Myriad Heavens: Who Let Him Into the Horror Movie?-Chapter 35 : Hated by Gods and Ghosts Alike

Chapter 35: Hated by Gods and Ghosts Alike
Inside the box were several rolled-up paintings.
Li Zhen casually picked one and unfurled it.
It depicted a grand image of the Vermilion Bird—its entire body crimson and engulfed in flames, matching perfectly with Li Zhen’s imagination of the divine beast.
This time, Fatty Wong hadn’t overdone things or created another of those laughable messes that left Li Zhen both amused and helpless.
“How is it? Satisfied?” Fatty Wong asked smugly. “The artist’s a bit of a local celebrity. I personally went to his house and begged him to paint these for me.”
Li Zhen nodded. “Indeed, it’s quite good.”
Fatty Wong hesitated, then asked, “What you said about ordering that thing… was that for real?”
Li Zhen set the painting down. “I heard that keeping a coffin at home can drive away bad luck.”
“Who the hell uses that to drive away bad luck? Don’t try to fool me.” Fatty Wong looked skeptical. “Besides, why’d you order one big and one small?”
Li Zhen made up something offhandedly. “For promotion and fortune. Haven’t you heard the saying?”
“Heh, sure, keep talking nonsense.”
As if remembering something, Fatty Wong paused for a moment, then said casually, “When I went to the hospital, I saw… Uncle Li.”
“I heard a few days ago Uncle Li made quite a few changes to your company—caused a bit of a stir.”
“Just some trivial matters. Let them do as they please,” Li Zhen replied flatly.
The company had once carried much of his effort and devotion.
Expanding it and taking it public had been his mid-term goal.
Scheming and maneuvering against all kinds of people within the company had once been his greatest amusement.
If not for his terminal illness, the Li Zhen of the past—who devoted himself entirely to his career—would certainly have asked what they had done.
But now, Fatty Wong’s words didn’t stir the slightest ripple in him.
Fatty Wong looked at Li Zhen in surprise, then changed the topic. After chatting a bit more, he said he would go inquire about Wong Ka-Wing’s situation.
After seeing Fatty Wong off, Li Zhen carried the scrolls and a short piece of banyan wood—about two fingers thick and a dozen centimeters long—that Fatty had brought him, down to the basement.
The Method of Spirit Preservation was a righteous cultivation method.
Whether gods truly existed in this world or not, it should never be practiced alongside the unorthodox Head-Descending Curse.
In a small room opposite, Li Zhen set up another table.
After lighting incense and candles, he hung the six scrolls on the wall behind the table, arranged from high to low.
The lower five paintings represented the five divine beasts corresponding to the five viscera, while the topmost one was the portrait of the True God of Upper Purity Li Zhen had specially commissioned.
The figure looked very much like the immortals of ancient imagination—wearing a nine-colored crown, robed in golden radiance and clouds, holding a jade tablet, seated high above the Ninth Heaven—majestic and upright.
After feeding the Red-Eyed Bat a lump of nearly congealed blood, Li Zhen began to feel unwell.
He swallowed several painkillers before preparing for cultivation.
According to Master Danyang’s teachings, the practice of Visualization required bathing and purification first, followed by incense burning to calm the mind.
Li Zhen followed the instructions precisely—he bathed, changed clothes, and came before the table to light incense and still his breath.
The blue smoke from the censer drifted upward, curling into his nostrils, and indeed brought with it a trace of tranquil clarity.
No wonder the ancients loved to burn incense when praying to the gods.
Following Master Danyang’s writings, Li Zhen began to regulate his breathing using the fetal breathing method, guiding his mind into a special state—neither thought nor non-thought.
He didn’t know how much time passed—perhaps only a few dozen seconds—before his gaze settled on the Vermilion Bird in the center.
The Lung Spirit, White Tiger; the Heart Spirit, Vermilion Bird...
Preserve them within, unite form and spirit...
Focusing his consciousness upon the Vermilion Bird, Li Zhen began to visualize his heart transforming into the Vermilion Bird and descending into his dantian, just as the method prescribed.
When he finally managed to faintly picture the divine shape of the Vermilion Bird in his mind, he noticed something strange—the Vermilion Bird in his visualization always exuded the stench of blood.
Trying his best to strip away that disturbing image, Li Zhen forced himself to imagine a proper, pure Vermilion Bird.
His focus deepened, his gaze grew darker...
Suddenly, an anomaly occurred.
With a “pop,” several scrolls hanging on the wall exploded simultaneously.
Startled, Li Zhen snapped out of his trance and stared blankly at the paintings.
Paper fragments fluttered down, while the images of the True God of Upper Purity and the five divine beasts had vanished without a trace.
Blood streamed from his nostrils, veins of red spreading across his eyes. His face pale and haggard, Li Zhen sat motionless in a daze.
An invisible loathing—like a curse—lingered in the air.
After a long, long time, Li Zhen lowered his head slowly. “Can I not cultivate the righteous method? Is it that the true gods despise me?”
Blood continued to drip from beneath his nose.
No one answered his words.
Life and death are but one...
Follow the will of Heaven...
If given even the faintest chance, who would be willing to die so miserably?
Li Zhen wiped away the blood beneath his nose and slowly stood up.
What had exploded just now was not only the paintings on the wall, but also the Vermilion Bird he had visualized within his consciousness.
That sudden collapse left his mind hollow and empty, his movements slightly sluggish.
Perhaps because of that muddled state, even his connection with the Red-Eyed Bat flickered—sometimes present, sometimes gone.
In this condition, he could probably no longer perform any Head-Descending Curses.
He pushed open the door and left the room without looking back.
Across the hall, he opened another door—there sat the Six-Armed Demonic Statue, towering high, its bat face seeming almost to mock him.
A faint, pale smile appeared on Li Zhen’s lips.
If he could not visualize the True God, then he could only use the same method—to visualize the Demonic God.
The method of visualization, when performed upon the True God, refined and nourished one’s primordial spirit, allowing communion with the divine.
In that case, if one replaced the True God with a Demonic God as the object of visualization—why couldn’t it also refine the primordial spirit?
At the very least, it might help him recover quickly—so that when the Red-Eyed Bat awoke, it wouldn’t devour him outright.
This act of violating taboo stirred a strange, unspeakable thrill within Li Zhen’s heart.
Slowly sitting cross-legged upon the ground, Li Zhen raised his head and met the gaze of the Six-Armed Demonic Statue.