Chapter 10: In Qingwei Palace, Two Days Apart

Bright moonlight, quiet deep mountains.

By the babbling stream, Jiang Lai sat cross-legged on a green stone, short hair cut to her shoulders, slender frame, delicate bones, her clear eyes glancing like the depths of an empty valley, radiating a touch of spiritual grace.

Zhang Fan remained silent; this was their third meeting...

Each encounter always led to an unimaginable situation; whenever he looked up, he felt this woman was untouched by worldly dust, ethereal and almost illusory.

“Last night... was that giant snake real?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help but voice his doubt.

“Soul out of the body.”

Jiang Lai lifted her beautiful eyes slightly, her tone cold, uttering only four words.

“Did I really see my soul? Is cultivation real...”

Zhang Fan pondered; since entering Zhenwu Mountain, everything he’d encountered had been beyond belief. Though he’d already suspected as much, hearing the words “soul out of the body” still stirred his heart deeply.

“Then just now...”

Zhang Fan raised his hand, staring at his right arm, recalling the change moments ago, his expression turning hesitant.

“The soul draws moonlight; qi resonates, transforming into dragon and serpent...”

Jiang Lai’s gaze swept over Zhang Fan, as if observing him.

After the initial stir, the spirit manifests; through nurturing the soul, all yin impurities are purified, and the body undergoes wondrous transformations, gaining strange powers.

The dragon-serpent transformation is equivalent to successful Foundation Establishment, corresponding to the [Qi Gong] rank among the Nine Stages of Manifestation.

“Cultivation is so miraculous...”

Zhang Fan pondered; he felt his body was now much lighter, his strength noticeably increased, his hearing and vision sharper—even able to hear insects crawling beneath the soil...

“My arm just grew scales... I won’t turn into a snake, will I?” Zhang Fan recalled his own transformation and grew anxious.

“Hold to the One as the universal way...” Jiang Lai lowered her eyelids, speaking softly.

To hold to the One as the universal way is to emulate nature, giving rise to myriad methods.

To be as supple as an infant, to breathe like a turtle or serpent, to endure like pine and cypress, to live and die like a mayfly... ultimately, all methods return to One, culminating in the Dao.

Methods differ, but that is not the most important thing; only “holding to the One” matters—no matter the lineage, no matter the transformation... there is truly no difference.

“Hold to the One as the universal way...” Zhang Fan murmured, savoring the phrase.

“Come.”

At that moment, Jiang Lai rose slowly.

“Where to?”

“Qingwei Palace.”

As she spoke, Jiang Lai leapt upward, like a forest deer, vanishing into the boundless night.

“Wait for me.”

Zhang Fan followed close behind; in moments, the old, dilapidated palace appeared before him—clearly the very place he and Li Yi had tried and failed to enter before.

“This is Qingwei Palace?”

"You'll be safe here..." Jiang Lai said coolly.

At these words, Zhang Fan instinctively glanced back; since this was Zhenwu Mountain, the Gan brothers wouldn’t dare follow.

Huh...

At that moment, Jiang Lai leapt again, directly vaulting over the wall.

“Wait... you...”

Seeing this, Zhang Fan pushed off the ground; the three-meter-high wall, once requiring Li Yi’s shoulder to climb, he cleared in one bound.

He was astonished by his own transformation.

In the front courtyard, the ancient well stood alone amid wild grass; under the moonlight, Zhang Fan saw the stone slab pressing over the well’s mouth, inscribed with complex talismanic patterns.

“Why is there no one here?” Zhang Fan followed Jiang Lai all the way to the rear hall courtyard.

"Legend says this is where Zhenwu attained the Dao... few come here normally..." Jiang Lai said coolly. "So big a reputation?" Zhang Fan blinked, unable to help studying the unremarkable palace.

“Why not package it up and open it to the public?”

“Zhenwu attained the Dao” alone—just a little promotion, and it’d be like Qin Shi Huang eating Sichuan pepper: total win.

"Would you open your family’s ancestral graves as a tourist attraction?" Jiang Lai said coolly, not turning her head.

“If the ticket’s two hundred and eighty... maybe worth considering.”

“...”

“Who’s there?”

At that moment, a stern voice rang from afar; lights in the courtyard flared on, and two Daoists—one tall and thin, one short and fat—stepped out, flashlights blazing, shining directly at Zhang Fan.

“Don’t misunderstand... we’re allies.”

Zhang Fan quickly raised his hand to shield his eyes, then sidestepped: “Jiang Lai, explain to them...”

Before he finished speaking, he froze—his side was empty; Jiang Lai was gone.

“Who are you? How dare you intrude into Qingwei Palace in the dead of night?”

The tall, thin Daoist held his flashlight, eyes sharp with suspicion.

“Take him first, ask later.”

The short, fat Daoist stepped forward; a gust of wind surged like a tiger descending the mountain, and in an instant he was before Zhang Fan, his fleshy hand reaching for his shoulder.

Hum...

At the same moment, Zhang Fan reacted instinctively, his body contracting sharply, retreating backward like a serpent—evading the fat Daoist’s grasp in a flash.

“Dragon-serpent transformation... you’re truly of the Daoist sect...” The fat Daoist’s expression changed slightly.

Such a reaction, such speed—only someone who’d crossed into Manifestation, achieved the dragon-serpent transformation, and reached the [Qi Gong] rank could evade his grab.

At least that much.

“Stay.”

At that moment, the fat Daoist clenched both fists into a clasping posture, then his throat convulsed as he let out a thunderous roar—like a sudden bell toll, deafening and piercing.

“Startling Bell Roar!!!”

Among Zhenwu Mountain’s Daoist methods, there are the “Twelve Roars,” paired with hand seals, specifically to subdue ghosts and spirits... “Startling Bell Roar” is one of them.

Instantly, Zhang Fan’s face turned pale; his head buzzed, thoughts scattered, his spirit unmoored—before he could recover, the fat Daoist had closed in, seized his clothes, and hoisted him high.

“Stop.”

At that moment, a cold voice rang through the night.

The fat Daoist paused slightly, then gently lowered Zhang Fan.

“Brother, he...”

“Wu You, Wu Wei—step back. This is Zhenwu Mountain. No one’s arrival should stir your spirit so. Where have your daily qi-nurturing practices gone?”

The cold voice spoke again; Zhang Fan recognized it, steadied his mind, and looked up—there was a familiar face.

“Broken Precept Daoist!?”

The day Zhang Fan and Li Yi had spied on Qingwei Palace, it was this Daoist who kindly advised them to leave.

“Huh!?”

Broken Precept Daoist, startled by Zhang Fan calling his name, froze for a moment, then scrutinized him; after a pause, he remembered.

“You? You... how could you...”

At that moment, Broken Precept Daoist’s expression changed drastically; his eyes widened, fixed on Zhang Fan. Even after years of cultivation, his heart surged uncontrollably.

He remembered: two days ago, Zhang Fan had been nothing but an ordinary tourist, a mortal who’d wandered into the palace...

Only two days passed—how could he...

(End of Chapter)