Chapter 516

Outside the pass, Black Water Hills.

The great night was deep, and the bright moon hung high.

A Daoist temple, abandoned for who knows how many years, stood alone in the lee of the hills; the walls were crumbling, the roof tiles broken, and the remaining frame looked like the skeleton of a giant beast under the moonlight, exuding an atmosphere of desolation and the dead silence of ruin.

Whoosh...

The experts of the Daoist Alliance were scattered around the temple, keeping a vigilant watch; the campfires flickered uncertainly in the cold wind, illuminating their solemn and weary faces.

"After all these days, that so-called Sect Master, neither seen alive nor found dead, where could he be hiding?"

"Hmph, hmph, regardless of where he's hiding, once we find him, I'll have to kick his corpse twice."

"..."

Beside the campfire, a few people gathered together, discussing in low voices.

As a team following a Guan Zhu-level expert, they were the most confident and the least afraid.

At this moment, inside the main hall of the temple, a portable camping lantern hung from a crooked beam, emitting a faint, dim yellow light that barely managed to dispel the darkness in a small area.

Tiles were missing from the roof, revealing several large holes, and the cold moonlight projected down like a searchlight, illuminating the mess on the ground. Spiderwebs hung between the beams like gray-white funeral banners.

Hum...

At this time, Fan Fan Lingzhou's spiritual platform stirred slightly, and a strange fluctuation was born, like complex neural currents intertwining, as if countless thoughts were racing.

Good fortune comes to the spirit, disaster arises from divine perception.

Logically, at his level of realm, his mind and spirit should have long been perfectly integrated, his thoughts like still water, rarely having such intense and uncontrollable fluctuations.

However, this moment felt like a premonition and perception from the netherworld.

An indescribable force of attraction dragged his consciousness into a hazy place.

Fan Fan Lingzhou felt as if he had had a dream, or as if he had truly returned to the past.

Countless lights and shadows were like bubbles, flickering, boiling, being born and dying...

That year, he was twelve years old.

On the plaza of the Bai He Temple in the capital, the bluestone was mottled, hiding the vicissitudes of the thousand-year-old temple.

Suddenly, a clear and impassioned crane cry, like an invisible sharp sword, startled everyone, piercing the clouds and shaking the heart.

Hum...

Before that strange sound had even faded, one figure after another was hit by an invisible force, stumbling and falling to the ground.

Only in the center, the twelve-year-old Fan Fan Lingzhou remained standing straight; his gaze swept over them, and most of those who had fallen were of similar age to him, some even a few years older.

At this moment, their faces were filled with pain, confusion, and shock that could not be concealed, their eyes all fixed on the boy standing tall.

All the onlookers, whether they were fellow disciples or the Daoist priests on duty, felt their hearts trembling.

Two years ago, this boy, who had struggled to reach the capital on a pair of worn-out, bloody legs from a famine-stricken road thousands of miles away, and had collapsed before the gates of the Bai He Temple, had neither the foundation for cultivation nor a solid background; it was only through a moment of pity from the temple elders that he had been allowed to enter the gates...

Such a weak existence...

In just two short years...

He had not only awakened his soul-aspect, but had actually mastered the Bai He Temple's secret Daoist technique, the 【Immortal Crane Chant】, and looking at its momentum, it was by no means just a glimpse of the path; he already had considerable attainment.

His natural talent was so high, and his progress so fast, that it was simply staggering.

The boy stood alone in the plaza, his youthful face still bearing the pallor of malnutrition, but he stood straight, watching the figures falling around him, feeling the gazes cast from all directions, carrying deep awe, jealousy, and even disbelief...

In his chest, a long-suppressed pride, like a spring shoot breaking through the soil, rose uncontrollably.

Humble origins!

No foundation at all!

He naturally knew his own worth, and precisely because of this, from the day he stepped into the Bai He Temple, the effort and hardship he put in were ten or a hundred times that of ordinary people!

When others rested, he practiced; when others slept, he sought the Dao.

He poured all his time and energy into it, not daring to slacken in the slightest.

Fortunately, such effort finally yielded a harvest.

Thinking of this, the aura around him became even more high-spirited, and his eyes, which had been somewhat timid, now became lofty and sharp, as if he no longer looked down upon these peers he once had to look up to.

Whoosh...

Just at this moment, the boy caught a glimpse of a figure entering his sight at the edge of the plaza.

It was a tall, thin man wearing a grey Zhongshan suit, with an outstanding temperament, talking in a low voice with an old Daoist priest of the Bai He Temple.

"Hmm? It's him?"

The boy was overjoyed and recognized him instantly.

Two years ago, when he was still struggling on the verge of death on the village ridge, it was this tall, thin man who not only gave him the grace of a meal, pulling him back from the brink of life and death, but also pointed out the path of survival toward the north.

The boy was ecstatic, unable to care about enjoying the baptism of those gazes, and flew toward the tall, thin man, as if a gust of wind had blown over.

"Hmm!?"

Just at this moment, the tall, thin man and the old Daoist priest beside him noticed the figure approaching from afar.

"Presumptuous, a distinguished guest is present, how can you be so unruly?" The old Daoist priest shouted sharply, which immediately made the boy stop in his tracks.

Following that, the old Daoist priest looked at the tall, thin man beside him and apologized with a smile: "Second Master, the little boy is ignorant and has offended you."

"You... you..."

The boy took a deep breath, looking at the tall, thin man, wanting to call out, but for a moment he didn't know what to call him.

"What are you 'you-ing' about?" The old Daoist priest frowned: "This is Second Master Zhang of the Southern Zhang lineage of Long Hu Mountain."

"Long Hu Mountain!? Second Master Zhang?" The boy's heart trembled.

Although he had only recently entered the path, he had vaguely heard that Long Hu Mountain and Second Master Zhang were truly formidable big shots in the Daoist world.

"So it is you." The tall, thin man known as "Second Master Zhang" was not angry; he looked at the boy and couldn't help but smile: "Two years without seeing you, and there have been quite a few changes; your spirit and energy are different."

"Does Second Master know him?" The old Daoist priest couldn't help but ask.

"There is some fate." The tall, thin man smiled and looked at the boy: "You really came to the north; do you still remember the eight-character prophecy I gave you back then?"

"I remember!" The boy nodded heavily.

In these two years, he had not only practiced Daoist techniques but had also learned to read.

"Rise when meeting white, fall when meeting black!" The boy nodded heavily.

"It is precisely because the disciple entered the Bai He Temple and practiced Daoist techniques that I was able to soar into the sky; it really corresponds to those first four words."

"Second Master's great kindness, the disciple will never forget in this life."

As he spoke, the boy knelt down abruptly, intending to perform a grand ceremony, but was lifted up by the tall, thin man with one hand.

"Everyone has their own fate; this is your own creation, not the power of others."

As he spoke, the tall, thin man looked deeply at the boy: "In the future, if you have disasters and calamities, it will also be your own doing; do not blame Heaven and Earth, and do not blame others."

Upon hearing this, the boy was somewhat ignorant, and a sense of confusion even welled up in his eyes.

The tall, thin man smiled, changed the subject, and suddenly asked: "Since you entered the Bai He Temple, do you have a name?"

"The master gave me the Daoist name, Shanshui!" the boy whispered.

"Shanshui..."

"Only if one can turn into Shanshui in the red dust can one be saved and become an immortal." The tall, thin man nodded and said: "This Daoist name corresponds to the hexagram of your life; water can carry a boat, but it can also capsize it..."

At this point, the tall, thin man paused slightly before saying: "You and I have fate; seeing you again today, I will give you another name."

Upon hearing this, the boy hurriedly knelt on the ground: "Please, Second Master, bestow a name."

The tall, thin man's gaze was distant as he looked at the boy in front of him, and he immediately remembered that eight-character prophecy.

White waves rise in the surging rivers and seas, black water hides in the deep, dark abyss.

Living in the red dust, everyone is struggling to cross, amidst those white waves and black water...

"The black and white floating waves carry the Dao boat, crossing the void to reach Yingzhou!" the tall, thin man whispered faintly.

"From now on, you shall be called Fan Lingzhou!"

Fan Fan Lingzhou!

When this name tumbled and circulated in the light and shadow of memory, that mark rang out again like a great bell...

Inside the dilapidated Daoist temple, Fan Fan Lingzhou, who was sitting in meditation, slowly opened his eyes.

The ray of heavenly light in his pupils converged, and the strange phenomena of cinnabar fragrance and medicinal aura that had permeated his body quietly dissipated.

"Fan Fan Lingzhou..."

He murmured softly, as if tracing the figure of the boy in his dream, or as if calling his own name.

Looking up, outside the window, that great moon still hung high, and its cold, clear radiance spilled in through the broken window lattice.

Everything was silent, save for the cold wind in the hills, moaning tirelessly, as if telling of those sealed pasts and the unknown road ahead.

Fan Fan Lingzhou frowned; for some reason, he felt somewhat restless.

Since he stepped into the Guan Zhu realm, such emotions had been unprecedented; he slowly stood up and walked out of the temple.

"Guan Zhu..."

Just at this moment, a middle-aged Daoist priest saw Fan Fan Lingzhou walk out and hurriedly approached him.

"Why have you come out?"

"Nothing, just came out to take a look." Fan Fan Lingzhou said in a deep voice: "Is there any movement?"

"There is nothing nearby, but..." the middle-aged Daoist priest hesitated.

"But what?" Fan Fan Lingzhou asked in a deep voice.

"The four teams closest to us can no longer be contacted."

"Cannot be contacted? What does this mean?" Fan Fan Lingzhou frowned.

"According to the rules, they reported information to each other two hours ago, but now when we call, there is no response." The middle-aged Daoist priest said in a deep voice.

This is not the Mountain and Sea Secret Realm; ordinary communication methods cannot lose contact, not to mention that one team would be one thing, but now four teams cannot be contacted at all.

"Something happened." Fan Fan Lingzhou's gaze sank abruptly, and he said sharply: "Which team is closest to us? Go and take a look."

In an instant, this great expert of the Guan Zhu realm immediately made a decision.

"No need for so much trouble; in a moment, you will go down to accompany them."

Just at this moment, a loud and clear voice echoed in the cold, deep night.

Everyone looked up.

Fan Fan Lingzhou's gaze was like lightning, cast toward the abyss.

Under the bright moonlight, a young man came alone; if it wasn't Zhang Fan, who else could it be?