Chapter 91: The Snake with the Severed Tail

On the other side.

The selection had ended; the moon hung high.

The Immortal Seedlings had each gone their ways; the lights within a radius of dozens of li had all dimmed, leaving only a single candle burning on the Eight Immortals table.

Xin Tong cupped her wine goblet in both hands, her lovely face flushed red.

Wine emboldens the timid; she stole a glance at her partner and murmured softly:

"Zhao... who is Ding Zhangzhen, that you should be so preoccupied with him?"

Her tone was plaintive, carrying not only a hint of jealousy but also curiosity.

Since ancient times, no one with dual Spirit Roots has ever directly entered the True Disciple rank; even the Hall Master alone may struggle to make it happen.

To risk so much for a Qi Refining cultivator is too great a price.

"Why would I be preoccupied with him?"

Chen Zhao's expression remained calm, though his words rang hollow:

"Rather, how much do you know about this Hall Master Zhong?"

Both of them served under Zhong Hedao; they ought to know the Hall Master better than he did, yet when Liu Chen heard this, her eyebrows furrowed and she fell into thought.

Xin Tong, diverted by this turn, puffed out her cheeks and sighed:

"Rumors say this man is eccentric... he lives permanently in a dry well and rarely shows his face."

She paused mid-sentence, glancing at her empty cup, and gave Chen Zhao a coquettish huff.

This girl's nature...

Chen Zhao shook his head with a faint smile, personally refilling her cup to nine-tenths full, then massaged her shoulders and pounded her back; only then did Xin Tong "suddenly remember," and clap her hands:

"Before the Great Calamity, Zhang Sifan saw this man digging into mountains and earth; when asked, he claimed he was searching for a fengshui treasure site to cultivate—no one knows if it's true or not."

Perhaps because Chen Zhao's service was so thorough, her words flowed smoothly, without a single stumble, and she even hummed contentedly.

"Zhao, this man has over a dozen Daoist Boys under him; lately he's asked us to help him collect rare antiques—perhaps we can win his favor and make a profit."

Chen Zhao quickly told her to stop.

The speaker meant nothing; the listener took it to heart.

This Hall Master Zhong likely seeks relics of Zhenwu; his actions are grand, and behind them, the Sect Master must have given tacit approval.

If we ever become his enemy, I'll almost certainly have to flee.

Chen Zhao shook his head, his eyes showing not a trace of regret.

A true man's ambition lies beyond the horizon; he possesses great talent, and with his old friend, relocating to another cultivation ground might yet grant him immortality.

Just as he opened his mouth to advise them to avoid karmic entanglements,

Ink surged in his palm, forming several lines of tiny characters—the cost of this divination was five mid-grade Spirit Stones.

Chen Zhao glanced left and right; seeing both of them utterly drunk and unconscious, he pulled out the Spirit Stones and silently thought: "Divine Interpretation."

【Today's Divination · Auspicious】: Favorable for travel. At Chou hour, you intended to visit and offer a gift—just then, Zhong Hedao was transmitting Dharma; you acquired the Mysterious Grade Lower Tier Five Poisons Seed Demon Hand.

This technique—just from its name, it sounds unorthodox.

Who among the orthodox would use Five Poisons in their arts, unless...

Chen Zhao frowned, thinking of the Wusheng Sect.

It was strange indeed.

The Wusheng Sect should have been locked in mortal enmity with Tiankui, yet after the Great Calamity, when tallying enemy heads, apart from Liu Yicheng, virtually no adherents remained.

No one knows what scheme they're hatching.

His gaze darkened; while both were deeply drunk, he summoned a faint, nearly invisible inklight at his left fingertip and traced symbols in the air.

Not long after,

A slender, handsome man appeared in the small courtyard behind the Discipline Hall; his features bore a faint aura of sanctity, and his Spirit Qi fluctuated identically to Juekong himself.

Except for his jet-black, glossy hair.

After the Great Calamity, Chen Zhao's ability to create a substitute body was known to all, but where the substitute came from and what its full effects were remained a matter of wild speculation.

As for his absurd claim of "transforming people"—unless witnessed firsthand, no one dared believe it.

The courtyard had dark-tiled roofs and vermilion walls; beneath two lanterns at the gate stood one male and one female Daoist Boy.

Both were about sixteen or seventeen, their hair tied in Daoist buns, yet their eyes were utterly blank—more like puppets than even Zhong Meng.

Chen Zhao hid in the corner, not approaching.

Given Juekong's habit of striking first and then speaking, entering through the front gate would be odd.

But the courtyard concealed a Two-Grade Array—how could one enter without a Sarira?

Chen Zhao grinned.

This Array was hastily constructed after the Calamity, meant as a temporary patch; the Formation Master couldn't be far from Tiankui.

And across ten thousand li, besides Xin Tong, who else was a Two-Grade Formation Master?

To guard against betrayal, Formation Masters always leave subtle flaws—and he knew Xin Tong best, her arrangements as clear as the palm of his hand.

He found the right spot, flipped his body, and landed within the courtyard as smoothly as flowing clouds and water—the Array's light barrier remained unchanged, not a ripple visible.

Inside the courtyard stood only a single small well, from which came low murmurs—clearly, Dharma was being transmitted.

"Recite the incantation from the Precious Sutra, channel the Five Poisons into the five fingers of your palm, and you can cause the target to be overwhelmed by inner demons, lose control of their emotions, and ultimately become your subject for cultivation."

Chen Zhao crouched by the well's edge; hearing only fragments, he already grasped two-tenths of its true essence.

Absorbing the Five Poisons and making them his own—this technique clearly stemmed from the Longhua Precious Sutra; the identity of the man in the well was now obvious.

The matter was too grave; he turned to leave, when the well suddenly carried Ding Zhangzhen's voice again:

"Brother, you say we once betrayed our sect—yet we were reincarnated True Disciples of Zhenwu; why are we learning this demonic art?"

So they were both traitors—no wonder half their serpent tails were severed!

Warriors are without mercy; good and evil stem from the heart. There is no faster way to cultivate in this age than this method. If not so, how could Zhenwu be remade?

Zhong Hedao snorted coldly, as if recalling something.

"In this world, it's all about birth and allegiance. Though we've entered the demonic path, we still cling to Zhenwu—unlike that Wu Xuzi and his kind, who pretentiously claim to eradicate demons and defend the Dao, yet possess more demonic cultivation techniques than we do!"

"And that junior brother—he's the Patriarch's final disciple, yet never behaves properly, and after the Patriarch's death, he destroyed the Zhenwu statue, causing our sect's fortune to plummet. Such a disciple who betrays his master and annihilates his ancestors—yet he's not even labeled a traitor—while we..."

Is this speaking of my past life?

As Chen Zhao pondered, the voice abruptly ceased.

A tremendous force surged from beneath him; his feet gave way, and he was sucked into the well's mouth!

He opened his eyes again.

He had fallen into a cave, utterly dark, with only three white candles casting faint light.

Before him sat an old man, holding a Whisk, seated upon a Dao altar. Several acolytes knelt in the shadows, their expressions blank, as if all emotion had been stripped away.

Only Ding Zhangzhen gazed at him with curiosity.

"Senior brother, is this one also a Wusheng Sect disciple?"

"Indeed."

Zhong Hedao gave a slight nod, a mocking smile curling at his lips:

"I didn't expect you to be so bold—Mo Shouzhuo spared your life, yet you still dare come here to claim a reward."

This man is truly the mastermind behind the theft of the treasure!

Chen Zhao suddenly understood, yet smiled on the surface:

"With Hall Master Zhong guarding here, what do I have to fear?"

"Oh, except Lin Yutang."

His tone was teasing, yet subtly probing.

Yet Zhong Hedao's smile did not fade, as if he had not heard the latter half.

"Your courage is commendable. I bestow upon you this Mandarin Duck Mother-Child Dart—it is a Top-Grade Magical Tool. Do not flaunt it."

Ding Zhangzhen leaned forward, utterly baffled.

This Mandarin Duck Mother-Child Dart glowed with soft radiance—it was the Senior Brother's trusted weapon from his Foundation Establishment, attuned to his heart. How could he give it away so casually?

As he raised his head in confusion, he met Zhong Hedao's piercing gaze, shrank back instantly, and dared not speak again.

Only Juekong floated slowly out of the cave, vanishing without a trace.