Chapter 100: Elixir of Immortality! Long Time No See, I

Yujing City, suburban area.

Beidou Hall.

“Madman… you’re a madman…”

A terrified scream erupted from a sealed training room deep inside the hall.

Inside the dim training room, blood hung thick in the air; the ceiling bore a carving of the Big Dipper, sunlight streaming through star-shaped holes to splash across a floor drenched in blood.

Dozens of Wang family disciples lay scattered on the ground—some spitting blood, others with shattered shoulders, still others unconscious…

“Wang Xuangang… you…”

At that moment, an older middle-aged man stared at the young man before him, his face brimming with fury; the youth stood one meter seventy-five, slender build, yet his exposed arms were corded with lean muscle, his deep eyes gleaming with mad intensity.

Wang Xuangang, the most gifted disciple of the third generation of the Wang family, was said to have been born with the Big Dipper inscribed in his fate, a seven-star birthmark beneath his feet—remarkable indeed—and had mastered the Daoist arts of the Worship of the Dipper sect in his youth.

Yet eleven years ago, a fire on Liujin River nearly burned him into madness; since then, Wang Xuangang’s mind had become wildly unstable, his behavior erratic and extreme.

“Useless, useless, all of them unfit to be medicine,” Wang Xuangang muttered, his hair a tangled mess.

“You’ve broken all Eight Killing Prohibitions… this was a martial exchange among sect brothers—how dare you kill!?” Wang Zhen Shi growled.

The “Eight Killing Prohibitions” were the body’s forbidden targets during internal martial exchanges: one, do not strike the crown; two, do not strike the ears; three, do not strike the throat; four, do not strike the heart; five, do not strike the ribs beneath the breasts; six, do not strike the perineum; seven, do not strike the kidneys; eight, do not strike the coccyx center.

These eight points were vital life gates; injury to any could mean death.

Martial exchanges among sect brothers were meant to test Dao and refine the body—no one would ever strike with such lethal intent.

But Wang Xuangang, this madman, had no such restraints—he always broke all eight prohibitions, and in the past had even killed disciples.

Even so, the Wang family, eager to cultivate talent, still risked everything by using him as a whetstone.

After all, surviving Wang Xuangang’s trials demanded not just strength, but immense courage and willpower; those who endured it gained more in vitality than years of secluded cultivation.

“I’m feeding medicine, I’m feeding medicine…” Wang Xuangang scratched his head, his gaze growing distant.

“His illness has returned…”

The Wang family disciples watched Wang Xuangang mutter to himself, carefully tending to the wounded while keeping wary eyes on him.

“Feeding medicine? What medicine?” Wang Zhen Shi’s face darkened, his voice cold.

“Of course—the Elixir of Immortality!”

Wang Xuangang grinned, his expression growing wilder with excitement.

“The Elixir of Immortality!?”

The crowd exchanged glances, their stares at Wang Xuangang growing increasingly strange; no one dared speak further, for they knew—he was having another episode, babbling nonsense again.

“Heh, a bunch of fools, all think I’m mad…”

Wang Xuangang watched their silence, then slapped his thigh and burst into loud laughter.

“Do you even know what the Elixir of Immortality is?”

Suddenly, Wang Xuangang turned his head toward the nearest young man.

“I… I don’t know…”

The youth panicked instantly—Wang Xuangang’s gaze pinned him like a tiger’s, sending icy dread through his bones.

Hum…

On instinct, the youth clasped his hands together, crossed three fingers upright, forming the [Crimson Fire Seal].

“Don’t!” Wang Zhen Shi’s face turned pale, shouting a warning.

Hum…

Seal formed, crimson fire ignited, flames blazed with radiant light.

As the seal took shape, the youth’s true yang surged, spreading along the ground in a sudden crimson glow—flames roaring, blazing bright, blocking Wang Xuangang’s path.

He was truly terrified of this madman—hence his instinctive strike.

Hum…

Wang Xuangang stepped forward—no motion, no gesture—and his body surged forward, shattering the blazing crimson light as if it were paper.

“Is this even a human being?”

“How the hell did he cultivate? To break Dao arts with flesh alone!?”

“How has this madman grown even more terrifying? Can a madman even cultivate?”

Everyone’s eyes widened in horror, especially the youth—before him loomed a shadow crushing down, his [Fire Art] having failed to halt the madman even a single step.

“The Elixir of Immortality…”

“Is calamity itself!”

Wang Xuangang’s hand came down, slamming onto the youth’s face and driving him hard into the ground—a piercing scream echoed through the training room.

Hum…

At that moment, Wang Zhen Shi could no longer watch—he swept his sleeves, summoning a violent gale that blasted Wang Xuangang, a man weighing over a hundred jin, clean through the air; the madman flipped mid-flight like a kite turning, landing softly.

“Won’t take the medicine… what a pity, what a pity,” Wang Xuangang gazed at the youth, his face unrecognizable, shaking his head with false sorrow.

“He’s truly insane… should be locked in a mental hospital…”

“He… what did he just say?”

“The Elixir of Immortality is calamity!? What nonsense is he spouting?”

The crowd exchanged glances; in their eyes, Wang Xuangang now seemed more monstrous than ever.

“All of you are mad… won’t take the medicine… all mad…”

Wang Xuangang’s gaze swept over them, then he threw his head back and laughed—his laughter shrill and jarring.

“Calamity”—this word originated from foreign Buddhist teachings, a temporal concept encompassing four stages: Formation, Duration, Decay, and Emptiness.

In truth, nothing escapes these four words—all existence and nonexistence lies within calamity.

Even the myth of heaven and earth’s origin—Pangu cleaving chaos—came only after Emptiness and Decay, giving rise to Formation and Duration.

Only within great destruction did heaven and earth emerge—merely one cycle in infinite birth and death.

In native Daoist thought, what is calamity?

Calamity is the force that compels, restraining desire through coercion.

In dialectical materialist terms, calamity is contradiction—contradiction being the fundamental driving force behind all development.

Even the Daoist scripture [Sutra of Delivering the People] states: “Born into this body, delivered by grace, one endures through calamity, turning with its cycles, equal in years to heaven.”

To be born and die within calamity is to shatter the old system, achieving a qualitative leap—from mortal to immortal.

Thus, mortals must endure countless calamities in cultivation.

Thus, the journey west to retrieve scriptures required eighty-one trials.

Thus, the Three Teachings’ Divine Enthronement brought forth the Great Divine Calamity.

All these were processes of birth and death within the old system, giving rise to new systems, new forms.

Therefore, calamity is the medicine that ensures all things endure eternally.

That is the Elixir of Immortality.

“All mad… won’t take the medicine… you see me take it—this is why I am what I am now…” Wang Xuangang murmured softly, his mind flashing back to the fire eleven years ago.

Flames roared skyward, rivers surged—the boy walked slowly from the inferno, black and white qi swirling around him, as if a god and demon fused into one, shocking the world.

“If my heart does not die, Dao will not be born! If this calamity does not come, my life cannot endure!”

The boy’s words echoed like thunder in Wang Xuangang’s mind.

“Eleven years… the medicine he fed me was truly delicious.”

Wang Xuangang licked his lips, a gleam of excitement in his eyes.

Boom…

At that moment, a harsh clamor came from outside—before the entrance of Beidou Hall.

A crowd had gathered at the gate, surrounding two figures in the center: Zhang Fan and Jiang Hu.

“Who are you? How dare you intrude into Beidou Hall? This is a private club!”

A young man stepped forward from the crowd, glaring hostilely at Zhang Fan and Jiang Hu.

“Misunderstanding—we have an acquaintance, we’re here to visit; look, we even brought fruit!” Zhang Fan held up the fruit in his hands.

He’d bought them earlier at a fruit stall beneath Taoyuan Square—on sale, ten yuan for three jin of apples.

Jiang Hu stared at the rotten apples in Zhang Fan’s plastic bag—some even had wormholes.

When Zhang Fan bought them, Jiang Hu had thought he was buying for himself, and warned him not to be cheap.

But Zhang Fan said worms could eat them, proving the apples were organic, pesticide-free, fertilizer-free—worms were like ancient eunuchs tasting food for the Yellow Emperor.

These apples were imperial tribute.

Jiang Hu, seeing this, said nothing further—it was his own problem anyway; if he had to, he’d become a jet-propelled warrior.

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But Jiang Hu never imagined Zhang Fan would bring this bag of rotten apples as a gift—to the Wang family.

“So damn embarrassing,” Jiang Hu muttered, lowering his head as he stared at the red plastic bag.

“Make way.”

At that moment, a clear voice rang from within the gate—the crowd parted, revealing Wang Xuanfei and Wang Xuanmiao stepping out.

“Zhang Fan!?” Wang Xuanfei froze upon seeing him, then her face twisted with confusion.

She hadn’t expected Zhang Fan to appear here.

“You really do know someone!?”

Jiang Hu sighed in relief—Zhang Fan had actually been reliable this time.

“See? I told you—we’re here to visit, we know someone—why won’t you move aside?”

Jiang Hu suddenly gained confidence, stepped forward, swept his gaze over the crowd, and barked out.

“What are you doing here?” Wang Xuanfei said coldly.

“Oh, didn’t I cripple Wang Xuanqing a couple days ago? After thinking it over, I felt a bit guilty, so today I came to ask—anyone here want revenge?”

The moment he finished speaking, the vast courtyard fell utterly silent. Everyone exchanged glances, their faces filled with disbelief—as if they understood every word, yet the whole sentence made no sense.

Even Jiang Hu’s smile slowly froze. He whirled around, staring at Zhang Fan, whose face was utterly sincere, as if five words had erupted from his eyes.

“I shit your grandpa!”

He claimed to be visiting friends, but really he was seeking vengeance… no—

“Zhang Fan, you’re overreaching!”

Finally, Wang Xuanfei snapped out of her shock and let out a sharp cry, her fury boiling over.

She had never forgotten what happened to Wang Xuanqing, but out of fear of Wang Xuansha’s warning, she chose to let it lie.

Even the Wang family hadn’t pursued it—who could have imagined this fool would come here himself and ask if anyone wanted revenge?

What is this?

This isn’t thoughtful concern—it’s naked provocation.

“Don’t think just because the Xiong family backs you, you can act without restraint…” Wang Xuanfei gritted her teeth.

“On the grounds of Yujing, even the Xiong family can’t monopolize power—especially not here, in my Wang family’s domain.”

Frost settled over Wang Xuanfei’s beautiful face. She was born into the Worship the Dipper Sect, whose roots in Yujing ran deep and whose strength ranked among the top tier—who had ever been so lightly dismissed by an unknown youngster?

“How can you not understand good advice? I came because I knew you’d feel uneasy—I just wanted to ask if anyone wanted revenge!”

Zhang Fan smirked, once again reminded of the diversity of species.

“Fine, I’ll satisfy you.” The moment Wang Xuanfei spoke, she regretted it.

Her strength was even lower than Wang Xuanqing’s—and Wang Xuanqing had fallen before Zhang Fan. How much less could she hope to stand?

“You’d better not.”

Zhang Fan shook his head, his gaze hardening as it settled on Wang Xuanmiao beside him. He had seen this woman in Wang Xuanqing’s soul fragments.

That night, she and Wang Xuanqing had each swallowed the soul fragments of Xiong Qianxing and Ming Chenxuan.

“This lady looks formidable—may I ask your name?” Zhang Fan asked casually, his expression unchanged.

“Wang Xuanmiao.”

Wang Xuanmiao spoke softly, introducing herself with a warm smile—yet her heart was brimming with murderous intent.

From the moment she appeared, she had felt Zhang Fan’s attention never once left her.

Now, she was nine-tenths certain this so-called nobody had come specifically for her.

“Could he have discovered Wang Xuanqing’s secret? Is he here to probe my strength?” A thousand thoughts surged through Wang Xuanmiao’s mind.

“This boy cannot be allowed to live.” Wang Xuanmiao’s eyes narrowed, and she made her decision instantly.

Yet she was cunning. She knew that if Wang Xuanqing had fallen to this man, he must possess some extraordinary skill. Eliminating him quietly here would be difficult—but this was the Wang family estate. This was the Beidou Hall.

A plan to use another’s blade to kill instantly formed.

“I’ve seen many young fools, but never one as madly arrogant as you.”

Wang Xuanmiao spoke.

“Since you pride yourself on your Dao arts, I’ll accept your challenge. Come with me.”

As she spoke, she turned and led the way toward the training hall.

The crowd parted instantly. If looks could kill, Zhang Fan and Jiang Hu would already have been torn to shreds.

The training hall door creaked open, letting in a beam of light.

Wang Xuanmiao stepped inside.

“Xuanmiao, why did you bring two outsiders in?”

Dozens of eyes turned toward them. Wang Zhenshi looked up, his expression darkening.

“These two came to challenge us,” Wang Xuanmiao said sharply, her gaze locking onto the most wild figure in the room.

At that moment, Wang Xuangang also saw Zhang Fan.

“Challenge us? Who dares come to the Wang family and cause trouble?”

Instantly, a wave of angry murmurs erupted.

“See if you live through this.”

Wang Xuanmiao felt triumphant. She had noticed Wang Xuangang’s gaze—he looked like a predator spotting prey, wild with excitement.

Anyone he looked at like that rarely survived.

Hum…

Sure enough, Wang Xuangang took a step forward, his presence roaring like a storm, and in an instant stood before Zhang Fan.

The crowd sighed inwardly—a young man was about to perish before their eyes.

Boom… boom… boom…

The ground beneath Wang Xuangang’s feet groaned under his weight; his true yang surged like a tidal wave, howling through his body.

Wang Xuanmiao’s face paled. She had never seen Wang Xuangang react like this—he clearly considered Zhang Fan a fine toy, though one that would leave no whole corpse after playtime.

“Long time no see.”

Yet at that moment, Zhang Fan suddenly spoke—his tone as if greeting a long-lost friend.

“I’ve missed you.”

Wang Xuangang threw his head back and laughed loudly, opening his arms—and in the stunned gazes of the crowd, he embraced Zhang Fan tightly.

(End of Chapter)