Chapter 106: Ten Years Ago, Beneath Longhu Mountain! The Human Xiao Liling

Night wind stirred softly, black clouds crossed the sky.

Zhang Fan walked along a quiet path leading to Hongfu Huayuan, recalling what Bai Buran had told him; it was nearly midnight, and the streets were already empty.

“My father’s father is a demon, my father’s mother is a demon…”

At that moment, a melodious ringing sound broke the silence of the cold night street.

Zhang Fan pulled out his phone, looked down, and saw the caller ID: Li Yishan.

“Hello…” Zhang Fan answered the call.

“Why are you calling me so late?”

“I saw you got off work—want me to pick you up for some late-night snacks?” Li Yishan’s voice came through the phone, laced with teasing.

“What heartless capitalist makes employees work until this hour?” Zhang Fan sneered.

“Then go home early.”

“Aren’t you supposed to treat me to snacks?”

“The weather’s turning—go home early. Next time.” Li Yishan’s voice came again.

“Yeah, the weather’s about to change.”

Zhang Fan looked up; the wind tonight was unusually strong, black clouds racing across the sky, stars glittering—in a metropolis like Yujing, such a sky had not been seen in years.

…

Yujing City, South High-Speed Rail Station.

The high-speed train slowed into the station, doors opened, and two figures in Daoist robes stepped down, one tall and slender, the other as radiant as spring sunlight.

“I’ve never been to Yujing City before… Six Dynasties’ ancient capital—I’ll make the most of this trip,” Xia Weisheng murmured.

“We’re not here for tourism,” Po Jie muttered, searching for exit signs, clearly exasperated.

“Brother, do you think Zhang Fan has been reciting the spell I sent him?” Xia Weisheng suddenly asked.

“The Heavenly Mother Heart Spell is still too early for him—he’s only just awakened his Nascent Soul.”

Po Jie shook his head and looked at Xia Weisheng.

“I know you’re upset he took the Zhenwu Jade Tablet—joking about it is understandable.”

“I don’t care about the title of heir—I only fear Zhenwu Mountain’s incense will die out, disgracing our ancestors,” Xia Weisheng said, his smile fading into seriousness.

“Fate and timing,” Po Jie bowed respectfully.

“Brother, you’re becoming more and more like Master,” Xia Weisheng said, a deep, knowing smile appearing on his beautiful face.

“After Zhang Fan went down the mountain, I heard Master say… it’s finally come.”

“Huh!?”

“Don’t you find it strange? He just fused the Zhenwu Jade Tablet, barely awakened his Nascent Soul, and has little worldly experience—yet Master let him go?” Po Jie said sharply.

“What are you implying?” Xia Weisheng said sharply.

“I have a feeling… Master… knows him.”

Boom…

A low rumble split the sky; Xia Weisheng and Po Jie looked up—black clouds swept across, stars glittered, the divine hidden, an omen of ill fortune suddenly appearing.

“The south is humid—Yujing’s changes are strange indeed.”

Xia Weisheng frowned slightly, murmured softly—and before his voice faded, a gentle breeze passed, and he vanished from where he stood.

…

Yujing City, East Suburb Cemetery.

A collapsed tombstone stirred up dust; under the starlight, Wen He’s hair hung loose, blood trickled from her lips, her eyes blazing red, furious like a true demon—unrecognizable from her usual self.

“Little Wen He, after all these years, you’ve grown quite a bit.”

Jin Mangri brushed dust off his robes, calm and unconcerned.

“Too bad—you’re still too weak.”

As he spoke, Jin Mangri grinned, revealing a row of white teeth: “Your talent surpasses even your brother’s—if I trained you, your future achievements would be limitless.”

“You deserve to die… if not for you, they’d all still be alive,” Wen He gritted her teeth, her eyes filled only with hatred.

“Tsk tsk—your Soul Consciousness is agitated… that’s a grave mistake in cultivation,” Jin Mangri chuckled. “Those who seek greatness must have the spirit to share a portion of the feast even when their parents are murdered before their eyes.”

“Little Wen He, you’re still far too early.”

Boom…

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a terrifying aura erupted from Wen He’s body—her black hair stood on end, her entire form dimmed as if sinking into muddy shadows; if observed with the Nascent Soul, thick, foul-smelling liquid dripped endlessly from those shadows.

“Evil Omen: Ten Great Defeats!”

In divine omen cosmology, the “Ten Great Defeats” is an absolute malevolent star—if one’s fate bears this star, misfortune clings to them; the most prominent sign is financial ruin, a treasury ninefold empty, like water without source, a tree without roots.

In Daoist cultivation, the Law is wealth.

Boom…

Suddenly, a thunderous explosion rent the air—Wen He shot forward like a cannonball, vanishing from her spot; the force crushed the ground into a massive crater.

Instantly, she appeared before Jin Mangri, foul-smelling liquid dripping from her fingertips, terrifying power slamming directly into his aged body.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Loud crashes echoed through the night; Jin Mangri flew in a violent arc, smashing tombstone after tombstone, the foul-smelling liquid clinging to him, voraciously devouring his True Yang, even threatening to invade his Nascent Soul.

Hum…

Wind howled in his ears; before Jin Mangri hit the ground, Wen He appeared behind him like a ghost, her fist wrapped in intense True Yang, smashing into his spine—terrible power surged instantly through his entire body…

The foul-smelling liquid grew fiercer, like a flood or monstrous beast, invading his body, draining his True Yang, suppressing his Nascent Soul.

This was the terrifying power of the “Ten Great Defeats”—once mastered, the evil omen entered the body, instantly boosting one’s own cultivation; upon contact with an opponent, the foul liquid drained and weakened their cultivation, tipping the balance.

For this reason, the “Ten Great Defeats” was among the most difficult to master of all auspicious and malevolent stars in the Divine Omen Sect.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Explosive sounds never ceased; Wen He raged like a mad demon, her movements too swift to track—she unleashed blow after blow upon his aged body, as if releasing decades of suppressed hatred and pain.

Boom…

Finally, with a deafening crash, Jin Mangri slammed into the ground, dust rising in a towering plume.

Wen He panted heavily, drenched in sweat, her high body temperature vaporizing it into thick white mist.

The “Ten Great Defeats” drains one’s own cultivation—wounding the enemy a thousand, injuring oneself eight hundred.

At this moment, Wen He was growing weak, yet her eyes burned brighter than ever—after so many years of suppression, she could finally…

“Didn’t I say…”

At that moment, those nightmare words echoed again beneath the cold moonlight.

“Impossible…” Wen He’s face changed instantly, staring fixedly at the swirling dust—Jin Mangri walked slowly forward, brushing dust off his robes.

“Little Wen He, you’re still too weak.”

Jin Mangri grinned, revealing yellowed teeth—having endured the “Ten Great Defeats,” he was utterly unharmed!?

“How?” Wen He’s gaze trembled, unable to believe it. “All beings are shaped by the stars above—life, death, fortune, misfortune—all determined by them…” Jin Mangri shook his head, his face filled with a sorrowful, compassionate expression.

“This is the tragedy of all living things—tiny as ants, fortune and misfortune decided by heaven.”

“But what if one seized control of fortune and misfortune…”

No sooner had he spoken than Wen He’s expression changed—using her Nascent Soul to observe, she saw clusters of light hidden within Jin Mangri’s aged body; his major acupoints glowed like stars in the heavens, brilliant and dazzling.

“This is…”

“The human body is a microcosm of heaven and earth—stars and constellations stored in the acupoints; thus, fortune and misfortune lie within the heart…”

Jin Mangri’s gaze sharpened, his aged face devoid of any human emotion: “Auspicious and malevolent stars—all within me… Little Wen He, your Divine Omen arts are useless against me.”

Before his words ended, Jin Mangri vanished like a ghost—then his palm descended like a shadow, pressing onto Wen He’s face.

Bang…

The wrinkled palm slammed down with a thunderous crack; crimson blood gushed freely, Wen He’s True Yang scattered, her body collapsing into the pit, her breath barely there.

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Even with unimaginable talent in the Divine Omen path, she could not match Jin Mangri’s pace.

The Thirteen Zodiacs, each unique—in their stories, they are the protagonists.

“Tsk tsk, that’s pretty brutal—she’s your junior disciple.”

At that moment, a mocking voice came from the corner; under the moonlight, a pair of long legs walked forward, clad in high heels and black stockings—but the voice was unmistakably male.

Hai Zhu, Wang Tao!

“What’s a junior disciple? Just another life…” Jin Mangri didn’t turn around.

“No wonder you’re a senior—so ruthless,” Wang Tao’s womanishly beautiful face showed a faint, elusive smile.

“Lives are the cheapest thing in this world… you’ve never seen…” Jin Mangri said calmly.

He had lived through chaos, truly witnessed what it meant for lives to be as worthless as grass—especially in 1942, as he traveled north, the roads were littered with corpses, less valuable than roadside weeds; even with Daoist arts, before the tide of history and the cruelty of life and death, he was merely a mortal…

In those years, he too had once wished to protect something—but fate was merciless, the Dao was impartial, and its cruelty toward every being was identical.

“All things arise and perish through calamity—bodies litter the earth, yet become elixirs for immortality… Little ghost, come with me—I’ll show you a different world.”

In his buried memories, when he had stared at this earthly hell, lost and helpless, a Daoist stood before him and opened a door unlike any he had ever known.

“Who are you?”

“The Three Corpses.”

That name seemed to pierce through the ages—even after all these years, every time Jin Mangri recalled it, his heart surged with passion; it was his lifelong pursuit and longing.

Hum…

At that moment, Jin Mangri raised his hand—a forceless power lifted Wen He into the air.

“Little Wenhe, hand over the Divine Calamity Battle Robe.”

Wenhe remained silent, her defiant eyes blazing with fury.

“The Divine Calamity Battle Robe is the treasured artifact of the Divine Calamity Sect. With it, can you truly calculate the Heavenly Mandate?” Wang Tao asked.

This time, she had come with Youji specifically for this matter.

Calculating the hidden Heavenly Mandate is of great importance to the Thirteen Zodiacs.

“The Wang family’s Northern Dipper Divine Refinement, combined with the Divine Calamity Battle Robe, can shift the stars and alter the constellations to observe the Heavenly Mandate,” Jin Maori said gravely.

“Are the lives of that father and son truly that important?” Wang Tao asked, puzzled.

Among the Thirteen Zodiacs, Youji excelled in Star and Constellation Arts; this time, he expended great mental energy to calculate the secret of that father and son’s fate.

“Young man, you have no idea how extraordinary that father and son are…”

“Of course, you weren’t even here ten years ago,” Jin Maori sneered.

“After the Daoist Cataclysm eighty years ago, only Chu Chaoran of True Martial Mountain survived. Since then, Dragon Tiger Mountain’s gates have been sealed, with no incense ever lit again—but…”

“Ten years ago, Dragon Tiger Mountain did open its gates once.”

“What?” Wang Tao’s expression shifted slightly.

The Daoist Cataclysm was a mystery, tied to all Daoist sects and even involving the Wuwei Sect.

Yet for eighty years, no one knew the truth; the sole survivor, Chu Chaoran, remained utterly silent on the matter.

As for Dragon Tiger Mountain’s complete closure over eight decades, no one knew what lay within.

“It opened once ten years ago?”

“Not just once—it was entered, and someone took something out… something tied to the Daoist Cataclysm,” Jin Maori said gravely.

“Could it be…” Wang Tao mused.

“The Wang of Great Spirit Sect… since the day he appeared, his identity has been suspect…”

“The Divine Demon Sacred Embryo, one of the Nine Legendary Techniques—could it possibly be so easily cultivated?”

“Ten years ago, he entered Dragon Tiger Mountain and took out that artifact,” Jin Maori stared fiercely at Wenhe before him, his grip tightening around her throat.

“No wonder I heard that ten years ago, a great battle erupted beneath Dragon Tiger Mountain, drawing in all Daoist sects—even White Crane Pavilion intervened,” Wang Tao murmured solemnly.

He had joined the Thirteen Zodiacs only recently, yet he had not taken part in that battle ten years ago.

“That man is mysterious—no sect, no clan—yet he cultivated the Divine Demon Sacred Embryo. Can someone with no sect even master such a technique? Fooling ghosts, that’s all.”

“Yet… he has a son who also mastered it,” Jin Maori said gravely. “Do you know what that means?”

“Each of the Nine Inner Elixir Techniques can be mastered by only one person.”

“That son is an anomaly…” Jin Maori’s gaze turned icy and lethal.

“So the Heavenly Mandate calculation is for the artifact the man took from Dragon Tiger Mountain?” Wang Tao could not help asking.

That artifact was tied to the Daoist Cataclysm eighty years ago, hence the greed of all Daoist sects—and even the Thirteen Zodiacs…

That was precisely why the great battle beneath Dragon Tiger Mountain occurred ten years ago.

But after the battle, the artifact’s whereabouts vanished into mystery.

“It’s not just for that… after that night, the life-essence constellations of that father and son disappeared… logically, they should be dead…”

“Yet Dragon always felt otherwise… that man would never die so easily. If he and his son are alive, many will never sleep again.”

“That father and son are too deeply entangled with the Thirteen Zodiacs.”

At these words, Jin Maori could not help but shake his head and sigh.

“Entangled? What do you mean?”

“The Thirteen Zodiacs are led by Ren. You should know that the Ren Zodiac had already perished ten years ago—but do you know her true identity?” Jin Maori suddenly changed tone.

“Ren’s identity is a secret; no one may know her real-world identity.”

“Heh, I know,” Jin Maori grinned.

“The Thirteen Zodiacs are led by Ren… over twenty years ago, she married the Wang of Great Spirit Sect and bore that bastard…”

“Her name was Li Linglong!”

(End of Chapter)