Chapter 127: The Immortal Treasury of Longevity

“My uncle is a very humorous person.”

On the mountain path, Yu Linzi’s eyes held a trace of sorrow. “He always laughed a lot, loved to provoke our ancestor into anger, and had a natural gift for astrology.”

“After he went down the mountain, he never returned. He didn’t appear when our ancestor ascended. We all assumed he had perished.”

“This… please accept our condolences.”

Li Yan was speechless, unsure what to say.

He had helped him, after all, but now he had immediately trapped his uncle’s soul—even if the man had become a malevolent spirit, that was still a Cave of Celestial Treasure; who knew if some turn of fortune might still arise…

Seeing this, Yu Linzi sighed faintly and shook his head. “It’s not your fault. This method itself is taboo. Even if the Netherworld hadn’t claimed his soul, our sect would have punished him with Thunder Punishment upon discovery.”

He hesitated, then his expression turned grave. “There’s another matter. It was originally a secret of the Xuan Gate, but since you’re a Living Yin Officer, you’ll inevitably encounter it sooner or later. Better to know now and stay alert.”

“Do you know anything about the Fangxian Dao?”

Li Yan nodded. “I know a little. They flourished in the Qin and Han dynasties, helping Emperor Qin Shi Huang search for the elixir of immortality.”

Yu Linzi spoke in a low tone. “In fact, it goes even further back.”

“During the ancient Zhou dynasty, Fangshi served the emperors—for example, during the reign of King Ling of Zhou, there was the great Fangshi Chang Hong, who understood Yin and Yang and communicated with spirits, leaving his name in the historical records…”

“The Yellow Emperor’s Inner Canon speaks of ancient true beings, middle-era perfected beings, then sages and worthies—all these were fabricated by Fangshi, who attributed their words to the Yellow Emperor. They have always pursued the art of immortality.”

Li Yan fell silent. “Isn’t immortality just delusion? Countless emperors sought this art, yet all ended in empty dreams.”

“No—they achieved results!”

Yu Linzi’s words sent a chill through Li Yan.

“When the Zhou overthrew the Shang, the Divine Enthronement War—though not as fantastical as folk operas depict—was still a cataclysmic Xuan Gate conflict. The Zhou king burned Chaoge, destroyed Yin’s capital, purged the rebellious populace, demolished Shang tombs, and established Zhou rites…”

“Many records from that era were deliberately erased, so even today’s Xuan Gate scriptures are incomplete. But one thing was clearly documented.”

“A secret faction of Fangshi had persistently excavated the ruins of the ancient Divine Enthronement War—and they truly discovered many esoteric arts, compiling them into a single volume called the ‘Immortal Treasury of Longevity’!”

Li Yan felt his lips go dry. “They succeeded?”

Yu Linzi shook his head. “Succeeded? Perhaps. But more often, it brought chaos. The Fangxian Dao of Qin and Han once reached its peak, then was exterminated—but the ‘Immortal Treasury of Longevity’ was secretly spread.”

“Within the ‘Immortal Treasury of Longevity’ are seventy-two methods of immortality, all cruel and sinister, requiring blood sacrifices to honor seventy-two demonic lords. They use these to extend their lives—and they are precisely the Yin Offenders your Netherworld pursues.”

“The dark art my uncle practiced is called the Altar God Immortality Art, venerating the demonic lord Gong Yeqiu—rumored to be a spirit from the Divine Enthronement War…”

Li Yan suddenly recalled the Maitreya Sect’s incense master he’d seen at the mass grave, a fat man who had also practiced Fangxian Dao secrets. He quickly asked.

“Yes, that too.”

Yu Linzi nodded. “The exact name of that immortality technique is unknown, but the deity venerated is likely a malevolent god called ‘Zhu Shi.’”

“Also a survivor of the Divine Enthronement War?”

“That’s unclear. The era is too ancient. Even the ‘Immortal Treasury of Longevity’ that survives is incomplete. Once people learn to practice it, they invariably bring disaster upon their region.”

“This time, my master used the ancestral altar’s artifact to suppress it, directly scattering his cultivation. If you ever encounter such a thing again, be extremely cautious!”

“Thank you, elder.”

Li Yan quickly bowed in gratitude.

The ‘Immortal Treasury of Longevity,’ immortality arts, the Divine Enthronement War, demonic lords… Good heavens, the Xuan Gate harbored such hidden secrets!

If not for Yu Linzi’s warning, he might have stumbled into disaster on some future mission…

…………

This year, the Jiachen year, snow came earlier than ever before.

As soon as the Winter Solstice arrived, snowflakes like willow catkins drifted down at night. Though light, they were whipped by the cold wind and soon turned the Guanzhong Plain white.

Shili Pu, near Chang’an City.

Early that morning, Old Liang squatted in his courtyard, braving the snow and wind, smoking his clay pipe, eyes fixed unblinking on a porcelain bowl on the ground.

Water had been placed in the bowl the night before; after a full night of freezing, it had hardened into ice, its surface marked with intricate patterns.

His daughter-in-law stepped out, apron tied, and asked: “Dad, how is it?”

Old Liang slowly rose, assuming an air of profound mystery, and nodded confidently. “Don’t worry—next year will be a bountiful harvest!”

This was a divination custom in Guanzhong: each year, the day before the Winter Solstice, a bowl of water was left out, and the next day, the ice’s patterns were observed to predict the coming harvest.

The secret incantations were passed down through generations. Whether they worked or not didn’t matter—whenever asked, the answer was always a good harvest. The more people asked, the happier they became.

After all, no one would say anything gloomy.

It was simply the people’s humble hope for favorable weather and abundant crops.

“That’s good, that’s good!”

His daughter-in-law hurriedly said: “Dad, the dumplings are ready. Shall I bring them to the table?”

Old Liang chuckled, revealing his gap-toothed grin. “No, wait till Chunsheng comes back from the city—we’ll eat together. Oh, and make two extra bowls—I’ll take them to Hu Niang’s family.”

“They’re just kids. Hu Niang’s rarely home. Neighbors should look out for each other.”

“Yes!”

His daughter-in-law hurried into the kitchen.

Soon, she emerged carrying a large food box.

The box was woven from bamboo—old and yellowed, but scrupulously clean, with two tiers, each able to hold a large bowl.

Old Liang stuck his pipe in his collar, hummed a tune, and carried the box toward the eastern edge of the village, greeting everyone he met.

“Old Man Liang, how’s it going?”

“Good harvest, good harvest!”

“Old San, how’s it going?”

“Of course it’s a good harvest!”

At the eastern edge of the village, a large house came clearly into view.

The house wasn’t luxurious—just ordinary rammed-earth walls, with trees planted in front and back, old and tall, their dense branches perfectly shielding the courtyard.

Hrrr-hrrr!

At the horse post by the gate, several horses snorted.

Has Hu Niang returned?

And guests too?

Old Liang paused, uncertain.

Hu Niang had been raised under his watch, but she was famously capable in the village—whether someone was haunted or cheated by swindlers in Chang’an, they always turned to Hu Niang.

Old Liang wondered: Should he go back home and bring more?

Creak~

At that moment, the courtyard gate suddenly opened, and the demon hunter Hong Yecha stepped out, smiling: “Old Man Liang, why not come in and sit?”

“No, no, you’ve got guests.”

Old Liang quickly handed over the food box. “It’s the Winter Solstice. Homemade, nothing special—just a little treat for the kids.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Bah, no need for formalities among neighbors.”

Seeing Hong Yecha accept it, Old Liang seemed to shed a burden, turned, hummed his tune, and walked slowly away into the snow and wind.

Hong Yecha shook her head with a smile and carried the box into the courtyard.

“Hong Jie, another one?”

At the table beneath the eaves of the main hall, Sha Lifei sipped wine and devoured dumplings, sweating profusely. “These hundred-family dumplings—I’ve never tasted anything like them, Jie. Let me try this filling—”

“Enough, enough!”

Li Yan, across from him, sighed. “You’re acting like you’re not a guest at all.”

“How am I a guest?”

Sha Lifei shouted. “Me and Hong Jie? We’re sworn blood brothers! No, today we’ve got to burn yellow paper and chop off a chicken’s head…”

Several children sat at another table, eating dumplings. Hearing the bald man’s nonsense, they all stifled giggles.

Hong Yecha smiled too. “Go ahead, eat your fill—I’m just afraid you won’t finish.” She placed the food box on the main hall table.

The table was already piled high with food boxes.

Li Yan praised: “Hong Jie, your reputation among the villagers is unmatched. Far better than mine.”

“Not just better—it’s worlds apart!”

Sha Lifei immediately added: “Li Family Village’s Ghost-Frightener—your name stank so bad it repelled neighbors three li downwind. When you left, I bet the neighbors were setting off firecrackers.”

The children behind them laughed, and Hong Yecha smiled too. “My lineage has lived in Shili Pu for generations. When my master was alive, the villagers always came to us for help. We never counted on making money from them.”

“Blessing your neighbors brings great fortune.”

Wang Daoxuan took a sip of wine, his eyes full of admiration.

After descending from Mount Taibai, Hong Yecha had planned to leave alone, but Sha Lifei stubbornly clung to her, calling her “Hong Jie” with affectionate familiarity.

She couldn’t refuse, so she joined the group.

Along the way, they grew increasingly close.

!.

Hong Yecha’s fearsome reputation and cold demeanor were merely a facade—after all, a woman traveling alone must remain cautious.

But once you knew her, you’d see she was open, generous, and quickly became friends with Li Yan and the others.

Li Yan’s group had planned to head straight to Chang’an, but upon arriving at Shili Pu, they happened upon the Winter Solstice, so Hong Yecha invited them to her home.

The dumpling feast was lively and warm.

No sooner had they set down their bowls than children rushed in to clear away.

The younger ones washed dishes and wiped tables; the older ones poured tea and water, all orderly and polite—Li Yan and the others watched in admiration.

In the Red Night Demon’s eyes, there was also pride and tenderness.

It was clear she had devoted all her thoughts to these disciples.

Sha Li Fei’s eyes rolled, then he said, “Sister Hong, if you’ve got any trouble, don’t shoulder it alone—we’re staying in Chang’an now, just call out and we’ll come.”

“Alright,” the Red Night Demon replied readily.

Some tasks truly can’t be done by one person alone; with age, she’d grown increasingly weak.

If there was someone to help, earning a little less didn’t matter.

After all, these children still needed her.

Thinking of this, the Red Night Demon asked, “Chang’an is hard to live in—housing here is terribly expensive. Do any of you have a place to stay?”

“We’ll stay at an inn for now, then look around slowly,” Sha Li Fei said cheerfully. “Though we suffered on Mount Taibai, we saved a fortune. If we find a decent courtyard, we can get one.”

Li Yan paused, then said, “Sister Hong, you know Chang’an’s underworld well—do you know any master who specializes in Pi Gua and takes outside disciples?”

This was why he had rushed to Chang’an.

First, the court will soon impose strict controls on sorcerers; the Dao permit can’t be delayed any longer—he must get it from Luo Mingzi soon.

Second, he had already reached the First Level of Dao cultivation, possessed the Northern Emperor Scripture, and acquired the Yin Bureau’s soul-snatching chain—his arts were no worse than those of orthodox Daoist sect disciples.

Only his martial skills lagged behind.

He wasn’t like a master of the Tai Xuan Orthodox Sect, who had imperial troops guarding him, with many experts present during ritual altars, needing only to study liturgical arts.

The mortal world is dangerous; Chen Fa’s puppets, You Lao Si—both were at the Second Level of Dao cultivation, yet died because they lacked martial skill and were overpowered up close.

Li Yan dared not neglect martial arts.

As originally planned, learning Pi Gua palm, combined with Hong Quan and Pao Quan, would blend agility with ferocity—perfectly matching his Great Cloud Thunder Sound.

Moreover, it would benefit his future cultivation of the Northern Emperor Yin Thunder Hand.

“Pi Gua master…”

The Red Night Demon thought a moment. “There are many Pi Gua masters in Chang’an, but you know the martial world’s rules—once you enter a school, you’re bound to get tangled in grudges.”

“We walk the Daoist path, the highest in the mortal world, but there are always unscrupulous types who’ll try to use you for wealth and status. Best keep your distance.”

There’s one in Lanling Fang—Li Shiqing. He is a senior of the Dao Medical Sect, a renowned physician of Chang’an, skilled in Pi Gua, with his skill refined to the level of Hua Jin.

“A senior of the Dao Medical Sect?”

Li Yan’s eyes lit up. “Sister Hong, could you help introduce me?”

The Red Night Demon hesitated. “I met this senior only when I was recovering from injuries; only after becoming familiar did I learn how formidable his skills were.”

“But he’s always swamped with patients—very busy. I don’t know if he’d accept you. I can introduce you, but if he refuses, don’t blame me.”

Li Yan smiled. “Sister Hong, you’re joking. Just the introduction is enough to thank you—whether it works or not depends on fate…”

…………

The next morning, the group arrived outside Chang’an.

This ancient capital reached its peak during the Tang dynasty, once boasting 108 Fangs, but after countless wars, it was no longer its former glory.

For example, the Taiji Palace and Great Ming Palace remained ruins; the Great Xuan Dynasty’s Wang Fu now stood on the site of the former Xingqinggong.

Of the city’s remaining intact Fangs and Shi, only seventy or eighty remained, their layout chaotic—some merged together, uneven and far from the Tang-era order.

Yet as the capital of Shanzhou Prefecture, it remained prosperous.

Goods from the north gathered in Chang’an, then traveled via mule and horse caravans to Manchuan Pass and other river and land ports, heading south.

Goods from the south also arrived in Chang’an, then dispersed across the land.

When the Red Night Demon and the three arrived, dawn was still dim; the snow had stopped overnight, but now drifted down again at dawn.

In the wind and snow, the line waiting to enter the city stretched for miles—mules and horses neighed, voices clamored.

Li Yan and the others weren’t in a hurry; they patiently waited in line.

Conversations from passersby around them drifted into their ears.

“Did you hear? The Wang Fu is holding a winter poetry gathering.”

“That’s old men’s business—why should a peasant like you care?”

“You don’t understand—Prince of Chang’an loves fine food, everyone knows. Rumor says he’s collecting rare delicacies; bring something uncommon, and you’ll get a reward…”

“Really? Let me think…”

“Lu, you’re rich this year?”

“Rich? I’m still struggling to pay off the Xiangji Kitchen’s debts…”

Sha Li Fei listened with delight, occasionally stepping forward to chat with others.

Li Yan stared at Chang’an, lost in thought.

There was one thing he hadn’t mentioned to the group.

His father, Li Hu, had been betrayed by Zhou Pan, but the ones who actually struck him down were the Maitreya Cult’s demons.

If he found clues, this grudge must be settled.

Clip-clop! Clip-clop!

At that moment, hoofbeats came from behind.

Li Yan sniffed, caught a familiar scent, and turned quickly.

Sure enough, a squad of Commandant’s Black Riders galloped through the snowstorm—their leader was none other than the former Xianyang constable Guan Wanchè.

“Huh?”

Guan Wanchè had sharp eyes and a better view from horseback—he spotted Li Yan in the crowd at once, pulled his reins, and said sternly, “Li Yan, you’ve come to Chang’an?”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and called out, “Sister, this is Li Hu’s son.”

You sneaky Guan Wanchè!

Li Yan’s heart sank.

He looked up—and sure enough, among the Commandant’s Black Riders was a middle-aged Daoist nun, a long bow on her back, her cold gaze fixed on him…

(End of Chapter)