Chapter 103: The Great Spirit King Wang

The life-essence star holds a person’s fate of life and death.

If there is anyone in this world without a life-essence star, there is only one kind of person.

“The dead!”

“How could this be?”

Wang Xuangang’s brow twitched, staring at Zhang Fan in disbelief—he stood alive before them, yet according to Dao and principle…

“You’re already dead?”

At this moment, even Jiang Hu’s expression turned strange.

“I’m still alive…”

Zhang Fan’s gaze darkened slightly, unable to help asking: “Is there any Dao art in this world that can make a person’s life-essence star vanish?”

“The Starworship lineage observes celestial phenomena and discerns life and death—they are masters within their field… I’ve never heard of such a technique.”

Wang Xuangang said gravely: “To obscure heavenly fate, to deceive even Heaven itself… such a Dao art may exist, but I do not know it.”

“To shift stars and swap constellations, to reverse life and death…”

“What level of cultivation would that require?”

“Zhang Fan… who are you really?”

Beside him, Jiang Hu could no longer hold back and voiced his question.

Since Zhang Fan effortlessly mastered the Northern Emperor’s Dao, he had displayed countless anomalies—so much so that Jiang Hu, a disciple of Maoshan’s Shangqing Sect, found it unbelievable.

“Not a single word of this must leak out.”

Zhang Fan scanned both their faces; though he fully trusted Wang Xuangang and Jiang Hu, this matter concerned his secret—he must be utterly cautious.

“This matter ends here,” Wang Xuangang said gravely.

“You must also be careful—there is no eternal loyalty in this world.”

At these words, Jiang Hu’s expression shifted—he clearly heard the hidden meaning in Wang Xuangang’s tone.

Throughout history, loyalty has been most praised precisely because it is so rare—even blood brothers turn on each other, let alone outsiders!

“I leave Wang Xuanmiao to you… handle her as your family sees fit.” Zhang Fan nodded, unwilling to dwell on the topic, and changed the subject.

“Beware… the Wuwei Sect’s experts may be watching your family’s [Northern Dipper Soul Refining]… stay alert.”

At this point, Zhang Fan was ninety percent certain they were after the Starworship Sect’s [Northern Dipper Soul Refining]—perhaps seeking someone important, spying on their secrets.

That person’s importance was great enough to make [You Ji], one of the Thirteen Zodiacs, lose sleep.

“I understand.”

Wang Xuangang nodded, his cold gaze fixed on the unconscious Wang Xuanmiao.

…

Evening, Wang family.

In a cold basement room, the walls were cast iron; the clanking of heavy chains echoed continuously, accompanied by pained moans.

Wang Xuanmiao had become a prisoner, her hair disheveled, her body covered in blood, stripped of all former dignity—most cruelly, her scapulae had been pierced through by hooks.

The “scapulae” are the shoulder blades; in many films and dramas, immortals with martial power are captured and their scapulae pierced to prevent them from casting spells—no matter how great their power, they become helpless.

In Journey to the West, Sun Wukong, after being captured by Erlang Shen, had his scapulae pierced and thrown into Laozi’s alchemical furnace.

In truth, piercing the scapulae isn’t so miraculous—it works by drilling holes through the shoulder blades into the clavicle, severely restricting upper limb movement, effectively crippling it.

Yet Daoists rely on hand seals, Gang steps, and incantations to cast spells—once the scapulae are pierced, their abilities are rendered useless.

Of course, if one had reached the level where a single thought could summon Dao, they would never sink to such a state.

“Still refusing to speak?”

Outside the iron door, Wang Zhenyu peered through the glass at Wang Xuanmiao inside, a cold gleam flashing in his eyes.

As head of the Wang family, a disciple colluding with Wuwei heretics wasn’t unusual—but being caught red-handed was a crime deserving death.

“Probably won’t get anything out of her.”

At that moment, Wang Zhenshi spoke up.

“Who were those two young people today?” Wang Zhenyu paused slightly, asking casually.

“One is Jiang Hu—formerly a disciple of Maoshan’s Shangqing Sect, now eking out a living in Yebuliang; he was involved in the recent Shen family incident,” Wang Zhenshi replied promptly, having already dug up the details.

“Jiang Hu… I know that kid,” Wang Zhenyu nodded, not giving it much thought.

“The other is Zhang Fan—he’s also in Yebuliang.”

“Zhang Fan!? What’s his background?” Wang Zhenyu pressed.

“They say this kid is close to the Xiong family.”

“The Xiong family!? Wasn’t he the one who crippled Wang Xuanqing last time?” Wang Zhenyu’s brow furrowed slightly.

“Correct—it’s him.”

“How does Xuangang know him? They shouldn’t have any connection.”

“That… we’re not sure… I sent people to investigate the kid’s background—nothing came up.”

“How is that possible?”

Wang Zhenyu’s brow trembled, a strange glint flashing in his eyes.

On the soil of Yujing, as long as someone was alive… no, whether alive or dead, there was nothing the Wang family couldn’t uncover.

“They say this kid is a disciple of Zhenwu Mountain,” Wang Zhenshi whispered.

Earlier that day, he’d thought Zhang Fan was just a minor figure relying on the Xiong family’s influence—but now, it seemed otherwise.

“Zhenwu Mountain… that place hides a pillar of heaven,” Wang Zhenyu’s eyes flickered with wariness.

“You mean the Transformation…”

“Get out!” Wang Zhenyu shot him a scornful glare: “Do you think you’re funny?”

“I just think we don’t need to be this paranoid…”

Wang Zhenshi’s face twisted into an awkward smile, his gaze instinctively drifting to Wang Xuanmiao inside the iron door.

“Chief, everyone knows how deeply the Wuwei Sect has infiltrated over the years—who among us is truly clean?”

Wang Zhenshi glanced at Wang Zhenyu’s face and couldn’t help adding: “Times aren’t what they used to be…”

History records nine mountain-slaying temple-destroying campaigns, but to call them pure battles of righteousness versus evil is nonsense—no one can clearly trace their origins!

Yet now, even the Longhu Zhang family, once the Wuwei Sect’s greatest enemy, is gone—if the Wuwei Sect is still called demonic, the chorus won’t be as unified as before.

“Foolish!”

Wang Zhenyu’s face darkened, his voice sharp: “No matter how the environment changes, the official stance remains unchanged…”

“If you don’t even pretend to uphold appearances, you’re already on the brink of death.”

“But… didn’t our own Wang family once have this problem? Back then, the seventh brother…”

Wang Zhenshi’s voice cut off abruptly.

“Zhenhuang was the most outstanding among us—the only one to master [Northern Dipper Soul Refining]… he colluded with the Wuwei Sect, and only survived because he paid a terrible price,” Wang Zhenyu said gravely.

“Terrible price?” Wang Zhenshi’s eyes lit with curiosity.

Rumors about Wang Zhenhuang had never ceased within the Wang family.

Some said that in his youth, like Xiong Sanqi of the Xiong family, he had followed that man far away, sweeping through the seven southeastern provinces, undefeated and feared, even drawing the attention of Baihe Guan.

“He betrayed that man, so they spared his life—but even so… he’s neither man nor ghost now,” Wang Zhenyu sighed.

“That man…”

Wang Zhenshi fell silent. By now, perhaps no one remembered the man’s honorific title—but in their generation, his name had shaken heaven and earth, spanning north and south.

“Great Spirit King Wang!”

…

In that sealed room at this moment.

Inside a massive glass container, emerald liquid bubbled incessantly; a grotesque, twisted remnant of a body floated within, rising and falling.

Thump… thump… thump…

Suddenly, slow footsteps echoed faintly through the room—the door remained shut, yet the figure appeared.

A cloaked figure, shrouded in shadow, suddenly materialized before the glass container. At the same moment, the remnant within slowly opened its single remaining eye.

“How tragic… the once-renowned [Northern Dipper Desert Master] reduced to this… worse than a stray dog.”

A mocking laugh echoed through the cold room.

“Entering the Wang family as if it were empty—no wonder it’s you.”

“You Ji!”

“The Immortal hides in plain sight… I learned a few tricks from the Immortal,” the visitor chuckled.

“Of the Thirteen Zodiacs, the human one leads…”

“The human zodiac’s title is [The Immortal]…” Wang Zhenhuang’s mangled face twisted in scorn: “You dare learn His Dao art!?”

“Throughout history, nine out of ten Daoists bear the surname Zhang, one bears Li…”

“The Li surname is the root of all Dao… [The Immortal] bore the Li surname—I learned His Dao art, so I’m returning to my origin,” the visitor said calmly.

“Why are you here?” Wang Zhenhuang growled.

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“I want to clarify some old matters.”

“What?” Wang Zhenhuang pressed.

“Back then, you betrayed the Great Spirit King Wang, revealing his secret of entering the Fifth Eternal Night Calamity—so we seized the chance to slay him and his son beneath Longhu Mountain…”

“But over the years, I’ve grown more and more uneasy,” the visitor murmured, voice tense.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” the broken body inside the glass container said in a low voice.

“Grand Spirit King… who is he? Divine Demon Embryo… what kind of art is that?”

“I always feel… he hasn’t died!?”

Gloop… gloop…

No sooner had the words ended than a flurry of rapid bubbles surged up inside the massive glass container.

“Not dead? After paying such a tremendous cost back then, how could they possibly still be alive?”

“If he’s not dead, how can I still be alive?” Wang Zhenhuang’s teeth bared from his mangled face as he gritted them.

“Precisely because you’re still alive does it prove he’s still alive,” the newcomer sneered.

“He deliberately let you leak the secret, luring us into setting a death trap, so he could escape—ten years… that’s enough time to do countless things…”

The newcomer’s voice turned icy and chilling.

“Wang Zhenhuang… who could have imagined that a traitor like you was the most loyal among them to him…”

“Willing to become less than human, less than a ghost, even worse than a stray dog… yet still willingly walk into his trap.”

The newcomer’s voice grew colder, angrier, faintly trembling with suppressed fury.

“Are you afraid?”

From within the massive glass container, a mocking laugh emerged from the broken body.

“Too bad… he still wasn’t ruthless enough… he could have killed you back then…”

The newcomer calmed down, his cold gaze fixed unblinkingly on the broken body inside the container beneath his dark cloak.

“These are all your guesses… Youxi… you’ve lived your entire life under his shadow…”

“Even after he’s been dead for ten years, he’s nearly become your demon…”

“You’ll never escape him.”

As he spoke, the broken body inside the massive glass container let out a shrill laugh, accompanied by violent coughing—crimson blood continuously seeped from its wounds and fissures.

“He’s not a demon, he’s the true demon…”

“The wound he left on Zishu ten years ago has never fully healed…”

At this point, the newcomer’s voice paused slightly, as if suppressing his inner terror.

“You’re terrified to death.”

Inside the massive glass container, Wang Zhenhuang laughed more wildly than ever, even as his wounds split open, his broken body seeming ready to burst apart at any moment.

For ten years he had lived less than human, less than a ghost—yet never before had he laughed so freely as today.

“Afraid? How could I possibly be afraid?”

At that moment, the newcomer’s voice became unnervingly calm, laced with mockery.

“Xiao Ren has been dead for ten years now… you probably don’t know…”

“A new Xiao Ren has been born!”

Gloop… gloop…

One after another, bubbles rose continuously from the liquid inside the massive glass container.

“Now… tell me—is he still alive? Has he escaped his calamity?”

The newcomer spoke softly, his voice tinged with longing.

“You can guess.”

Wang Zhenhuang grinned wildly, laughing.

Boom…

No sooner had the words ended than an invisible shockwave surged violently—the broken body inside the glass container exploded into a mist of blood, staining the emerald liquid.

“Fuck your mother!”

The newcomer stared coldly at the filthy container, then turned and walked away.

…

The next day, morning.

Taoyuan Square.

Zhang Fan, as if nothing had happened, still arrived at work on time, following his usual routine.

At the entrance, he met Wen He.

“Good morning, Sister Wen…”

“Fanfan, you look like you didn’t sleep well,” Wen He said, like a caring neighborly older sister.

“My sleep’s been bad lately.”

“If you’re lethargic at work, your career won’t succeed. Fanfan, why not buy some oranges?” Wen He suggested.

“Oranges help with sleep?”

“No, but they help your career,” Wen He shook her head.

“Why?”

“Because career has ‘cheng’—same sound as ‘orange,’” Wen He smiled gently.

“….”

“I was just about to buy some fruit… oh, by the way, a fruit shop just opened downstairs—really cheap. Want to come with?” Zhang Fan remembered.

Yesterday’s three pounds of apples had only cost ten yuan.

“You go alone, Fanfan—I’ve got a pile of things to do,” Wen He smiled sweetly and stepped straight into the elevator.

Zhang Fan walked alone to the underground plaza, where in a corner, an unassuming fruit shop had already opened. An elderly man with snow-white hair, his face warm and kind, was cheerfully hauling out fruit.

“Old man, give me two pounds of oranges.”

“Young man, back again?” The old man seemed to remember Zhang Fan—after all, few young people were so picky and haggled so much.

“Good eye—career has ‘cheng.’ Old man will pick you the biggest ones…”

“Give me a discount next time,” Zhang Fan chuckled. “Old man, what’s your name? If you’re fair, I’ll come often.”

“Good, good—youth support old man’s business…” The old man bent over selecting oranges, not looking up.

“My surname is Jin… my name is…”

“Jin Mang Ri!!”

(End of Chapter)