Celestial Ascent: A Tale of Myths and Martial Arts

Chapter One: Choosing the Day to Ascend

[In the wilds of Yongzhou grows an uncanny serpent. Black body, white markings. It kills grass and trees at a touch; its bite has no cure.]

Here Liu Zongyuan—banished scholar, author of The Snake Catcher—set down his brush, sighed, and went to the window. “The people suffer, and tyranny is crueler than any serpent. Since Tianbao’s fourteenth year, the state has rotted, and now even serpents roam the villages!”

In that year His Majesty grew muddled, the Prince of Dongping rebelled, and the glorious age ended overnight. The revolt was crushed, but years of war and warlords ended the old prosperity.

So demonic vapors rose over Shenzhou, foul spirits multiplied, sycophants and eunuchs ruled the court, and ambitious men like Liu Zongyuan were exiled to backwaters.

Just then black wind howled outside; a viper banded black and white surged from the ditch into the street, and grass and trees withered where it passed.

This was the very serpent of his essay, venomous beyond measure.

But this one was absurd: over thirty feet long. Its tail swept houses to rubble; its jaws sprayed poison mist.

Villagers fled wailing, daring not linger.

At the corner a plump white pig nosed a cabbage, breathed the mist, kicked out its hooves, and died.

Then a ragged boy charged in, threw a punch, and fist-wind roared like a gale, scattering the poison mist.

The giant serpent fled in panic; the boy ran it down. It turned to fight, and he leaped, kicking its jaw.

It flew spinning. The boy sprang up, ten fingers flying, tapping joint after joint down its spine.

Crack, crack—like firecrackers. Wherever his fingers passed, bones and sinews slipped out of joint.

In moments he went from behind its head to its tail and unjointed every bone. It could not move.

People cheered: “Little Ying! Nice moves!”

The boy was Xu Ying: long-limbed, fingers slender and fine, skin darkened by years of sun and wind.

He was Lingling County’s famous snake catcher, only fourteen, already highly skilled.

Xu Ying took the serpent’s tail to leave. Liu Zongyuan called him back: “Xu Ying, what do you catch snakes for?”

The boy saluted. “Marshal Liu, dried in wax, this snake is medicine. It cures leprosy, cramps, contortions, fistulas, running sores; it strips dead flesh and kills intestinal worms. The Prefect says whoever catches one is exempt from taxes.”

Liu smiled. “That’s fine.”

Xu Ying’s face fell. “My grandfather was a snake catcher and died of it. My father was a snake catcher and died of it. I’ve learned the trade six years, and fear I’ll die of it too.”

Pity stirred Liu. “The Prefect is my friend. I can remit your corvée labor and restore your taxes.”

At that the serpent spoke in human tongue: “Lord Liu speaks well! Xu Ying, I’ve cultivated bitterly for years. Spare me. You pay your taxes; I’ll cultivate my demon arts in the mountains!”

Liu started. “This is a snake demon!”

The serpent cried, “My mother’s father was a snake demon and died at a snake catcher’s hands. My parents too. I’m a hundred and twenty, thought I’d escape, become a jiao dragon, and eat every b*st*rd—now I’ll die at a snake catcher’s hands too—”

Xu Ying pulled its jaw lightly and unhinged it. The serpent could speak no more.

Xu Ying’s eyes reddened. “Lord Liu, catching snakes keeps me alive. If my taxes return, I’ll starve. Who’d risk his life for snake demons unless forced?”

He dragged the snake demon away, downcast.

Liu could not hold back tears. “Who knew the poison of taxes is worse than this serpent! The serpent is venomous, but more venomous still is ruthless extortion!”

He returned to his room, brush flying, and wrote the famous The Snake Catcher.

Xu Ying dragged the snake demon home and threw it in a vat. Too late to take it to the yamen, he would wait for dawn.

He lit the fire, cooked, wolfed a meal, and slept.

In the vat the serpent writhed, trying to reset its bones. Past midnight, fierce officials—like bandits—burst into the village, smashing, burning, looting, shouting for taxes.

Xu Ying woke, lit a lamp, peered into the vat. The snake demon was still there. He sighed and slept again.

The snake demon kept working its bones. At last it reset its lower jaw—then heard Xu Ying rise.

The snake demon sagged.

Xu Ying dressed and looked into the vat again. The snake demon lay still. It thought: Once my skull bone is set, I’ll whip up and bite him hard—send him to his grandfather and parents!

Facing the rising sun, Xu Ying breathed slowly and silently worked the Taiyi Guiding Art.

With each breath the sunlight on his face seemed to brighten, and tiny motes of light vanished into his body.

Faint thunder rolled in his belly, rising from his dantian—the core below his navel—up through throat and nose, then sinking back.

Soon heat steamed off him, white vapor curling upward.

His skill was not taught by grandfather or father.

He was not his father’s own flesh; his grandfather had picked him up.

Father and grandfather were surnamed Jiang; Xu Ying was surnamed Xu. Seven years ago, when Xujiaping burned, grandfather carried him out and brought him here.

Of that fire he remembered little, but dimly remembered a breathing method: the Taiyi Guiding Art.

In idle hours he practiced it. He had kept at the Taiyi Guiding Art for seven full years.

He did not know what good it did; idle was idle, and morning practice cost little time.

He discovered its greatest use: when his qi and blood ran to—

“This thing’s good for nothing but letting you piss farther,” he had once sneered.

Then he grew, went snake catching with grandfather and father, and after they killed a big snake, he learned the art did far more than that.

He taught them the Taiyi Guiding Art, but they came too late, advanced slowly, and fell one after another in snake catching.

Now only Xu Ying was left in the house.

Three years ago he had cultivated the art to its limit; his qi and blood ran like rolling thunder.

He could feel the road went on, that his qi and blood had changes left to run—but he did not know the next art.

Behind him, the snake demon poked its head from the vat and was appalled.

Xu Ying devoured the sun’s essence and tempered his qi and blood faster than the demon. This was no absorption—it was a monster opening its jaws to swallow the morning sun’s mystery.

“He’s cultivating a demon-kind art!” The snake demon’s eyes widened. “Isn’t he human? How can he cultivate our art?”

The sun climbed past the pole. Xu Ying stopped; the snake demon jerked its head back.

Once the sun was high, its fiery nature grew unbearable. To practice then made qi and blood hotter and hotter, until one might burn up from within.

Too much practice harmed the body. Excess fire nature required gathering the moon’s essence on a full-moon night to dissolve it and keep cultivation pure.

Xu Ying pinched the snake demon at the seven-inch spot behind its head and lifted it out. “I’m not fond of killing. I ask, you answer, or I kill you. Understand?”

The snake demon nodded and nodded.

Xu Ying set it down. “How did you become a demon?”

“My grandfather was an ordinary venomous snake,” it said. “It wandered into Qinyan Cave. Half the cave collapsed, revealing a scroll and a gourd of pills. It ate the pills, its mind opened—it could speak, read, write. It cultivated by the scroll and became a demon. It passed the scroll to my parents, and they to me: an orderly family tradition.”

Xu Ying nodded. “Bring me your family’s scripture.”

The snake demon hesitated.

Xu Ying picked up a fist-sized stone from the well and squeezed; water beaded out.

He let go; it crumbled to powder. “How do you stack up against this rock?”

The snake demon decided at once. It opened its mouth and spat out a scroll.

Xu Ying unrolled it. It recorded a guiding art, the Great Sun Guiding Art, and a martial art, Elephant Strength Bull Demon Fist.

“You’re one snake. No hands, no feet. How would you practice Elephant Strength Bull Demon Fist?”

Xu Ying laughed. “This is a martial path for bull demons or elephant demons, isn’t it?”

The snake demon’s mouth twitched. It thought: I’m lucky to have anything; what right have I to be picky? Aren’t you cultivating our demon art?

Xu Ying leafed through it. The Great Sun Guiding Art resembled his Taiyi Guiding Art, but was far slower at drawing the sun’s essence.

It recorded their present stage: the Qi-Gathering Stage.

Gathering qi meant drawing the sun’s essence—motes of light condensed from sunlight—to strengthen the body and raise qi and blood.

Xu Ying frowned. Like his Taiyi Guiding Art, the Great Sun Guiding Art broke off after mastering the Qi-Gathering Stage. No later art!

“After mastering qi-gathering, do you feel a road ahead?” Xu Ying asked.

The snake demon said cautiously, “At the top, my qi and blood brimmed and surged, as if about to break a barrier. But I don’t know where the barrier is.”

Xu Ying frowned, rose, went to the main hall, and fetched a bamboo book basket.

He dumped the scrolls out and spread them on the ground.

The snake demon was aghast: dozens of guiding arts!

Over the years Xu Ying had caught not only snake demons but every kind. For miles around, almost no demon escaped him.

These demons had lucky chances—stumbling into ancient caves, hearing scripture at a stone wall, finding a hidden realm in water—and so became demons.

Yet every art they obtained could be cultivated only to the Qi-Gathering Stage. None went further.

The Taiyi Guiding Art was the same: it could still raise his qi and blood, and he could feel a road ahead—but the road was cut off, vast and trackless.

“Why do all of them break off at the Qi-Gathering Stage?” Xu Ying muttered.

The snake demon said indignantly, “Someone’s targeting demon-kind—wiped out our later arts! It’s a human scheme!”

Xu Ying shook his head. “If someone could destroy the later arts, why not destroy everything? There must be something else behind it.”

He leafed through Elephant Strength Bull Demon Fist, and his expression shifted.

This martial path was not only for bull or elephant demons; any race could practice it. A snake demon would first need human form and limbs.

The fist art drove qi and blood at double speed; in an instant, power rose to a giant elephant’s—hence Divine Elephant Strength.

“Bull Demon” came from the frenzy: blood and qi ran too fast for reason, throwing the user into a mad state.

The art also made the body swell in an instant—several inches, even a foot taller.

Hands and feet grew larger too.

Xu Ying’s interest kindled. He had subdued demons by brute strength, no master of fist or foot. With this art, his strength would climb fast.

Outside, a villager called, “Little Ying, come out and pay respects to the god!”

Xu Ying tucked the scripture away and squeezed the snake demon’s neck. “If you’re still here when I return, I’ll dry you out and hand you in. And don’t harm anyone.”

The snake demon felt its neck bones settle back and was startled and delighted.

Xu Ying left the yard for the Jiang Family Fields Ancestral Shrine. The villagers were sallow-faced and ragged; the shrine was splendid and gilded.

Every household came. The rich carried cooked chickens, ducks, thick incense candles; the poor brought fruit and plain rice, three sticks of incense, walking up one by one.

Those with nothing came empty-handed, like Xu Ying.

Inside, incense curled. Behind the censer stood a wooden idol over sixteen feet tall: scarlet body, green robe, green face, tusks.

Smoke threaded into its nostrils.

Its chest swelled; it drew one long breath and swallowed all the villagers’ incense.

The idol turned to flesh and blood, rose from its niche, seized the chickens, ducks, and fruit, and ate. When pleased, it stuffed incense and candles into its mouth and chewed.

Today was the first of the month, worship day. In Xujiajing, Yangzitang, Shuangjiqiao, Shagouwan, and other villages, shrines also smoked with incense.

Idols of wood, clay, bronze, and iron woke one by one, turned to flesh, and feasted on offerings.

In the mountains and rivers around Lingling, Mountain God and Dragon King temples were mist-wreathed; in the city, the City God woke to enjoy sacrifices.

Not only Lingling—all Yongzhou, southern Hunan, and Shenzhou were thick with incense. Idols guarding villages, towns, cities, and prefectures woke to receive offerings: a scene of prosperity.

Yet since His Majesty grew muddled, the realm fell into chaos; the prosperous age decayed. Warlords carved domains, imperial authority was gone, and the gods of Shenzhou waned.

“Xu Ying! Jiang Shu! Jiang Lu! You penniless lot—empty-handed, not even a stick of incense!”

The god raged and slammed the table. “I eat only two meals a month from you, and your offerings don’t fill my belly! Does Jiang Family Fields still want good weather and full bellies? Anger a god, and you don’t fear my calamity?”

—Zhaizhu’s new book, Choosing the Day to Ascend, is officially live! One chapter daily around noon, one around eight in the evening! Chapter Two tonight at eight sharp!

Also, the rules changed: you can vote for a new series from day one. Why not try? Votes, follows, and reviews welcome~

Chapter Two: Wrath Against the Heavenly Law

Xu Ying had long since stopped caring: he bowed once to the Green-Robed God and counted that as worship. Incense, candles, fruit—forget it.

He had nothing to eat himself, let alone offerings for a god.

The other two villagers the Green-Robed God had named, though, had gone ashen.

Jiang Lu was a man in his forties who looked eighty—face a mass of wrinkles, body bent and trembling. "Lord God, this old man can't even keep food in his belly. Last night I gnawed on tree bark. Then the tax collectors came squeezing extra levies again. What have I got left to honor you with..."

The Green-Robed God glanced at him and sneered. "You honor the tax collectors but not me? Am I worth less than a tax collector?"

Jiang Lu did not dare speak.

The god's eyes rolled. "Don't you still have a daughter? Give her to me. I'll be your son-in-law and keep you fed and clothed