Chapter Six: Living to One Hundred and Eighty Years

Chapter 6: Lifespan Extended to Two Hundred and Eighty Years

Apart from the stone bed, every inch of the chamber was densely packed with black clay jars—hundreds, perhaps thousands of them. In the dim light, these black jars formed suffocating ranks; some were shrouded in a thick layer of dust, while others appeared relatively new. The air was heavy with a stifling mildew, and from within the jars came faint sounds of friction, as if something was writhing inside—enough to chill the heart of anyone who imagined what might lurk within.

At this moment, beside the stone bed, Kong Gao and another young Taoist, both bound, gradually regained consciousness. Still dazed, they suddenly caught sight of their master and immediately began to struggle in agitation, trying to speak, but the cloth stuffed in their mouths silenced every word.

“These two scoundrels dared to sneak into my quarters last night to steal scriptures. Then, they came here to the alchemy chamber, hoping to pilfer elixirs! I truly misjudged you. Since you wished to come, I shall grant your wish,” the Grandmaster Tongxuan declared coldly, clearly uninterested in hearing their defense. He formed a mudra with a twist of his hand, pointed sharply ahead, and commanded, “Rise!”

Two black jars abruptly flipped up from the floor, smashing through their clay seals and landing over Kong Gao’s and Qingfeng’s heads. The two young men’s muffled, hysterical screams echoed from within.

“Then you shall remain here forever!” Grandmaster Tongxuan strode before them. His withered right hand slashed swiftly along their necks; with the sound of flesh rending and bones splintering, their cries ceased abruptly, and the two black jars tumbled to the ground with a hollow clatter.

Witnessing this horror, the other young Taoists trembled uncontrollably, their eyes squeezed shut in terror. Some bit down on their lips to muffle their whimpers, while another dropped his torch, which rolled twice and went out. Only a single torch bound to the wall still flickered with a feeble glow.

Everyone was petrified by the scene and instinctively pressed themselves against the slick walls of the cavern, not daring even to breathe. Had Grandmaster Tongxuan not been standing guard, they would have broken into frantic cries and scrambled for escape.

A thick stench of blood began to permeate the sealed chamber.

“I brought you here to witness the fate of traitors, to serve as a warning,” Grandmaster Tongxuan’s left eye, black as a void, seemed to merge with the darkness.

“But now—!” he suddenly declared.

“I’ve changed my mind. Since you all wish for death, I’ll grant you that, too.” His tone turned icy. “Isn’t it the Elixir of Longevity you desire? Zhenfu, open the jar beside you.”

Zhang Sanlu hesitated for a moment, then picked up a black clay jar from nearby. It wasn’t heavy, but when his eyes swept over the rim, he noticed several twisted talismans pressed into the seal. Not wanting to touch them, he hefted the jar, gave it a look, and then slammed it forcefully against the wall.

With a dull bang, the jar struck the stone, shattered, and a black, round lump rolled out amidst fragments of the vessel and clumps of dry black earth. The sphere was covered in sticky black mud and looked revolting. Strangely, Zhang Sanlu noticed the ball was studded with clumps of black hair—deeply unsettling.

Just as Zhang Sanlu leaned closer for a better look, a young Taoist burst into sobs and shrieks. “It’s a human head—it’s all human heads—”

Though everyone had seen Grandmaster Tongxuan decapitate the two disciples moments before, the heads had been concealed inside the jars, and there was no direct sight of the severed heads or spattered blood. Now, a human head rolling from the shattered jar struck far deeper terror than death witnessed at a distance. With so many black jars scattered about, one shuddered to imagine what lay within each of them.

Grandmaster Tongxuan walked up to the head, flicked his finger, and forced its mouth open. Then, stretching out a hand, he reached inside and drew forth a dark red pill.

It was the very same Elixir of Longevity Zhang Sanlu had seen before.

So this was how Grandmaster Tongxuan refined his elixirs—using human lives. Zhang Sanlu understood now, and it explained why there was no alchemical furnace in the chamber. The Grandmaster’s previous slips about former disciples—those boys had themselves become ingredients, living furnaces for his pills!

“Master! No, you fiend—you never intended for us to leave here alive. Fight him!” a stout Taoist youth roared, drawing a short sword from his waist. With a burst of movement, he kicked a clay jar violently at Grandmaster Tongxuan, then charged forward, shouting.

“Impressive—you’ve trained in martial arts since childhood, and your recitation of the Sutra of No Regret is adequate,” the Grandmaster remarked, smacking the jar aside with a single hand before it could reach him.

In the next instant, the short sword glinted and thrust straight for the Grandmaster’s brow.

With a deft twist of his body, Tongxuan let the blade slice harmlessly past the empty sleeve of his left arm. The Taoist youth, missing his mark, spun away, curling into a ball, and rolled behind the Grandmaster, hoping to escape his reach.

But as he rose and began to turn, his chest suddenly felt hollow. Glancing down, he saw a skeletal hand thrust through his back, clutching a heart, still beating, within its grasp.

“How can a man live without his heart?” Grandmaster Tongxuan’s voice sounded behind him.

The sword clattered to the ground, and before the youth’s corpse could even collapse, a black jar was already being forced over his head.

“Master... I did nothing, please, Master, spare me... please...” A young acolyte had collapsed to the floor, snot and tears streaming down his face, begging for mercy.

“I had considered, as before, refining you one by one in order, but it seems someone leaked word and found my alchemy chamber. At first, I thought perhaps one among you also sought longevity and ascension, but the more I think about it, the more certain I am—there’s a traitor planted among you by my enemies!” the Grandmaster declared, shaking the blood from his hand. “So none of you can be left alive. All the ‘furnaces’ must be dealt with, and only then can I replace the cauldron. Otherwise, the power of the Elixir of Longevity will continue to wane.”

“Master, how old are you now?” someone suddenly inquired.

Grandmaster Tongxuan was momentarily stunned that anyone would ask such a question now. Turning, he saw Zhang Sanlu standing with arms folded, his face alight with curiosity.

“Merely three cycles of sixty years—two hundred and eighty years in all,” Tongxuan replied, holding up three fingers.