Chapter 87: After the Incense Burner

Inside the grand hall.

Chen Zhao exhaled a clear breath and slowly opened his eyes.

After one day of closed-door meditation, not a single anomaly appeared.

He had initially thought it might be the three strikes of the Bodhi Patriarch's warning ruler, but Lin Yutang never came, so Chen Zhao abandoned that notion.

"Cultivation is nothing but taking pills, reading scriptures, and sitting in meditation—but here, divine pills, alchemical medicines, and cultivation techniques are all restricted; what remains is only..."

Chen Zhao pushed himself up before the small bronze tripod.

He had examined it numerous times—the material and spiritual pressure both reached Ancient Treasure tier, yet it seemed to have no offensive function, serving only as an incense burner.

As for the three sticks of incense.

After burning for a full day and night, their length had not changed at all, clearly also no ordinary object.

Yet not a single sign stirred.

"The Divination showed no omen—surely I'm not meant to light incense and pay homage?"

After obtaining the Linglong Body, his comprehension became crystal clear; he had long suspected the nature of this place's opportunity.

Beside the small tripod stood a candlestand on each side and a pair of vases; only portraits and a divine altar were missing to complete the incense hall, and its style differed utterly from the outside world, as if from some ancient ruin.

"The Sect Master's intent is likely this."

Chen Zhao gazed at the incense burner, his expression troubled.

He had only just learned of the karmic calamity yesterday—how could he dare to worship randomly?

Yet the moment the words "pay homage" crossed his mind, an anomaly erupted!

Smoke suddenly coalesced into a human form, faintly revealing an old man, unkempt, beard and whiskers bristling like spears.

The instant he appeared, all sound vanished, and everything around froze instantly!

Time stop!

This being was merely a phantom, yet it possessed Nascent Soul-level abilities?

Yet such an ability, born of thought alone—even Lin Yutang could not perform it; how could such immense power exist in this realm?

"Stubborn disciple, you've arrived just in time."

A voice suddenly echoed in his mind.

It sounded as if from primordial antiquity—or from a distant future—yet it seemed merely a casual remark, one that could be said to anyone and held no importance.

Upon speaking, the figure gestured from afar; a faint, barely-there breath directly flowed into Chen Zhao's Ancestral Aperture.

The next instant, he vanished from existence.

Chen Zhao was stunned and bewildered; he immediately turned inward to his mental sea—and saw the Golden Gate slowly opening, countless images flashing past, finally settling on a temple.

Ten disciples sat in meditation, Wu Xuzi among them, bowing reverently to the White-bearded Taoist.

Only one boy, swinging a Divination Tube, grinned and said:

"I humbly beg the Patriarch to grant this disciple a method to escape karmic entanglement."

His voice, expression, and demeanor were nearly identical to Chen Zhao's own!

Chen Zhao stared, transfixed.

This world was profoundly mysterious, with its own doctrine of reincarnation—but the question was: was this his own past life, or the original body's former existence?

"I just happened to cross over into a body with the exact same name and appearance—that's already strange enough—but how could I coincidentally have a past life so similar to me?"

Recalling his entire journey since joining the sect, every opportunity, big or small, seemed tied to ancient karmic affairs.

A chill spread through Chen Zhao's heart.

He had remained oblivious during Qi Refining, only realizing his deep entanglement in karma after Foundation Establishment; he shook the Divination Tube and quickly cast a Divination.

"Even."

Good or bad—unknown!

Chen Zhao pinched his brow tightly, thoughts racing like lightning.

Previously, at least he knew who was manipulating him; now he hadn't even glimpsed a fraction of the iceberg—unless he unraveled this mystery, he would surely be trapped by the karmic calamity.

"The Sect Master's ambitions are no small thing, but if he meant to harm me, he wouldn't have let me live this long."

Soul control and corpse manipulation could also seize opportunities outright.

To trace back to the root, he could only deduce from past karmic threads.

"Wu Xuzi was also in that vision—he must have been from the same sect as my past life."

Chen Zhao racked his brain, recalling the words "True Martial," and inwardly gasped.

When he first heard the name True Martial, he had not failed to investigate or perform Divination—but within ten thousand li, no one recognized this sect; ancient texts mentioned it vaguely, as if it had never existed.

Chen Zhao only knew it had long since perished, its ruins located near Han City.

Now it seemed, nine out of ten times, this place was it.

Fine—his very entry into the sect was likely tied to past-life karma.

"How reckless was my past self? Why say anything else, but leave me such a massive karmic debt?"

Chen Zhao rubbed his forehead, sighing with a mix of frustration and absurdity.

Yet.

The Divination Tube might also be connected.

He had previously been at Wudang Mountain, shaking the tube to draw a fortune, when he suddenly crossed over.

And in his past life's hand was also a Divination Tube—though it bore no characters "Yuan, Heng, Li, Zhen," its appearance matched almost exactly what he remembered.

Could it have been gifted by the True Martial Patriarch?

Chen Zhao could not fathom it, so he set the matter aside for now.

He probed his mental sea again—and saw that faint breath now condensed beside the lotus seed, perfectly round, shaped like the Mysterious Snake Entwining Turtle, or like a second pupil in the eye.

A cool sensation surged into his eyes, and when he opened them, the surroundings changed instantly:

Before him, curtains fluttered; on the altar, incense burned thickly, and a portrait of the White-bearded Taoist stood displayed.

Though merely an illusion, it was vividly lifelike.

A bamboo slip lay open beside the portrait, inscribed with tiny, delicate script:

"Stubborn disciple, you possess the poorest talent, yet your Dao heart is unwavering—this 'Gazing at the Red Dust' is destined for you, capable of piercing through prohibitions, discerning the finest details, seeing what others cannot."

"Alas, my cultivation is too weak to see the future; now that the great calamity has arrived, I use karmic ties to preserve this aura."

Pierce through prohibitions?

Chen Zhao turned his head and saw that all treasure prohibitions had vanished—only scattered pathways remained, their spiritual energy faint.

These were the weak points!

As long as he wished, stealing treasures with weak prohibitions would be as easy as reaching into a pocket.

Like the small seal in the corner.

Or the jewel beside it.

Chen Zhao remembered clearly—he had seen neither of these objects when he first entered!

Their styles were utterly different, yet neither was ordinary!

"This 'Gazing at the Red Dust' is incredibly powerful—yet neither the Sect Master nor the Ancestor dared touch it, proving how deeply entangled it is!"

Chen Zhao felt a mix of joy and unease.

With the Divination Tube as assurance, he should be able to turn misfortune into fortune, unafraid of karmic killing traps.

But if he pushed himself into a ten-to-zero dead end, even a million "Great Auspicious" draws would be useless.

Therefore,

Chen Zhao glanced once and decided to let go of the thought.

Yet it was precisely that one glance.

That he saw, within the luminous white jewel, a miniature man sealed inside—his face clear and handsome, lips tightly pressed, as if hiding an unspeakable secret.

With six incense scars on his head, he radiated solemn majesty.

A monk?

In the True Martial Ancestral Hall, in the Heavenly Kui Treasure Vault—where did a bald man come from?

Chen Zhao had no intention of meddling, but the jewel spun swiftly—and vanished instantly!

"Damn it!"

"This Relic can even deceive prohibitions—how did this boy notice it? And how did he see my true form?"

A hundred li away, Juekong hid the Relic in his sleeve, his face dark with rage.

He had waited for days, enduring until Lin Yutang had departed, before moving to steal the Mysterious Turtle Seal.

Just as the prohibition was about to be worn away, this boy spotted him—he had no choice but to return to his host, lest Lin Yutang lock the space-time.

"This attempt has failed at the final moment; next time, it will be as hard as climbing to heaven."

Juekong's expression turned icy.

Though he felt resentment, greater still was his shock and suspicion.

His identity was sensitive—he had crossed Jie Hai using the Relic without exposure, yet now he stumbled in Zhao State?

"If my identity is revealed, let the Wusheng Sect take the blame—I can always return to the Northern Border."

Juekong thought to himself.

He remained utterly unaware that a speck of ink clung to the Relic.

From its spiritual energy signature, it was indistinguishable from his own!