Heaven-Subduing Scripture

The jade pot tipped slightly, and the nectar flew into Li Daoxuan’s wine-cup.

He smiled faintly, raised the cup and drank, composed of mien, then said to Fairy Que with a smile, ”Give me a hand.”

Fairy Que started — then she saw Li Daoxuan shut his eyes and thud flop onto the table; fortunately, quick of eye and hand, she caught his brow.

This time, all watched him closely, missing no detail — even the Lady in Green among them.

All were very curious: how, as an early-Bigu cultivator, could he wake so quickly?

They saw that after Li Daoxuan grew drunk, unlike the others who snored asleep, his breathing grew ever finer and calmer, the rhythm extremely slow — like a turtle’s winter-sleep, a snake hidden in a deep valley, a deer concealed in the forest.

This breathing seemed to hold a certain Dao-rhythm, dissolving the liquor’s force and absorbing its essence.

Li Daoxuan’s body seemed to glow, like a jade sculpture, drawing every eye.

The light slowly gathered and was drawn into his four limbs and hundred bones, into the pores, turning into pure mana — like sweet rain from heaven, bit by bit expanding Li Daoxuan’s lake of mana!

A quarter-hour later Li Daoxuan woke again, gaze bright, spirit flying.

”A fine wine indeed — again!”

A glimmer of a smile rose in the Lady in Green’s eyes; she had already seen through the secret, and precisely for that, she thought the better of Li Daoxuan.

So young, yet he had reached the samadhi state of mind, and the art he cultivated bore the mark of the ancient immortals — most uncommon.

At the Lady’s nod, Fairy Que went on pouring for Li Daoxuan.

Thus, before all eyes, Li Daoxuan drank a third cup of nectar!

A quarter-hour later.

”Wine!”

Li Daoxuan drank a fourth cup…

From first disbelief to at last dull acceptance, the onlookers watched.

Some, unconvinced, thought — if a mere early-Bigu little Daoist can drink so much, why not I?

But two cups of nectar down, and even Yin-Spirit cultivators flopped on the table, fast asleep.

The proud and haughty Meiling Mountain God, meaning to match Li Daoxuan cup for cup, drank four in a row and began to flush red, tipsy.

Yet Li Daoxuan woke clear and refreshed.

”Fill it!”

The Meiling Mountain God’s beard near curled with rage but he was helpless; this moment he had to admit this little Daoist seated at the head table did indeed hold some strangeness.

As for Wang Bo, he at last thud hit the floor after forcing down three cups — and to his shame, drunk he talked nonsense.

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”Junior sister, don’t run… heh-heh-heh…”

His master looked somewhat abashed and hurried to explain. ”My disciple is not usually thus; he is no bad sort, only drunk for the moment—”

Wang Bo cut him off.

”Heh-heh, Master — why are you again peeking at Widow Li’s bath? Rest easy… your disciple… won’t tell the mater…”

So saying he even gave a wine-belch.

Wang Bo’s master’s face went black at once; in a fury he cursed, ”Scoundrel disciple, you dare slander your master — see if I don’t kill you!”

So saying he raised a foot and kicked hard at Wang Bo’s head, cursing as he kicked, ”Let you talk nonsense, let you talk nonsense!”

He kicked most viciously, and only stopped when someone came to break it up.

Many secretly snickered; Fairy Que laughed happiest — she had long disliked Wang Bo, and now dog bit dog, a mouthful of fur.

Just then Li Daoxuan woke once more; he raised the cup and laughed. ”This poor Daoist is unworthy — pray drink the ninth cup with me!”

The hall fell silent at once.

The ninth cup of nectar!

Even the high-cultivated Meiling Mountain God had only just taken a fifth cup and was already tottering.

Could he be some Yang-Spirit great one playing the pig to eat the tiger, sporting in the mortal world?

Before all, Li Daoxuan drank the ninth cup, then, most experienced, passed out serenely — and a quarter-hour later woke light as a feather.

But this time, at last, he added no more cups.

Li Daoxuan stretched his limbs; he felt better than ever, and the lake of mana in his lower dantian had expanded severalfold, vast and rolling.

If before it had been but a small lake, now it was the eight-hundred-li Dongting — even with a trend toward becoming a sea!

Li Daoxuan could feel that once the mana gathered into an ocean, he might soar upward and dash at the Jianggong, bursting the middle dantian!

In other words, he who had just broken into early Bigu was now near to another breakthrough!

These nine cups of nectar were truly a world-rare treasure!

Of course, this too was Li Daoxuan’s good fortune; had he not cultivated the Pengzu Valley-Immortal Sleeping Induction Art to its second layer, the samadhi state, he could not have seized this chance today.

But all things overdone turn to harm; past the ninth cup, Li Daoxuan already felt his meridians faintly swell with pain — drink more, and even with the samadhi state, trouble would likely come.

He set down the wine-cup, clasped hands to the Lady in Green, and praised, ”A tiger reels in the mountains at a single cup, a flood-dragon sleeps at the sea’s floor at two — Lady’s jade-nectar, even beside the wine-god Duke Kang’s own brewing, yields nothing!”

The Lady in Green said calmly, ”The nectar can drunk the dragon and tiger, yet cannot drunk you Li Daoxuan; these drunk cultivators, overreaching themselves, at last fell to a single ’greed.’”

She paused, then said, ”You are good — you have not shamed your master.”

So saying, clear light rose at her fingertip and poured into the crowd; at once those who had collapsed trembled and slowly woke.

Wang Bo woke groggy; he rubbed his head, a sharp pain upon it.

”Hiss! Master, I think I just dreamt someone kicking me…”

”Strange, Master — why do you not answer me?”

”Eh? Master, why is there blood on your shoe?”

…

The Meiling Mountain God gazed at Li Daoxuan, his eyes moving; he spoke aloud. ”Little Daoist, who is your master?”

Li Daoxuan started, then smiled. ”My master is Zhang Qianyang.”

No sooner had he spoken than he saw the Meiling Mountain God’s pupils contract, and at the same time many in the hall drew a sharp breath.

Even Wang Bo forgot the pain in his head, mouth agape, staring blankly at Li Daoxuan.

”Zhang… Zhang Qianyang!!!”

”Did I mishear — he… he is actually Zhang Qianyang’s disciple!”

”Hiss! That long-vanished Longhu’s first ruthless man, Zhang Qianyang — is he again to walk the world?”

”Was it not said he violated Longhu’s sect rule, took the Old Celestial Master’s sword head-on, and already fell from the Yang-Spirit realm?”

”Serves him right — in his youth, relying on his lofty cultivation, he felled mountains and razed temples, arrogant beyond measure; even the Horse-Riding line’s saintess he cruelly destroyed, stripping her soul and drawing off her spirit, suppressing her beneath a latrine for twenty years before she could reincarnate…”

…

Hearing the murmur, Li Daoxuan froze where he stood.

What in the world — Longhu’s first ruthless man?

Violated the sect rule, took the Old Celestial Master’s sword head-on?

And… stripped the Horse-Riding line’s saintess of soul and spirit, suppressed her in a latrine for twenty years?

Two cold glances fell upon Li Daoxuan.

Li Daoxuan coughed and averted his eyes from Wang Bo and his master; right now he truly wanted to raise a middle finger to his master.

Master — you are digging a pit for your disciple!