Don't Pick Up Disciples Randomly by the Roadside - Chapter 14

Shen Chunyi finally understood what that faint, rustling sound was.

It was the sound of new bamboo shoots growing wildly beneath the spring rain.

Someone had actually cast the Rain-Birth Curse nearby!

The Rain-Birth Curse was first created over two hundred years ago by a talisman master named Yun Jiyan. This master of formations once recorded in his notes that the term “Rain-Birth” was derived from the idea of the continuous, unending growth of new bamboo shoots in spring rain. The phrase sounded incredibly poetic, inevitably evoking images of abundant growth nurtured by rain. However, the actual effect of this curse was far from as gentle as it sounded—it was, in fact, utterly brutal!

This curse could be cast upon non-human creatures with the potential to become demons, shortening their cultivation time to a single night. While ordinary demons required centuries to achieve great power, those subjected to the Rain-Birth Curse could awaken their spiritual intelligence and become demons in just one night.

Few non-human creatures possessed spiritual roots, and even fewer could develop intelligence from them. Unless they were descendants of great demon clans, cultivating from scratch was as futile as the mythical Jingwei trying to fill the sea with pebbles.

But those affected by the Rain-Birth Curse were different. Even if their spiritual roots were as thin as ox hair and their intelligence as low as a valley, they could awaken their spiritual intelligence in a single night.

However, “Rain-Birth” implied that without rain, nothing could grow. Just as plants need spring dew to thrive and livestock need fodder to grow, potential remained merely potential, and spiritual roots were just spiritual roots. Without nourishment, how could they possibly grow overnight?

Thus, the cursed creature would devour everything it could to fuel its cultivation—animal flesh, plant stems and leaves—until the surroundings turned into barren, lifeless soil.

And among all things, human flesh and blood were the most nourishing.

Demons subjected to the Rain-Birth Curse, though not yet fully awakened, had already developed a consciousness. If the surrounding nourishment was insufficient for them to cultivate enough self-defense capabilities, they could easily be beaten to death by humans who discovered them later. Therefore, they would choose to absorb only the yang energy of living humans to maintain their original form. Living humans had abundant yang energy, and a few sips would go unnoticed. In this way, they would quietly lie in wait until enough nourishment gathered around them, only then unleashing their roots to devour everything and grow.

So why had it revealed its true form only today?

Logically, with the constant flow of people in Jiaoyun Tower, it should have had its fill long ago. Shen Chunyi’s temples throbbed violently, and the ominous shadow in his heart grew heavier.

Back then, even the talisman master who created the curse had not anticipated its ferocity. As soon as its effects became apparent, Yun Jiyan began working on improvements, revising it several times. However, the original version was still recorded and, over the centuries, had been regarded as a forbidden curse, nearly lost to time. Shen Chunyi had only glimpsed fragments of it in his master’s wife’s collection—incomplete and heavily damaged. From those fragments alone, it was impossible to reconstruct the complete curse.

How could such a vicious forbidden curse still be in use?

He calmed himself and examined the “person,” only to realize how absurd it was to call this “person” human.

The thing that could barely be called a head had only clearly visible facial features, distinguishable as a human face, while its body was covered in overlapping red-pink scales like those of a giant python, not the flesh tone of a human. Its limbs were not distinctly jointed like a human’s either—it was impossible to tell where the upper arm ended and the forearm began. No, these weren’t even limbs; it was sprouting five, six, seven, eight limbs at an unbelievable speed!

The entire “person” looked nothing like a human at all, but rather… like an upside-down lotus flower, its thick petals splayed open and curling desperately into tubes, imitating human limbs!

Shen Chunyi was witnessing the effects of this curse firsthand for the first time, and it was truly astonishing. He had seen lotus demons before, but when they were lotuses, they were hollow-stemmed and upright, without tangled branches. Even after becoming demons, they mostly retained a graceful, elegant appearance—quite aesthetically pleasing. Nothing like this, with four, five, six limbs growing, intertwining, and curling like straightened tree roots. It was utterly horrifying! It had grown deformed.

Indeed, forcing growth was never advisable!

For some reason, after being kicked by Shen Chunyi, the “person” stopped moving. Perhaps its brain hadn’t fully developed, or maybe it had grown but wasn’t complete. Even after being kicked, it remained crouched on the ground, seemingly confused about what had happened.

Seeing it motionless, Shen Chunyi assumed it had been too eager to grow and had neglected to develop a brain. Losing interest in fighting, he just wanted to see what was happening outside and what exactly had been subjected to the Rain-Birth Curse.

His right hand pressed against his sword sheath as he kicked the door open again.

The entire tavern was plunged into darkness, with only the unclosed doors and unblocked windows allowing faint moonlight to spill in. It was just enough to see that the whole building seemed submerged in vast shadows, utterly unrecognizable.

Shen Chunyi could already tell that the shadows were the dense, tangled roots emerging from the rockery pond where the lotus had grown during the day. Some were buried deep underground, while others climbed upward, probing into every room through the windows!

He didn’t need to look further to know that the thing driven to frenzied growth by the Rain-Birth Curse was the lotus in the rockery pond. Every living thing in the tavern was about to become its nourishment. A lotus demon could actually grow like this.

With such a commotion, not a single person had woken up. It was unclear whether it was due to the calming incense or because they had already met their demise.

Just then, the lotus demon seemed to suddenly grow a brain. Seeing Shen Chunyi ignore it, it inexplicably began writhing on the ground, squirming for a while before scrambling to its feet and trying to flee!

Shen Chunyi, having just snapped back to attention, couldn’t let it get away. As it let out a strange shriek and attempted to leap over the railing to dash toward its nest in the rockery pond—likely planning to absorb more nutrients through its roots—he sprang forward, vaulting onto the railing as well. Silver needles and throwing darts shot out together, slicing through the air with a sharp whistle as they struck toward the creature!

The silver darts whizzed past, cleanly severing one of its arms. The severed stump sprayed a disgusting, viscous fluid. The monstrous thing shrieked in pain, its voice like fingernails scraping against granite—utterly unbearable. Shen Chunyi felt goosebumps all over and nearly wanted to drop his sword to cover his ears.

Yet, even with this level of noise, not a single person or dog stirred awake. That was definitely not a good sign. The flower demon staggered as it ran, shrieking all the while. Strangely, its speed after being injured was even faster than before.

This damned thing, running on several limbs, actually grew more coordinated the longer it ran, even outpacing Shen Chunyi, who only had two legs! Amidst the chaos, a loud crash suddenly echoed from upstairs. A door on the third floor was kicked open, and Xuan Shuangxu stepped out of the room with a displeased expression. He glanced around, took in the bizarre and absurd scene in the building, and merely let out a soft “hmph” while crossing his arms, seemingly not too surprised.

Shen Chunyi, his goosebumps rising and fading, finally drew his sword and chased after it, shouting sharply over his shoulder, “Blow up that rockery pond!”

Xuan Shuangxu hadn’t fully grasped the situation yet, but upon hearing Shen Chunyi’s command, he immediately responded, “Alright.”

With that, he too leaped down, gathering spiritual energy to blast the pond.

The lotus demon had originally intended to flee back to its lair and merge with the vines. Surprisingly, its grass-root brain was still functioning. Seeing the young man descend, it weighed its options and decided that Xuan Shuangxu was the more formidable threat. It abruptly pulled up its limbs and scurried in the opposite direction.

Shen Chunyi turned, his toes pressing hard against the railing as he shot forward like an arrow from a bow. Although the monster ran with surprising coordination, dividing its attention to fight Shen Chunyi with several hands proved far less smooth.

Seeing Shen Chunyi approach, it let out a garbled, shrieking cry and swung its chaotic palms down at him. Shen Chunyi easily sidestepped the attack. Failing to land a hit, it turned to flee again, but Shen Chunyi wouldn’t let it have its way. Gripping the hilt with his right hand, he pulled forcefully. A brilliant silver spiritual light erupted as the longsword left its sheath!

The sword was entirely obsidian-black, with intricate carvings along its core, yet the spiritual light it emitted was pure and silvery. When swung, silver radiance danced wildly, nearly blinding, like snowflakes descending from the heavens—hence its name, Entrusted Snow.

The world’s foremost venomous sword—the Jixue Sword! Having refined poisons for so long, his spiritual energy was inherently laced with potent toxins. If this strike landed, the venom would instantly be driven by his spiritual energy throughout the monster’s entire body, leaving no chance of survival.

Shen Chunyi adjusted the blade’s angle and thrust forward! Unexpectedly, just as the tip of Shen Chunyi’s sword was about to pierce its body, the part that could barely be called a “head” suddenly detached from the torso!

The Jixue Sword plunged deep with a wet thud. Purple-black poisoned blood surged like chains, instantly covering the entire body. However, the head had already rolled onto the ground, severing its connection with the now-poisoned torso.

Shen Chunyi yanked his sword back, only to see countless vines sprouting from where the head should have connected to a neck. They rustled and writhed, whipping the head and the ground like a spinning top. The entire head bounced forcefully on the ground like a rubber ball, attempting to escape in this utterly indescribable manner!

Shen Chunyi was stunned. This was the first time he’d learned that the Rainbirth Curse could be so powerful, so horrifying, and so bizarre. There was no record of such an effect in any book!

Over there, Xuan Shuangxu remained remarkably composed. One blast of spiritual light had already destroyed half the pond, and he was about to launch another when his peripheral vision caught Shen Chunyi’s situation. Thinking he was frightened, Xuan Shuangxu withdrew his hand. His tone remained unhurried, as if he were already accustomed to such terrifying scenes. He drawled, “Master, do you need help?”

Shen Chunyi wasn’t frightened—he was simply witnessing such a spectacle for the first time and couldn’t help but be astounded. He stared, somewhat dumbfounded, at the direction the head was fleeing, before finally saying, “No need.”

Although the head’s path was twisted and erratic, it was generally heading in one direction—it was making its way toward a specific destination. Shen Chunyi, upon mentioning the Jixue Sword, tapped his toes and shot forward like a bolt of lightning.

The jade-like moon hung high in the sky, casting a hazy, silvery glow. Shen Chunyi estimated it was around midnight. The streets of Dunan were utterly silent, with only the sound of the bouncing head ahead, using the vines sprouting from its skull as whips to lash the ground, producing a series of echoing thuds that rang clearly through the empty streets.

The thing bounced wildly through the alleys and lanes, looking from a distance like a grass-covered football or a spinning top gone mad—though it was the one wielding the whip.

It thumped and bounced erratically on the ground, ricocheted off walls, and crashed into eaves with a series of heavy thuds. Each movement of the vines carried a sharp, whistling sound, striking with immense force and propelling the head forward at incredible speed, almost leaving a blur in its wake.

Shen Chunyi, sword in hand, leaped across the tiled rooftops, moonlight cascading over his shoulders as he pursued. His footsteps were as rapid as a sudden downpour, his figure swift as a soaring serpent, chasing the head westward.

Westward again.

Shen Chunyi faintly sensed they had traveled this direction before, and as they advanced, the surroundings grew increasingly familiar—it was the very path they had taken from the Zhao residence the day before.

The Zhao residence!

That lotus from the Zhao residence! How could there be two identical lotuses in the world unless they were twin flowers?

Twin flowers share the same roots from birth, connected and sensing each other. Having suffered a setback here, it must have sought refuge with its sibling. Following this logic, the flower at Jiaoyun Tower had been enchanted with the Rain-Birth Curse, yet it had only just begun to grow. The simplest explanation was this:

The Rain-Birth Curse had likely been cast on the shared roots of the twin flowers, affecting both. A newly awakened spirit, much like a newborn child, would naturally want to feast alongside its companion!

But the Zhao family, with their nouveau riche demeanor, was not particularly large. How could it possibly be enough to satisfy them?

With the recent passing of an elder, all of Zhao’s relatives were gathered at the residence tonight for the vigil!

That would be more than enough to feast on.

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