Chapter 549: Zhang Chulan

“Yes, your grandfather asked me to give him a swift end.”

Feng Baobao did not look at Zhang Chulan’s cold smile:

“He said he was afflicted by the Tang Clan of Sichuan’s Dan Shi—a supernatural art that caused him unbearable agony, and all he sought was release.”

“As for why he came to me.”

Even Feng Baobao’s usually expressionless face now showed confusion:

“Your grandfather seemed to have met me somewhere, but I’ve lost my memory—I don’t remember.”

“That excuse doesn’t hold water.”

Zhang Chulan frowned, deeply skeptical of Feng Baobao’s words.

The logic seemed sound, but his grandfather was nearly a hundred years old when he died,

while Feng Baobao looked no more than twenty—how could they possibly have crossed paths?

“You can verify this with others.”

Feng Baobao made no demand that Zhang Chulan fully believe her alone.

“Verify...”

Zhang Chulan’s mind conjured image after image: Xu San, Xu Si,

even Xia He and Lu Liang, who had kidnapped him—but the one he ultimately settled on was—Zhang Jie.

Though Xu San and Xu Si held high positions as senior figures in the North China Region and had access to classified records,

they were both Xu Xiang’s sons,

and closely tied to Feng Baobao—there was no guarantee they weren’t conspiring to deceive him.

Xia He and Lu Liang were Full Nature demons;

though from their digging up his grandfather’s grave,

stealing the corpse, and luring Liu Yanyan to kidnap him, it was clear they possessed ample information,

yet Full Nature demons were selfish, cruel, violent, and would stop at nothing to achieve their goals—untrustworthy.

The only person he could truly trust now was Zhang Jie, who, like him, came from the Tian Shi Sect.

Most importantly, if Zhang Jie had meant him harm,

all he would have needed to do was arrive a few seconds later when Lu Liang attacked him—then Zhang Chulan would not be dead,

but likely reduced to a drooling, babbling idiot, spending the rest of his life in a psychiatric ward.

“Hey, Jie Ge, it’s Chulan.”

Having made up his mind, Zhang Chulan immediately picked up his phone and dialed Zhang Jie’s number.

As someone determined to cling tightly to Zhang Jie’s coattails,

he had naturally obtained Zhang Jie’s number and labeled it prominently: “Jie Ge.”

“Oh, it’s Chulan. It’s late—why are you calling me?”

From the other end of the line came Zhang Jie’s voice, slightly lazy.

“Jie Ge, I need to ask you something.”

Though Zhang Jie couldn’t see him, Zhang Chulan bowed slightly out of respect.

“Can we talk over the phone?”

Zhang Jie’s voice, transmitted through the speaker, reached Zhang Chulan’s ears.

Though his own phone had been inspected and tuned to ensure no eavesdropping or data-stealing software,

Zhang Chulan’s phone had not passed through his hands—he couldn’t guarantee it was free of malicious apps.

For topics unsuitable for exposure, it was better not to discuss them over the phone.

If leaked into the hands of those with ill intent, it could invite unnecessary trouble.

“Jie Ge, better to meet in person.”

Zhang Chulan said gently.

Information about immortals really couldn’t be casually discussed over the phone.

“Alright.”

Zhang Jie hung up immediately after agreeing.

Zhang Chulan put away his phone and waited silently.

‘Release your control over Qi.’

Almost the instant he put his phone away, Zhang Jie’s voice sounded in his ear.

“Understood, Jie Ge.”

Realizing Zhang Jie intended to use the same “trick” he’d used to subdue Xia He and Lu Liang, Zhang Chulan immediately relaxed his control over Qi.

The next moment, streams of Qi, like mist, poured from Zhang Chulan’s body

and coalesced on the table into a faint, life-sized figure, about a foot tall.

The attire, the appearance—it was none other than Zhang Jie.

“Jie Ge!”

Even though he’d seen this divine apparition before, Zhang Chulan was still stunned by the sight of this ethereal doppelgänger.

Even Feng Baobao, usually impassive and cold, cast a curious glance.

“Hmm.”

Zhang Jie gave a slight nod as greeting.

“Speak. What do you want?”

The Q-version of Zhang Jie didn’t beat around the bush—he got straight to the point.

“Feng Baobao says she killed my grandfather. I want you to confirm it, Jie Ge.”

Zhang Chulan’s expression was earnest.

He believed that Zhang Jie, who wielded such divine abilities as this external avatar,

surely possessed means to detect lies and discern truth from falsehood.

It was only because Zhang Jie came from the Dragon Tiger Mountain of the Daoist tradition that he thought,

had Zhang Jie once joined a Buddhist sect like Shaolin or Mount Wutai,

he might already have attained the Six Supernatural Powers: divine speed, mind-reading, divine hearing, and so on.

‘So it’s because Lu Liang was captured by me—he had no chance to privately contact Zhang Chulan.’

Zhang Jie’s spiritual awareness shifted, instantly piecing together the full sequence of events.

In the timeline without him, Zhang Chulan’s grandfather’s death was revealed by Lu Liang,

who used the Shuang Quan Shou to probe the lingering soul fragments in Zhang Xilin’s corpse,

then privately informed Zhang Chulan, triggering a crisis of trust between him and the Naidu Tong.

But now, Lu Liang was captured and languishing in the company’s prison, eating state-provided meals—no such opportunity existed.

“Bao’er Jie, did you kill Chulan’s grandfather?”

Though he already knew the truth, Zhang Jie asked seriously, to maintain his persona.

“Mm.”

Feng Baobao gave a slight nod.

Zhang Jie feigned a slight closing of his eyes; the Qi-formed body flickered with a bright, non-glaring,

crystal-clear golden light, as if verifying the truth of Feng Baobao’s words.

After a long while, Zhang Jie slowly opened his eyes.

“Well? Jie Ge!”

Zhang Chulan asked at once, eager for an answer.

“It’s true. Your grandfather did die by Bao’er Jie’s hand.”

Zhang Jie gave a definitive answer.

Creak.

Zhang Chulan clenched his fist tightly upon hearing the cruel truth.

“Jie Ge, Feng Baobao says my grandfather couldn’t bear the agony and asked her to end his life.”

Zhang Chulan asked again.

“Yes.”

After going through the ritual once more, Zhang Jie gave another affirmative answer.

“Phew!”

Zhang Chulan exhaled slowly, his clenched fist gradually relaxing.

If his grandfather had requested it, then Feng Baobao was not his grandfather’s killer.

He, as a grandson, chose to respect his grandfather’s final wish.

“But Jie Ge, what exactly is Dan Shi?”

Slightly relieved, Zhang Chulan asked curiously.

What kind of technique could make his grandfather beg Feng Baobao to end him, just for a swift death?

“Dan Shi? That’s a signature technique of the Tang Clan of Sichuan, one of the great sects among immortals...”

Zhang Jie slowly recounted the details of Dan Shi.

Dan Shi was a technique of the Tang Clan, hailed as the “greatest poison in the world” and the most potent assassination art.

Dan Shi is formless, colorless, and tasteless, capable of penetrating most defensive techniques such as the Golden Light Spell.

It acts directly upon the opponent’s meridians, thus possessing the trait that any contact results in injury.

Once affected, the poison rapidly destroys the meridians, causing the victim to die after enduring excruciating pain akin to death by a thousand cuts.