Chapter 97: Liqiu Marks the Yuanqi Beginning! Nascent Soul Clash (5k Chapter)

At the entrance of Wuyi Alley, before a refined, ancient courtyard.

Zhang Fan looked up and saw a spoon hanging above the gate, tied with red silk, its handle pointing southwest.

“First time I’ve seen someone hang a spoon at their door—is there some meaning to it?” Zhang Fan paused, unable to resist asking.

“The Wang family comes from the Worship the Dipper Sect; they venerate the Seven Stars of the Big Dipper,” Xiong Qianqiu explained.

The Seven Stars of the Big Dipper resemble a spoon.

“So the spoon’s their good luck charm?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help but sneer.

A strange thought suddenly arose in his mind: Do Wang family members eat with spoons?

“Today is Liqiu,” Xiong Ba said.

Liqiu is the first solar term of autumn; the handle of the Big Dipper points southwest, and the sun has just reached 135 degrees of yellow longitude.

“You remind me—I’d forgotten. Want me to buy you the first cup of autumn milk tea?” Zhang Fan teased Xiong Qianqiu.

“We cultivators don’t do that stuff,” Xiong Qianqiu shook her head.

“Also, today is Liqiu—the Yuanqi Day. You must guard your speech. Don’t say anything foolish,” Xiong Qianqiu warned, glancing at Zhang Fan, then at Xiong Ba.

Liqiu is one of the “Four Beginnings,” marking the start of the “Five Qi,” and thus regarded as a vital Yuanqi Day; every word spoken, deed done, or thought arising today becomes a seed that will one day bear fruit.

Therefore, cultivators must guard their speech on this day, or risk calamity from even the slightest slip.

Ordinary people may utter relatively auspicious phrases, such as: “Yuanqi begins—blessings, fortune, longevity, joy, auspicious unions, good luck, all begin today…”

May all who see this find joy! May fortune be boundless!!!

Moreover, this year’s Liqiu is a “Mother Autumn.” As the saying goes: “Father Autumn brings clarity, Mother Autumn brings misfortune.” The latter half of the year has begun to unfold; those with weak constitutions must be especially cautious—avoid returning late or wandering aimlessly, especially climbing mountains, crossing seas, or entering deep forests, and never speak carelessly…

Remember: disaster arises from the mouth. Beware! Beware!

Knock knock knock…

Zhang Fan knocked on the door casually, but no one answered.

Xiong Qianqiu glanced over and pressed the doorbell beside it.

“… ”

“Ding dong…”

Immediately, a clear chime sounded, and the lock unlocked.

“Do cultivators these days no longer follow tradition?” Zhang Fan chuckled awkwardly.

“Cultivators withdraw from the world, not die from it—they naturally keep pace with the times.”

“Our Xiong family also owns smart home devices. If you’re interested, I’ll have someone customize a set for your home,” Xiong Qianqiu said coolly.

“Does it cost money? I rent my apartment,” Zhang Fan said offhandedly.

“… ”

Xiong Qianqiu paused, sneered, and had no idea what to say.

Cultivators must pass a hundred trials and a thousand calamities: the trials of wealth, labor and illness, life and death, emotional attachments, and more.

Zhang Fan carried the air of the common folk—he couldn’t escape the mundane ties of money.

She couldn’t fathom how someone like him could reach such a realm, where he could decide life and death with a single thought and strip her of her cultivation in an instant.

“Let’s go.”

Xiong Qianqiu pushed open the door, hesitated slightly, looked at Xiong Ba, and stepped aside to let him pass.

“You go in.”

Today, she brought Xiong Ba to witness the gathering, to mark the Xiong family’s emergence.

From now on, his status would likely surpass even that of ordinary direct disciples; in such a setting, Xiong Qianqiu would not steal his spotlight.

Moreover, now that her own cultivation was ruined, she was truly unfit to take center stage.

Xiong Ba understood the stakes and stepped forward immediately.

As soon as they entered the courtyard, Zhang Fan felt a cool breeze, and a faint, fragrant scent drifted toward him.

“Shuangjiang Incense!?”

After fusing with the Malevolent Deity, Zhang Fan’s mind acquired numerous new memories and knowledge; the moment he smelled the scent, the name “Shuangjiang Incense” surfaced—he had clearly used this incense before.

“The Xiong family has arrived.”

At that moment, three young men in the courtyard rose to their feet; the leader was naturally Wang Xuansha.

“Xiong Qianqiu?”

Wang Xuansha, seeing them, paused in surprise, then his gaze sharpened slightly.

“Didn’t Xiong Qianshan come? Why are you here? Is he afraid?”

In Yujing City’s circles, everyone knew Xiong Qianqiu’s strength surpassed Xiong Qianshan’s; though a woman, her Yin Mountain Dao techniques were top-tier—otherwise, she could never have forged her own Ghost Fiend at such a young age.

“He has matters he cannot leave.”

Xiong Qianqiu, accustomed to such scenes, sat down calmly; though her cultivation was gone, she remained composed, radiating the bearing of a great sect disciple.

“Last time, I lost to his Hundred Demons Smoke. This time, I came to reclaim my honor—and he can’t come?”

At that moment, Wang Xuanfei’s beautiful face turned icy; she still harbored resentment over her previous defeat.

The “Hundred Demons Smoke” was a Yin Mountain Dao technique, an advanced form of “Pouring Yin Wind”; the wind condensed into smoke, bearing a hundred demons. Once inside the body, it damaged true yang—especially devastating for women, doubling the harm.

In the past, Yin Mountain Daoists would often cast a spell to hide a vial of “Hundred Demons Smoke” inside an exquisitely crafted brocade box or pouch to protect their tombs.

Tomb robbers, seeing it, would eagerly open it—and then it was over.

After last time, Wang Xuanfei vomited black fluid for three days and nights, even losing bladder control.

Every time she recalled it, she felt both shame and rage—hence today’s gathering.

In truth, Yin Mountain Dao techniques always worked this way: once struck, all internal evils, illnesses, and corrupt energies erupted.

“So this isn’t a friendly exchange—it’s a revenge match.”

Zhang Fan understood instantly and quietly sat in the corner; he was here just to observe. With Xiong Ba’s current strength, he could handle it easily.

“Xiong Qianshan can’t come—he just lost his younger brother.”

At that moment, Wang Xuanqing spoke, stroking the feather tattoo on his wrist, a sly smile on his face.

“Huh!?”

Xiong Qianqiu’s elegant brows furrowed slightly, her cold gaze locking onto Wang Xuanqing.

“How do you know?”

Xiong Qianxing’s death occurred last night; the Dao Alliance only received word this morning. Only a very few knew—hardly anyone in the Xiong family even knew yet.

“There’s no wall without cracks,” Wang Xuanqing smiled faintly.

“A death in the Xiong family—such a major event won’t stay secret long. Yujing City will know soon enough.”

“Enough.”

At that moment, Wang Xuansha spoke: “Qianqiu, we’re old acquaintances. Since your family has suffered loss, today I suggest we…”

“No need.”

Xiong Qianqiu understood his intent but raised her hand to interrupt: “The Xiong family handles its own affairs—nothing else concerns us.”

“Besides, today isn’t my decision to make.”

At these words, the three Wangs’ expressions changed slightly; their puzzled gazes swept between Xiong Ba and Zhang Fan.

To them, both were unfamiliar faces.

Xiong Qianqiu was already one of the Xiong family’s most outstanding youths—if even she couldn’t decide, could it be these two strangers?

“He is Xiong Ba, the future leader of the Xiong family.”

No sooner had the words left her lips than even the Wangs’ expressions changed—and Zhang Fan himself couldn’t help but stare.

They were putting Xiong Ba on the fire. It seemed everyone had private motives—even Xiong Qianqiu, despite her warmth and kindness, still harbored resentment over Xiong Ba’s rise.

“Xiong Ba? I’ve never heard of him. He’s not even a direct disciple of the Xiong family.”

Wang Xuansha frowned skeptically.

All direct Xiong disciples bore the “Qian” character in their names; this Xiong Ba didn’t even have a generational name—he was clearly a distant branch.

Xiong Qianqiu called him the future head of the Xiong family?

“Xiong Qianqiu, what nonsense are you spouting? Him?” Wang Xuanqing sneered.

“Didn’t you just say there’s no wall without cracks? Do you think he’s insignificant?” Xiong Qianqiu sneered back.

“Today, he stands here representing the Xiong family.”

“Good!”

No sooner had she spoken than Wang Xuanqing’s eyes lit up. He picked up a teacup, lifted the teapot, and poured a cup of clear tea—the boiling water steamed, white vapor swirling.

“Then let me offer you a cup of tea.”

As he spoke, he flicked his wrist—the cup flew through the air, not a single drop spilled.

Xiong Ba raised his hand and caught it effortlessly; the searing heat immediately burned his fingertips. “The gods receive incense, mortals receive tea”—this was the Daoist way of offering tea: freshly boiled water, nearly one hundred degrees. To refuse was to insult the host, to lose face.

“Good.”

Xiong Ba knew the rules. He nodded, twisted his tongue inside his mouth—“Red Dragon Swirls Water”—generating saliva pooled beneath his tongue. Simultaneously, he channeled true yang, transformed yin into fiendish energy, and infused it into the saliva.

Instantly, the saliva turned as cold as frost; if he spat it out now, it would unleash a torrent of freezing air.

Xiong Ba tilted his head and swallowed the scalding tea whole. At once, the chilled saliva surged upward—cold and heat clashed, instantly neutralizing the burning sensation.

His throat moved with a “gulping” sound; the tea vanished in a single thread down his throat.

“Fine tea.”

Xiong Ba set the cup down without a flicker of emotion.

“Red Dragon Swirls Water, transforms yin into fiendish energy,” Wang Xuansha’s gaze sharpened; he studied Xiong Ba deeply, then nodded: “Impressive skill.”

"This level of skill isn't fit to inherit the Xiong family."

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Wang Xuanqing stroked the feather tattoo on his wrist, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

Last night, he and Wang Xuanmiao joined forces to seize the Nascent Souls of Xiong Qianxing and Ming Chenxuan and swallowed them on the spot.

Today, how could he let the Xiong family steal all the spotlight?

Hum…

Within ten paces, Wang Xuanqing formed a hand seal with both hands, his left hand gripping a finger Jue , pressing the first joint of the fourth finger upward toward heaven.

"Star-Calling Seal!" Zhang Fan’s gaze sharpened.

This is one of the Daoist hand seals; anyone who venerates the celestial stars and cultivates the Star Lord’s method must master this seal.

To summon star qi, simply form this seal facing the star’s corresponding earthly division.

"Transform Desire!"

At that moment, a bloodline appeared on Wang Xuanqing’s middle finger; if one observed with the Nascent Soul, they would see a shimmering golden-yellow starlight above his head.

Under that golden-yellow starlight, the bloodline on his fingertip shot out with lightning speed, striking Xiong Ba squarely between the eyebrows.

At such close range, Xiong Ba had no time to react; the moment the bloodline entered his body, his face flushed crimson, his body trembled violently, and he let out a low roar.

His entire body swelled with blood, his neck bulged with veins, his eyes turned blood-red, like a beast radiating uncontrollable desire.

"Star-Exorcism Technique!?"

Zhang Fan’s experience was far too vast—he saw through it at a glance.

Daoist methods for confronting calamities consist of four types: Prayer, Exorcism, Purification, and Avoidance. In Daoism, these four are called the [Four Calamity-Resisting Methods].

In ancient times, Zhuge Liang died on Wuzhang Plain; before his death, he sought to extend his life by using the [Star-Exorcism Technique] to borrow the power of the Big Dipper’s Seven Stars.

This technique can prolong life only under one condition: [Life Must Not Exceed Five Cycles]. One cycle is twelve years; five cycles equal sixty years—a full life cycle. That is, anyone under sixty who loses years prematurely may use the Star-Exorcism Technique to extend life; it is useless after sixty.

Moreover, "exorcism" itself means to repel—to reflect and block all negative things within oneself.

For cultivators, the worst things are thoughts and desires.

Desire is boundless; once submerged, one is doomed to eternal ruin.

"He venerates the Tanlang Star!?" Zhang Fan said sharply.

"You have keen insight," Xiong Qianqiu glanced at Zhang Fan with renewed interest.

A person’s temperament and fate are influenced by celestial phenomena and stars.

Among the Seven Stars of the Big Dipper, Tanlang Star governs talent and artistry, as well as desire.

Thus, in Ziwei Dou Shu, if Tanlang Star falls in the Virtue Palace, that person’s desires will be extremely strong—perhaps even addictive.

Wang Xuanqing’s Daoist technique reflects his own desires onto others, especially cultivators; once desire arises, the conscious spirit stirs violently, plunging them into demonic turmoil.

This power resembles Wen He’s divine affliction technique—both harness celestial stars to turn misfortune into fortune.

Roar…

At this moment, Xiong Ba’s eyes had grown hazy, his body radiating wild desire, his neck reddened as if about to bleed.

"That’s all?" Wang Xuanfei sneered from the side.

"Hundred Ghosts Devouring Affliction!"

Suddenly, Xiong Ba bit his tongue, spewing a jet of blood, while thick, chilling black mist surged from his body, accompanied by ghostly wails.

"This is…"

Zhang Fan’s gaze sharpened—he saw shadowy figures, like insects, hidden within Xiong Ba, frantically devouring the desire now dissolved into his blood.

"Hundred Ghosts Possession!?"

"This kid…"

Wang Xuansha’s face finally changed; even Xiong Qianqiu rose to his feet.

Hundred Ghosts Possession is the most profound secret of the Yinshan Sect’s Daoist arts—ten thousand yin transform into the body, a hundred ghosts accompany.

This cannot be achieved through mere hard work.

But Xiong Qianqiu did not know that Xiong Ba had forged his own path, basing this technique on the Taiyi Soul-Transcending Method, and only perfected it with the Jiachi of Xiong family elders.

Though these hundred ghosts were the lowest-grade spirit servants, given time, once they matured, they might become another Xiong Sanqi.

"Interesting."

Wang Xuanqing’s gaze hardened, his hostility surging. Suddenly, he flipped his hand—and a black, tube-like object with metallic luster appeared in his palm, the dangerous trigger already pressed beneath his index finger.

"A gun? You dare use a gun!?" Zhang Fan’s brow twitched sharply.

Wang Xuanqing only sneered, waved the object, and Xiong Ba’s expression changed—he froze in place.

Taking advantage of the opening, Wang Xuanqing crossed the ten paces and stood before him.

"I didn’t use it," Wang Xuanqing smirked, pointing a finger toward Xiong Ba.

It was a deadly strike, aimed directly at the Nascent Soul.

"You’re asking for death."

At that moment, Zhang Fan’s chest surged with sudden ferocity—he stepped forward, placing himself before Xiong Ba, shielding him.

"Trying to be a hero?"

Wang Xuanqing’s face turned cold, a mocking sneer forming. Since entering, he had only taken Xiong Qianqiu seriously; only when Xiong Ba unleashed [Hundred Ghosts Devouring Affliction] did he begin to pay attention.

As for Zhang Fan—he hadn’t even noticed him. Now, he formed the seal again and cast [Transform Desire], the crimson line shooting straight into Zhang Fan’s body.

Boom…

At that instant, Zhang Fan’s body trembled violently; a torrent of true yang surged like a dam breaking, instantly crushing the crimson line to dust.

"True Yang Tide!" Wang Xuansha’s expression changed—he hadn’t expected this unknown face from the Xiong family to be so deeply hidden.

"Trying to be a hero comes at a price."

Wang Xuanqing’s first strike failed—he finally decided to kill. He formed a strange hand seal, closed the distance, and thrust his finger toward Zhang Fan’s third eye.

"This is…"

Xiong Qianqiu’s face paled—he saw Zhang Fan’s Nascent Soul forcibly dragged out by Wang Xuanqing.

"Soul Sealing!"

"Capture the body, spare the life."

A smug smile spread across Wang Xuanqing’s face. With this technique, once within reach, he became invincible, able to forcibly seize anyone’s Nascent Soul at will.

To him, Zhang Fan was now nothing but a plaything to be crushed at will.

"Hm!?"

But the next moment, Wang Xuanqing’s smile froze—he sensed something was wrong.

Normally, he seized others’ Nascent Souls instantly. But here, Zhang Fan’s Nascent Soul revealed only a corner—yet it felt like a colossal entity hidden deep in the ocean; even that single corner weighed impossibly heavy.

"What’s going on? Why is his Nascent Soul so heavy?"

Wang Xuanqing’s smile faded. [Soul Sealing] uses the physical body as a medium, the Nascent Soul as the fulcrum, leveraging four ounces to move a thousand pounds, forcibly dragging out the opponent’s Nascent Soul.

Yet now, even after seizing only a corner, Wang Xuanqing felt his strength failing—his own Nascent Soul trembled, as if crushed by an invisible, overwhelming force.

"This… this is…"

Suddenly, Wang Xuanqing’s eyes widened—he finally saw the true form of Zhang Fan’s Nascent Soul: a shadow, hidden in darkness, endless and terrifying as an abyss.

"This is a Nascent Soul!? This is his Nascent Soul? How… how can such a thing exist in this world?"

A voice screamed inside Wang Xuanqing’s mind—he felt unprecedented terror, tried to retreat, but it was too late.

Boom…

A crushing, near-desperate pressure slammed into him like heaven collapsing and earth splitting—his Nascent Soul instantly cracked with countless fissures.

"Ahh…"

At that moment, Wang Xuanqing let out a piercing scream, blood streaming from his eyes, his body collapsing straight down, his breath faint as a candle in the wind.

(End of Chapter)