Monster Chronicles: My Daoist Skill Comes from Mythology

Cold! Bone-chilling cold!

This was Song Lin's first sensation, as though he were trapped in a dark, sealed ice cavern, with his blood nearly frozen solid.

His chest felt heavy, his breath constricted, as if a massive stone were pressing down on him. If the cold didn't kill him, the suffocation surely would.

"Ugh!"

Song Lin suddenly opened his eyes to pitch-black darkness, sweat dripping from his brow.

"Why does this nightmare feel so real? I should stop reading those strange storybooks—they're always giving me nightmares."

He let out a soft sigh, his mouth a little dry as he sat up in bed.

The room was pitch-black, so dark that he couldn't see his hand in front of him.

"Little AI assistant, turn on the light."

"...Turn on the light!"

What's going on? Is the lamp broken?

As his eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, Song Lin realized something was off.

The walls were made of pitch-black mud, the roof above was tiled, and the room was sparsely furnished: a wooden table and two chairs.

The blanket covering him was patched together, riddled with holes.

What's going on? Where's my computer? My fridge? My air conditioner? My life-sized inflatable model...ahem, my bicycle pump?

"This is... Ah!!"

Song Lin clutched his head in agony as it throbbed fiercely, with unfamiliar memories surging into his mind.

These were the memories of a stranger, a young boy named Song Lin.

Chosen by an immortal at the age of sixteen, he had joined the Five Elders Xuanke Temple three years ago.

He had initially thought that cultivating immortality would lead to luxury and bliss, only to discover it was the beginning of a nightmare.

In the temple's storerooms, under the supervision of Dianzao, Song Lin worked as a medicine gathering boy. He rose before dawn and rested deep into the night, almost without breaks for a year, enjoying the "blessings" of his labor.

A few days ago, while gathering Plague Magic Moss in the wild, Song Lin had accidentally inhaled the moss, falling unconscious until now.

The memories in his mind were fragmented—only vague impressions—just enough to recognize that this world was nothing like his familiar Earth. Instead, it was a realm of witchcraft Taoism, rampant demons, and perilous mysteries.

Song Lin was still struggling to recover.

How on earth did he end up in this world?

He faintly recalled the day of his crossing—perusing an antique market, he had purchased an ancient text filled with mythical tales and supernatural legends.

After pulling an all-nighter reading it, he woke up here. Calming himself, he slowly rose from the bed and lit an oil lamp with the fire starter left on the table.

On the bedside was a tiny dark-yellow booklet. Its cover was thick, made of oiled paper, and large characters written in vermillion ink declared: "Supreme Zhengyi Child's Secret Talisman."

Opening the booklet, he noticed the Five Elders Xuanke Temple's "Five Thunders Protection Seal" imprinted on the far-right page. The vermillion script contained Song Lin's name, his birthdate, and a bright red handprint.

The center featured intricate talismans surrounded by illustrations of immortals and celestial maidens.

At the sight of this object, Song Lin's memory surged forth.

This was the Xuanke Temple's talisman—essentially their version of an identification card. Receiving the talisman marked one as part of the temple.

Its function was far superior to a regular ID card.

After receiving the talisman, one was entered into the Heavenly Records, protected from Yin talisman cancelation, and immune to harm from spirits and ghosts.

The talisman's power would grow with one's Taoist Realm. At different stages, higher-level talismans enabled the use of corresponding divine skills.

Cre-ak!

At that moment, the door slowly creaked open.

Through the doorway stepped a sharply-built man with dark skin and shrewd brows, carrying a strong medicinal scent.

This man was Zhang Jin, Song Lin's roommate. The bed next to Song Lin's belonged to Zhang Jin.

Upon seeing Song Lin awake, Zhang Jin exclaimed in shock, "For Heaven's sake, you've finally woken up! Lord Dianzao said if you didn't wake soon, he'd toss you into the Beast Garden to feed the dogs."

"Cough, cough. I just woke up with a fuzzy head," Song Lin said, rubbing his forehead and feigning weakness. Luckily, his memories recalled this person; otherwise, knowing no one might have led to him being genuinely tossed to the dogs.

"Alive or not? If you're alive, get to work!"

A booming voice sounded from outside.

A towering, burly man with a full beard stormed in, clad in a purple robe. His appearance was bizarre—on his right forearm were two glowing, rotating emerald-green eyeballs.

"Yo, your complexion looks decent. Are you faking it?" The purple-robed man had a talisman jade token hanging from his waist inscribed with "Supreme Three Five Grand Commissioner Scripture."

"Greetings, Taoist Wude." Zhang Jin immediately bowed deeply upon seeing him, discreetly signaling Song Lin with a glance.

Song Lin quickly understood and followed suit, clasping his hands and bowing respectfully.

Judging by the talisman jade token around his waist, this man ranked higher than Song Lin—an official altar-opening Taoist and a cultivator who received the Grand Commissioner Talisman.

The talisman jade token, akin to a jade pendant, was used to denote a Taoist's liturgy and rank; while Child Talismans were relatively basic, higher-ranked individuals would never wear a thick bundle of talismans on their waists.

The talisman Song Lin carried was called the Child Talisman, the lowest level, creating an enormous gap in status between him and higher-ranked Taoists.

"Not dead yet? If you're not dead, start working! Next time I catch you slacking off, I'll personally throw you to feed the dogs!"

The Taoist Wude snorted coldly, and his arm's green eyes radiated a crimson killing intent. The two young men trembled and hurriedly apologized before the burly man stormed out of the room.

"Wude... truly a fitting nickname for someone so immoral." Song Lin muttered softly.

The memories in his mind told him that Taoist Wude was ruthless and merciless, often forcing them to work from before dawn until deep into the night.

Song Lin wasn't his first victim—many had already perished under his harsh demands.

"Well, he's a Taoist. What can we do?" Zhang Jin sighed. "Let's go, it's time for us to work too."

Ordinary people spend years cultivating to sense Qi and receive the Child Talisman.

At this stage, known as Meditation, they cannot yet attain the temple's Righteous Skill. At most, they can strengthen their bodies, perform basic tricks, and practice rudimentary martial arts, a far cry from actual Taoists.

Only after cultivating beneath the Child Talisman to a certain point can one receive the Grand Commissioner Talisman and officially become a Taoist.

The two walked out the door.

Xuanke Temple was located on the outskirts of a bustling market, occupying a vast area with over a thousand servant Taoists alone.

Servant Taoists bustled through the corridors, briskly carrying water, hauling firewood, or leading strange-looking mutant beasts.

At each intersection stood three-zhang-tall guards adorned in yellow turbans.

The Taoists, on the other hand, moved effortlessly—some flew, some walked through walls, and others rode sedan chairs carried by paper effigies.

Song Lin was astonished, his vision filled with surreal and fantastical sights, unable to tear his gaze away.

Absorbing the memories of his predecessor, he understood the brutal truth of this world: survival of the fittest ruled all. Taoists had absolute power over servant Taoists.

Like Song Lin's predecessor, even if poisoned to death, no one would spare him a glance.

Only by becoming a Taoist could one take control of their own destiny. Song Lin vowed silently.

"Hey, stop daydreaming. Taoists all started out as servant Taoists. We just need to accumulate Taoist Merit. Someday, we'll rise to the rank of Taoists!"

Hope filled Zhang Jin's eyes, dreaming of the day he could ascend the immortal path.

Song Lin, however, chuckled inwardly at his naivety. He understood the harsh realities.

Much like newcomers brimming with ambition upon entering society, thinking their talents would carry them to success, yet often falling short of the true determinants.

Even in "fair" competition, resources, connections, and opportunities are monopolized by the privileged. What chance does the average individual have to triumph?

Still, Song Lin wasn't one to give up easily. Given the opportunity, he might one day rise to the rank of Taoist.

He refused to be a servant Taoist for life. Sooner or later, he'd either die of exhaustion, or perish from exposure to poisonous herbs.

The two passed through the corridor, crossed a small forest, and spotted a towering cliff in the distance.

The precipice stood at a hundred zhang high. From its base, they could faintly see, about ten zhang above, yellow-green, human-like face patterns.

"Get up there!" Zhang Jin leapt into the air, soaring up a zhang before scaling the cliffs with practiced precision, reaching the target in no time.

Song Lin mimicked him, stepping carefully on ledges and gaps until climbing ten zhang above the ground.

Servant Taoists who received the Child Talisman possessed Taoist Realms, albeit at an entry-level Meditation phase where their barely perceptible True Qi enhanced physical strength.

Even in mundane society, they'd count as top-tier martial artists.

At the ten-zhang mark on the cliff, Song Lin realized the yellow-green human face patterns were actually a type of moss.

Covered in toxic yellow powder, the moss squirmed continuously, as though alive.

This was Plague Magic Moss.

Typically found in miasma-filled forests, legends claimed it to be traces left by the descent of the Plague God.

Zhang Jin covered his nose and mouth with cloth, tied a hemp rope around his waist to a protruding rock, then carefully removed a cloth bag and iron spatula from his pocket, gingerly scraping the moss away bit by bit.

"Brother Song Lin, be extra careful. The powder is highly toxic. Remember last time you inhaled some and fainted."

"Let's move quickly and finish it before nightfall. This batch of moss is worth two units of Taoist Merit. We'll split it fifty-fifty."

Having studied for eight years, Zhang Jin's experience far exceeded Song Lin's.

The two worked meticulously at ten-zhang heights, mining moss while controlling their strength to prevent the powder from dispersing into the air.

The task was extremely perilous. Only now did Song Lin truly understand why medicine gathering boys had such a high mortality rate.

Sighing inwardly, Song Lin tied a safety rope, pulled out his tools, and resigned himself to his fate.

Suddenly, a rustling sound of crawling echoed above their heads.