Chapter 312: Chen Long (Second Watch)

At dusk, the setting sun glowed like blood, filtering through thick mists and toxic vapors to fall before the ancient Huangpi Cave.

On the desolate central square, only a few white bone chairs remained.

The Huang Pizi hidden in the grass had long since scattered; the ancient demon cave had returned to its former cold stillness, just like the vast expanse of the Ten Thousand Mountains...

Cultivation is eternal solitude.

Huang Huang Jiumei had already walked beyond the boundaries of the Huangpi Cave to see Zhang Fan and the others off.

"In just one night, you've improved considerably."

Walking through the empty mountains, Zhang Fan cast a sidelong glance—he could sense Huang Huang Jiumei's Nascent Soul had grown vastly, like fertilizer-fed roots, absorbing and expanding, far from reaching its limit.

"I owe it all to you," Huang Huang Jiumei said gravely.

The two Nascent Souls of the Zhang family experts surpassed any elixir or miraculous remedy, especially Zhang Liu's—he had reached the Great Master realm, his divine light shielding his body, marvelously profound.

Such cultivation, anywhere, would be a core strength, a rare master.

Now they had all become Huang Huang Jiumei's foundation; her Nascent Soul still had vast room to grow.

"No wonder the Wu Wei Sect once swept across the world, becoming a great calamity to the Daoist sects."

Beside him, Zhang Wuming couldn't help but sigh—in fact, since leaving the Huangpi Cave, he had been observing Huang Huang Jiumei all along.

Absorbing Nascent Souls as medicine is indeed a shortcut, the unerring path.

"Too bad you don't know this method—if you did, the absorption efficiency would be far higher," Zhang Fan murmured.

These two Nascent Souls passed through him before entering Huang Huang Jiumei's body—like a middleman, drinking secondhand smoke, naturally less satisfying than doing it oneself.

"There are many ways to absorb Nascent Souls as medicine—countless methods, truly vast and profound," Li Li Miaoyin said solemnly.

At these words, Zhang Fan couldn't help but look at her.

Even Huang Huang Jiumei and Zhang Wuming showed signs of surprise.

Absorbing Nascent Souls as medicine was regarded by Daoists as heretical; ordinary people only knew the name, but how exactly to absorb and transmute it remained a great secret, never passed down.

As for the hundreds of methods, ordinary people had no way of knowing.

Just this one remark was beyond the reach of an ordinary expert.

"Have you ever absorbed Nascent Souls?" Zhang Fan couldn't help asking.

"What do you think?!"

Li Li Miaoyin halted, crossed her arms over her chest, and looked at Zhang Fan with a half-smile.

"Just joking… just joking… I was only asking out of curiosity—let's go."

Zhang Fan let out a dry laugh and pushed Li Li Miaoyin forward.

"What's going on between them?" Huang Huang Jiumei muttered, watching their retreating figures.

"It's like lice on a bald head…"

"Obvious!"

"Desire is a blade above the head—even disciples of the Southern Zhang cannot escape it."

Zhang Wuming shook his head with a soft sigh and stepped forward to catch up with Zhang Fan.

Half a day later, a silent valley appeared before them, surrounded by towering peaks that framed it like an open sack.

Everywhere they looked, the ground was littered with Sacrificial Spirit Stones.

"This is the place you're looking for—in our Ten Thousand Mountains, it's called the Ancient Sacrificial Ground," Huang Huang Jiumei said, pointing to the valley.

The place Lin Jianyue had indicated, and the direction where Yu Yu Xuanji's aura vanished, both led here.

In other words, Zhao Zhao Jiexuan was here.

Li Li Changgeng was here too.

"During its peak, the Wu Wei Sect dominated the mountains and seas, commanded all the incense offerings, established temples on rivers and shrines on mountains…" Zhang Wuming murmured, recalling an ancient tale.

"Exactly!"

Huang Huang Jiumei nodded: "At its height, the Wu Wei Sect's incense spread across all mountains and seas; it had countless followers in the Ten Thousand Mountains, with many demons, ghosts, and spirits paying homage."

Since ancient times, demons, ghosts, and spirits had been regarded as evil by the Daoist sects.

Yet during its zenith, the Wu Wei Sect received abundant incense, accepting all without discrimination.

Many demons and spirits across the world worshipped it—even in the deepest, most desolate corners of the Ten Thousand Mountains, there were Wu Wei Sect temples.

But its worshippers were not humans—they were the spirits and demons of these mountains and caves.

Huang Huang Jiumei had once heard the old demon in the cave speak of ancestral times, when the Wu Wei Sect's incense burned day and night, with spirits and demons making pilgrimages, wailing under the moon, never ceasing.

Then war broke out, mountains were shattered, temples burned; the Wu Wei Sect nearly perished, its temples in the Ten Thousand Mountains reduced to ashes, its former glory turned to ruin.

The Ancient Sacrificial Ground was once the site of the Wu Wei Sect's temple—and also the final battleground where the mountains were shattered and the temples destroyed.

Countless Daoist experts died here; countless Wu Wei Sect disciples were buried within.

Time turned to ash; ancient methods vanished like smoke.

"The place where the Wu Wei Sect once set," Zhang Fan murmured, gazing at the deep, silent valley.

"Are you really going in?" Huang Huang Jiumei couldn't help asking.

The Ancient Sacrificial Ground was said to be cursed.

All the demon caves in the Ten Thousand Mountains avoided it in silence; few spirits or demons dared enter.

Yet some claimed it still held relics and treasures from both the Daoist sects and the Wu Wei Sect; occasionally, bold souls entered—but few ever returned alive.

"You've come far enough," Zhang Fan murmured.

"I can go in with you," Huang Huang Jiumei said, her expression shifting. "I'm not afraid of death."

"We're not going to die."

Zhang Fan smiled faintly: "Besides, your current cultivation wouldn't help us inside."

Huang Huang Jiumei bit her silver teeth, her expression darkening: "You're right—I'm too weak."

"Weak now doesn't matter—you'll be strong later."

As he spoke, Zhang Fan patted her shoulder: "I believe in you."

"Zhang…"

Huang Huang Jiumei was momentarily dazed, looking up at Zhang Fan—his gaze was sincere, unwavering.

"Just do as we said—watch over your cave."

"When you're finally able to make your own decisions, we'll meet again."

Saying this, Zhang Fan turned and waved, stepping into the silent valley.

Li Li Miaoyin gave Huang Huang Jiumei one last deep look, then followed.

"Little mouse, goodbye," Zhang Wuming called out, hurrying after them.

"Goodbye!"

Huang Huang Jiumei watched their retreating figures, murmuring softly, her eyes gradually hardening with resolve.

…

The silent valley was unfathomably deep; mountain winds howled through like roaring beasts.

The three walked within, the towering cliffs on all sides making them seem tiny as ants.

"Ancient Daoists loved to hide in mountains—under such conditions, over time, one's heart-mind changes," Zhang Wuming said solemnly.

"That's the essence of following Nature," Zhang Fan nodded.

Daoist cultivation rejects thoughts, abandons desires, and ultimately empties body and mind; within a silent valley, one becomes the valley itself.

Within high mountains, one becomes the mountain, merging with heaven and earth, dissolving into the peaks.

That is the state of Pure Yang without limit—capable of glimpsing immortality.

Hence the character for "immortal" is "person" atop "mountain"—enter this mountain, and words fade into silence.

"Danger!"

After walking a long while, Li Li Miaoyin suddenly stopped, her gaze fixed ahead.

Zhang Fan looked up—the sun had set, the bright moon risen, a beam of pale light falling upon the cliff face.

There, nailed to the rock, was a spotted tiger, roughly four to five meters long, far larger than ordinary tigers.

Now it was only a torn hide, its crimson blood spilled within a half-meter radius, charred black as if burned by fire.

"Powerful Daoist art!"

Zhang Fan stepped forward, studying it briefly.

This tiger demon had clearly been killed by someone—its method was brutal and merciless, leaving not a trace of demonic aura, utterly incinerated; yet merely looking at the hide, one could tell this tiger had cultivated through sun and moon, its cultivation profound and extraordinary.

"Zhang Zhang Huntian."

Zhang Wuming's brow lifted as he uttered the name.

"Southern Zhang disciple?" Zhang Fan's gaze darkened slightly.

"That's him."

Zhang Wuming nodded: "That's his Uncle Xuan Yang Great Palm Seal."

Daoist true fire: Uncle Xuan Xu High Yang.

This method diverged from the Pure Yang Ancestor's Fire Dragon Elixir Sword, yet its reputation surpassed even that.

"Truly a master," Zhang Fan's gaze sharpened.

This beast was no ordinary creature—its cultivation equaled Huang Huang Sanlang's, yet it was slain with a single palm blow, flesh and blood obliterated, Nascent Soul extinguished.

The terror of Zhang Zhang Huntian was evident.

"Of course he's a master," Zhang Wuming said gravely.

"He was enlightened by Da Fuli Earth, granted divine title and rank—how could he be ordinary?"

"The Great Fuli Earth… indeed, one of the Nine Inner Elixir Methods, the Great Fuli Earth, is in the hands of the Northern Zhang lineage."

"What exactly is the Great Fuli Earth?" Zhang Fan asked involuntarily.

Back then, when the Zhang family of Long Hu Mountain split into Northern and Southern branches, the Three Treasures orthodoxy went to the Southern Zhang, while the Great Fuli Earth fell to the Northern Zhang.

"The Great Fuli Earth…" Zhang Wuming paused, unsure how to explain.

The Nine Inner Elixir Methods are supreme and profound, yet truly impossible to fully describe in words.

"In life, birth, death, decay, and emptiness all occur within this heaven and earth."

"Take a tree, for example—it needs soil to grow; otherwise, it is a rootless waterweed, its life and death nothing but illusion and dissolution…"

Here, Zhang Wuming spoke solemnly: "For cultivators…"

"The Great Fuli Earth is the soil of immortality—it allows one to generate transformation within birth and death."

In life, one is like a rootless waterweed; even with an innate Nascent Soul, one must endlessly cycle and struggle within birth and death.

But the Great Fuli Earth is like the root system of birth and death, giving it a foundation, allowing one to experience transformation and seek transformation within it.

Within that soil, different seeds can bear different fruits between birth and death.

If birth and death are the trunk, that soil is the root.

Only with root and trunk can one see the Dao.

As for the true nature of this method, Zhang Wuming could not explain it.

After all, he had no right to contemplate such an exquisite elixir method as the Great Fuli Earth.

"If that's the case, I'm even more interested in that Northern Zhang disciple."

Zhang Fan fell silent for a moment, his eyes slowly brightening.

"You'd better not be that interested," Zhang Wuming said solemnly.

Anyone from the Zhang family who has been deified and granted a title is no longer human.

"If one is still in the mortal world, can there be non-human beings?" Zhang Fan said coolly.

Crash…

At that moment, a loud crash erupted, and dust spread thickly.

Li Li Miaoyin's hand rose like a blade and came down—terrifying force shattered the rock wall.

"This woman… if she'd struck the crown of my head…"

Zhang Wuming swallowed hard, instinctively glancing at Zhang Fan's crown.

"What are you doing?"

"There's something inside," Li Li Miaoyin said. Her perception was keener than anyone's.

"Hm!?"

Zhang Fan raised an eyebrow and felt a cool, crisp air seeping from the crack.

"Empty?"

"Zhang Zhang Huntian killed this tiger demon, yet by chance, this place concealed another world," Zhang Wuming murmured.

The mystery of fate is truly unfathomable.

Crash…

Li Li Miaoyin struck again, shattering along the crack and opening an entrance.

At the same time, Zhang Wuming pulled three flashlights from his backpack and handed one each to Zhang Fan and Li Li Miaoyin.

The three turned on their lights and shone them inside, discovering only then that this was a long-collapsed, buried Daoist temple, leaving only a single hall.

The murky air was thick with drifting dust.

On either side stood broken, ruined stone statues—roughly seen, they had human bodies and animal heads.

"The Twelve Zodiacs!?"

Zhang Fan felt the scene was familiar—this arrangement resembled the Temple of Tai Sui he had once seen.

Yet atop the highest body stood a human statue, faceless, lawless, formless.

"This is the Human Zodiac Hall!"

Li Li Miaoyin whispered solemnly.

Zhang Fan couldn't help but glance at him.

"There are words on the wall."

At that moment, Zhang Wuming called out.

Zhang Fan and Li Li Miaoyin walked over and saw ancient characters on the wall—strange glyphs, like ghostly scribbles; at first glance, each character seemed wondrous, brimming with endless depth.

Traces of Dragon-Tiger Large Seal, Tortoise-Snake Bone Script, Star Patterns and Cloud Traces, Mountain-River Imagery… all seemed present.

"This is…" Li Li Miaoyin frowned slightly, her expression shifting.

"These are the Zhang family's talisman characters," Zhang Wuming said calmly.

Disciples of Long Hu Mountain study the 【Three Tian Shi Lu】 from childhood; it is said to contain all talismans and incantations of Long Hu Mountain. Over time, they evolved a script only Zhang family members can read—each character as mysterious and inscrutable as a talisman.

"You can't read it?" Zhang Wuming looked at Zhang Fan.

"I can't," Zhang Fan shook his head.

"…"

"What does it say?" Li Li Miaoyin asked.

"It's writing left by a Zhang family member…"

Zhang Wuming glanced briefly: "He came seeking one of the legendary Nine Artifacts…"

"True Dragon Horn!?"

At this, Zhang Fan's gaze sharpened: "One of the Nine Artifacts? Here?"

He had once heard of the Nine Artifacts from Ye Jinchao, the top expert of Zhongnan Mountain—they were the antithesis of the Nine Inner Elixir Methods.

Among the Nine Artifacts, the one that counters Divine Demon Embryos is called the Primordial Seal.

"Who left this message?" Zhang Fan pressed.

"His name is…"

Zhang Wuming's gaze shifted to the signature.

"Zhang Tiansheng!"

…

Night had deepened.

In the bustling district of Jingjiang City, a street food stall.

In the corner, a young man was slurping noodles, having poured half a bottle of chili paste onto them, yet his face remained pale, his breathing steady—as if even this much chili wasn't enough.

Across the way, the chef, stirring his wok, stared bitterly at the young man, his eyes fixed on the half-bottle of chili paste left on the table.

"Do you know your family keeps a ghost?" the young man suddenly barked into his phone, setting down his chopsticks.

"You don't even know you keep a ghost?"

"Without a ghost, how did he find the Yellow Pelt Cave? How did he learn its secrets?"

The young man slurped more noodles, grabbed a tissue, and wiped the red oil from his lips.

"Tell Li Li Changgeng I'll be back after I finish my noodles."

The young man murmured, put down his phone, and poured the remaining half-bottle of chili paste entirely into his bowl.

"So unreliable," he sighed, picked up his chopsticks, and quickly stirred.

"May I sit?"

At that moment, a beautiful woman approached, her skin pale, features exquisite, a vermilion mole on her brow, cradling an orange-and-white tabby cat.

"Sit," the young man glanced up, speaking casually.

"You're a Zhang?" the vermilion-mole woman stroked her cat, whispering.

"Hm?" The young man's brow lifted, his chopsticks frozen mid-air, his gaze sharpening toward the vermilion-mole woman.

"You're Zhang Zhang Huntian…"

"Then who is Zhang Zhang Ganxuan to you?" the vermilion-mole woman smiled.

"You know my uncle?" Zhang Zhang Huntian's gaze darkened, his expression turning serious.

"What's strange about that?"

"My uncle isn't ordinary—he rarely walks abroad; few know of him."

"Whether Daoist sects or the Wu Wei Sect, only a handful of people can name him."

Here, Zhang Zhang Huntian set down his chopsticks, watching the vermilion-mole woman warily.

"What a cautious child."

"Who are you?" Zhang Zhang Huntian asked solemnly.

"You may call me…"

"Chen Long!!!"

The vermilion-mole woman stroked her tabby cat, her smile like a spring breeze dissolving into the deep night.

(End of Chapter)