Chapter 83: Soul Searching (Part Two)

To brave boiling cauldrons and raging fires, to stride across mountains and seas, to chase the moon in eight steps and seize the autumn breeze.

Luo Zu did not keep the two monsters in the Gourd World for long, lest they suffocate. There was no air, no spiritual energy, and besides, the Gourd World was never meant to sustain such large creatures for extended periods. After Luo Zu’s barrage of attacks, the monsters could not withstand it; they had long since been battered senseless, their souls scattered, and now they lay unconscious.

After setting Yu down, Luo Zu instructed the hunting party to return first, while he took the two monsters and descended into a gentle valley. He tossed them aside and drew a few drops of their blood before sending them into the human realm within the Gourd World.

Their current state was pitiful. The fur that could shield them from water and fire had been reduced to ash, and the flesh beneath was charred and cracked. Burns, frostbite, and lightning scars riddled their bodies, each wound a testament to their misery.

Luo Zu carefully examined their injuries, noting how much damage his techniques could inflict on the monster race. After all, these were monsters with legitimate heritage, not mere wild beasts. Their bodies bore traces of the cultivation methods of their kind, and their souls were of great value—unlike the celestial monster Qiu Zhi, these two were easy for Luo Zu to handle.

After a thorough inspection and recording all useful information, Luo Zu cast a spell to awaken their spirits.

A guttural howl rang out as the monsters awoke and began wailing uncontrollably. Covered in wounds, how could they not cry out in pain? But Luo Zu paid no heed to their torment. Instead, he lashed their souls with his divine sense, compounding their agony until their howling ceased.

“What exactly are you? What are your names? Where do you come from? Where are you headed?” Luo Zu’s questions rained down in rapid succession, battering their minds.

The two monsters, tormented into such a wretched state and now blind, could only sense their surroundings through their feeble souls. In their “eyes,” Luo Zu appeared as a blurred shadow, yet had become the most terrifying demon in their hearts.

What’s more, Luo Zu did not use the dialect of the Qiu Zhi monster tribe but instead spoke in the common tongue of the monsters, which only deepened their fear. Still, their will to survive was awakened—though Luo Zu’s subtle influence on their minds played no small part.

The one resembling a bull spoke first: “I am Ding, of the Qiu Zhi monster tribe, of the Fur branch, Bull species, six hundred and thirty-eight years old. This is Qing of the Fur branch, Multiple Heads species, he is… how old are you?”

“Eight hundred and ninety-nine,” came a sullen reply.

“We were headed to seek aid from the Du Tian great monster tribe,” Qing continued, with only three charred heads remaining.

“What do you mean, Fur branch, Bull species?” Luo Zu pressed for details.

Qing explained, “Branch is the broad category—there are seven among our kind. Species is the more specific type, and there are too many to count.”

“What are the seven branches?” Luo Zu asked.

“Fur, Scale, Carapace, Wood, Spirit, Stone, Essence,” Qing answered.

Luo Zu asked for more detail. Those of the Fur branch were covered in hair or feathers—wolves, tigers, leopards, birds, all fell under this category. Scale referred to those clad in scales—snakes, fish, dragons, and the like. Carapace was for insects. Wood was, naturally, for all flora. Spirit was for those born of mountain winds and natural forces, essentially the same as Essence, but due to certain taboos, Spirit was listed separately. Stone included rocks, metals, and minerals awakened to sentience—rare indeed. Essence referred to spirits formed from natural phenomena, most of whom, upon birth, would be taken to the Celestial Court to serve under various monster gods.

Most monsters had such a general classification, with further divisions into species—innumerable, given the vast array of life in the primordial world, and some were too few to form entire tribes, so most were simply grouped under their branch. When monsters spoke of themselves, it was usually their branch they named.

Luo Zu felt he had learned much from this, though he still considered the monsters rather haphazardly organized. After so many years, their classifications remained crude and direct. On reflection, perhaps the monster rulers lacked foresight; trying to unite so many branches and species, they should have simply grouped all as monsters and abolished the subdivisions.

But the concept of “monster” was too broad, and some branches even preyed upon one another, so conflict was inevitable. Internally, there was strife, though outwardly a common enemy—the Wu tribe—kept a fragile unity.

Luo Zu mused that, were he in charge, he would simply declare the Wu as another monster branch, thus unifying the world. Of course, this was but idle jest; the monsters could never absorb the Wu without first overcoming the Twelve Ancestral Witches. Their enmity ran so deep that not even a sea of blood could fill it.

But Luo Zu was neither Wu nor monster, and since neither considered the human race their own, he could comment without concern.

The matter of branches and species could be set aside, as these two minor monsters knew little of their intricacies. The truly pressing matter was the Du Tian great monster tribe. In the map Tang had given, this tribe did not exist—presumably, it lay beyond the borders. According to Qing and Ding, this was a large monster tribe, home to numerous celestial and profound immortals.

“The chief of Du Tian once answered the Celestial Emperor’s summons to oversee the Monster Star in the Celestial Court, but he refused to leave the tribe he had raised and remained on earth. It is said he can leap to the Ninth Heaven in a single bound, and cross a billion miles in an instant. They say he is in the North Sea by day and the South Sea by night—truly… formidable!” Ding’s face, though blackened and cracked, was filled with longing.

Luo Zu cared little for their admiration, only that the information they provided was rich beyond expectation. This journey had proven well worth it—more than worth it. He had also prevented a disaster. Had the monsters sent word to the Du Tian tribe, and that tribe dispatched celestial monsters in force, this land would once again be plunged into chaos and calamity. He doubted the “Cave Dwellers” tribe could have survived.

“Tell me about the cultivation methods you practice now,” Luo Zu demanded bluntly, probing where it mattered most.

The two monsters clammed up, refusing to speak. That simply would not do—Luo Zu hoped to learn from their methods, not fail before he began.

So he did not spare them further, mercilessly lashing their souls. This was true torture of the spirit—who could endure it? After a quarter of an hour, the two iron-willed brutes finally divulged their cultivation secrets.

Luo Zu was satisfied and quickly used his healing arts to ease their wounds, lest they die prematurely. He had many more questions to ask and could not let them die just yet.

He then became a fountain of endless questions, from astronomy and geography to monster culture, the fall of the Qiu Zhi tribe, and the magical treasure they had acquired—so many questions that even Luo Zu’s mouth grew dry.

The two monsters, even more miserable, both wished to bite their tongues and die. Unfortunately, their vitality was too resilient, and with Luo Zu ever watchful, frequently healing them with his arts, they could not die even if they wished; otherwise, they would have long since been reduced to carrion.

“Kill me,” Qing wailed.

“That… I’m afraid I cannot,” Luo Zu shook his head.

“I want to die, I want to die, ahhh!” The bull-headed Qing howled in despair.

Both monsters were on the verge of collapse. Were it not for the unbearable pain in their souls, they would never have answered another of Luo Zu’s questions, even if it cost their lives.

Yet the torment of the soul was more dreadful than death. Sometimes, even without Luo Zu’s lash, they felt a searing pain as though their brains were being skewered and stirred with a spiked club, turning to mush.

Luo Zu next inquired about the Wu tribe. Qing and Ding held nothing back, spilling everything they knew. Luo Zu found it fascinating and rewarded them with another round of healing.

But as this cycle repeated, something strange happened to the monsters’ souls and bodies. They seemed to be growing accustomed to the soul-lashing—no, not just accustomed, but “enjoying” it.

The cause lay in Luo Zu’s timely application of healing arts whenever their bodies could take no more.

“Good heavens, is this addictive?” Luo Zu was taken aback.

And so, the interrogation became an experiment as well.

“The Relationship Between Healing Arts and Soul Torture”—such was the topic at hand.