Chapter 41: The Northern Emperor

Northern Emperor’s demonic spirits, Tianpeng divine incantation!?

Within the He family estate, that low, slightly magnetic voice spoke again, calmly, as if even he could no longer ignore it.

He Fei sensed something, turned toward the corner, and saw the figure hidden in shadow rise to his feet.

“Over eighty years ago, during the Grand Altar of All Heaven, the Daoist sect suffered a great calamity… nearly all its elite masters perished, and countless lineages of methods nearly went extinct…”

“The Northern Emperor’s method is called the Daoist sect’s foremost killing art… it should have been utterly extinguished by now.” The low, magnetic voice carried deep confusion, its gaze involuntarily drifting toward the window.

“Could this lineage still have an heir!?”

After the Daoist calamity, this lineage had not appeared in the world for eighty years. Though many outsiders claimed to be of the Northern Emperor sect, and some even used the Northern Emperor method as a front online, recruiting disciples with classes priced at 12,888 yuan—no job placement guaranteed—and expert classes at 38,888 yuan, promising rapid mastery and referrals to major temples…

But those were merely frauds and charlatans. The true Northern Emperor method had vanished from the world for many years.

“Could this truly be the Northern Emperor method? Damn it… wasn’t this lineage already cut off?”

“Don’t talk nonsense… this lineage is terrifyingly ruthless. How dare you say it’s extinct? Haven’t you seen an heir step forward? Watch out—I’ll kill your whole family.”

“How dare you speak so recklessly—always threatening to kill entire families? Do you take Daoists who practice the Northern Emperor method for demonic cultivators?”

Within Yujing City, hidden Xuan cultivators of all ranks grew restless. If it were merely an ordinary method, they might have merely watched and laughed—but the Northern Emperor method was no trivial matter.

At this moment, Gu Yuming’s expression was grim, his gaze fixed unblinkingly on Zhang Fan’s nascent soul. Intense yin energy gathered relentlessly around him, coalescing into demonic Sha in his palm.

That terrifying fluctuation bore tangible weight, unlike the weak, rootless energy of the Taiyi Soul-Transcending Art just moments before.

“Could he really have mastered it?” Gu Yuming muttered inwardly.

In his view, though this nascent soul was low in cultivation, if it truly wielded the Northern Emperor method, it must have received direct lineage transmission…

This lineage were all ruthless bastards!!! “Brother…”

Gu Yuming hesitated slightly, his tone softening considerably, and opened his mouth.

Boom…

A thunderous crash echoed—the demonic Shaningju in Zhang Fan’s palm shattered instantly. The faint murmuring chants vanished without a trace, and the swirling, dense yin energy around him began to dissipate.

“He… he’s a fake!?”

The sudden silence plunged everyone into stunned shock. Even Gu Yuming, whose expression had just eased slightly, now stared wide-eyed, his gaze shifting strangely.

“You’re nothing but a paper tiger!”

If the Northern Emperor method were this easy to cultivate, it would be common as dirt—how could it ever be called the Daoist sect’s foremost killing art!?

Nowadays, many incantations and seals of this lineage can be found online, and many are obsessed with them, practicing on their own—but practicing in isolation, without guidance, is utterly impossible.

In truth, no matter the sect or school, any technique, elixir, or cultivation method must be taught personally, hand-to-hand by a master. At critical stages, the master must guard the disciple to prevent demonic deviation.

Self-study, self-practice—no one could ever succeed in a lifetime.

“This…”

“I said it—after so many years of extinction, how could any heir still be alive?”

“Who is this brat? How good is he at faking it? Even old man I nearly got fooled.”

At this moment, the hidden Xuan cultivators within Yujing City had lost all interest. This seemingly fierce battle had turned into a farce—clearly, it was time to end it.

“Brat, what other tricks do you have? I’ll tear them all apart today.”

Gu Yuming sneered bitterly—he had fully uncovered Zhang Fan’s true nature and now had no further hesitation. “Come on, let me see what exactly you are.”

As he spoke, Gu Yuming stepped forward.

Hum…

At that instant, Gu Yuming’s nascent soul froze abruptly. His eyes widened, his face paled, his aura dimmed sharply, and he shuddered violently—as if plunged into an icy abyss, then instantly scorched by searing flames, unbearable in its heat.

“What’s wrong with him? Why isn’t he attacking?”

“Something’s off… something’s very off… his nascent soul is malfunctioning.”

“It’s not his nascent soul… it’s his physical body… someone has found his body!”

Yujing City had no shortage of experts—they instantly recognized Gu Yuming’s anomaly.

When the nascent soul leaves the body, the physical form becomes the greatest vulnerability.

Legend says that in ancient times, one of the Eight Immortals of the Upper Cavern, Iron-Crutch Li, was a towering, imposing figure. One day, his nascent soul departed to attend a celestial elixir gathering on Mount Hua. Before leaving, he instructed his disciple to guard his body carefully—if he did not return within seven days, it meant he had attained immortality, and the body should be burned. But his disciple’s mother suddenly died, and before the seven days passed, he burned the body…

When Iron-Crutch Li’s nascent soul returned, finding no body, he became a lost wandering spirit, utterly helpless—until he finally possessed the corpse of a dead, crippled beggar.

“No! Someone’s destroyed my body!”

Gu Yuming’s face changed instantly. He abandoned Zhang Fan and turned to flee.

If the body is ruined, the nascent soul has no anchor—not only will his cultivation be lost, but even his life may not be saved.

At this moment, on the outskirts, in the public cemetery.

Gu Yuming’s disciple, Xiong Ba, was bruised and bloody, his lips still smeared with blood. He crouched behind a car, watching helplessly as a short-haired girl, her hair cut level with her ears, kicked and punched his master’s body, leaping high into the air and landing squarely atop Gu Yuming’s chest—as if using him as a human cushion.

“This is terrifying…” Xiong Ba trembled, staring fearfully at the short-haired girl, as if he would never forget her face. She was none other than Jiang Lai.

…

At this moment, above the old district, dark clouds dispersed, and a bright moon poured its light across the sky.

All returned to stillness. Gu Yuming had left. Zhang Fan’s nascent soul returned to his body, and vanished without a trace.

Now, he lay in bed, breathing deeply and evenly, utterly unaware of how profoundly this incident would ripple through Yujing City.

At that moment, in his sleep, Zhang Fan’s brow furrowed sharply. His body trembled slightly, revealing a flicker of pain.

In his dream, he returned to that day—facing his ten-year-old self.

Still shrouded in night, all was dark and formless. His mother’s corpse lay silently beside him. Distant lightning occasionally flashed across the sky, but beyond that, he saw nothing else at all.

“Mom… Mom… I can’t see… why can’t I see anything…?” Twelve-year-old Zhang Fan screamed, rubbing his eyes desperately, trying to make out his surroundings.

But no matter how he cried, the world remained dark and formless.

“Because you are…”

“In the Great Night of Unbroken Darkness!”

At that moment, a faint sigh echoed through Zhang Fan’s dream, rising from nowhere, reverberating endlessly.

(End of Chapter)