Chapter 43: Morning Encounter, He Fei Calls at the Door

At dawn, Taoyuan Square.

Zhang Fan entered the lobby, his expression dazed; having just woken, he sensed unusual changes in his body—True Yang surging, yet clinging to Yin energy, coalescing at the Xuanguan and Nascent Soul.

In other words, last night, while asleep, he had seemingly practiced the [Northern Emperor’s Fiendish Ghost Art] and absorbed vast amounts of Yin energy.

“Can you cultivate while sleeping? Am I a genius!?” Zhang Fan muttered to himself, vaguely sensing something was wrong with himself—or perhaps his Nascent Soul—but he couldn’t pinpoint what.

“Oh no…”

At that moment, Zhang Fan jolted, as if colliding with something soft and warm, followed immediately by a cry of pain.

He looked down and saw a tall, slender woman in a tight skirt lying on the floor, rubbing her long thigh.

“S-sorry… I was just distracted…”

Zhang Fan tore his gaze from her black stockings and hurried forward to help her up.

“It’s fine… watch where you’re walking next time, okay?”

The tall woman rose slowly under Zhang Fan’s support, her voice sweet and gentle, naturally tinged with a high-pitched lilt.

“What if you’d knocked over an old lady? Wouldn’t you be ruined?”

“I’ll be more careful next time!” Zhang Fan said awkwardly.

“Did you just graduate?” the woman asked casually, studying Zhang Fan’s appearance.

“Just graduated from Dongda.”

“You’re from Dongda too?” Her eyes lit up, and she glanced at Zhang Fan again.

“You’re from Dongda as well?” Zhang Fan subtly drew closer, feeling today was truly wonderful.

“I’m Wang Tiantian. I work in this building—two years ahead of you.”

“I’m Zhang Fan!”

Zhang Fan lightly shook the hand Wang Tiantian extended—soft, warm, delicate.

“Since you graduated from Dongda, have you ever tried the meat soup from the Old Lady at the South Gate?” Wang Tiantian smiled teasingly.

“Old Lady’s meat soup? You’re joking, sis—I’ve never tried it, but I’ve heard of it.” Zhang Fan laughed.

There was a legend at Dongda: after ten p.m., sometimes near the South Gate, you might encounter a street stall run by an old woman everyone called Old Lady Tang; she sold nothing else but a large iron pot of rich, steaming soup.

The legend said that if someone encountered Old Lady Tang and drank a bowl of her soup, unexpected luck would follow.

Xiao Mei was a third-year student, very beautiful, with an oval face, large eyes, and a red mole on her forehead; many pursued her.

Later, she accepted the advances of a senior, and they became intimate; but afterward, he grew distant, even blocked all her contact methods.

Xiao Mei was heartbroken; after inquiring, she learned he already had a girlfriend—she’d been the mistress without knowing.

That day, Xiao Mei returned to campus late; passing the South Gate, she suddenly caught a fragrant scent.

Only then did she notice an old woman pushing a broken cart outside the gate, a large iron pot simmering with thick, bubbling broth—no one knew what it contained.

Xiao Mei stepped closer and saw the old woman wearing a long gray dress, her hair white, her skin shriveled like dead wood.

But the soup smelled so delicious that Xiao Mei couldn’t resist ordering a bowl; she drank it down at once, finding its flavor unlike any food she’d ever tasted. When she came to her senses and reached for money, the old woman was gone.

Xiao Mei, bewildered, returned to her dorm.

Five days later, her best friend told her the senior who had pursued her had been diagnosed with cancer, and his girlfriend had suffered a car accident, losing a leg.

Xiao Mei was delighted; soon after, she fell in love again—with a tall, handsome boy from the neighboring department who treated her exceptionally well. Her roommates were envious; Xiao Mei felt proud, suspecting it was because she’d drunk Old Lady Tang’s soup that night…

After all, everyone said whoever drank that soup would gain fortune…

But soon after, Xiao Mei suddenly noticed that, from some unknown time, she had begun losing hair, and what remained was turning white; worst of all, her skin grew older, drier, shriveled like dead wood in winter.

Soon after, Xiao Mei dropped out of school; no one knew what had happened to her.

Two months later, a girl returned to campus at night and encountered an old woman at the South Gate, pushing a cart with a large iron pot of soup; she wore a long gray dress, her hair thin and white, a red mole on her forehead.

Dongda campus had many legends; Old Lady Tang’s meat soup was one of them.

Wang Tiantian said this clearly to find common ground with Zhang Fan. As they spoke, the elevator began ascending.

“I’ve never drunk Old Lady Tang’s soup, but I’ve studied late in Building A1,” Zhang Fan whispered.

“Oh? You’re brave,” Wang Tiantian said, surprised.

Building A1 at Dongda carried another terrifying legend.

“I’m here…”

At that moment, the elevator stopped at the thirteenth floor; Wang Tiantian turned, backpack on her shoulder, waved to Zhang Fan with a sweet smile.

“Little junior, let’s have lunch together sometime.”

“Okay!”

Zhang Fan nodded, watching Wang Tiantian step out of the elevator until the doors closed.

“What a wonderful day,” Zhang Fan murmured, then immediately shook his head.

“My mind is restless, my conscious spirit agitated.”

Lust and desire are great taboos for cultivators—they breed delusions, scatter the spirit, corrupt vital energy, and rot the flesh…

Yesterday on the car, Jiang Hu had spoken of women and cultivation, saying for cultivators, it was a grave taboo; as the old saying goes: All mortals crave the fairy’s cave, unaware it’s a coffin’s seam.

Even the Pure Yang Ancestor once said: A sixteen-year-old maiden’s body is like silk, but desire’s blade and lust’s sword slay mortals—though no head falls, secretly they wither bone and flesh!

“The Ancestor was right… Damn, I forgot to add WeChat…” Zhang Fan smacked his forehead, suddenly alert.

Ding…

At that moment, a soft chime pulled Zhang Fan back to reality; he raised his hand and saw the elevator had stopped at the seventeenth floor.

Zhang Fan stepped out of the elevator, carrying his bag, heading toward Yebuliang.

At that moment, a young man with a cold, handsome face, dressed in a sharp suit, stepped out of Yebuliang; Wen He offered him a professional smile as he saw him off outside.

“He’s… from the He family…”

Zhang Fan recognized the man instantly—he’d seen him standing on a balcony outside the He family estate when he’d delivered goods with Wen He and Lao Yu.

Wen He said he was the He family’s most outstanding youth, He Tai Ran’s illegitimate son, brought home at age nine, and one who had awakened the Horse.

“He Fei!”

Zhang Fan recalled his name, and a strange feeling surged within him.

If he remembered correctly, this He Fei was He Huan’s brother—on that day at the He family estate, Zhang Fan had personally shattered He Huan’s Nascent Soul.

“What’s he doing here!?”

Zhang Fan, guilt-ridden, felt his heart pound.

He Huan’s Nascent Soul had been shattered, leaving her a vegetable, barely alive; Zhang Fan had heard from Wen He that only He Fei’s persistent opposition had prevented the He family from euthanizing her.

The siblings were unusually close; He Fei had secretly investigated who had harmed his sister that day.

“Could he have found out!?” Zhang Fan muttered to himself.

At that moment, He Fei drew near; as he passed Zhang Fan, he suddenly halted, turned, and stared at him.

“Stop…”

Zhang Fan’s heart tightened; he turned around, his True Yang ready to burst forth.

“What is it?”

“Your zipper’s undone,” He Fei said casually, then turned toward the elevator.

“….”

(End of Chapter)