Two Worlds: I Sweep Away the Unknown with Taoist Arts

Everyone says the Ten Seas are terrifying. In the dead of night, evil spirits roam. Demons lurk in deep forests, harming people, and when darkness falls, unclean things hide in the shadows, waiting for a chance to strike. A world like that is no place for people to live. Su Ming couldn’t disagree more. And this is supposed to be scary? They’ve never seen a world where a human head hangs in the sky, its two eyes serving as the moons. They’ve never seen the sun plastered with a giant talisman and surrounded by a ring of bones. In that world, evil spirits don’t wait for nightfall to appear, and demons don’t hide in deep forests to harm people. When unclean things emerge, they do so in broad daylight, and they certainly don’t skulk in the shadows waiting for a chance to strike. Compared to all that, the little evil spirits in the Ten Seas are hardly worth mentioning. The Ten Seas are scary? This is perfectly normal, okay? Normal magic arts, normal cultivation traditions, everything is normal. The only problem is that this world has a little too little spiritual qi, so all the powerful arts have become laughable tales of trying to slay a dragon. The other world is awful in every way: demons run rampant, the laws of nature are chaotic, and the path to immortality is filled with endless horrors and uncanny things. But it has one redeeming feature: abundant spiritual qi, making it the perfect place to cultivate all kinds of arts. So Su Ming, able to travel between two worlds, uses their different environments to cultivate and grow stronger. Until at last, he faces the rotting head in the sky and the master of those two ‘moons.’ The other party, looking half-mad, says something that chills him to the bone: “Child, you’re attached to appearances.”