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墨書 Inktalez
The turmoil had passed for over a month. During this time, many from the Evil Practices and Yin Yang Building had submitted requests to become disciples of Zuo Ci, all of which were politely declined by Black Cripple. It was no joke; rivals in the same field were enemies. If Zuo Ci's spells were learned by those fellows, who would Black Cripple rely on to turn his fortunes around?
Night fell.
On the old Eight Immortals Table, a copper pot simmered with boiling dark cyan broth, made from the shell of a Feng Shui turtle, exuding a fragrant aroma of medicinal herbs. Surrounding the pot were an array of ingredients for hot pot, with an abundance of meats.
Black Cripple and Zuo Ci sat across from each other. Huang Yimeng, dressed in a beige sweater, sat in the center like a child. With her oval face, crescent-shaped eyebrows, and skin as smooth as mutton fat jade, she was a clever little girl. If it weren't for being harmed by that wealthy heir, she would have been at the age of romance by now. However, due to Zuo Ci's sacrificial method, she had been transformed into a Zombie and had yet to regain her intelligence. For now, she could only act like a three-year-old child, following Zuo Ci's instructions.
Zuo Ci seemed to enjoy this arrangement. The former Daoist priest left behind by Zuo Ci, now renamed Zuo Bei, was respectfully preparing sesame sauce for them.
There were particularities to cooking meat in the copper pot. The quality of the meat and the sauce mattered greatly. Black Cripple animatedly explained the intricacies of hot pot to a bewildered Zuo Ci. He spoke of how to achieve firm meat and crisp tripe by ensuring they were cooked just right—seven up and eight down.
Thanks to Zuo Ci's influence, his account not only thrived on Dao Yi and Da Huo but also earned him considerable tips and gifts. Now, Black Cripple wore a beaming smile on his face.
"Why don't you sit down as well?" Zuo Ci looked at Zuo Bei and smiled, "It's rare for the Black Cripple to be generous. Let's eat together and warm ourselves up. This broth is indeed a rare treat!"
Zuo Bei obediently nodded, sitting upright in the corner. He sipped the soup slowly while keeping an eye on the copper pot, ready to refill it once the food was finished.
Zuo Bei was naturally reserved; had it not been for the torment he endured from Sheng Xian Dao, he would likely have lived a simple life with a wife and children, enjoying a warm and ordinary existence. It would have been mundane yet comforting.
Unfortunately, he encountered Sheng Xian Dao. His wife and children had been ruined by those scoundrels. Even though the leader of Sheng Xian Dao had been rendered powerless, remnants of the evil cult still lingered.
Where were his wife and children now? Did they have anything to eat?
For these past few days, Zuo Bei had been desperately cultivating at Yin Yang Building. However, his innate talent was lacking, making it impossible for him to truly follow the Righteous Path.
Zuo Ci could only teach him some Deviant Arts and personally helped him open his Yintang.
Yintang, also known as the Yin Yang Window, was a place where one could absorb the spiritual energy of heaven and earth to cultivate magical power. Ancient texts often recorded that achieving success in cultivation meant sitting in the Purple Palace, referring to this very acupoint.
With Zuo Ci's assistance and various resources stacked upon him, Zuo Bei barely managed to enter Juejing and began to cultivate some minor side techniques.
Evil Practices do not necessarily equate to demonic cults; that is a stereotypical notion. At its core, Evil Practices still involve the Dao. It's just that their cultivation methods and spells are more unrestrained than those of conventional practitioners, disregarding all costs, which is why they are rejected by orthodox cultivation.
Knock, knock, knock.
The old wooden door of Yin Yang Building was gently tapped.
Black Cripple raised an eyebrow. "Who is it?"
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