plumnovel Chapter 1 Crimson Sun Flowing Pill
Chapter 1 Crimson Sun Flowing Pill
In the surrounding villages, Song Quyou was not only a well-known and talented young man, but also a literary star in the hearts of the old scholars in the private school.
He was precocious in his childhood, able to compose poems at the age of six. As he grew up, his tall and handsome appearance attracted the hearts of countless women. When he reached marriageable age, matchmakers from all around wore down his doorstep.
But today, the handsome young man was bound hand and foot to a thick stick and carried, like a fat pig being sacrificed, to the fire pit on the back mountain where the rocks had softened and the soil had flowed away.
One of the young men carrying Song Quyou bent down and pulled away the wooden stick, his reddened eyes revealing madness.
He said, "Quyou, you've been possessed by a demon, which is why you're so talented and why Caimei is so devoted to you. Now look what's happened! Once we push you down and burn you, you demon, Caimei will definitely change her mind."
After a bumpy journey, Song Quyou finally landed. Ignoring the man, he turned to look at his kind neighbors who had followed him. They were all carrying hoes, shovels, rakes, kitchen knives, scissors, and even broken sticks... looking at him with "kind eyes."
"Don't worry, don't blame us. We're all doing this for your own good. Your uncle won't let your few acres of land lie idle; he'll regularly clean your house; and he'll feed your two geese. Go in peace. Once you've rid yourself of the evil spirit, you can be reincarnated, and everything will be saved for you."
The speaker was Song Quyou's maternal uncle. Just a few days ago, he had received back the inheritance left by his deceased parents from his uncle, but it seemed that it would be taken back today.
Things have come to this point because a strange phenomenon occurred a month ago. The bright sun turned crimson, and from it separated a red elixir of the same origin, which fell to the mountain behind the village, forming the fiery pit where gold and stone now flow.
A few days later, an old Taoist priest came and said that this strange phenomenon was called "Red Sun Flowing Crimson," which was an ominous sign. He said that one should find the demon hidden among people and then push it into a fire pit to burn it, which would solve the problem. Otherwise, people in the surrounding villages would be plagued by misfortune and their families would be destroyed.
Everyone was shocked upon hearing this. As they searched, the blame for the demon was placed on the precocious Song Quyou. In addition, his maternal uncle, who coveted his family's assets, made a few words of gossip, which further confirmed Song Quyou's identity.
The culprit, an old Taoist priest, wielded a peach wood sword and held a copper bell with a lotus handle, gesturing wildly and muttering, "Heavenly spirits, earthly spirits, Buddha and Bodhisattva, please show your power..."
Song Quyou heard it clearly, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at the old Taoist priest. He simply couldn't understand how, even if he were a fake Taoist, he could be so unprofessional. Song Quyou wanted to open his mouth and berate the fake Taoist, but his mouth was full of old clothes and rags, so he could only sob.
The old Taoist priest jumped for a while, covered in sweat, perhaps because he was tired. He took out a yellow talisman and stuck it on Song Quyou's chest, then used the peach wood sword in his hand to stab it hard. Although no blood was drawn, it made Song Quyou's chest hurt.
When the pretentious Taoist priest failed to push Song Quyou down, he kicked him again, this time easily sending him tumbling into the burning pit behind him.
Song Quyou was utterly despondent. After falling into the fire pit, the molten gold burned his skin, causing pain like being pricked by needles, until he gradually lost all feeling and finally everything went black.
……
When he opened his eyes again, Song Quyou was completely naked, with only a yellow talisman pasted on his chest barely covering his shame.
Song Quyou got up and looked around. The flames around him were twisting and blazing, and clusters of red flames were like feathers.
"Kid, this fire-repelling talisman can last for another half an hour. If you want to live, find that crimson pill."
Upon hearing the sound, Song Quyou frowned. His early experiences taught him that when you're under someone's roof, you have to bow your head. So he didn't think too much about it, looked around, and cooperated perfectly.
The surrounding area was engulfed in flames, but fortunately, there were clues. The flames here were like feathers, and their roots all pointed to a single point, which must be the source.
Song Quyou went to trace his roots and indeed found a round, vermilion pill the size of a fist.
Instead of flames erupting from the pill, it dimmed and dimmed, resembling an ordinary red-hot iron ball.
As Song Quyou reached out to touch it, the fire-repelling talisman on his chest suddenly burst into flames and burned rapidly.
Seeing that his only support in this place was about to disappear, Song Quyou was not flustered at all. Instead, he had only one thought in his mind: to test the feel of this pill.
Upon receiving the pill, its texture felt like warm, smooth jade. Before Song Quyou could savor it, the fire-repelling talisman burned completely, and the hand holding the red pill instantly turned to ashes. There was no pain, for only a handful of ash remained before the red pill, and Song Quyou was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, the pill trembled, and the ashes on the ground rose without wind, transforming into a human shape. The crimson pill fell into the Niwan Palace on the forehead, dragging the surrounding crimson flames that filled the body, solidifying into flesh and bones, and transforming the person back into a naked person.
The crescent moon, like a hook, pierced the sky with a faint red hue.
The old Taoist priest sat alone on the fire pit, a foolish smile on his aged face, watching the flames recede below, and muttered:
"Awakening to enlightenment overnight? How laughable! What Li Bai, what Du Fu? I've seen too many of them. They're just tricks played by demons from beyond the heavens. No matter how much these demons know, they still don't understand human nature and can't lower themselves. These kinds of people are the easiest to manipulate."
"It was quite a coincidence that I happened to be there; otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to quickly obtain this crimson pill. If various forces had come looking for it, there would have been another round of open and covert struggles."
The flames completely subsided, revealing charred, semi-transparent glass and a strikingly burly human figure. The old Taoist priest stroked his beard and nodded, saying:
"It seems the Crimson Elixir has already entered this kid's Niwan Palace. We need to leave quickly."
As he spoke, the old Taoist priest took out a paper ox that he had cut out, and gently blew on it in his palm. A plump yellow ox appeared out of thin air, wagging its tail and sneezing, but it didn't make a sound.
The Taoist priest lightly stepped through the air to the bottom of the fire pit, carried the naked Song Quyou on his back, and laid him across the ox's back.
A large, wrinkled hand patted the cow's rump, and the yellow cow, its fat trembling, walked into the forest and disappeared into the night.
After the old Taoist priest left, it was as if a thin veil had been lifted from the sky, making the crescent moon and stars even brighter.
At this moment, a fat, tattooed monk, greasy and filthy, strode forward, his brow furrowed as he stared at the black, jade-like rocks at the bottom of the pit. Bored, he patted his belly, glanced at the village lights still visible below, and strode away.
Inside the house where Song Quyou lived at the foot of the mountain, his maternal uncle and his family lay on the ground, clutching the piles of silver that Song Quyou had left behind from selling his poems. They were laughing hysterically, their eyes lifeless, and blood trickling from a wound on their necks.
Similarly, every household in the village did the same thing: in the courtyard, in the bedroom, even under the haystack and in the outhouse, men and women lay on top of each other, sleeping on the spot, leaving behind red semen.
The monk pushed open the courtyard gate, sniffed the bloody smell in the courtyard, looked at the lifeless corpses of Song Quyou's maternal uncle and his family on the ground, opened his mouth wide, splitting it to his ears, and with a slurp, half of his body turned into a juicy spring roll and entered the strange monk's round belly.
After finishing the corpse, the monk wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. The tattoos on his body became even more intricate and dark. A memory of an old Taoist priest performing a ritual in the fire pit behind the mountain flashed before the monk's eyes. The monk was overjoyed and laughed wildly: "Yang Danzi, so what if you try to eliminate all traces of the enemy? With me, the Corpse-Eating Monk, I'll see where you, this rat, can escape to."