My name is Tang Bao, and I am a once-in-a-century transformative flying corpse.
Yesterday I woke up and fled—but my luck ran out. Before I could even leave the city, I was recaptured. As a dangerous creature, I was destined to be executed on the spot. But for some reason—perhaps because of the master–servant contract—that bird let me off the hook.
There are corpse cultivators who transform living beings by entering the realm of death, and there are those who nurture and refine the souls inherent in the dead. I belong to the latter; having already died once, I have no memories of my previous life.
I have a bad temper and choose my words sparingly. I don’t like the name “Tang Bao,” but since my heart was gouged out and I couldn’t fight back against those people, I have no choice.
As an incredibly powerful flying corpse, I’m mocked for my name every day. And today was no different.
“Your Highness said you’ve been keeping something interesting?” Before Bai Ling even arrived, her crisp, tinkling voice came through as she burst in, pushing the door open in a flurry. Following her was Wen Mingyu, who—after a comfortable rest these past few days—looked revitalized, once again exuding the gentle, courteous demeanor of old.
“Interesting? It’s nothing more than an ugly, old, stinky fox playing tricks on people, hmph.” Tang Muxi knew she’d soon be dragged into the joke as well. She pursed her lips and glanced at Jiang Yin—who was laughing as if bathed in a spring breeze—with a face full of displeasure.
At that, Jiang Yin raised her eyebrows lightly. Not angry at all, she smiled and said, “Bai Ling finally came to play, so how can you call her old and ugly, junior sister? That’s really not very well-behaved.”
Then she turned and pointed to the guy standing by the window, adding, “Bai Ling, don’t stoop to my junior sister’s level—the fun is over there.”
Although Bai Ling was young, she wasn’t naive. She already knew that the “stinky fox” Tang Muxi referred to was Jiang Yin. Seeing that Jiang Yin was diverting the trouble, Bai Ling rolled her eyes and started toward the window.
“Hey, who’s this stranger?” Bai Ling curiously moved closer, but after only a few steps she suddenly sensed an overpowering murderous aura. Every hair on her body stood on end, and she recoiled several steps in fright.
At the same time, Tang Bao turned around and looked expressionlessly at the two newcomers. A graceful streak of blue appeared at the corner of his eye, and two fangs still protruded from the corners of his mouth. Though his demeanor was cold and aloof, he increasingly looked less like a human.
Seeing this, Wen Mingyu’s face changed dramatically. In shock and caution she exclaimed, “Flying corpse!” The man before her had already retracted nearly half his fangs, his skin now clean and immaculate—almost indistinguishable from an ordinary person. If he wished to ascend to the rank of Hán Bǎ (a type of desert demon), it was probably only a matter of time.
Over the years, she had traveled the three realms and seen many corpse cultivators emerge, but she had never encountered one whose cultivation was as perfect as this one. His strength was unparalleled—so profound that even she couldn’t see through him. He must be at least in the Transformation realm. If one day he were to ascend to Hán Bǎ and break through the Great Ascension… it would likely spell calamity for the world.
Wen Mingyu quickly shielded Bai Ling behind her, fully on guard, “Jiang Yin, where did you get this thing?” Seeing her fuss, Jiang Yin couldn’t help but smile and said, “What’s there to fear? I’ve been keeping it for a long time. I’ve already established a master–servant contract with it, so it won’t harm anyone on its own. Besides, just yesterday I sealed its heart into the Imprisoning Demon Sword—if it ever shows signs of rebellion, it’ll be completely annihilated. This was done with the consent of your aunt and your mother, so there’s no need to worry.”
“Rather than that, why don’t we ask it its name?” With that, a mischievous smile spread across Jiang Yin’s face. Knowing the two were still wary of its aura, she then instructed, “Withdraw your aura—don’t scare them.”
The flying corpse shot her a sideways glance with an expressionless face, remaining still, yet obediently withdrew his aura. Apart from the traits typical of a corpse cultivator, he was hardly distinguishable from an ordinary person.
With the dangerous aura gone, Bai Ling relaxed a bit. Hearing Jiang Yin’s words, she grew curious about the flying corpse’s name.
“What’s your name?” Bai Ling, hiding behind Wen Mingyu, peeked out and asked.
The flying corpse remained cold and silent, not uttering a word—as if he hadn’t heard her. He was a proud being; why should he answer? Yet even the cold-hearted have no recourse when faced with a mischievous master.
“Little fox is asking you—why won’t you answer? You won’t make any close friends that way,” Jiang Yin urged.
Now unable to pretend not to hear, the flying corpse opened his mouth and coldly uttered two words: “Tang Bao.” Seemingly disdainful, he then fell silent.
“Tang Bao?” Bai Ling was taken aback, not quite understanding, and asked, “Which Tang? Which Bao?” Jiang Yin glanced at her junior sister, whose expression grew even more unhappy, and laughed, “Naturally, it’s your Tang, and the Bao of the buns.”
This time, without resorting to phrases like “turning the tables in conflict,” she directly nicknamed him Baozi. Bai Ling and Wen Mingyu couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
Tang Muxi, infuriated by the laughter, suddenly got up from her seat, “Laugh, laugh, laugh—always laughing!” Then she snorted, pushed the door angrily, and left.
“Damn big demon, shitty Senior Sister—ptoo, ptoo, ptoo.”
Tang Muxi ran all the way to the alchemy chamber, still cursing Jiang Yin. “This prank is going to cost you three times over! Just wait—once I recover, you’ll get it!” With the previous incidents in mind, she already had eight opportunities to get back at Senior Sister. Over the next eight days, she planned to let Senior Sister truly feel her strength, or else she’d always be at the mercy of that person.
While seething with anger and determination, Tang Muxi habitually went in search of the remnant soul of the Singing Snake. In the past two days, busy with Senior Sister’s matters, she’d even forgotten to feed the soul—and she worried it might have weakened.
Worried, Tang Muxi rushed to Qionglong Jade, only to be shocked to find that the remnant soul, which usually stayed peacefully on the main island, had somehow vanished today.
“Eh, could it be at the Life Marrow?” But since she had hidden the Life Marrow using a formation, even the remnant soul shouldn’t be able to find it.
With a strange feeling in her heart, Tang Muxi still flew toward the Celestial Island Medicine Garden. The Life Marrow lay just beneath the extreme cold ice pond, constantly nourished by its waters. If the remnant soul could sense its presence, that was the only place it could go.
With that thought in mind, she entered the medicine garden and headed straight for the ice pond without looking back. To her surprise, as soon as she arrived she felt strong, pulsing waves of power. The force was rich and intense, filled with the aura of life. Every ripple and surge was like a gentle, continuous spring rain, reviving all things in heaven and earth.
Startled, Tang Muxi looked around and discovered that in just half a month the spirit plants in the garden had grown considerably. The Hunyuan Tree, which had only just sprouted tender branches, now had buds and leaves, its trunk sturdy and even thicker than a calf. Even the lower-tier Ziyun Vine Fruit had borne tender fruits, exuding a subtle fruity fragrance. At this pace, it wouldn’t be long before they matured completely.
Normally, apart from being nourished by the auspicious clouds and timely rains during her breakthroughs, these plant spirits grew slowly. Now, with such an abnormal surge of spiritual energy, Tang Muxi couldn’t think of any other reason.
Feeling something in her heart, she followed the pulsations. With every step closer, she felt an extremely gentle and sacred vitality—as if even her own blood were being nourished, growing increasingly active. The power that had been depleted from sacrificing the divine artifact was now slowly recovering. By the time she reached the strange tree, the feebleness that had clung to her had dissipated significantly.
“It really is you.”
This spirit tree had few leaves, but its trunk was robust and powerful, its surface radiating silvery light like the dazzling brightness of the sun, moon, and stars. Had one not seen its thick roots plunging deep into the earth, one might have thought that the sun, moon, and heavens were all born of it.
The last time she came, the leaves were so sparse they could almost be counted at a glance. But now, although still few, the leaves were much larger than before. Moreover, perhaps it was an illusion, but under the constant irrigation of the extreme cold ice pond, this spirit tree seemed to grow ever taller.
Tang Muxi stepped forward and slowly stroked the rough bark with her hand. The life force spread out like rippling water, continuously emanating.
“Muxi…” While lost in thought, she suddenly heard a faint calling by her ear. Though extremely delicate—as if it might vanish with the slightest breeze—it was unmistakably there.
Stunned, Tang Muxi looked around blankly, “Who is it? Who??? Where are you?”
“It’s me… Muxi, Muxi…” Tang Muxi expanded her consciousness to search carefully, and discovered a very faint, ethereal shadow by her side—almost missed if one weren’t paying close attention.
It was about half the size of a palm. Its slender, snake-like body resembled that of a dragon, but with wings sprouting from its back, no claws underneath, and a nimble, lively tail. Its surface was covered with tiny scales which, though dull, still exuded an ancient aura.
“Singing Snake?!” Tang Muxi could hardly believe it. Who would have thought that just two days ago it was nothing more than a remnant soul, and now it could assume its original form? She was filled with a mix of surprise and delight.
“How did you recover so quickly? Has the damage to your soul been repaired?” The Singing Snake shook its head, “That couldn’t be it. I am now nothing more than a wisp of soul without a master soul—any repair is a distant hope. The fact that I can now assume my original form is entirely thanks to this divine tree, Ruomu.”
Tang Muxi was stunned, “Ruomu? What is that?”
The Singing Snake replied in surprise, “I can’t believe you don’t know. The divine tree Ruomu is similar to Fusang, rumored to be imbued with the aura of the golden crow’s descent in the west, growing in the great wasteland with an extremely cold and chilling nature. However, your specimen seems different—its branches and leaves are sparse, already showing signs of nearing death. Perhaps it isn’t the true Ruomu but merely a withered branch. Where did you get it? Such fortune is remarkable.”
Divine trees are precious—even a withered branch is something no ordinary person can possess, let alone nurture. The one before you, though near death, shows signs of revival under the nourishment of the cold pond and Hunyuan Purple Soil. Given some time, it might indeed be revived.
Tang Muxi exclaimed, “A good friend gave it to me. When I heard that it was a tree not belonging to the Five Elements, I was so intrigued that I accepted it. So it really is connected to a divine tree…?” The Singing Snake’s form momentarily hesitated, feeling her words were utterly absurd. However, recalling that her aura was no different from that of a Divine Lord, it felt resigned.
The last Divine Lord in the Demon Realm was exceptionally noble—not only was she tremendously powerful, but she was also an emperor bestowed by heaven and earth. Once she appeared, she was accompanied by nine infinitely powerful divine artifacts and was adored by all. If Tang Muxi truly were that person, such fortune would indeed be fitting.
“Earlier you mentioned the master soul— is there any way to save you?” Tang Muxi wasn’t particularly concerned with fortune or the divine tree; she only cared about the life or death of the Singing Snake.
The Singing Snake paused, its heart warming slightly. It hadn’t expected that she would still want to save it. Nodding, it said, “That day I was drawn here by Ruomu’s call and mistakenly consumed a tender bud, which allowed me to restore a soul fragment. If I could find the master soul—even a remnant—and slowly nurture it, perhaps one day I could be reborn. However, with the Life Marrow already lost, even if the divine soul were repaired, it couldn’t coalesce into a body. So whether I can be reborn remains unchanged.”
After speaking, it lowered its gaze in slight dejection. The Life Marrow was something it had discarded with its own hands, so its absence might indeed be deserved. There was no room for regret—even though fate sometimes seemed mischievous.
But what it didn’t know was that Tang Muxi had never destroyed the marrow.
Hearing this, Tang Muxi brightened and laughed, “Who told you the marrow was lost? Thankfully, I was meticulous. That day, after obtaining the Life Marrow, I sealed it in a box—and it’s been stored here in this medicine garden ever since!”
