A different kind of story, unlike anything you've ever read before: a xianxia fantasy unlike any other.
The sages of old said, "The Way that can be spoken of is not the eternal Way." The Way can be explained, but it is ever-changing; no Way remains constant forever. There are three thousand great paths. One can cultivate the Way through meditation and quiet practice, through vegetarianism and prayer, or through music, chess, calligraphy, and painting.
Humans can cultivate the Way, demons can cultivate the Way, and ghosts can cultivate the Way. All things with a spirit can cultivate the Way.
On a mountain belonging to a major cultivation sect, Di Qing sat alone, his mouth gaping. What looked like spider legs writhed between his teeth, while his eyes kept twitching as the legs of centipedes stirred within them. His skin bulged from time to time.
A striking female cultivator in a pink skirt pointed at Di Qing and asked the kind-faced old man beside her, puzzled, "Master, is he also a sword cultivator from our Sword Peak?"
[The blurb is no good. Please read the story itself!]
Before the old man could answer, Di Qing stood up. Six dark-purple mantis forelimbs burst from his chest, and a huge swordlike bee stinger sprang from the inside of each forearm. Eight sharp spider legs extended from his back, while a scorpion tail swayed behind him.
Di Qing's split lips rang out with a clear voice. "Junior Sister, of course I'm a sword cultivator. A sword cultivator with seventeen swords."
Seeing his strange appearance and the blood-red light flickering in his mouth, then looking toward the old, dilapidated hall ahead, Li Yi suddenly felt a chill wind sweep past. She wrapped her arms around herself and thought in alarm: Oh no, I've been lured into an evil sect!
