Chapter 121: The Weiling Zhenmo Golden Seal! The Zhang Family of Longhu Mountain

At dawn, the Xuanmiao Temple.

The bell rang softly; idle birds circled; precious banners fluttered in a thousand winds, and incense smoke curled upward into the blue sky.

As the sky just began to lighten, a group of Daoist priests were performing rituals inside the Scripture Hall, its doors tightly shut, while many people gathered outside.

“What’s going on this early in the morning?”

Among the crowd, Zhang Fan pushed his way out.

“Request the Seal!” Sui Chunsheng said solemnly, lowering his voice.

“Request the Seal? What seal?”

Seeing the Xuanmiao Temple Daoists nearby bowing with reverence, Zhang Fan leaned close to Sui Chunsheng and whispered.

“Inside the Xuanmiao Temple is a magical seal, gifted a hundred years ago by the Zhang family of Longhu Mountain. It is spiritually alive and possesses vast power.” Sui Chunsheng’s eyes held deep respect.

A magical artifact is a tool used by Daoists for cultivation or subduing demons and monsters, containing inner magical veins and manifesting supernatural abilities.

Each artifact is extremely precious—not like in novels or films, where one can casually forge it from rare celestial materials.

In the Daoist sects, every artifact is forged over generations through countless trials and ritual consecrations.

Thus, true artifacts are passed down in orderly succession, generation after generation; the older they are, the greater their power.

Some highly accomplished Daoists guard a dilapidated temple, treasuring even a broken, crumbling oil lamp as a sacred heirloom—this lamp may well be their lineage’s ancestral artifact.

To outsiders, it’s just trash; in the hands of these Daoists, it holds divine power.

The Zhang family of Longhu Mountain’s seal is renowned among all Daoist artifacts.

Legend says the Longhu Mountain Seal was granted by Heaven itself, secretly bestowed by the Supreme Elder Laozi, inscribed with the words: “Supreme Elder Laozi, swiftly as law commands,” possessing the power to command spirits and demons, and to awe monsters and subdue demons.

“It is said the ancestral Longhu Seal exists in only five copies, granted by the Supreme Elder Laozi when the Great Daoist Zhang Daoling awakened on He Ming Mountain, endowed with earth-shaking power,” Sui Chunsheng said gravely.

The Zhang family of Longhu Mountain holds a unique status in the Daoist world, known as the Immortals’ Household, the origin of the Daoist lineage.

Since Longhu Mountain’s founding, the Daoist tradition began.

Over nearly two thousand years, only sixty-three Longhu Mountain Zhang family seals have been recorded.

“The seal venerated here at Xuanmiao Temple is called the ‘Weiling Zhenmo Golden Seal,’ gifted a hundred years ago by the Zhang family of Longhu Mountain to commemorate the temple’s thousandth anniversary.”

Sui Chunsheng gazed at the closed hall door, listening to the chanting within, his eyes filled with unmistakable reverence.

The Zhang family of Longhu Mountain is the foremost sect of the Daoist world.

Since the great Daoist calamity eighty years ago, Longhu Mountain’s gates have remained shut, and this lineage has lost its incense and offerings; all details have become legend.

As for the Longhu Seal, it is exceedingly rare to see.

“So it really is a treasure,” Zhang Fan muttered, staring at the locked Scripture Hall.

Across Jiangnan Province, even counting Mount Maoshan—one of the Ten Great Daoist Mountains—as part of the tally, if you gathered every treasure from every corner and turned them all upside down three times, this ‘Weiling Zhenmo Golden Seal’ would still rank among the top.

“Why go to such lengths to summon such a treasure?” Zhang Fan asked.

Sui Chunsheng hesitated slightly, glanced around, then pulled Zhang Fan aside.

“What?”

“That ritual jar we delivered,” Sui Chunsheng whispered.

At these words, Zhang Fan’s gaze sharpened—they had delivered a fake jar; the real one had long been sent to Xuanmiao Temple by Jiangnan Province’s Daoist Alliance experts.

Yun Jianyue—or rather, the Bai Yu Jing of the Si She—told Zhang Fan that the jar contained the soul fragment of Xiao Yuanshen.

“Do you know what’s inside?” Sui Chunsheng asked.

“What?” Zhang Fan asked, expressionless.

“Xiao Yuanshen!” Sui Chunsheng whispered.

“Xiao Yuanshen!?” Zhang Fan raised an eyebrow: “The leader of the Thirteen Zodiacs!?”

“Correct…”

Sui Chunsheng spoke softly: “I heard from my superiors that ten years ago, the Thirteen Zodiacs fell into civil strife; Xiao Yuanshen was attacked by the other twelve and perished…”

“This soul fragment was taken from her corpse and sealed ever since.”

“Alright, second version,” Zhang Fan thought silently, his face unchanged.

Yun Jianyue told him Xiao Yuanshen was killed by a coalition of Daoist masters.

Now Sui Chunsheng says she was betrayed and surrounded by her own Zodiac brethren.

In truth, Zhang Fan had already doubted everything Yun Jianyue said yesterday—he simply kept quiet to see what they would do next.

Sui Chunsheng’s words still didn’t fully convince him.

When he reclaimed the malevolent deity that night, he caught glimpses of fragments from that night ten years ago.

That night, beneath Longhu Mountain, both Daoist masters and the Thirteen Zodiacs were present—neither side’s story could be fully trusted.

But one thing both sides agreed on: the jar did indeed contain Xiao Yuanshen’s soul fragment.

“The ‘Weiling Zhenmo Golden Seal’ is being summoned to refine Xiao Yuanshen’s soul.”

Sui Chunsheng’s eyes gleamed—Xiao Yuanshen was the leader of the Thirteen Zodiacs; once her soul was refined, many secrets of the Wuwei Sect would no longer be secrets, and they could strike them a crushing blow.

“No wonder such a fuss,” Zhang Fan murmured.

“The Seal Request Ritual will take a full day…” Sui Chunsheng whispered.

“The soul refinement will likely begin two days from now—I’ll save you a good seat.”

Since that night Zhang Fan revealed his abilities, Sui Chunsheng’s attitude had turned a full hundred and eighty degrees—he now treated him with deep reverence.

“Thank you,” Zhang Fan said, clapping Sui Chunsheng on the shoulder, glancing once more at the locked Scripture Hall, then pushing through the crowd and leaving.

He had barely taken two steps when a figure stepped out, blocking his path.

“Yun Jianyue!?” Zhang Fan frowned.

“You have no manners—you may call me Aunt Yun,” Yun Jianyue smiled, stepping before him.

“Thought about it all night? What’s your answer?”

“I’m calling the police,” Zhang Fan replied flatly, glancing away.

“….”

“Silly child, don’t joke like that. Aunt Yun wouldn’t harm you.”

Yun Jianyue smiled sweetly, raising her slender hand to brush his cheek.

Zhang Fan instantly tensed, stepping back instinctively.

“Look, I’m your elder—do you really think I’d harm you?” Yun Jianyue’s smile didn’t fade; she didn’t press further.

“Come with me—I’ll show you something.”

Without waiting for Zhang Fan’s reply, Yun Jianyue walked straight out of the Xuanmiao Temple.

Zhang Fan hesitated briefly, then followed.

Yun Jianyue usually cultivated within the Xuanmiao Temple, but in the secular world, she owned businesses and was a well-known entrepreneur in Suzhou.

She drove, taking Zhang Fan straight to Shantang Street, leading him to a quiet, elegant courtyard.

“Is there really a courtyard like this in such a rundown alley?” Zhang Fan muttered, standing outside the gate.

From the outside, the alley looked dilapidated, as if only elderly residents remained—but inside, it was a hidden paradise.

“Properties here aren’t cheap,” Yun Jianyue smiled.

Suzhou’s urban development differs from other cities—it preserved its old town layout, retaining the unique charm of Jiangnan’s water villages.

That’s why a courtyard here commands a high price.

“How much?” Zhang Fan asked.

“This courtyard is worth at least eight digits at today’s market rate,” Yun Jianyue opened the gate and smiled. “Only because the market’s been down these past two years, otherwise…” “Enough,” Zhang Fan shook his head.

Eight digits was already astronomical to him.

“What exactly are you showing me?” Zhang Fan asked.

“Come inside.”

Yun Jianyue led the way.

In the front courtyard, beneath a sunshade, a man and woman sat enjoying breakfast.

The meal was simple: white porridge, pickled vegetables, and fried insects.

“Huh!?”

Zhang Fan stopped, staring at the man and woman, stunned.

“It’s you!?”

Three voices spoke simultaneously.

Shi Shougong’s eyes widened; he shot to his feet—he never imagined he’d encounter Zhang Fan here again; his defeat that night still rankled.

Su Shiyu’s eyes widened too—she hadn’t expected to meet Zhang Fan again after their brief encounter on the high-speed train, under such circumstances.

As for Zhang Fan, he was utterly bewildered—he never imagined meeting two acquaintances here! “How dare you come here!?”

Shi Shougong roared, his eyes turning feral, pupils vertical, blazing with fury.

Whir…

A violent wind surged, flipping the small table; he stepped forward, merging with the wind, instantly appearing before Zhang Fan—the stench of rotting air hit his face, dizzying him.

Simultaneously, Shi Shougong’s palm transformed—growing scaly like a crawling insect’s claw, nails elongating into blades, lashing straight for Zhang Fan’s throat.

“Shi Shougong, what are you doing!?”

Su Shiyu cried out sharply; terrifying energy erupted from her slender frame—beneath her feet, the ground exploded into cracks spreading outward, shards of stone flying like knives.

She leapt in front of Zhang Fan, her arm twisting like a boneless rope, stretching and coiling to lock tightly around Shi Shougong’s attacking limb.

“She’s a demon too!?”

Zhang Fan’s gaze sharpened as he stared at Su Shiyu, standing protectively before him.

In that instant, Su Shiyu revealed power surpassing Shi Shougong’s.

“What are you doing? He’s the one who hurt me that night.” Shi Shougong gritted his teeth, yet his eyes held a trace of wariness.

“It has nothing to do with me. I’m here—you cannot touch him.” Su Shiyu’s expression was cold and clear.

She did not know Zhang Fan’s identity, but on that high-speed train, it was because of him that she escaped the Laoshan Daoist’s search and avoided disaster.

“Enough, don’t be tense. He can’t hurt me.”

At that moment, Zhang Fan spoke, gently patting Su Shiyu’s shoulder.

Instantly, Su Shiyu’s arm slowly retracted, returning to its original form; even Shi Shougong’s abnormalities faded—his long nails reverted to normal, the scales on his skin vanished.

This sight struck Yun Jianyue’s eyes, causing her pupils to contract sharply; she instinctively cast a deep glance at Zhang Fan.

“A tamed demon… Xiao’s ability… He truly is a freak,” Yun Jianyue thought to herself.

At this moment, Zhang Fan’s weight in her heart increased slightly; she could see this young man harbored immense potential, though he himself remained unaware.

“Enough, stop fighting.”

Yun Jianyue raised her hand, halting the conflict.

“Aunt Yun, what’s going on?” Shi Shougong looked at Yun Jianyue, confused.

“From today on, both of you obey his orders.”

At these words, not only Shi Shougong and Su Shiyu, but even Zhang Fan’s expression changed abruptly—he had no idea why.

“What? Aunt Yun, are you joking?” Shi Shougong exclaimed.

“I never joke.”

Yun Jianyue’s expression remained calm as she said softly: “From now on, he is your only allegiance.”

“What do you mean?” Zhang Fan frowned: “Are you trying to drag me into this?”

“I know you still harbor many doubts, but one thing is certain…” Yun Jianyue seemed to pierce through Zhang Fan’s thoughts.

“You won’t stand by and let them refine the contents of the Dharma Vase.”

With these words, Yun Jianyue’s lips curled slightly, revealing a faint, elusive smile.

“They can help you. I can help you too.”

As she spoke, Yun Jianyue stepped before Zhang Fan and patted his shoulder: “Young man, truth and illusion—you alone can discern them.”

Her quiet words faded. Shi Shougong and Su Shiyu exchanged glances, then bowed to Zhang Fan.

…

Yujing City, Jiangnan Province Dao Alliance.

Night had deepened; in a three-story building, a single office light still burned.

Lou Hechuan, chairman of the Jiangnan Province Dao Alliance, stood before his desk, brush in hand, ink flowing freely; beside him lay the Taishang Qingjing Jing.

“The Xuanmiao Temple’s Seal Ceremony is nearly complete.”

At that moment, a middle-aged Daoist spoke up.

“Everything has proceeded smoothly,” Lou Hechuan said without looking up.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand.”

“Speak.”

“Why involve those two brats, Ye Buliang? They’re not part of our organization—they’re untrustworthy.” The middle-aged Daoist frowned.

“Logically, you shouldn’t…”

The words died on his lips.

Xiao Yuanshen was no trivial matter—yet this secret was leaking like a sieve, and two unrelated youths had been dragged in. It made no sense.

“That young man named Zhang Fan…” Lou Hechuan’s brush paused.

“Lately, Yujing City has seen much commotion—and that young man’s shadow appears in every incident.”

The Jiangnan Province Dao Alliance oversaw all Daoist affairs within Jiangnan Province; the recent major events in Yujing City could not escape their notice.

“Coincidence,” the middle-aged Daoist said casually. “Even if it isn’t, it’s not worth…”

“Even if it’s coincidence, it’s fine—young people are naturally restless. But Pianpian …”

“He’s a Zhang!” Lou Hechuan straightened, his cloudy eyes flashing with terrifying brilliance.

“You mean… no way… the Longhu Zhang family’s lineage has been cut for eighty years—how could it suddenly…” The middle-aged Daoist’s face darkened, his expression grave.

“Not all Zhangs are the same… I don’t think it’s him either… but why would the Zhenwu Mountain master take a disciple again, out of nowhere?” Lou Hechuan said gravely.

A man of Chu Chaoran’s status and realm would never reopen his mountain gate to continue a lineage for any ordinary prodigy.

Once the seed of suspicion takes root, it grows—this was precisely what Lou Hechuan feared most.

“Whether his Zhang is the Longhu Zhang’s Zhang… we’ll know in two days.”

“You mean…”

“If his Zhang truly is the Longhu Zhang’s Zhang… that sacred seal will give us the answer.”

Lou Hechuan’s gaze darkened, his aged voice echoing through the cold office.

(End of Chapter)