Chapter 504: The Number One Pass Under Heaven! The Boy Who Sells Incense

Ten thousand li of mountains and rivers, vast and ancient roads.

More than half a month passed, slipping away with the rising sun and setting moon.

Zhang Fan’s figure had long left behind the bustle and splendor around Yujing, fully merging into the endless peaks, primal forests, and desolate wastelands of central China’s heartland.

During this time, he deliberately chose paths untouched by human feet.

Sometimes he climbed along winding trails carved by wild beasts, sometimes trudged along dried-up ancient riverbeds, sometimes even relied on faint perceptions of water veins and earth qi to find a thread of life on seemingly impassable cliffs.

He drank from mountain springs, ate wild fruits, slept in rock caves, accompanied by stars and moon, walking with wind and rain.

More than half a month spent among beasts, in harmony with nature, taking heaven and earth as his master.

His body remained heavy; the cracks on his Golden Core had barely healed, its golden light dimmed, like a stubborn stone in deep slumber.

His Nascent Soul, though no longer flickering like a candle in the wind, had only recovered from “near death” to “extreme weakness,” its power restored to a negligible degree.

Yet if anyone familiar with his past were to see him now, they would be stunned.

His transformation was not an increase in power, but a complete, inner-to-outer metamorphosis of his bearing.

The youthful sharpness and occasional restlessness of old had been utterly worn away by relentless hardship and struggles at the edge of life and death, replaced instead by the stillness of a deep, ancient well, the resilience of a solid mountain.

Hum…

On this day, Zhang Fan sat cross-legged on a large blue stone beside a stream, under the blazing sun, his Nascent Soul hovering three feet above, stirring mysterious, undulating ripples—faint black and white qi finally rose once more.

After more than half a month of natural purification, his skin had been tanned a faint copper hue by mountain winds and sun; though his frame had grown lean from depletion, his muscle lines were now forged like iron, each inch imbued with the endurance and explosive power accumulated through traversing countless mountains and rivers.

Most striking was his gaze—deep, calm, unruffled, as if reflecting the myriad mountains and rivers he had seen, perceiving the ebb and flow of clouds, the cycles of life and death, flourishing and decay.

This was a complete rebirth.

He seemed to have retraced the ancient path of Wang of Daling Sect, facing countless trials through nature, taking heaven and earth as his master to shed mortal dust.

Now, Zhang Fan truly bore the aura of a great master, a supreme cultivator.

“Huh…”

Suddenly, a fierce wind howled up, arising without warning.

Zhang Fan raised his brows, gazing intently, and saw a massive shadow emerge from the dense forest, hidden behind rocks, its ferocious gaze like knives locking onto him as prey.

Clouds follow the dragon, wind follows the tiger.

In the Water Margin, Wu Song, drunk and asleep on Jingyang Ridge, was jolted awake by an odd gust—his eyes flew open to see the tiger with bulging eyes and white forehead before him.

Now, Zhang Fan followed the wind’s roar and indeed saw a tiger—but his awareness far surpassed the ordinary; his narrowed eyes held nearly human emotion and luster.

“A spirit creature!?” Zhang Fan’s gaze darkened slightly, revealing surprise.

In the End Dharma Era, true great demons had become legends; even within the secret realms of Shanhai, they were few, long hidden, rarely venturing into the mortal world.

In such remote, deep forests, true demons and ghosts were nearly impossible to encounter, yet a few mountain spirits and wild monsters, having gained fortune, absorbed the essence of sun and moon, and barely awakened their spirits, still lurked.

Their cultivation was shallow, their Nascent Souls weak, yet their ferocity remained unextinguished.

Clearly, the tiger before him was a spirit creature with an awakened Nascent Soul.

It sensed Zhang Fan’s unusual aura, its greedy nature stirring its violent bloodline—a roar erupted, and it lunged at him, Xingfeng sweeping, claws shattering stone.

Such spirit creatures possessed higher intelligence and greater strength than ordinary beasts; once they tasted human flesh and swallowed essence-blood, their ferocity surged, and their cultivation grew ever stronger.

After all, humans were the most spiritual of all creatures, comparable to the essence of sun and moon.

This tiger, long dwelling in deep mountains, clearly was not new to eating humans—but it had indeed been a long time since its last meal.

“You came to me willingly—don’t blame me.”

“Thank you, nature’s gift!”

Zhang Fan sat unmoving; a strange fluctuation bloomed from his third eye like ink dissolving, quietly fading.

Hum…

In an instant, that strange fluctuation became an invisible spear, stabbing violently into the weak, chaotic core of the tiger’s Nascent Soul.

“Aaah…”

The tiger let out a piercing shriek, its massive body—hundreds of kilograms—convulsing midair before crashing heavily to the ground, kicking up dust.

The next moment, its tiger-shaped Nascent Soul was forcibly ripped free, crushed by the strange fluctuation, dissolving into fine, pure streams of light that flowed into Zhang Fan’s Spirit Altar and Nascent Palace.

Absorbing the Nascent Soul!

This might truly be nature’s most exquisite method—absorbing Nascent Souls to forge immortality; the sensation was beyond words.

Though the tiger’s Nascent Soul was weak, it was better than nothing.

Like a parched field receiving a few drops of rain, Zhang Fan’s Nascent Soul, after absorbing this “nourishment,” regained a faint spark of vitality—the newly risen black and white qi expanded slightly.

“No-Action Sect’s growth isn’t without reason—its innate method, its innate fuel…” Zhang Fan murmured.

Throughout this journey, he had entertained countless thoughts, his conscious mind restless.

But he could never act like a demon, recklessly absorbing Nascent Souls. Moreover, his path had led him through remote, uninhabited mountains—even if he wanted to absorb, it would be like a skilled woman unable to cook without rice.

Yet over this long journey, he had indeed taken a few meals: a corpse demon dwelling in ancient tombs, feeding on earthly yin; a bone demon assuming human form, luring essence—both became “provisions” on Zhang Fan’s path to survival, their pitiful Nascent Soul sources extracted by the most direct, brutal means.

That was why his Nascent Soul had recovered so swiftly—far better than his Golden Core.

On this day, after crossing a vast, majestic mountain range, the view opened wide.

Gazing far into the distance, the majesty of heaven and earth revealed itself.

Ahead, the land seemed split by an invisible giant axe—a mighty pass guarded between mountain and sea, coiled like a dragon, crouched like a tiger, radiating myriad aura.

Shanhai Pass!

The Number One Pass Under Heaven!

“Finally here!” Zhang Fan gazed at the world-famous pass, unable to suppress his sigh.

To the north, Jiao Mountain rose in undulating peaks like a dragon’s claw gripping the earth; to the south, the Bohai Sea stretched vast and misty, its waves murmuring faintly as if the Black Tortoise guarded the sea.

The pass itself stood firmly on the narrow corridor between mountain and sea, like a colossal key, firmly blocking the throat of communication between central China and the dragon veins beyond the pass.

This was the aura of the Number One Pass Under Heaven.

Witnessing nature, sensing heaven and earth, realizing the Dao—this was true cultivation; divine arts and techniques were but trivial matters.

Along this journey, Zhang Fan had gradually understood this truth.