**Chapter 100: The Seven Creation Arts**
Qin Mu returned to the inn and continued studying the Great Nurturing Heavenly Demon Sutra. Before he knew it, deep night had arrived. He'd learned more than a dozen techniques, but without corresponding gong, they could only unleash perhaps seventy percent of their true power.
"I must find the unifying cultivation method, or I'll never be able to fully master the Great Nurturing Heavenly Demon Sutra."
He was absorbed in his reading when he felt something warm pressing against his waist. Looking down, he found Hu Ling'er had fallen asleep beside him, nuzzling him even in her dreams.
Qin Mu smiled gently and carefully lifted the little fox onto the bed, arranging a pillow beneath her head. He then returned to the table to continue his contemplation of the sutra.
After another long while, drowsiness overcame him too. He extinguished the lamp, lay down on the bed, and drifted into deep sleep.
The next morning, Feng Xiuyun came to see him off. "Young Master, I can only accompany you this far. Follow the river downstream, and you'll enter Yankang. Please be careful on your journey. Reach the capital soon—the Ancestor is already waiting there."
Qin Mu nodded and waved farewell.
At the front of the fleet, soldiers on the towering dock were operating winches, their mechanisms creaking as they raised massive iron gates. One by one, merchant ships set off, carried by the current away from Mishui Pass and down the Yong River.
Qin Mu and Hu Ling'er stood at the bow, observing the scenery. The banks of the Yong River were beginning to differ from the Great Ruins. Here, prosperous villages nestled among forests, unlike the thatched huts of the Ruins.
Ships on the river grew more numerous, most heavily laden with ore, sitting deep in the water. Along the banks, mining operations were visible with countless miners at work.
"How many of these are abandoned citizens from the Great Ruins?" Qin Mu withdrew his gaze.
After another hundred miles or so, smelting works appeared along the banks. Enormous furnaces refined ore while numerous ships docked to unload minerals.
The furnaces belched flames reaching dozens of yards high, blazing fiercely. As small boats passed, Qin Mu saw over a dozen cultivators using their abilities to fan the flames, intensifying the heat.
Other cultivators channeled river water to cool the refined mystic iron and crimson copper.
Still others employed White Tiger qi to slice the metals into uniform blocks for easy stacking and loading.
Such a scene would be impossible to witness in the Great Ruins.
"In terms of manpower, resources, and wealth, Yankang far surpasses the Great Ruins," Qin Mu marveled.
From small details, one could gauge a nation's prosperity and strength. The riverside smelting works, situated near water sources with convenient transportation, could supply the empire with continuous materials for forging spiritual weapons and equipping armies. One could only imagine the extent of Yankang's military and national power.
"Feng Xiuyun mentioned that some sects, hearing of the Grand Tutor's defeat in the Great Ruins, attempted to assassinate him on the road, leaving him gravely wounded."
Qin Mu pondered: "Though the Grand Tutor suffered at the edge of the Great Ruins, his armies remained intact, and their overall fighting strength was undiminished. He's surrounded by powerful experts and is himself the greatest under the gods. How could an assassination leave him critically injured? There's something suspicious here. If I misjudge the situation, those rebellious sects could be destroyed without a trace."
The merchant fleet, pulled by river beasts, moved swiftly. By evening, they reached Dijiang County.
Dijiang County was built along the river, even larger than Xianglong City. Qin Mu opened his Divine Sky Eye to survey the surroundings but found no towering deity statues, feeling a vague unease. Then he caught himself and laughed. "I'm still acting as if I'm in the Great Ruins..."
He had grown up in the Ruins. Finding shelter near deity statues before nightfall had become instinct—a habit that would be difficult to break anytime soon.
Before Dijiang County, the merchant fleet suddenly halted. Fishing boats appeared ahead, their crews using hooks to retrieve floating corpses from the water.
"What bad luck," a merchant muttered, shaking his head.
Qin Mu followed the fleet into the city with Hu Ling'er. The moment they entered, they found coffins lining both sides of the street—hundreds of them, perhaps four or five hundred in total.
Qin Mu startled. Some coffins were still open, with soldiers placing bodies inside. Others were already sealed. The city's residents kept their distance, unwilling to approach.
"What happened here? How did so many people die?" Qin Mu wondered.
A merchant stepped forward to inquire. A soldier replied, "Floating corpses, carried down by the river. Unknown origin. Likely flood victims from upstream who were swept here and caught by the dam. The magistrate ordered that they be placed in thin coffins to prevent plague, and tomorrow they'll be buried."
"I see."
The merchants hurried their carts away to find lodging. Qin Mu also found an inn. After dinner, he spread out the geographical map of Yankang.
Dijiang County sat in central Yankang. Traveling north, one could reach the capital in roughly ten days. Heading east for about three thousand miles would bring one to the sea.
Darkness deepened as night fell. Qin Mu set down the map and gazed out the window. The darkness here was different from the Great Ruins. In Yankang, night came gradually, with moonlight and starlight still visible. But in the Ruins, darkness swept in from the west all at once, devouring the sky and everything within it, allowing no light whatsoever.
He cautiously extended his hand toward the window. The darkness outside held no danger whatsoever.
"What did the Great Ruins endure, to suffer such a bizarre phenomenon as the Dark Calamity?"
The youth dismissed his doubts and retrieved the Great Nurturing Heavenly Demon Sutra to continue studying.
He drew the white glove into a thread, infusing it with vital energy until it expanded, revealing countless characters.
This time, Qin Mu studied the Creation Arts section of the sutra. The Creation Arts were numerous: the Celestial Demon Creation Art, the Celestial God Creation Art, the Innate Creation Art, the Human King Creation Art, the Ghost-God Creation Art, the Spirit Creation Art, and the Earth Origin Creation Art.
Qin Mu had learned the Celestial Demon Creation Art before, but Grandma Si hadn't taught it completely—only the method of sealing souls, not the full cultivation method.
"The Creation Arts consist of seven chapters: Innate, Earth Origin, Celestial God, Celestial Demon, Human King, Ghost-God, and Spirit. They all relate to creation. Is there a connection between them?"
Qin Mu studied them one by one. The skinning and garment-crafting of the Celestial Demon Creation Art was merely an external application. The technique's true power lay in strengthening one's own soul. The Celestial God Creation Art excelled at imitating other techniques, though Qin Mu sensed its true meaning was about formlessness and adaptability—mimicry was merely its surface expression.
The Innate Creation Art could reverse aging to infancy, maintaining eternal youth. The Heavenly Devil Cult's Young Ancestor likely cultivated the Innate Creation Art. The Cult's Great Freedom Innate Art was probably an offshoot.
The Earth Origin Creation Art refined the Bright Spirit. The Human King Creation Art refined kingly authority. The Ghost-God Creation Art bridged the spirit world. The Spirit Creation Art refined transformation.
Each of these seven creation arts contained profound subtleties, though they were dense and difficult to comprehend. Qin Mu read until entranced, losing himself in their mysteries. Before he realized it, deep night had fallen. Outside, all was silent except for the watchman's drum.
At that moment, a cold wind blew through the window, making the candle flame flicker. Qin Mu shielded it with his hand. Suddenly, a faint creaking sound echoed from the street—sharp and clear in the silent darkness.
Qin Mu's heart lurched. He snuffed the candle with one hand, darted to the window, and closed the shutters, leaving only a thin crack.
The youth spread his fingers. The thread from the Great Nurturing Heavenly Demon Sutra immediately flew to his palm, weaving into a glove thin as cicada wings.
Qin Mu peered through the crack. Moonlight bathed Dijiang County's streets, where coffins lined both sides. The watchman approached from the far end, beating his gong.
Suddenly, the watchman stopped as if seeing something.
Creak. Creak.
That strange sound came again. Half a coffin lid slid aside, and a figure within sat bolt upright.
Clang.
The watchman's copper gong fell from nerveless fingers. In a ghostly blur, the figure from the coffin was upon him, its movements stiff yet impossibly swift. Its hands thrust forward, scooping the watchman's head from his shoulders.
Qin Mu's heart trembled. The creaking continued as coffin after coffin opened, and one by one, the corpses within sat up. At that moment, a door on the street opened, and dozens of Daoists filed out.
Their leader wore a Bagua-patterned yellow robe, a whisk draped over his arm, a Daoist crown upon his head, and cloud-treading boots on his feet. Behind him came Daoists in black robes, each carrying a sword casket, moving in silence.
From the yellow-robed Daoist's sleeve, yellow memorial papers fluttered forth, floating in the air and connecting into a long bridge.
This bridge of yellow memorial paper stretched from one end of the street all the way to the Dijiang County magistrate's office!
Then, one by one, the corpses leaped from their coffins, their stiff bodies running through the air, stepping on the yellow memorial papers, racing toward the magistrate's office!
Qin Mu's gaze sharpened. He watched the corpses burst into the office. The yellow-robed Daoist's sleeve released more papers, building bridges toward the four city gates.
Behind him, the black-robed Daoists soared into the air, stepping on the papers as they headed for the gates.
"Not good!"
Qin Mu's heart hammered. He whirled into action, bundling his belongings and rousing the white fox. "Don't speak—let's slip out of the city quietly! Ling'er, guide the wind!"
Hu Ling'er, groggy and confused, hadn't fully woken yet.
From the direction of the magistrate's office came an earth-shaking roar, followed by an enraged voice: "Flying corpses! Flying corpses! The Corpse Immortal Sect is attacking! Protect the magistrate!"
"Your magistrate is dead. Here is his head!"