaking, the two bound men began to writhe and beckon, their bodies convulsing and struggling violently, caused by the thin threads beneath their skin.
The iron chain was taut and rang out with a sharp clang.
suddenly.
The two men's backs bent backwards to an angle that no living person could ever reach, causing their vertebrae to crack and pop.
The hemp seed in his mouth was also bitten to pieces, but what came out was not a scream, but an insatiable roar.
"I'm hungry! I'm so hungry!"
Monk Yuande's expression changed drastically. He picked up his nine-ringed staff and took a step forward, shielding Song Quyou and Lu Shusheng behind him.
The voice no longer sounded human; it was hoarse and strained, as if it had been squeezed out of a broken bellows.
Monk Yuande struck his staff, causing all nine rings to ring and a humming Buddhist chant to resonate.
But the two were not intimidated by the Buddhist chants; instead, they struggled even more frantically.
One of them twisted his neck suddenly, and with a crisp crack, his cervical vertebrae shattered instantly. His head spun around and slumped limply against his chest.
Those pure white eyes stared intently at the three of them, blood-tinged saliva mixed with crumbs of sesame seeds dripping from the corner of his mouth, his lips moving, repeating only one word over and over: "Hungry! Hungry! Hungry!"
The other person's hands and feet were twisted in the opposite direction, his joints were dislocated inch by inch, and his whole body was pulled up from the ground by an invisible force like a puppet on strings.
The chains dug into his flesh, creating deep, dark grooves, but he seemed oblivious. He simply stiffened his neck, fixed his rolling eyes on the three men, and opened his mouth wide, growling, "Hungry! Hungry! Hungry!"