Monster Chronicles: My Daoist Skill Comes from Mythology Chapter 2 She Mountain Stone Fish, Lao Mountain Taoist

A rushing sound emanated from the stone wall overhead, like a creature clawing its way through solid rock.

"...Did you hear that?" Zhang Jin asked, a note of alarm in his voice. The two exchanged a glance.

Song Lin grew tense at his companion's words, placing his ear against the cool stone.

Crack! A sharp noise erupted right by his ear, making Song Lin's heart leap. He instinctively jerked his head away.

Shatter! The stone wall fractured, revealing a head as black as night.

The head, no wider than three fingers, tapered to a point and was adorned with patterns resembling marble.

It wriggled relentlessly, lodged in the opening.

Song Lin's pulse pounded with fear. Had he reacted a fraction of a second slower, his head might have been crushed.

Taking a calming breath, Song Lin peered at the emerging creature—it was a fish, fashioned entirely from stone! Its appearance suggested it dwelled within the rock itself.

The sight nearly overturned his understanding of the world, but given this realm's abundance of mystical energies and divine powers, he soon accepted the bizarre reality.

Exposed to the open air, the stone fish quickly lost its vigor, becoming limp and defenseless.

Song Lin grasped it firmly in one hand, extricating it from the rocky fissure. It bore a resemblance to an ordinary carp, save for its stony hide, lending it an uncanny appearance.

"What is this thing?" Song Lin inquired, holding the stone fish aloft as he turned to Zhang Jin.

Zhang Jin had been a member of the sect for a longer period than himself.

"A stone fish? Could it be..." Zhang Jin's eyes widened with recognition.

"Could it be a She Mountain Stone Fish? These are listed as rare treasures! I saw one at the Ghost Market once—it was valued at five Jiachen Qi Nourishing Pills! Mr. Song, we've hit the jackpot!!"

"It's a shame it's merely a juvenile. I've heard that adult She Mountain Stone Fish can grow as large as a person. Consuming one is said to refine True Qi, bestowing a substantial reservoir of She Mountain True Qi."

Among cultivators, the initial stage of sensing Qi is known as 'Meditation.'

When the True Qi within one's Dantian becomes plentiful and circulates throughout the entire body, that stage is referred to as 'fetal breathing.'

Reaching the fetal breathing realm allows disciples to obtain a higher-tier Child Talisman. While not yet full Taoists, they are considered Advanced Taoists, possessing a degree of status—vastly superior to the lowly servant Taoists.

Attaining fetal breathing necessitates the use of pills, specifically Qi Nourishing Pills. Five Qi Nourishing Pills are typically sufficient for a single individual.

Unspoken understanding passed between the two, and the smiles vanished from their faces.

Suddenly, Zhang Jin declared, "Haha, congratulations, fellow Taoist. Since you discovered this, it naturally belongs to you. Let's continue our work; sunset approaches."

"Very well, let's finish up, and we can discuss it later. We'll divide it evenly then," Song Lin agreed. He secured the stone fish with a rope around his waist, remaining cautiously vigilant.

He was no longer the naive youth of his previous existence, but a modern soul seasoned by the harsh realities of his past life's career.

Even in contemporary society, fierce struggles for advantage were common; how much more so in an era governed by strength.

Naturally, Song Lin had no intention of relinquishing any gains—this world was fraught with peril, and danger could manifest at any moment.

Both harbored hidden intentions, and they soon finished scraping all the moss.

Song Lin untied the rope from his waist, slung the bag over his shoulder, and began his descent down the rocky slope.

Zhang Jin followed closely, his gaze fixed on Song Lin's retreating figure, his expression shifting from complex contemplation to a starkly predatory glint.

Admitted to the sect at eighteen, Zhang Jin had toiled at Xuanke Temple for eight years. Now twenty-six, his prospects for advancement were dwindling—he had to seize every opportunity.

Song Lin seemed to possess few defenses...

With this thought, Zhang Jin stealthily drew a sickle, preparing to strike the moment Song Lin reached the ground.

Clang!

Releasing his grip on the rock with his left hand, Zhang Jin brandished the sickle in his right. He swung it downwards towards Song Lin's head from above.

The strike targeted a vital point—an immediate, lethal blow.

Almost in the same instant, Song Lin spun around abruptly, a knowing look flashing across his features, as if he had foreseen the attack.

"Die!!"

Song Lin suddenly hurled his bag, unleashing a cloud of yellow powder mixed with moss directly at Zhang Jin.

"Ah!!!"

Zhang Jin's skin erupted in burning ulcers, blackened and smoking. Clutching his eyes, he shrieked in agony.

Once-close companions now engaged in a brutal fight in the desolate wilderness.

Song Lin rapidly put distance between himself and the writhing figure, wary of the poison. He let out a sneer, "Hmph, I was on guard the entire time, yet you still dared to attack me?"

Zhang Jin's skin began to blister and bubble, akin to a pig being roasted alive.

Writhing on the ground, he let out miserable screams.

Song Lin paused for a moment before stooping to retrieve the sickle, inching closer.

Only one of them would walk away from this encounter.

At such a critical moment, hesitation could easily lead to death.

Though Song Lin had never taken a life before and felt a tremor of fear, now was not the time for indecision—this man had to be eliminated!

As Song Lin approached, a glint of fire caught his eye from beneath Zhang Jin.

WHOOSH!

Blazing flames shot towards Song Lin's face. Reacting instantly, he tilted his head, narrowly avoiding the inferno that singed his hair.

Another wave of fire followed swiftly.

"This is bad!" Song Lin felt an immediate sense of peril. He raised the sickle to parry the flames before rolling to the side to escape.

CLANG!

The sickle shattered, and a sharp pain shot through his hand.

As Song Lin looked up, he saw Zhang Jin shakily getting to his feet.

Zhang Jin's clothes were in shreds, his skin a disfigured mess covered in green pus. In his hand, he held a flaming wooden sword.

"Song Lin, you are dead!!!" Zhang Jin roared in pure fury, downed a dose of powder, and charged at Song Lin with the ignited sword.

Run!

Song Lin scrambled to his feet, clutching the stone fish tightly as he bolted deeper into the forest.

"Hmph! You think you can escape?" Zhang Jin snarled, his rage boiling over like molten lava. "You injured me, you insignificant trash. I will tear you limb from limb!"

The wooden sword blazed intensely, effortlessly cleaving through tree trunks as thick as a man's embrace. On several occasions, it narrowly missed Song Lin's back.

Although Zhang Jin's cultivation was slightly superior, his injuries caused him to move with a noticeable lag.

Soon, the relentless pursuit led them to the precipice of a cliff.

Song Lin stopped dead in his tracks, glancing behind him at Zhang Jin, who was relentlessly closing the distance:

"Cough, cough. Take the stone fish—just let me go! Otherwise, we both die!"

"Both perish?" Zhang Jin scoffed maliciously, his gaze falling upon the fiery wooden sword marked with a cinnabar seal. "I exhausted nearly all my fortune to have a Daoist enchant this sword with the Three Yang Fire Seal. Do you truly believe you can defeat me?"

Zhang Jin advanced, swinging the sword in a low, sweeping arc.

He knew well that there was no need for prolonged discussion; the enemy should be dispatched first, and words could wait.

"Catch this!!"

Song Lin unfastened the stone fish and feigned throwing it forward.

Zhang Jin instinctively glanced over his shoulder—finding nothing.

"You scoundrel! Give me back the stone fish!!"

Upon returning his gaze forward, Zhang Jin's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. Song Lin had already descended the cliff face, vanishing with the stone fish in a blur.

The cliff was not particularly high, perhaps four or five zhang. Zhang Jin followed him down.

At the cliff’s base lay a valley, nestled between two mountain ridges and veiled in a thick shroud of mist.

Song Lin had squeezed himself into a burrow. He was uncertain if it belonged to a bear or another beast, but its entrance was narrow, forcing him to crouch low to enter.

"What should I do now?" Song Lin’s brow furrowed, his mind a whirlwind of danger—it was a gut-wrenching realization to face a life-or-death struggle so soon after transmigrating.

In this moment, the harsh reality of this world struck him with profound clarity.

The stone fish within his grasp writhed with all its might. Song Lin quickly subdued it, preventing any noise that might betray his location.

He absolutely needed to find an opportunity to escape.

Confronting Zhang Jin directly was out of the question—that man’s enchanted weapon could effortlessly slice through metal and stone. With Song Lin’s frail body, even a glancing blow would prove fatal.

His most viable option was to reach the Daoist Temple, a place where Zhang Jin would likely hesitate to provoke trouble.

Time passed, and the sounds outside seemed to gradually fade.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached, growing steadily louder.

"This is not good!"

Song Lin cursed silently.

At precisely this moment, a sharp pain pierced his right hand. The stone fish had bitten down on his wrist, and blood began to stream down his arm.

Yet, the ordeal was far from over. His palm started to burn, and his blood seemed to reverse its flow, converging at the center of his palm. In the empty air before him, a crimson, intricate rune materialized.

The rune was square, roughly the size of a book, its blood-red patterns resembling wriggling tadpoles. The symbols eventually coalesced into four ancient characters: Monster Chronicles.

Monster Chronicles?

Wasn’t this the ancient tome he had acquired at the antique market—the one that purportedly cataloged all the mythologies and supernatural accounts of antiquity? He had been thoroughly absorbed in its narratives before inexplicably waking up in this world.

Driven by an inexplicable impulse, Song Lin reached out and touched the rune.

A coolness spread through his fingertips, and the ancient characters shifted, forming new words: Taoist of Mount Lao.

Crash!

His vision went black, a dizzying sensation washing over him as he instantly lost consciousness.

......

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