Chapter 479

The next day, Chang’an Yin Xu.

Zhang Fan parted from Meng Qi, arrived as agreed, and passed through the same dilapidated Daoist temple to re-enter this underground world.

“Why does it feel different from last time?”

Zhang Fan looked down at the green stone pavement and felt the color was lighter than before; the shops on either side were different too, and two bridges made of piled bones now spanned the endless dark river—apparently the skeletal remains of some giant fish.

“The structure of Yin Xu is peculiar; even slight tremors can alter its side passages and underground rivers,” An Wuyang said, catching up from behind.

Today, he dressed casually, resembling a white-skinned athlete, no longer the Daoist in his robe from before.

“The same entrance doesn’t guarantee you’ll emerge on the same street as last time,” An Wuyang said coolly.

“It’s like a labyrinth,” Zhang Fan mused.

“Yin Xu was formed by a heavenly disaster, situated atop Chang’an’s dragon vein—it’s no less remarkable than the mountain-sea secret realms,” An Wuyang said solemnly.

The mountain-sea secret realms of demons and spirits, the blessed lands and grotto-heavens of Daoist cultivators—all are wondrous realms born of Heaven and Earth’s creation. Since they are naturally formed and exquisitely wrought, they must harbor deadly calamities, just as life and death are yin and yang.

“Precisely because of this, even if one sends out their Nascent Soul to wander beyond the physical world, it’s still impossible to glimpse the full layout of this labyrinth.”

“I heard from my sect’s elders that Yin Xu lies precisely at the stomach of Chang’an’s dragon vein.”

“Stomach!?” Zhang Fan’s heart stirred, then his expression cleared in sudden understanding.

No wonder it could swallow everything on the surface, and why it periodically writhed.

If this is the dragon vein’s stomach, a creation of Heaven and Earth, it must conceal unfathomable dangers—ordinary experts truly cannot casually probe it with their Nascent Soul.

“In a place like this labyrinth, can you really find that fragment of the life root?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help asking.

On his second visit to Yin Xu, he felt even more keenly its extraordinary nature.

Searching for treasures here was like fishing for a needle in the ocean—the difficulty was unimaginable.

“I naturally have a method. Just follow me.”

As he spoke, An Wuyang turned and darted into a pitch-black side passage.

This wasn’t leading to ancient ruins—it led deep into the heart of this underground world.

Seeing this, Zhang Fan stepped forward and followed.

The mysterious and ever-changing underground world, crisscrossed with countless branching paths, narrow and dark, features damp rock walls covered in moss that glow with a faint luminescence, illuminating this abyss-like realm.

Occasionally, in open spaces, underground rivers intertwined and swirled, surrounded by more side passages leading nowhere discernible.

In such a place, even if supplies were plentiful, an ordinary person staying half a month would likely suffer from rheumatism, arthritis, and a host of other illnesses.

Zhang Fan and An Wuyang were both mighty cultivators.

Especially Zhang Fan—his Life Meridian was fully perfected; his lung respiration vibrated, dissolving the bone-chilling damp cold, his bright eyes shimmering with light, able to see clearly even in utter darkness.

He could endure even harsher environments without difficulty.

Boom…

After running for a while, a roaring sound suddenly came from ahead, like a beast’s roar.

Stepping out of the narrow stone corridor, the view opened up—gray, formless winds descended from above, crashing onto the ground, kicking up sand and stones, filling the open space ahead, stretching at least five or six soccer fields wide.

“This is Tian Nao Wind!?” An Wuyang’s gaze darkened, his expression shifting abruptly.

In Daoist medical theory, wind is the foremost of the “Six Excesses,” the root of all diseases—swift in movement, capricious in change.

In ancient times, if a person fell ill with symptoms like crooked mouth, skewed eyes, or paralysis on one side, it was called “stroke by wind.”

In modern medicine, this is cerebral hemorrhage, cerebral infarction—a brain disorder.

Tian Nao Wind is a similar demonic wind, entering through the crown of the head, specifically targeting and destroying the Nascent Soul—even if one possesses great cultivation, with the ninth-layer spiritual light fused into one, they still cannot escape its influence.

If one cannot withstand it, the spiritual light shatters, the Nascent Soul is shattered, and all cultivation is destroyed in an instant.

In the past, Daoist sects regarded this as one of the [Wind Calamities].

Some great alchemists and high-level cultivators would seek out this wind, capture it, and refine it into divine pills and mysterious medicines, storing them in mountains, refining them with sun and moon over long years, eventually forming treasures of corpse liberation.

“Let’s detour.”

“This wind is deadly—even a Great Master cannot guarantee safety,” An Wuyang said gravely, staring at the chaotic wind calamity, his deep eyes filled with profound wariness.

For cultivators, this wind is a calamity; this place is a dead end.

He had once seen a senior uncle in his sect who, years ago, accidentally entered an ancient cave in the mountains and was struck by this wind—his Nascent Soul was utterly ruined, his cultivation lost, and now he was reduced to a helpless wreck, confined to the sect, mouth crooked, eyes skewed, needing constant care just to live out his days, truly a broken man.

That uncle had once been at the seventh level of Great Master cultivation.

“No need. Follow behind me,” Zhang Fan said softly.

The moment he spoke, he stepped forward, passing An Wuyang’s side.

“Don’t rush—” An Wuyang’s face changed instantly, trying to stop him—but it was too late.

Almost simultaneously, Zhang Fan stepped into the swirling, chaotic wind.

Suddenly, he opened his mouth and let out a piercing, prolonged howl—his chest expanded violently, and the descending [Tian Nao Wind] reversed like an inverted torrent, sucked directly into his mouth.

“This is…”

This sight was like a thunderclap splitting stone—An Wuyang’s pupils shrank sharply, his previously calm face now filled with profound shock.

With a flesh-and-blood body, he crossed the abyss of endless night, swallowing this wind calamity without flinching.

In a daze, An Wuyang saw faint spiritual light surging within Zhang Fan—born along his dragon spine, coursing through every bone, at his dantian, golden radiance floated, life-force unyielding, as if mastering the mystery of Dragon and Tiger, as if unraveling the secret of life and death.

“Qi formed into Dragon and Tiger—Life Meridian perfected!?” An Wuyang’s gaze trembled, his voice breaking in astonishment.

Divine demons inverted, swallowing the Nine Heavens below; Dragon and Tiger refine the essence of yin and yang.

Golden light shatters the gates of Yama’s palace; heroic spirit overturns the Lady Meng’s pavilion.

Chaotic wind calamity swirls past the body; name erased from the Book of Life and Death.

Mysterious pill perfected, opening the path to heaven; only then do I know my fate is not bound by Heaven.

Such an achievement is rare since ancient times—avoiding life and death in a ten-thousand-zhang abyss, Dragon and Tiger pill perfected, shattering the wind calamity.

“The Zhai Shou realm… he entered the Zhai Shou realm?”

An Wuyang murmured softly, his heart already surging with tidal waves.

How little time had passed since their parting at Zhenwu Mountain—he hadn’t seen Zhang Fan for only two or three months.

In such a short span, he had completed the transformation from mortal to transcendent, perfected his Life Meridian, forged a single internal pill, and entered the very realm all alchemical cultivators dream of!?

At this moment, An Wuyang’s expression grew increasingly grave, his gaze toward Zhang Fan utterly changed.

Such a person, bearing strange methods and heavy calamities, already possessed transcendent ability—his cultivation level should never have advanced so swiftly.

Boom…

Suddenly, a soft sound arose, pulling An Wuyang’s thoughts back.

Zhang Fan’s body trembled violently—his essence and blood flowed like rivers, every pore opened, his vigorous essence gushing forth, boiling like a storm, forcibly pushing back the surrounding gales and carving out a five-meter-wide zone of still air.

“Follow me,” Zhang Fan called over his shoulder.

An Wuyang stilled his mind, stepped forward, and entered the five-meter zone of still air.

“Go.”

Zhang Fan’s body vibrated at a strange frequency, his terrifying aura surging like waves, repelling the falling gales.

The two moved forward, one ahead, one behind, through the churning desert of wind and sand.

Following behind Zhang Fan, An Wuyang could clearly feel the terrifying and mysterious power of that perfected Life Meridian body.

That pressure was even more terrifying than the wind calamity.

“You’ve actually entered the Zhai Shou realm… Zhai Shou before thirty? Extremely rare.”

Finally, An Wuyang couldn’t help speaking.

“The world is vast—beyond the present, there is the past; beyond the past, there is the future… compared to the countless beings who have become revered Dao Ancestors, my achievements mean nothing.”

Zhang Fan’s voice came from ahead.

The Zhai Shou realm is not the end. Since ancient times, through the endless sweep of Heaven and Earth, those who rise later have always outnumbered the rest.