Cultivating for a hundred lifetimes to ascension Chapter 1462 - 791: The Ten Kings of Hell and the Mysterious Painting (Part 2)

Two middle-aged women were positioned outside the East Hall, while a lady clad in white emerged from within. A veil of white gauze obscured her face, rendering her features vague and unclear.

The lady in white appeared to detect a presence, abruptly lifting her gaze.

Eye contact was made, sending a shiver through both their cores.

"She belongs to that group as well," a glint appeared in Zhao Sheng’s eyes, prompting him to advance toward her without delay.

"Step aside!"

Midway along his path, the pair of women blocked his way, with one barking sharply, "Clear off, don't obstruct my lady's route."

Zhao Sheng hadn't yet uttered a word when the woman in white interjected, "Granny Sun, Granny Zhao, kindly move out of the way. This young master harbors no malicious intent."

As the lady had commanded, the women reluctantly yielded, though their wariness stayed high, eyes fixed sharply on Zhao Sheng.

Advancing closer, Zhao Sheng motioned toward the East Hall and inquired with a grin, "Dare I suggest... entering for a discussion?"

"What reason is there for fear?" The woman in white consented promptly.

"Miss, it's unwise to be alone with this gentleman; it might tarnish your standing," Granny Sun cautioned in alarm at her words.

"Hush!"

The tone of the woman in white iced over instantly, making Granny Sun tremble and display a look of dread, evidently from past harsh treatment.

With those words, the woman in white pivoted and headed into the primary chamber.

A smile crossed Zhao Sheng's face as he bypassed the duo and crossed the temple threshold in quick steps.

Approaching the incense altar, the woman in white faced Zhao Sheng and queried, "I go by Gong Xueqing. Might I learn your name?"

Zhao Sheng offered a cupped-hand bow, "Zhao Gongzhu is my name; delighted to make your acquaintance, Taoist Gong."

"What prompted Taoist Zhao to summon me here? What topic do you wish to cover?" The woman in white posed the question steadily, her tone soft and fluid.

Zhao Sheng cut to the chase, declaring, "Regarding the details you possess, or perhaps additional intel. I'm prepared to barter with equivalent knowledge."

Interest flickered in the woman in white's eyes as she nodded, "A fair proposal. Shall we swap one bit of info each? Who starts?"

"I'll begin. Details on at least four fellow Daoists are known to me, covering their names and looks. Interested in a trade, Taoist Gong?"

As he talked, Zhao Sheng's eyes roamed the vast interior, absorbing the setup.

The deity's statue, the incense setup, the tributes, the hangings, and the wall-mounted Hell Creatures Painting... everything looked intact, much like ordinary worldly shrines.

If anything stood out, it was the Hell Creatures Painting adorning the walls—strikingly vivid, exuding a spooky and frightful aura, with ghosts and fiends portrayed in stark, breathing detail.

Ordinary folk beholding this artwork would probably quake in terror at hell's torments, all while kindling devotion to King Yan.

Clearly, a skilled artisan had crafted the wall's artwork.

At his words, the woman in white displayed a touch of respect, "Taoist, your techniques are remarkable. Yet I only recognize one fellow Daoist's identity. Beyond our swap, the other three intrigue me. Might a secret suffice as trade?"

"Of course," Zhao Sheng replied without pause. After all, with "tomorrow" on the horizon, all recollections would wipe clean.

By that logic, he'd secure free insights, profiting effortlessly.

The woman in white showed clear astonishment, unprepared for such ready consent, and continued, "Taoist, perhaps you're unaware, but this humble town conceals numerous relics from ancient immortals—"

She hadn't concluded when Zhao Sheng cut in abruptly, "I know."

"More than that, I've already claimed an artifact from another previously."

While saying so, Zhao Sheng retrieved a White Jade Cup, roughly fist-sized, from his sleeve and displayed it before her.

Catching sight of the cup's immortal etchings, a subtle shift crossed the woman in white's face, rendering her mute.

"Very well, a secret in return for that. Taoist, are you aware of Mingxi Town's old designation? Over a millennium past, it was called—"

"Ming River Town!" Zhao Sheng broke in once more, "Subsequent eras deemed the title too foreboding, hence the rename to Mingxi Town. The local annals hold the pertinent entry."

Witnessing this, the woman in white's veil trembled faintly, hinting at rising irritation.

"If Taoist comprehends it all, why engage in this exchange with me?"

"Didn't Taoist Gong mention knowing one fellow Daoist's identity? We can swap that one. I'll suffer a minor deficit, but I'll disclose all four identities outright," Zhao Sheng stated plainly.

Deep surprise gripped the woman in white, mingled with doubt over his claim.

Perceiving her inner doubts sharply, he responded brightly, "One fellow Daoist goes by Nangong Wuliang, roughly forty in age, with an appearance..."

He swiftly recited the names and features of the scholarly middle-ager, the robust ferryman, the reclusive maiden, and the muscular Su Heihu, unconcerned by any potential betrayal.

Having heard quietly, the woman in white opened her mouth delicately, disclosing a certain individual's looks and history.

Upon absorbing her words, Zhao Sheng examined the woman in white thoroughly, struck temporarily silent.

Noticing his stare, tension seized the woman in white's chest; she covertly gripped an item within her sleeve.

Fortune favored her as Zhao Sheng refrained from acting. He merely bowed with cupped hands, "Deal sealed; duties await me, so farewell."

With that, heedless of her response, he spun around and marched off briskly, appearing utterly unguarded.

The woman in white wavered back and forth, too wary to strike, her innate spiritual sense proving extraordinary, warning that any attempt spelled doom.

Exiting the East Hall, a spark lit Zhao Sheng’s eyes; he disregarded the women's glaring stares and headed firmly for the West Hall.

Just then, subtle clashes of battle drifted from the West Hall.

In an instant, Zhao Sheng traversed the square, positioned at the West Hall entrance, and ventured a foot inward.

All at once, a gleam of Sword Light burst from beside the doorway, aiming for his throat at a bizarrely twisted angle.

Zhao Sheng, seemingly anticipating the assault, retreated precisely in time, dodging the blow by a hair.

At the same moment, a flash of pale glow erupted from his midsection, hurtling like a shooting star to hit a hand protruding beyond the door.

Silently, the hand dropped to the floor, joined by a gleaming white Willow Leaf Saber tumbling noisily.

In the following instant, Zhao Sheng flicked his wrist, guiding the lengthy sword upward tracing the cut limb, moving nimbly akin to a spectral fish.

Seized by panic, the assailant flung himself rearward with full force, landing supine on the earth as the blade whisked by his nostrils, cleaving his conical hat clean through.

A touch of astonishment hit Zhao Sheng, surprised at the foe's rapid response, which sidestepped his Flowing Cloud Feathers technique.

A bang echoed as dense fog erupted suddenly at the spot where the hatted figure had collapsed.

Shrouded by the haze, the individual crawled swiftly backward over the surface, slippery as an eel.

Zhao Sheng's gaze sharpened; he flipped the sword by whirling his arm, its point aimed straight into the fog bank, then flung it powerfully.

The lengthy blade became a streak of brilliance, slicing through the mist in a flash and vanishing.

Ah!

A sharp cry rang out abruptly, then all fell quiet.

Zhao Sheng's brow creased; he hastened forward, fanning his sleeve to clear the vapors, discovering emptiness save for a wide stain of blood on the ground.

"Fled? Fascinating!"

Zhao Sheng murmured aloud, then whipped around to glance back, catching a young lady gawking at him in shock, cradling a toddler of three or four in her embrace.

His eyes settled on the little one's visage, which bore a pure and childlike innocence.

A cryptic grin suddenly played on Zhao Sheng's lips; he paid no mind to the pair, opting instead to draw near the wall's mural in the hall, scrutinizing the displayed artworks.

Before him sprawled eleven panels of Hell Creatures Paintings, showing endless sword summits, myriad imps and resentful spirits scaling the Sword Mountain, throngs of edges carving into them till bloodied, faces twisted in horror, endless shrieks and sobs resounding.

The Sword Mountain Hell Painting brimmed with vitality, ever more so, as if stirring to life, with subtle echoes of laments and begs permeating the space.

Shock jolted Zhao Sheng; he backed away several paces hurriedly, putting deliberate space between himself and the artwork.

Viewed from afar, the artwork's chilling pull waned considerably, shedding much of its lifelike quality.

"What masterful craft!" Zhao Sheng inhaled sharply, feeling ever stronger the concealed mysteries in these Hell Creatures Paintings.

Pressing on, he inspected every one of the ten shrines, beholding each Hell Map, his alarm mounting steadily.

In the interim, a duo of townsfolk suspected as "Immortal Ruins Guests" reached the Ten Kings Temple, falling under Zhao Sheng’s watchful eye.