Chapter 116: The Immortal Still Dwells in the White Jade Capital! Fire Dragon Dan Sword

“Now!?”

Zhang Fan stared fixedly at his phone screen, reading the reply from [Thousand-Year Old Demon], his expression turning peculiar.

“Are you joking?” Zhang Fan quickly sent a message back.

But the other side fell silent again.

“How do we meet now? Where are you?” Zhang Fan thought for a moment and rephrased his question.

“Wherever your thoughts dwell, I shall manifest!”

At that moment, the screen flickered, and eight large characters burst forth from the [Thousand-Year Old Demon]’s chat box.

Hum…

In an instant, Zhang Fan’s body trembled violently, his phone slipping from his hand, his eyes half-closed yet still half-open, like a clay statue of a god in a temple, eyelids lowered, leaving only a sliver of light.

“This is…”

Before his eyes, light and shadow merged and vanished, then reappeared.

“Inner Vision of the Nascent Soul!?”

Zhang Fan sensed it—he had been pulled into an inner vision, but it was not his own.

At this moment, heaven and earth stretched vast, fleeting lights danced, beneath a deep black sky, rivers surged like giant dragons winding far away, the horizon close at hand, with only three crescent moons illuminating the great river.

“Pacing heaven and earth, crossing rivers and seas, circling through years to ascend terraces. When the moon appears, the moon comes—immortals still dwell in the White Jade Capital.”

At that moment, a soft tone echoed, carrying the loneliness and desolation of ages, turning like the sobbing of waves, rising like the wind across heaven and earth, silent and empty, reverberating through the cosmos.

Zhang Fan’s Nascent Soul focused, and only then did he see—a figure stood motionless upon the surging river, floating atop the waves.

“You!?”

Zhang Fan was startled and uncertain—he had no idea who this figure was, yet without even appearing, it had pulled him into its Nascent Soul inner vision. Such spiritual power, such ruthless methods, were utterly inconceivable.

Splash…

The surge of waves shattered the moon’s reflection on the river, the wind stirring the hem of the lone figure’s robe.

In heaven and earth, only the wind and the waves remained, amplifying the solitude of that lone figure.

“Are you the Thousand-Year Old Demon!?”

Zhang Fan hesitated slightly before speaking, testing the waters.

Boom…

No sooner had he spoken than a mighty wind surged across the vast river, piling waves upon waves, stirring furious torrents.

At that moment, the lone, mysterious figure slowly turned, gazing at Zhang Fan.

“Hm!?”

Zhang Fan instantly went on alert, instinctively stepping back.

Upon the rolling Yangtze, the mysterious figure did not move an inch—it seemed fused into this endless desolation and loneliness.

Hum…

At that moment, the mysterious figure slowly raised its hand, drawing a single line in empty air—from top to bottom.

That single stroke, like a sword rising, swept through heaven and earth, stirring the river.

Just one stroke—it resembled a sword, yet the ending curved upward, like a flickering flame.

This feeling was strikingly similar to the stele inscriptions Zhang Fan had seen in the Pure Yang Hall of Zhenwu Mountain.

That day, the Pure Yang stele inscriptions had each character like flickering flames; Master Pojie had said the Pure Yang Ancestor had once trained under the Fire Dragon Blade, mastering the essence of true fire.

Later, when the Pure Yang Ancestor perfected his fire path, cultivated immortality and forged swords, he left behind these words:

“Once I met the Fire Dragon Lord; one sword passed, ever by my side. Mountains, rivers, all become foam; stars, sun, moon, freely pause and turn.”

At this very moment, that void stroke—sword-like, flame-like—merged in Zhang Fan’s vision with the Pure Yang stele he had seen; boundless profundity arose, and within it, the True Fire Sword Art of the Golden Core.

…

Boom…

Outside the hotel, thunder rumbled, dark clouds surged, obscuring the moon.

Jiang Hu looked out the window, frowning.

Dao cultivators, attuned to heaven and humanity, were most sensitive to shifts in qi—clearly, the magnetic field around the hotel had become chaotic.

“Zhang Fan… tonight won’t be peaceful.” Jiang Hu called out, but received no response.

“Hm!?”

Jiang Hu turned to look—and saw Zhang Fan seated cross-legged on the bed, his breath long and faint, barely perceptible.

“Entering meditation now!?” Jiang Hu’s gaze darkened.

Knock… knock… knock…

At that moment, a knock came at the door.

“Who is it?” Jiang Hu instantly went on alert.

“It’s us…”

Zhan Xinyue’s voice came from outside.

Jiang Hu’s expression eased slightly; he rose quickly to open the door.

The door opened—Sui Chunsheng held a worn, ancient earthen jar, sealed with yellowish talismans—hundreds of characters forming a single talisman, inscribed with the Great Seal for Exorcising Demons and Subduing Demons.

“Damn it… what’s inside?” Jiang Hu’s heart lurched.

He was a master of talisman arts, trained in the orthodox Maoshan lineage—he could immediately tell this sealing talisman was no ordinary thing.

A hundred-character talisman—most high-level adepts couldn’t even draw it, let alone one bearing the Great Seal for Exorcising Demons and Subduing Demons.

This was nearly the highest-grade sealing talisman Jiang Hu had ever seen; in ancient times, demons of this level were worthy of being imprisoned in the Demon-Subduing Wells of famous mountains and Daoist monasteries.

“This isn’t a joke, is it?” Jiang Hu muttered to himself.

He had assumed the item they were escorting was ordinary, but now he realized it was vital—sealed like a great demon. One slip, and the consequences would be unimaginable.

“Has Jiangnan Dao Alliance run out of people?” Jiang Hu thought bitterly.

“He’s in meditation?”

Zhan Xinyue stepped in and immediately sensed Zhang Fan’s state—his Nascent Soul flickered, present yet absent, clearly in deep meditation.

“Mm.”

Jiang Hu gave a distracted reply, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on the earthen jar.

“Tonight won’t be peaceful.”

Sui Chunsheng set down the jar and pushed it toward Jiang Hu.

Just those words confirmed that these two young Jiangnan masters had also sensed the anomaly around the hotel.

It was just past the Autumn Equinox, deep in the night, thunder roaring—yet mist swirled around the hotel, an unnatural meteorological phenomenon.

“The Wuwei Sect’s experts have arrived,” Zhan Xinyue said calmly, her tone serene, as if she had expected this all along.

“As expected… it turned out to be unexpected,” Jiang Hu sighed inwardly.

He now confirmed—the jar the Jiangnan Dao Alliance was escorting was no ordinary object; whatever was sealed inside might be tied to the Wuwei Sect.

“Stay here and guard. We’ll clean up the trash.”

Saying this, Sui Chunsheng and Zhan Xinyue turned and left the room.

“Real pros—so composed, even as official agents.”

Jiang Hu walked to the window, his Nascent Soul observing—he saw two figures emerge from the hotel, appearing on the chilly street. The mist grew thicker, seeping through the windows into the room; around the hotel, not even a single insect chirped.

“Wuwei Sect vermin, come out,” Zhan Xinyue’s voice drifted through the night.

“Sound the wind drum!”

At that moment, Sui Chunsheng drew a deep breath, his chest swelling grotesquely, like a balloon.

The next instant, he formed a hand seal and tapped his chest—a deep, muffled boom erupted, like a drum pounding.

Immediately, a furious wind burst from his mouth, sweeping away all surrounding mist.

“Excellent wind art!”

Suddenly, a cold voice rang out in the dark night.

Hum…

As the mist vanished, white figures emerged from four different directions, moving against the wind—four white paper dolls.

“Paper Offering Technique!” Each paper doll bore a talisman on its chest, as if its heart had opened, eyes painted red, drifting swiftly, moving like a gale—within an instant, they closed in on Zhan Xinyue.

Ssssh…

One paper doll’s arm shot out—its once-soft paper now as sharp as a blade, piercing Zhan Xinyue’s chest as easily as cutting tofu.

Splash… splash… splash…

The next instant, Zhan Xinyue’s form dissolved gently, like the moon’s reflection in water—a stone cast in, stirring countless ripples, shattering the reflection.

“Moon in Water!”

The cold voice echoed through the night.

Zhan Xinyue appeared like a ghost behind two paper dolls, her hands forming a seal, stepping the Heavenly Gang , palms slowly descending onto their backs.

“Water Soak Technique!”

Hum…

Vast amounts of vapor gathered in Zhan Xinyue’s palms, instantly soaking the two paper dolls, which then sagged limply to the ground.

Thud…

Meanwhile, the other two paper dolls rode the wind, spinning wildly in midair, their shrieks like whistling blades, slashing at Sui Chunsheng from multiple directions.

“Wind-Turned Blade!”

Sui Chunsheng formed the [Wind Seal of Xun], his chest swelling as a torrent of Gangfeng erupted, coalescing into an invisible blade between his hand seals, slicing the two paper dolls apart as they drew near.

Hum…

The shattered gales churned like a meat grinder, reducing the two paper dolls to fragments that fluttered like snowflakes, scattering across the chilly street.

“No wonder you’re a master of the Jiangnan Dao Alliance—truly young and gifted.”

At that moment, crisp applause rang out beneath the pale moonlight.

At the end of the street, a figure slowly emerged, mist swirling beneath his feet.

He was a bald youth, about 1.77 meters tall, wearing leather shoes whose tap-tap echoes reverberated through the cold street.

“Let me introduce myself—I’m Shi Shougong.”

The bald youth bowed slightly, his manners refined.

“The Wuwei Sect must be pathetically poor… did they send only you to die?” Zhan Xinyue said coolly upon seeing him.

“Friend, you jest…”

“I alone am enough to kill.”

Before his words faded, Shi Shougong vanished before Sui Chunsheng and Zhan Xinyue’s eyes.

“Fall back!”

At the same instant, Sui Chunsheng’s face darkened; instinctively, he stepped backward.

“Five colors blind the eyes.”

A cold voice came from behind; Sui Chunsheng’s heart lurched. Before he could react, a streak of blood shot skyward.

He leapt backward, a storm of force forming a barrier before him.

“Chunsheng…” Zhan Xinyue’s face turned ashen, staring fixedly at Sui Chunsheng—his right arm had only been slashed open, the wound shallow, yet instantly the entire limb turned black and dead.

“Plague Dao Art!?” Sui Chunsheng gritted his teeth, staring coldly at the suddenly appeared bald youth, his gaze brimming with utmost wariness.

“Guess.” Shi Shougong smiled faintly.

“Substitute the peach for the plum!”

Sui Chunsheng gritted his teeth, his body jerking violently; his right arm trembled, the blackened, dead flesh peeling away like withered wood, exuding a chilling green smoke and foul stench.

Beneath it, the arm revealed itself like a peeled egg—pale, gleaming, brimming with vibrant life.

“Excellent technique!” Shi Shougong’s gaze sharpened; seeing Sui Chunsheng’s pallid face, his smile deepened.

“How many times can you do this?!”

Hoo…

At that moment, Zhan Xinyue leapt forward, shielding Sui Chunsheng behind her; her hands formed seals, her beautiful eyes holding a glint of inner brilliance, her vital energy surging and then hiding—her once supple body stiffened instantly like dead wood.

“Hm!? Corpse-Stiffening Art!?”

Shi Shougong’s gaze darkened, surprise flashing across his face.

“Didn’t expect you, sweet little beauty, to be a close-combat type!?”

Shi Shougong nodded, showing clear admiration: “Your Dao art does have some advantage over me.”

“But it doesn’t matter…”

As he spoke, Shi Shougong slowly straightened, hands in his pockets, showing no intention to move.

“It should be starting now.”

Pfft…

No sooner had the words left his lips than Zhan Xinyue shuddered violently, black blood oozing from her lips.

Sui Chunsheng collapsed to the ground, his eyes filled with shock.

“That thick mist just now…”

“Tsk tsk… the Jiangnan Dao Alliance still has talent—quick reaction.”

Shi Shougong’s lips curled slightly in a approving smile; he licked his lips, and his tongue—no longer human—resembled that of an animal: a cold-blooded creature, adept at changing color, skilled in camouflage…

Lizard!

“You’re…”

“A demon!?”

Sui Chunsheng’s pupils contracted sharply; though a member of the Dao Alliance, he had never encountered a true demon in all his cultivation—this was his first, and he never imagined such bizarre, overwhelming power.

“Didn’t I say already? One of me is enough to kill.”

Shi Shougong kept his hands in his pockets, casual and relaxed, looking up at the open window of the hotel.

“Jiang Hu…”

Sui Chunsheng and Zhan Xinyue snapped their heads up, clearly seeing a shadow shifting within the open window.

At that moment, their hearts sank to the deepest abyss.

Inside the room, the lingering mist still swirled; Jiang Hu lay slumped on the floor, limbs weak, talismans scattered beneath the feet of a figure.

“Shi Shougong’s mist is always so intoxicating.”

Beneath dim lighting, a young man in a Daoist robe looked down at the slumped Jiang Hu, then his cold gaze settled on Zhang Fan, who sat in meditation, and the earthen jar beside him.

“Easy to take.”

The Daoist-robed youth’s lips curled slightly as he strode directly toward the earthen jar.

“Lure the tiger from the mountain!”

On the cold street, Sui Chunsheng gritted his teeth, glaring coldly at Shi Shougong.

“To lure the tiger from the mountain… you must first be the tiger,” Shi Shougong smiled faintly.

“Whether you come down or not, the outcome is the same.”

At these words, Sui Chunsheng and Zhan Xinyue’s hearts plunged utterly into despair—they knew they were finished tonight.

“Let’s go.”

Shi Shougong watched their expressions, a hint of mockery in his smile, then turned to the open window, urging them on.

Boom…

At that moment, a sudden explosion erupted—a terrifying flame burst from the room, and faintly, a dragon’s roar echoed, twisting like a sword’s cry into the sky; shattered glass rained across the ground, the violent commotion shaking half the street.

Immediately after, a charred corpse flew out through the broken window, landing heavily before Shi Shougong.

“This… this is…”

Shi Shougong’s face turned ashen, unable to believe what he saw; he snapped his head up and saw the room’s wall half-gone, a figure slowly emerging from the pale flames.

“Zhang… Zhang Fan…”

Sui Chunsheng and Zhan Xinyue exchanged glances, both seeing profound disbelief in each other’s eyes.

(End of Chapter)