Chapter 46: The Legend of East University: The True Martial Daoist

In the scorching heat of July, all was calm and quiet.

Zhang Fan spent a leisurely stretch of days, doing nothing substantial except daily cultivation of the Southern and Northern Sect Origins, pondering the Northern Emperor’s Method, and slacking off at work while browsing posts from “Thousand-Year Demon.”

“Jiang Hu, if we keep slacking like this, won’t the company go bankrupt? Shouldn’t we start looking for jobs early?” Zhang Fan glanced toward Bai Buran’s office; the boss hadn’t shown up for over a week.

“Over ten million college graduates will be job-hunting this July—cheap and efficient.”

Jiang Hu didn’t turn around, opened his phone, and found at least a dozen social apps on the homepage.

“Next month…” Zhang Fan clicked his tongue.

“August is the hottest month—looking for a job then? Where will you get free air conditioning?” Jiang Hu said coolly.

“September…”

“September has Mid-Autumn Festival, October has National Day—both come with holiday gifts and days off…”

“Then…”

“November and December are the slowest months of the year, and the weather’s freezing—sure you want to job-hunt then?”

“… ”

“After that it’s the New Year—do you even have money to celebrate?” Jiang Hu put down his phone and looked seriously at Zhang Fan.

“I… I was just joking—I really love this company,” Zhang Fan chuckled awkwardly.

In this mind-numbingly idle July, Zhang Fan wasn’t entirely empty-handed: besides his rapid progress in Daoist cultivation, every lunchtime he kept running into his senior, Wang Tiantian.

Bit by bit, the two grew familiar.

At this point, Zhang Fan learned that Wang Tiantian really did work at He Fei’s “Skinny Pig.”

“Junior, you really did study alone in A1?”

That noon, over fish with chili at “Old Wang’s Spicy Fish,” Wang Tiantian remembered Zhang Fan’s earlier words and pressed him again.

“This…” Zhang Fan chuckled awkwardly.

East University’s Building A1 was infamous across the entire university district, though its reputation was sinister: many seniors and juniors spoke of it with unease.

Even within East University, the building was deserted outside class hours—no air conditioning, not even a fan, even in summer; sitting inside sent chills crawling up the back of your neck, like someone blowing cold breath on you.

Some said the building was unclean, saturated with yin energy—no one should walk inside after four p.m.

Zhang Fan once heard from a senior that a girl from their department had a boyfriend from out of town who came to visit on weekends; he missed his train and returned to campus too late, saw lights on in the building, and decided to spend the night inside.

That night, the girl chatted with her boyfriend, who praised East University students for their diligence—so late, and still so many studying.

The girl froze: she knew Building A1 locked at five p.m. every day and never opened after hours—where were these students studying?

She immediately called to confirm, but no one answered; her boyfriend never replied to any message that night.

The next morning, she rushed to A1’s study room—naturally, no one was there; the phone line had gone dead.

Eventually, the police were called; the case was treated as a disappearance.

Her boyfriend vanished as if erased from the earth, never found again; soon after, the girl became mentally unstable, suffered hallucinations, and dropped out within months—her entire dormitory, however, received direct admission to graduate school.

At the time, Zhang Fan had just enrolled; the incident spread like wildfire, with countless versions flying around, until the school intervened to suppress it.

Some claimed the girl had mental issues—everything was her imagination. For instance, her chat logs with her boyfriend contained nothing at all. Perhaps the shock of his disappearance drove her to fabricate it.

Others claimed Building A1 concealed a secret study room, filled with people every night after eleven—among them, the girl’s boyfriend.

“When I first enrolled, I heard this story—I wouldn’t dare go near it. Last time was just a joke,” Zhang Fan laughed.

East University had many terrifying legends; the entire university district claimed that East University was haunted, leading to countless fabricated stories, indistinguishable from truth, making its reputation even more sinister.

“I know about this…” Wang Tiantian picked up the fish eye from the spicy fish head and whispered.

“You know?”

“Yes—the girl was my classmate… actually, my roommate,” Wang Tiantian said.

“What?” Zhang Fan blinked, unable to resist gossip: “I heard your whole dorm got direct admission to grad school—is that true?”

“Well… hehe…” Wang Tiantian smiled sweetly: “Let me tell you something you didn’t know.”

“What?”

“The school… secretly brought in a Daoist priest to investigate,” Wang Tiantian said solemnly.

“This…”

Zhang Fan grimaced. Though he had entered the cultivation world and knew supernatural phenomena were real, to ordinary people, a university was a place of education and science—this kind of feudal superstition was inappropriate.

Most importantly, if it got out, the reputation would suffer, and public opinion would turn hostile.

“It was done privately—apparently, our department head’s friend…” Wang Tiantian said.

“Our department head once spent time in quiet cultivation on a famous Daoist mountain and knew many Daoist priests.”

“Quiet cultivation class!?” Zhang Fan’s expression turned strange.

He knew this service too well—it cost a bargain 5,888 yuan. The very person who recommended this course to him was the abbot of True Martial Mountain, Chu Chaoran—the living immortal of this age…

If this got out, he could brag about it for generations.

“They say the Daoist priest had real abilities—our department head went to great lengths to bring him over…”

“A Mao Shan Daoist?” Zhang Fan blurted out.

In Jiangnan Province, the most famous Daoists were from Mao Shan.

“No…” Wang Tiantian shook her head: “The Daoist said he came from True Martial Mountain—in Jiangbei Province…”

“Ah!?”

Zhang Fan hadn’t expected this—if the Daoist truly came from True Martial Mountain, then he and Zhang Fan were of the same lineage.

In fact, the ten great Daoist mountains carried immense prestige in the cultivation world, like top-tier universities: they offered employment advantages and elevated one’s status above any self-taught Daoist.

“What was the Daoist’s name?” Zhang Fan asked casually—perhaps he knew him.

“His surname was unusual—he’s Bai…”

“Bai Buran!”

“The boss!?” Zhang Fan froze—he never expected to hear Bai Buran’s name from Wang Tiantian.

(End of Chapter)