Chapter 19: The Origin of North and South Sects, the Most Lethal Under Heaven

Evening, Hongfu Huayuan.

Dark clouds rolled in with a fierce wind, pressing overhead as if rain would fall at any moment.

Just entering the compound, Zhang Fan looked up at the sky and spotted a figure standing on the rooftop not far away.

His gaze dropped to the ground, where a crowd had gathered below.

“Brother, don’t jump yet—boost my livestream’s viewership… folks, look up at my head…”

“Do you even have a soul? Brother, listen to me—jump in the next compound; I’m planning to buy a building there.”

“Morals are declining… up there, are you jumping or not? I’m off duty.”

A cacophony of voices rose, perfectly amplifying the atmosphere.

“Another suicide?” Zhang Fan glanced over, unfazed.

People jumped from this building every year; scientifically speaking, it was unclean—haunted by earth-bound spirits that needed a new vessel each year.

Because of this, Hongfu Huayuan had the lowest property prices in the old city, and even rent was much cheaper.

Zhang Fan couldn’t help but admire his father’s foresight—he’d chosen this feng shui gem, saving them countless rent payments over the years; every time the landlord tried to raise the price, someone would jump.

Thud…

As Zhang Fan reached the building entrance, a loud crash came from behind him.

“There goes another one,” Zhang Fan sighed.

Inside the apartment, darkness. He switched on a dim yellow light, revealing sparse furnishings—a large red-and-blue woven sack in the corner…

Clearly, this was Zhang Lingzong’s luggage.

“Back already?”

Zhang Fan set down the groceries he’d just bought: braised beef tongue, pig’s head meat, shredded vegetables, and some duck delicacies… for their family, these were luxuries.

“The number you dialed is currently unreachable…”

Hearing no reply, Zhang Fan put down his phone and pulled a small booklet from his bag—its cover boldly inscribed with the characters 【Dao Mi Lu】.

It had been given to him by the Broken Precept Daoist before he left, recording Daoist basics, cultivation methods, and taboos.

“At least my initiation at Zhenwu Mountain wasn’t wasted,” Zhang Fan smirked.

Now, he was officially a Daoist, and what he needed most was a cultivation method.

Zhang Fan’s goal was clear: reach the 【Gao Gong】 rank as soon as possible to recover the lifespan lost from awakening his divine ability.

Only by reaching the 【Gao Gong】 rank could he possibly extract the 【Zhenwu Jade Tablet】 from within his body.

Zhang Fan had a persistent feeling: keeping this thing inside him was a ticking bomb—it would inevitably bring about death.

“【Gao Gong】… that’s Xia Weisheng’s realm.”

Zhang Fan opened the booklet and found the 【Neidan Chapter】.

The Neidan method was like the internal martial arts techniques in wuxia novels.

For Daoists, once the soul-spirit revived, it would never easily fade again.

Unless the conscious mind grew restless, constantly depleting the Three Treasures—essence, qi, and spirit—until yang qi collapsed completely, the soul-spirit would sink back into stillness.

Thus, ancient Daoists preferred retreating into deep mountains, far from worldly distractions, so that external influences vanished, thoughts gradually ceased, and the conscious mind could no longer stir chaos.

Originally, Siddhartha sat beneath the Bodhi tree for forty-nine days, extinguishing all thoughts, until suddenly awakening and attaining Buddhahood.

Modern cultivators couldn’t abandon their homes and vanish into remote mountains.

Therefore, suppressing the conscious mind while strengthening the soul-spirit became crucial.

How to strengthen it?

Through the Neidan method: gather medicinal substances into the body, refine true yang, and nourish the soul-spirit.

In Daoism, the most common “medicine” was spiritual qi, called heavenly light by the Pure Yang Ancestor in the 【Taiyi Jin Hua Zongzhi】.

This was universally recognized as the most orthodox Daoist medicine.

Other methods included gathering solar essence and lunar splendor as medicine, such as the 【Sun Bird Moon Rabbit Method】.

There were also methods using external elixirs to stimulate internal medicine, like the 【Dan Mu Hua Qi Method】.

And methods of harvesting one’s own essence and qi as medicine, such as Laojun Mountain’s 【San Yi Gui Yuan Method】.

After gathering medicine, using the human body as a crucible to refine yang qi and nourish the soul-spirit…

This was the Daoist Neidan method: as the soul-spirit’s yang qi grew stronger, physical vitality increased, enabling the practice of various techniques.

Especially grand techniques like the 【Five Thunder Orthodoxy】 required not only innate talent to comprehend, but also abundant yang qi to wield and a robust physique to bear.

Clearly, Xia Weisheng possessed exceptional talent and dominated in Neidan cultivation.

“Truly all-encompassing…” Zhang Fan glanced through it and felt overwhelmed.

Naturally, he favored the most orthodox Daoist method: gathering spiritual qi as medicine.

Even so, this category of Neidan methods had countless subtleties.

For instance, Zhongnan Mountain held an extremely profound, secret Neidan method called 【Taiyi Han Zhen Fa】; its incantation was simple—just one phrase: Guard the True One in the Celestial Valley; qi enters the Mysterious Origin, and you attain the Taiyi’s true essence.

Here, 【Zhen Yi】 meant 【Soul-Spirit】. Though the soul-spirit normally resided in the Spirit Platform—the third eye—it varied among schools during Neidan practice…

Where in the body was the Celestial Valley in the 【Taiyi Han Zhen Fa】? Even a hair’s breadth off was unacceptable…

And the Mysterious Origin…

Where in the body was the Mysterious Origin? How much to gather? What fire timing? How many days after gathering medicine before true yang reversed? These were the secret keys of each lineage—each step exquisitely precise.

“Cultivation is a science,” Zhang Fan murmured.

In the end, he chose an ancient, peculiar method from Zhenwu Mountain’s Neidan catalog: 【North-South Sect Origin】.

“North-South Sect Origin flips the hexagrams; dawn and dusk fire timing align with the Celestial Pivot. If you learn this immortal method, one day you’ll hear the Dao and tread the Heavenly Capital.” Zhang Fan studied it intently.

The human body, according to hexagrams, is 【north below, south above, Kun north, Qian south】—this is the primordial orientation.

“South is the Upper Dantian, the Niwan, belonging to Li Fire; north is the Lower Dantian, the Qihai, belonging to Kan Water…”

“Heavenly light enters the body, the sacred embryo forms; take Kan to fill Li—its wonder lies in inversion; primordial orientation returns to the Sect Origin…”

Among all 【Neidan Methods】, 【North-South Sect Origin】 stood out as peculiar—but how exactly…

Zhang Fan couldn’t yet say.

“Hm!?”

At that moment, Zhang Fan turned to the last page of the 【Neidan Chapter】 and saw a special method marked in red ink…

“Divine Demon Sacred Embryo!?” Zhang Fan glanced: “So you can gather thoughts as the supreme medicine?”

Zhang Fan’s expression turned strange—cultivators feared scattered, delusional thoughts above all.

The Divine Demon Sacred Embryo method was wildly unconventional, yet only a few brief comments followed…

The most lethal thing under heaven—neither orthodox nor heretical; since ancient times, our kind has never touched it.

“There really exists such a wondrous Neidan method,” Zhang Fan mused, but when he tried to read further, the text ended.

It only stated: the Divine Demon Sacred Embryo had one obvious trait—its practitioners never slept.

Ancient texts said: when essence is full, desire fades; when spirit is full, sleep fades… precisely because those who cultivate this method possessed soul-spirits of unimaginable strength.

Thud…

At that moment, a door slammed, pulling Zhang Fan back to reality. He shoved the booklet under his pillow and stepped out of his room.

Zhang Lingzong entered—years spent on construction sites, selling his labor to support the family, had left him lean and wiry, his skin dark and rough, yet his eyes unusually bright, devoid of the dullness common in middle-aged men.

“Dad…” Zhang Fan called.

Zhang Lingzong turned, frozen.

“What’s wrong?” Zhang Fan didn’t understand.

“You’ve lost weight. Haven’t seen you in half a year.” Zhang Lingzong said casually.

“Eat. I bought food.”

Between father and son, there seemed to be no topics; the meal was silent.

“Dad, I’ve graduated now—you don’t need to work on the construction site anymore,” Zhang Fan said, head down, eating.

Zhang Lingzong said nothing, only grunted.

“Then don’t go out again this time…” Zhang Fan pressed.

“We’ll see. Eat first.” Zhang Lingzong shoveled two bites, then set down his chopsticks and walked toward the bedroom.

“Don’t clean up—I’ll do it later.”

No sooner had he spoken than the bedroom door slammed shut. Zhang Fan looked up at the closed door, unbothered.

Zhang Lingzong had spent years traveling and laboring, with no friends, and had grown into this quiet, withdrawn nature.

…

Deep into the night, Zhang Fan tidied the house, clearing a pile of trash.

He checked the time—it was past midnight.

“Dad, I’m going out to take out the trash.”

Zhang Fan softly called at the door; hearing no reply, he assumed his father had already slept.

He picked up the trash and quietly slipped out.

Pale moonlight filtered through the window, illuminating the bedroom—on the table sat two bottles of sleeping pills…

The lean, wiry figure leaned against the window, pulling a cigarette from a pack, snapping off the filter…

Zhang Lingzong watched his son’s figure below and murmured softly: “You’ve really grown up…”

No sooner had he spoken than a flame flared—he lit the cigarette with the filter removed, drew in a slow breath, and exhaled smoke that veiled his face.

(End of Chapter)