Chapter 15: The True Martial Calamity: Annihilation of the Nan Chong

Qinxi Province, Mount Zhongnan.

Chongyang Palace.

The bright moon hung high, cleansing the sky of its lingering hues; before the ancient, austere palace, an old man near death sat cross-legged by the gate, his shriveled skin devoid of even a trace of blood, as if the river had run dry, fleeting and gone.

Yet now, he lifted his gaze to the heavens, staring toward the distant north, his once-dull eyes flickering with an unusual sheen.

“Tonight, the northern sky is unusually bright…” the old man murmured low.

“In the northern realm of Xuanming, a flame of Li essence has arisen, soaring three ten-thousand li into the heavens…”

“That is where Zhenwu Mountain lies…”

At that moment, a middle-aged man in a Daoist robe slowly stepped out from within the palace and stood respectfully beside the old man.

His gaze sharpened to a single thread; at this level, he naturally saw what others could not.

“To perish or not to perish, to be extinguished or not—seventy-three generations have had their pause… Zhenwu Mountain’s lineage faces a great calamity…”

“Calamity, destiny… beneath great calamity lies great fortune; if this fire does not die, it may reclaim six hundred years of destiny for Zhenwu Mountain…” the old man sighed in solemn awe.

“Reclaim six hundred years of destiny? Could the source of this Li fire be like Lu Zu of old?” the middle-aged Daoist’s face paled, stunned beyond measure.

“Zhenwu Mountain produced a figure like Chu Chaoran… could another supreme talent emerge among the younger generation?”

As he spoke, the old man slowly closed his eyes.

The middle-aged Daoist was deeply moved; he knew that if such a supreme talent truly appeared, he would surely attain the Pure Yang Wuji Dao, as dazzling and unmatched as Lu Zu had been.

“Pure Yang! Pure Yang! Who else could enter the dream of yellow millet and realize the Wuji Pure Yang…?”

“This obsession alone—lifelong, hopeless…”

No sooner had the words faded than the old man’s fingers dropped, and his breath ceased.

The middle-aged Daoist remained silent for a long while, then bowed deeply before the old man.

“Honorably bid farewell to my uncle!”

As his voice faded, the middle-aged Daoist turned slowly, gazing northward, his deep eyes holding what seemed like ten thousand miles of starry sky.

“Zhenwu Mountain…”

…

At this moment, within Qingwei Palace on Zhenwu Mountain.

Flames blazed fiercely, illuminating the heavens; from afar, above Zhenwu Mountain, the sky burned crimson like cinnabar clouds.

Within the ancient courtyard, Zhang Fan no longer resembled a human—mystical flames erupted from his eyes, mouth, and nose, swirling around him, neither wholly demonic nor divine…

He had lost all sense of self, moving forward by instinct; each step he took vaporized the ground tiles beneath him in the terrifying flames, the rising heatwaves sending out violent ripples that silenced all, none daring to approach a single step.

“Daoist divine art—Samadhi True Fire… This is impossible… How could this be!?” Qian Shao Kun’s eyes trembled, unable to believe what he saw.

A mere boy barely at the Qi Gong stage, a worm he could have crushed at will… how could he awaken Daoist divine art? Divine art—capable of reaching the gods—is a heavenly gift, not something attainable through cultivation.

Even the living true immortal Chu Chaoran only awakened his Daoist divine art upon attaining the title of Tianshi at age thirty.

“Just who is he!?”

Far away, Xia Weisheng’s beautiful eyes trembled, her lovely face filled with disbelief.

Man is the root, truth is the fire, intention the fuel; once Samadhi is established, all flames bow to the king…

This is Daoist divine art—Samadhi True Fire—capable of dissolving demons and extinguishing all methods.

The Journey to the West speaks of Samadhi True Fire; this strange book holds many hidden metaphors of Buddhist and Daoist teachings—the Holy Infant Great King, Hong Haier, represents the Li essence within Daoist internal alchemy, and the method he realized was Samadhi True Fire.

The text says: “Liver wood nourishes heart fire; heart fire calms spleen earth. Spleen earth generates metal, metal transforms into water; water nourishes wood, achieving perfect spiritual resonance. All generation and transformation stem from fire; fire fills the heavens, solidifying all things. Demons long awakened call it Samadhi, eternally reigning as the foremost in the west.”

Once formed, this fire overwhelms the mind-monkey and drives the intention-horse mad.

Roar…

At that moment, a piercing shriek pierced the moonlit night—a shadow-like giant insect’s tail swept across, crashing toward Zhang Fan with the force of ten thousand jin, tearing through air and wind.

Hum…

Zhang Fan raised his head mechanically, standing motionless; the flames dancing around him writhed like serpents. Before the massive tail could strike, it turned to ash… the shadow evaporated, revealing the true form of the Nan Chong.

It was an insect resembling a monstrous bird, its wings vivid, bearing a long tail covered in dense clusters of insect legs…

Nan Chong! Nan Chong! In ancient pictographs, “nan” depicted a bird; the ancients believed that seeing such an insect-bird was an omen of misfortune, foretelling calamity and suffering.

Thus, Nan Chong cultivated illusory forms, hiding in shadows, invisible to ordinary mortals.

Yet…

“Samadhi True Fire dissolves demonic forms…” Po Jie murmured softly.

Even Nan Chong could not escape Samadhi True Fire.

Roar…

The Nan Chong let out a shriek, its trembling voice filled with fury and terror; it flapped its wings, preparing to soar into the sky and flee.

Hum…

Almost simultaneously, a shadow descended, blocking its path; Zhang Fan, like flame flickering in and out, appeared instantly before it, one hand shooting out to seize its head.

Boom…

Samadhi True Fire surged wildly, spreading over the Nan Chong’s entire body in an instant; it thrashed its wings, struggling desperately, its violent power shattering the ground…

Yet in Zhang Fan’s grasp, the Samadhi True Fire dissolved its form within moments, reducing it instantly to ash.

“Too… too strong… that… that was Nan Chong!”

“So what? That’s Samadhi True Fire!”

“Too terrifying… this is Daoist divine art—demons flee, invincible?”

Within Qingwei Palace, countless horrified gazes locked onto Zhang Fan, brimming with awe.

This was true Daoist divine art—yet it appeared on a man who should never have possessed it.

Tonight, by fate’s convergence, the mystery ran deep, beyond reason.

“Fate! Destiny!!”

At that moment, a soft sigh echoed through Qingwei Palace, drawing all minds back.

A breeze brushed past, and an old Daoist appeared before Zhang Fan; the raging Samadhi True Fire surged wildly yet could not touch him by even a hair’s breadth.

“True Immortal Chu!”

“Master!”

“No wonder he’s the transcendent immortal—Samadhi True Fire cannot even approach him!?”

Qian Shengwu and Qian Shao Kun exchanged glances, their faces trembling with fear; they tried to retreat, but the Zhenwu Mountain Daoists, led by Po Jie, had already blocked their escape.

“Sleep.”

Chu Chaoran extended a hand, placing it on Zhang Fan’s forehead; instantly, the Samadhi True Fire vanished, and Zhang Fan staggered, collapsing straight into Chu Chaoran’s arms.

“Master… these two Qian family brats are the instigators of tonight’s events.”

At that moment, Po Jie dragged Qian Shengwu and Qian Shao Kun forward.

“Kill them!”

A chorus of righteous fury erupted—tonight, these two had dared to storm Zhenwu Mountain, kill and injure disciples, unleash Nan Chong, and disrupt the Jade Register Transmission Ceremony…

Each crime alone warranted death.

“Fusheng Wuliang…” Chu Chaoran murmured softly: “Heaven has compassion for life; how can we, who cultivate the Dao, speak lightly of killing?”

At these words, all lowered their heads, shamefaced.

“Take them to the back mountain—to my uncle’s place… let him have his fun.”

At that moment, Chu Chaoran’s tone shifted, grinning to reveal a mouthful of yellow teeth.

(End of Chapter)