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

Chapter 53 Li Changshou: No wonder he's a "connected" individual in Heaven.

Sometimes it is the procession of the duty officer carrying the imperial edict, and sometimes it is the illusion of the Six Jade Maidens cutting clouds into clothes.

Those afterimages flashed by, yet they added a touch of holiness and majesty to the fleeing golden light.

Three points of extraordinary mystery.

That was the trace of divine thought and talisman power that Li Yuan entrusted to it with the power of the Inner Realm Great Luo Palace when he sent it out.

As they flew, they constantly resonated with the divine energy of heaven and earth, naturally giving rise to "followers."

Like a decree, it is carried out with divine officials accompanying it.

Li Yuan stood on the official road, his moon-white Taoist robe fluttering gently in the night breeze.

He didn't make any hand seals, chant any spells, or even make any unnecessary movements.

He simply raised his right hand, palm facing up, fingers slightly spread.

Like someone who has already set up a chessboard, he calmly extends his hand, waiting for the piece that has gone far away to fall back into his palm.

[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name: ①⓪①ⓚⓚⓢ.ⓒⓞⓜ]

The moment the golden light fell into his palm, all the light suddenly receded.

The trail left by its flight, the illusory figures of the Duty Officers and the Six Jade Maidens, the howling sound accompanied by wind and thunder—

Everything, at this moment, returned to calm.

It was as if that astonishing golden light had never existed.

There was only a small yellow paper figure, standing quietly in Li Yuan's palm.

It still retains the form of a paper figure, its entire body made of folded talisman paper, with faint purple-gold patterns flowing around its joints.

Those "eyes" made of cinnabar were now looking up at Li Yuan.

There was an almost childlike devotion in his eyes.

Like a child who has traveled a long way and finally returned home, standing before his father, waiting to be asked about his experiences along the way.

Li Yuan lowered his eyes, looking at the small paper figure in his palm, and asked calmly, "Is the matter settled?"

Upon hearing this, a glint of light flashed in the paper figure's eyes, which were dotted with cinnabar.

Then, its tiny paper head nodded gently.

After nodding.

The purple-gold patterns all over the paper figure suddenly brightened.

Like a lamp that has burned in the darkness for too long and can finally be extinguished.

Immediately, the paper figures disintegrated.

Like morning mist meeting the sun, like ice and snow melting, it silently transforms into countless points of light.

They drifted away, gently swirling above Li Yuan's palm.

then-

Like a hundred rivers flowing into the sea, like ten thousand streams converging on the source, they all surged towards Li Yuan's brow.

It merged into the ancestral aperture between his eyebrows and sank into the inner landscape of the Great Luo Palace.

Immerse yourself in that moon-like radiance of sexuality.

The moment the light merged with the abyss, Yi Liyuan closed his eyes.

His consciousness, along with the myriad points of light, sank into the depths of the inner landscape.

Then, he "saw" it.

Those are the memories of the paper figures.

The memory unfolded like a slowly unfurling scroll, presenting his experiences over the past few days from a first-person perspective.

The first thing that appears in the picture is a vast expanse of northern mountains and rivers.

The mountains are majestic and continuous, quite different from the delicate beauty of the south.

The paper figure soared into the heavens, below which lay countless villages and towns, countless mountains and rivers, and countless people who were fast asleep.

Unbeknownst to them, a small golden light was passing overhead.

They didn't know what that golden light carried.

They had no idea what was about to happen where the golden light had gone.

The paper figure flew away at an extremely fast speed, so fast that the scenery below became blurred light and shadow.

But it "sees" everything clearly.

Because it is not seeing with its eyes, but "perceiving" with the wisp of divine thought that Li Yuan entrusted to it.

It sensed the direction of the mountains and rivers, the undulations of the earth's veins, and the presence of countless creatures along the way.

They also sensed an aura that was getting closer and closer, a twisted and violent aura that had not yet completely fallen into darkness.

That was Liang Ting's scent.

The trajectory of the paper figure's flight became increasingly precise and certain.

Because it had established a mysterious connection with that aura.

That was the "tracking" ability that Li Yuan bestowed upon it with a wisp of divine thought and the power of talismans before his departure.

Finally, after flying away for an unknown amount of time.

The mountains and rivers began to fade away, and a majestic mountain gate appeared before our eyes.

It was a huge complex of buildings built halfway up the mountain.

It was the Ink Tendon Soft Bone School, to which Liang Ting belonged.

A lineage renowned in the world of supernatural beings for its mechanical arts and body-refining techniques.

The disciples are mostly orphans or abandoned people in the martial arts world who are adopted and taught by the sect leader to pass on this unique skill.

Above the mountain gate, a huge plaque hangs high.

The four characters "墨筋柔骨" (mo jin rou gu) are written with powerful strokes and strong brushwork.

But at this moment, a strange aura permeated the mountain gate.

The paper figure drifted silently into the mountain gate, like a fallen leaf merging into the night.

It followed the corridors, through the courtyards, and across the layers of palaces, stealthily making its way into the depths of the sect, guided by that twisted and violent aura.

The deeper you go, the stronger the aura becomes.

It was so intense that even without the guidance of that divine thought, its existence could be clearly perceived.

That was hatred.

That was pain.

That was something that had been suppressed for more than twenty years and finally erupted completely on this one night.

After passing through the last moon gate, the view ahead suddenly opened up.

It was a huge training ground, with torches burning all around, illuminating the entire area as bright as day.

In the center of the training ground, a shocking standoff is unfolding.

Dozens of disciples from the Ink Tendon Soft Bone Sect, wielding various mechanical devices, formed a tight encirclement, surrounding a figure in the center.

That figure was as tall and imposing as a mountain.

He was shirtless, his muscles bulging, each one seemingly containing explosive power.

But what is most frightening is not his imposing stature, but his face.

It was a face so ugly it was almost grotesque.

His forehead protruded, his brow bones were high, his nose bridge was sunken, his lips were thick and crooked, and his cheeks were covered with pitted scars.

Those are not scars left from battle, but marks that are innate and branded by fate.

Those eyes held no tears, only fire.

A fire that had been suppressed for more than twenty years was finally ignited at this moment.

But what is even more shocking are the inhuman things on his body.

Eight bloody holes were clearly visible on his back.

Those blood holes were not wounds, but traces left by some kind of secret technique. Grotesque fleshy buds grew along the edges of the holes, and eight specially made mechanical ropes extended from between the buds.

The ropes were as black as ink, with a metallic sheen on their surface. One end was connected to flesh and blood, while the other end hung down to the ground, like the limbs of a giant spider.

He also had four bloody holes on each of his wrists.

From each opening, a thinner mechanical rope extends out, like tentacles growing from flesh and blood, swaying slightly in the night breeze.

His body was covered with countless talismans.

The talismans were drawn with cinnabar, the strokes flowing like dragons and snakes, covering every inch of his skin—even his face was painted with several strange patterns, making his already ugly face even more terrifying.

This makes him look like he no longer is a human being.

It is more like a humanoid weapon forged by using secret techniques to integrate mechanisms and talismans into flesh and blood!

Inside the encirclement, the disciples of the Ink Tendon Soft Bone Sect, their faces ashen, held mechanical weapons but dared not step forward rashly.

Their gazes fell upon that figure, filled with anger, fear, confusion, and a complex mix of emotions that even they themselves couldn't quite explain.

"Liang Ting!"

A leading disciple shouted angrily, his voice filled with rage and disappointment: "Are you out of your mind?! Look at the state you've created!!"

"Neither human nor ghost, worse than an animal!"

Liang Ting did not answer.

He simply stood there quietly, like a silent mountain.

Those eyes, burning with flames, slowly swept over the familiar faces around them.

He had seen those faces countless times in his dreams.

Those faces, with their disgust, ridicule, and contempt, had pierced his young heart countless times.

Those faces all wore the same angry expression.

fear.

There's still a hint that can't be hidden...

disgust.

Liang Ting's lips twitched slightly, and an almost ferocious expression appeared on his ugly face.

That expression held no warmth, only one thing—

The relief after finally tearing off the mask.

Another disciple stepped forward, pointed at Liang Ting's nose, and cursed, "Liang Ting! You heartless bastard! If it weren't for Master's mercy in rescuing you from the mass grave, you would have been fed to wild dogs long ago!"

"Look at your ugly face! You were born a worthless bastard! It's only because your master was kind-hearted that he took you in, raised you, taught you martial arts, and gave you a way to live!"

"And you! Not only are you ungrateful, but you also secretly practiced this forbidden technique, turning yourself into this grotesque mess!"

"Are you trying to make a fool of our Ink Tendon Soft Bone Sect in front of the whole world?! Are you trying to let everyone know that our sect has produced such a monster, neither human nor ghost?!"

The curses were sharp and piercing, each word like a knife, stabbing fiercely at Liang Ting.

Liang Ting remained motionless, but the flames in his eyes burned even brighter.

Another disciple chimed in, louder and more vicious: "You, surnamed Liang! What's wrong with us saying a few words about you behind your back?"

"With your ugly face, who would want to walk with you? Who would want to be your brother?!"

"We're avoiding you out of politeness! And you think we're afraid of you? What a joke!"

The insults rose and fell, growing increasingly vicious and unbearable.

Those words that were usually kept inside were now poured out in anger and fear.

Every word is a knife.

Each stab precisely targeted the wound in Liang Ting's heart that had never healed.

However, Liang Ting remained standing there quietly, without moving.

The mechanical ropes binding him swayed slightly in the night wind, like countless venomous snakes flicking their tongues, awaiting their master's command.

The talismans shimmered with a dark red light under the firelight, as if they could unleash terrifying power at any moment.

His eyes quietly swept over the faces that were spewing insults.

There was no anger, no sadness, not even the slightest emotional fluctuation in his eyes.

There is only one—

The calmness was as if they were looking at a dead person.

The outer perimeter of the encirclement, the edge of the training ground.

A figure stood silently.

He was an elderly man of about fifty years old, dressed in a dark blue robe, with a thin face and slightly graying temples.

He was the leader of the Ink Tendon Soft Bone Sect.

He stood there, looking at Liang Ting, who was surrounded in the arena, his expression complex and indescribable.

There was disappointment in those eyes—

Disappointed that this disciple had secretly practiced forbidden techniques and transformed himself into this state.

It's a pity—

It's a pity that with that talent, he could have taken the right path and become a pillar of the Ink Tendon Soft Bone School, but instead he chose this path.

There is hatred—

I hate Liang Ting's stubbornness, I hate that he disregards the rules of the sect, and I hate that he has turned himself into a monster.

But there are also—

Something extremely deep, something he himself was unwilling to admit.

That was guilt.

Twenty years ago, when he picked up the child from the mass grave, the child was so small, so thin, and so dirty.

But the child's eyes were bright when he looked at him.

That was the light finally seen in the darkness.

That is the light when a life that has been abandoned is finally accepted.

He named his child "Ting".

I hope he can stand tall and live a good life.

For twenty years, he watched helplessly as the child's eyes went from bright to dark.

From darkness to cold.

From cold, to—

At this moment, those eyes, devoid of any warmth, burned with flames.

Did he even consider stopping it?

I've thought about it.

Did he even think about offering comfort?

I've thought about it.

But he remained silent.

Because every time I want to speak, there are always more "important" things to deal with, and more "urgent" disciples to take care of.

That child was so sensible; he never argued or made a fuss. He just stood silently in the corner, watching everyone with his increasingly dim eyes.

Then he forgot about it.

Forgot what that child needed.

Forget that the child also feels pain.

Forgot—

He was the one who rescued the child from the mass grave, and he was also the one who watched helplessly as the child walked back to the mass grave step by step.

Beside the leader of the Ink Tendon Soft Bone Sect stood a petite girl.

The girl was about fifteen or sixteen years old, dressed in a simple light blue dress, with her long black hair simply tied back, revealing a delicate and fair face.

Those eyes, big and bright, were now filled with terror and reluctance.

It was Gao Xiaomei, the junior sister of the Ink Tendon Soft Bone School.

She is also the daughter of Gao Yingcai of the Tang Clan.

She grew up in the sect from a young age, spending every day with her fellow disciples and developing a deep bond with them.

But she had never seen Liang Ting like this before.

The usually taciturn Senior Brother Liang, who always hid alone in a corner, who would occasionally glance at her when she passed by, who would silently hand her wound medicine when she fell and was injured, was now standing in the firelight, surrounded by countless mechanical devices and drowned out by countless vicious curses.

The bloody holes in his body, the mechanical ropes, and the talismans terrified her.

She had never seen such a terrifying person.

But what frightened her even more was the insults.

Those usually kind and gentle senior brothers now had ferocious expressions, pointing at Liang Ting's nose and venting their fear and anger with the most vicious language.

She listened to those words—

"Ugly monster," "bastard," "stray dog," "disgusting," "beast"...

Every word was like a knife, stabbing into her heart.

She didn't know how Liang Ting was feeling at that moment.

But she knew that if those words were spoken to her directly, she would break down.

Gao Xiaomei gripped the hem of her clothes tightly, her palms sweaty.

She looked at the silent, mountain-like figure in the center of the field, at that ugly yet expressionless face, at those eyes burning with flames yet utterly calm. Suddenly, Gao Xiaomei remembered something.

She recalled a time when she was practicing martial arts on the back mountain and accidentally injured her knee, which hurt so much that she cried.

It was getting dark, and there was no one around. She thought she would have to climb back alone.

But Liang Ting suddenly appeared out of nowhere, silently handed her a bottle of wound medicine, and then turned and left.

She wanted to say thank you, but all she saw was a hurried figure leaving.

Later she learned that Liang Ting would cultivate alone in the back mountain every day. The place was remote and no one wanted to go there, which was perfect for him.

He heard her crying that day and came over.

They gave me the medicine and then left.

I was afraid that if I lingered even a moment longer, it would cause her trouble.

She recalled a time when her fellow students were eating together, chatting and laughing, but Liang Ting was the only one holding a bowl, squatting in a corner.

She carried the bowl over, wanting to sit with him.

But before I even got close, he took the bowl and left.

She didn't understand at the time.

I later heard that it was because once when he was eating with everyone, someone said, "Sitting with that face, I can't even eat."

From then on, he never sat at the table again.

She recalled many, many times when she would inadvertently turn around and always see Liang Ting's gaze.

His gaze followed her, very lightly and carefully, as if afraid of being discovered.

Once she notices, he immediately looks away, pretending to look elsewhere.

She never understood why.

At that moment, she suddenly understood something.

There were so many things in that gaze that she couldn't understand.

There was envy, there was longing, there was yearning, there was...

She didn't dare to think about it anymore.

The vicious insults continued.

It's getting worse and worse, more and more jarring.

Gao Xiaomei finally couldn't hold back anymore.

She loosened her grip on her clothes, took a step forward, her voice trembling slightly, but she tried to sound firm: "Shut up!"

"You...you all shut up!"

The insults stopped abruptly.

Everyone turned to look at her.

Even Liang Ting's usually calm and collected gaze flickered slightly as it fell upon the petite girl.

Gao Xiaomei blushed instantly under so many gazes.

But she did not back down.

She took a deep breath, looked at her fellow disciples, her voice still trembling, and said, word by word, "How...how could you say such things about Senior Brother Liang?"

"He...he didn't do anything! He was just standing there, he didn't lift a finger!"

"What right do you have to insult him like that?"

A senior student frowned and said impatiently, "Xiao Mei, what do you know? Don't get involved in this. Stand aside!"

"He's made himself look like this, and he still claims he 'didn't do anything'?!"

"He's betraying our sect! He's going to bring shame upon our entire clan!"

Gao Xiaomei bit her lip, her face flushed: "But...but that's his own business..."

"How he becomes is his own choice..."

"You...you can't say those things to him just because of that..."

"It's...it sounds awful..."

By the end, her voice had become so soft it was almost inaudible.

But those words still reached Liang Ting's ears clearly.

Those eyes, as calm as still water, twitched slightly.