Chapter 440: The Dao is Nameless! Heaven-Born and Earth-Raised, Nurturing the Mud Pill

The sky has darkened; looking up, only a single lonely moon hangs high.

Within the ancient and solemn palace, tall figures stand, hidden amidst the curling incense smoke. Before them stand spirit tablets; they are like immortals and deities left behind in the human world, like clay sculptures in a temple—tall, majestic, feasting on incense, capable of anything.

"The Ancestors show no pity; nameless and surname-less!"

A cold voice echoes through the high hall and palace. Gazes are cast over—indifferent, majestic, compassionate, and even mocking...

"Why? Why? Why are the Ancestors unwilling to open the Dharma gate and establish a god-sealing statue for me?"

After a brief moment of distraction, that urgent voice rises, filled with deep unwillingness and anger.

He looks at those figures in the ethereal, void incense smoke, fists clenched tight, letting out a low growl.

Once upon a time, in this cold great hall, before that mysterious God-Sealing Altar, there was also a person like him, accusing fate of injustice, pouring out his own anger and unwillingness to the Ancestors.

"Presumptuous!"

A cold reprimand suddenly erupts, like rolling thunder, carrying an irresistible majesty that strikes at the heart and spirit.

Under this reprimand, that unwilling head slowly lowers.

"The Ancestors show no pity; it is destined that you lack this affinity. From this day forward, you must all the more temper your hearts and natures; you must never be like that..."

"Madman Zhang San!"

The cold voice echoes in the solemn palace; those high-and-mighty figures look exactly like the clay immortal sculptures in a temple.

"The disciples will remember!"

A chorus of voices resounds, heads bowed in worship, only eyes looking toward the heights, watching those towering figures in the incense smoke, gazes never dropping.

Without a god-sealing statue, one is destined to have no affinity with the immortal path.

There, one can only bow the head and act with submission, can only play deaf and dumb; a hidden dragon that does not leave the abyss, sun and moon that do not see the light of day, ultimately can only be reduced to the lowest rank.

"Divine awakening reveals the Dao is not empty, human years reflect the residual red. Where is the thousand-year mountain gate now? Who is not caught within the calamity!"

Suddenly, a mysterious voice echoes faintly, like a ray of heavenly light, shooting straight into the Mud Pill; eyes see the heaven and earth clearly, suddenly feeling the vastness of the mountains and rivers.

"Who?"

"Everyone is caught within the calamity, and everyone can also attain longevity; it is just that they hold the great medicine of longevity in their hands, yet do not know it..."

The mysterious voice echoes once more.

"The Nascent Soul has awakened, so one can have a life higher than the heavens..."

"Your achievements will surpass the ancestors of the Zhang family through the ages; in heaven and on earth, I alone am honored..."

"What if you have never had a god-sealing statue?"

The mysterious voice echoes continuously, carrying the vicissitudes of time, hiding the great secrets of cultivation.

"What if you are nameless and surname-less?"

"You must remember!"

"The Dao is nameless!"

Boom—

Suddenly, a terrifying phenomenon surges into the sky.

In Mount Luo, that figure sits cross-legged in the empty valley, hair standing on end, like a mad demon; yet at this moment, he awakens from those chaotic scenes and illusions.

The Nascent Soul surges into the sky, strange fluctuations radiating crazily toward the surroundings.

Pale clouds move, wild winds are chaotic, like ghosts crying in the night, obscuring the cold moon.

"Zhang Wuming!?"

In the vast night, Zhang Fan walks over from afar, looking at this scene before him, his originally calm face also revealing a look of astonishment.

"His Nascent Soul..."

Zhuang Yumian follows closely behind, looking at this scene before her, yet a look of deep shock appears on her beautiful face.

Before her, Zhang Wuming's Nascent Soul is unexpectedly so vast and unfathomable, like a great river, like a great sea, wild waves rolling, ripples rising and falling.

Even later, when South Zhang was destroyed and Zhang Lingzong took Zhang Nanfeng and Zhang Sheng to drift in the rivers and lakes, Zhang Qianxuan followed like a shadow, fighting several times, a life-and-death battle.

Even from so far away, she feels deep fear and trembling.

"The remnants of South Zhang... he is the son of Great Lingzong King!?"

Zhang Fan's brows knit, his gaze deep; with his knowledge, he unexpectedly cannot see through Zhang Wuming's background.

One must know, what Zhang Fan cultivates is the Divine Demon Sacred Fetus, and he has even dabbled in the Three Corpses Illumination.

However, if one talks about it, she should be considered Zhang Fan's distant cousin.

However, at this very moment, the state of Zhang Wuming's Nascent Soul is strangely bizarre.

"What happened to him?" Zhuang Yumian cannot help but ask.

"My name is Zhang Mengsheng; before your dad was born, I already knew your grandfather." Zhang Mengsheng says in a deep voice.

The state of Zhang Wuming's Nascent Soul is very strange—extremely mad and extremely crazy, extremely clear and extremely enlightened; two extreme states appear on him. If this lasts long, he will surely collapse.

"It's getting more and more terrifying." Zhuang Yumian's delicate brows knit slightly.

Zhang Wuming's Nascent Soul is like ice and magma blending together; the colder the ice, the fiercer the magma, and the stronger the fluctuations of the two blending.

At this very moment, even she does not dare to approach by even a fraction.

"This won't do!"

Zhang Fan's gaze flickers; he takes a step out, and his Nascent Soul leaves his body.

In an instant, the expression on Zhuang Yumian's face completely freezes; in her eyes, the sky has darkened, the earth is gone, the universe is gloomy, the sun and moon are chaotic, and there is no longer a shred of brilliance.

There is only that Nascent Soul arriving suddenly, as if an abyss has descended.

Boom—

Zhang Wuming's Nascent Soul seems to sense danger, surging like a river tide; terrifying fluctuations strike in layers, each one surging inexplicably, like raging waves, continuously impacting Zhang Fan's Nascent Soul.

Under this power, even the Great Being's original light would shatter, and all Nascent Souls would be thrown into chaos.

"Good fellow, you hid yourself quite deeply; what Dharma is this?"

A look of astonishment appears in Zhang Fan's eyes; however, those terrifying fluctuations impact his Nascent Soul, yet it is like a stone sinking into the sea, without a single ripple.

Hum—

Zhang Fan's Nascent Soul is like an abyss, swallowing those layers of fluctuations; immediately after, even Zhang Wuming's Nascent Soul is wrapped by it, wrapped tightly...

Gradually, the surging fluctuations calm down; Zhang Wuming's Nascent Soul turns from a raging, rolling river sea into a calm lake without ripples.

Finally, in that abyss like an eternal long night, his Nascent Soul finally recovers as it was, calm as never before.

"Sigh..."

A weak and powerless sigh sounds.

"How are you?"

In the pitch-black abyss, Zhang Fan's voice echoes; his thoughts intertwine, observing Zhang Wuming's state at every moment.

"I'm fine, let me go."

Hum—

The Nascent Soul's outer scenery dissipates, the chaotic abyss vanishes; Zhang Fan's Nascent Soul walks out from it and enters his physical body.

Zhang Wuming's Nascent Soul is like escaping from death, breaking free from confinement, and returning to his body's orifices.

The mountain wind is cool, blowing away the clouds in the sky, revealing the bright moonlight.

Under the soft moonlight, Zhang Wuming sits cross-legged in the wild grass, hands hanging down, gasping for breath; sweat has long since soaked his clothes, and his scorching body temperature even evaporates the sweat, causing a patch of white mist to rise.

"What happened to you?"

Zhang Fan hurries over, supporting the weak, powerless, and swaying Zhang Wuming.

"Hmm!?"

Zhang Wuming lifts his gaze slightly, looking at Zhuang Yumian following behind, yet he is full of vigilance. ===== CHAPTER 441 =====