Chapter 75: All Together, the Zhenwu Jade Register (Request Subscription)

Outside the realm of things, time is naturally gained; in human life, birth and death—who can ever exhaust them? This body was never truly mine; having fulfilled my human form, I become a ghost or god.

Golden light surged, nearly draining Jiang Hu’s entire True Yang…

This is his talisman, and also the portrait of his life: great sin weighs upon him, falling into an evil spirit; yet within his heart, the Dao points toward immortals and gods.

In this life, things are not simply black or white—there is both petty scheming and radiant greatness.

Black and white blend in chaos, yet I alone am of this realm—who says I am not one of them? Drop by drop, they converge here, like the vast, unfathomable Dao: whether good or bad, whether virtuous or vile… all are part of it.

No distinction, no likes or dislikes—following nature, arising in accord with fate.

“The true self is singular; named ghost or god… this is his…”

Shen Qingli stood frozen in awe, her eyes never having held such brilliance before…

Golden light danced at Jiang Hu’s fingertip, tracing an unprecedented mark, searing onto Zhang Fan’s Nascent Soul.

At this moment, he was the talisman; he was the scripture…

The Ghost Gate swung wide, divine radiance blazed ten thousandfold, like the turning of Yin and Yang, like human good and evil…

Zhang Fan’s Nascent Soul glowed with unprecedented brilliance, as if black and white swirled wildly, no longer sharply divided.

“His Nascent Soul…”

Qi Ji’s eyes widened, filled only with profound shock.

“A true genius is a brilliance no number of kalpas can suppress!”

Once, in mountain cultivation, his master’s words echoed again deep in his mind, like a dream’s murmur, lingering endlessly, slowly merging with the reality before him.

Boom… boom… boom…

Five long rainbows slashed through the night, blazing with fiery light, charging toward Jiang Hu.

Zhang Fan’s Nascent Soul stood like a beam of light blocking the way.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three explosions shattered; the five dragons spun, fiery light burst apart, and amid rolling waves of energy, Zhang Fan’s Nascent Soul stood unmoved—the inscribed runes gradually dimmed, like dust scattering, slowly vanishing.

“He’s lost…”

Qi Ji closed his eyes tightly, his face turned deathly pale; his body relaxed, slowly collapsing.

In this battle of arts, he had no strength left.

Now, he could only tremble as he pulled out his phone and dialed a number…

“He won!”

Zhang Fan’s Nascent Soul returned to his body, yet his dim gaze fixed on Shen Qingli, dressed in a black formal gown, far away.

“Won’t you act?”

“Zhang Fan, the fate of the Xuanjian Treasure Scripture is my fate…” Shen Qingli shook her head.

At this moment, Jiang Hu staggered forward to Qi Ji’s side, looking down at him.

“You won… but you’ve changed nothing…” Qi Ji said heavily.

At this moment, he had to admit: Jiang Hu carried a sharpness he could not see.

Even so, he refused to accept such defeat—and its consequences.

Jiang Hu said nothing, turned, and walked toward the Talisman Forge.

“Where are you going?” Qi Ji struggled to lift his head and asked.

No reply. In the flickering firelight, Jiang Hu’s back appeared more solitary than ever.

At that moment, he stumbled, nearly falling to the ground.

“Rest.”

Suddenly, a large hand blocked his fall, steadying his trembling body.

“Zhang Fan…”

Jiang Hu paused slightly, then shook his head: “I can calm it myself…”

“Do you want to leave your life here?”

At these words, Jiang Hu’s pupils contracted sharply—he stared at Zhang Fan in surprise.

“Let me handle it…”

“You?” Jiang Hu frowned.

“There’s something I want to verify.”

As he spoke, Zhang Fan raised his hand like a blade, striking directly at Jiang Hu’s neck—the latter collapsed instantly.

“Will you kill them?”

Zhang Fan turned to Shen Qingli. “You’ll die,” she said, frowning.

“Looks like not.”

Zhang Fan rose and walked toward the Talisman Forge. The door stood open; a foul stench rushed out—like rotting meat fermenting, maggots writhing and brewing.

Corpses lay scattered on the ground—some decapitated, some limbs severed, others partially devoured…

“Once the rune is planted, it erases the conscious spirit, severing the Seven Emotions and Six Desires…”

Shen Qingli’s words echoed in Zhang Fan’s mind: these people had the Xuanjian Treasure Scripture’s runes planted, their conscious spirits suppressed—some became mere walking corpses…

Others, whose Seven Emotions and Six Desires were not fully severed, had certain parts amplified infinitely…

The runes formed by the Xuanjian Treasure Scripture acted like a virus; due to individual differences, each person’s reaction and state varied.

They became sub-viruses—once spread, their Nascent Souls became the nourishment for the original virus.

As Zhang Fan advanced deeper, he saw more: some sat dazed on the ground, eyes hollow and vacant…

Others’ Nascent Souls had begun to split, tearing at each other…

Still others, though not yet marked, had lost all resistance—like lambs on an assembly line, awaiting the Xuanjian Treasure Scripture’s final transformation.

Most bizarre of all: these people seemed not to see Zhang Fan, clearing a path for him.

At the deepest part of the Talisman Forge, the eternal furnace had collapsed—no flame remained, only blackened charcoal scattered everywhere.

“Someone else has come… Perfect—I’ll plant the rune for you, sharing the path to immortality.”

A withered voice echoed in the silent chamber; Zhang Fan saw a… well, a mass—vast, pulsating flesh, its skin constantly peeling off, then regrowing… like a snake shedding its skin…

The sticky, slick red flesh fused seamlessly with the wheelchair beneath it, indistinguishable.

Most crucially, the mass bore two faces—one ancient beyond measure, the other Shen Xiangrong’s.

On their chests lay the mysterious tortoise shell—the Xuanjian Treasure Scripture, imbued with primordial runes.

“Zhang Fan… you’re the young man beside Jiang Hu…” Shen Xiangrong’s face spoke.

“Brat? Your surname is Zhang? All Zhangs deserve to die…” The ancient face sneered.

“You’ve become monsters!”

Zhang Fan frowned, feeling increasingly nauseated—he silently vowed never to eat braised lion’s head again.

“This is evolution… or rather, the necessary transformation to become an immortal…”

The ancient face’s eyes gleamed with mockery.

“The heavens and earth are vast; human lifespan, even a hundred years, is but a mayfly—born at dawn, dead by dusk…”

“That’s why they must mate, must reproduce to continue their bloodline…”

“But immortals are different—eternal life, unending vision… any division is waste…” The ancient face seemed to perceive the cosmic truth.

If human reproduction is the branching of one into countless thousands, a kind of immortality…

Then true immortality reverses this process—merging scattered bloodlines into one.

At that point, true immortality is achieved.

“Forward, one becomes human; backward, one becomes immortal… the Shen family’s bloodline will merge into singularity…”

“This is true immortality!”

“You are all our pills.”

The ancient face sneered; a fleshy tendril split from the mass and lunged at Zhang Fan—who did not dodge, but stepped forward…

The tendril pierced straight into Zhang Fan’s chest.

“Young man, you truly understand.”

The ancient face laughed coldly; the Xuanjian Treasure Scripture, as if sentient, glowed faintly—strange runes traveled up the tendril, imprinting onto Zhang Fan’s chest.

“Congratulations—you’ve become one of our pills,” Shen Xiangrong’s face also showed satisfaction.

The more individuals marked, the more Nascent Souls they could inhabit and replace—this was true immortality.

“Now let’s see who is stronger.”

At that moment, blood trickled from Zhang Fan’s lips—but a wild smile spread across his face.

Hum…

Suddenly, a faint mark on his chest glowed with mysterious radiance—a celestial scar cradling a perfect sphere.

“This… this is…”

“Zhenwu Jade Register!” Zhang Fan whispered within.

(End of Chapter)