Chapter 14

The night was cool as water.

In a quiet little courtyard, Daoist Fu Feng sat in stillness, sipping tea. This was premium immortal tea offered by the Red Tide Sect, yet Fu Feng drank without tasting it—his mind churned only with a few names, and now one more had joined them, a name that should never have entered his thoughts: Xiang Weiyuan.

Thinking of Xiang Weiyuan, Daoist Fu Feng grew restless. He set the teacup down on the table with irritation, intending to take a walk in the courtyard. The Red Tide Sect’s small courtyard was indeed elegantly arranged.

No sooner had he set down the cup than his body stiffened. Slowly, he rose, forcing a smile. “Master Zhang… younger brother! If you have need, just send word—I’ll come to you myself…”

Zhang Sheng stepped into the room, as if he hadn’t heard Fu Feng’s greeting, and sat down without ceremony on the chair beside him.

At the doorway, Sun Yu appeared, exclaiming: “Don’t act rashly! Everything can be discussed!”

Seeing Sun Yu’s anxious expression, Daoist Fu Feng’s heart leapt. He stole another glance at Zhang Sheng—and froze in shock: “Younger brother, has your spiritual power returned?”

Zhang Sheng spoke calmly: “Though we’ve had little contact, you should know me well. I’ve come today for only one thing: how were the scores for Yuan’er determined?”

Daoist Fu Feng’s face shifted through several expressions. He inwardly groaned—what he feared most had come. Though he had cultivated far longer than Zhang Sheng, sitting beside him now felt like sitting beside an peerless immortal sword—every hair on his body stood on end. He suddenly recalled Zhang Sheng’s past deeds, and his heart beat faster still.

Daoist Fu Feng forced a smile. “Why the sudden interest in this? The evaluation was fair enough…”

He couldn’t finish. Looking at the calm Zhang Sheng and the silent Sun Yu beside him, his expression grew grave. “Younger brother, you truly must know?”

Zhang Sheng spoke softly: “This is a struggle over the Dao. I will not yield an inch.”

Daoist Fu Feng sighed, then recounted every detail of the evaluation process. He had given Xiang Weiyuan a score slightly below the standard, to prevent him from entering the top three of the Tai Chu Palace—and he confessed it all plainly.

When he finished, Sun Yu stamped his foot and sighed: “The real culprits are those two Confucians! But Master Fu Feng… ah!”

Zhang Sheng listened, then said: “Thank you for telling me the truth.”

Zhang Sheng stood up and walked to the desk, spreading out paper and ink. He dipped his brush fully in ink, then said: “For six years, my spiritual power was sealed. Only then could I quietly observe the world. Though I gained insights now and then, it was thanks to today’s various schools that I’ve produced this.”

As Zhang Sheng’s brush touched the paper, the window outside blazed white—a lightning bolt split the night sky!

Zhang Sheng seemed unaware. His brush danced like a coiling dragon, and in moments, a lengthy magical scripture filled the page. With every character written, his face grew paler—soon, he was as white as paper. Halfway through, thunder cracked across heaven and earth—a massive bolt of lightning struck the Red Tide Sect’s protective mountain array. The entire sect trembled; the array nearly shattered under the celestial force.

Zhang Sheng grunted. A trickle of blood flowed from his nose.

“Younger brother! Your wounds—!” Sun Yu cried, reaching out to support him. But halfway, he recoiled as if shocked.

Zhang Sheng paid no heed. His brush never stopped. Hours passed. Finally, he pressed down and swept upward—the final character completed.

A single drop of blood fell, staining the paper into a crimson flower—within the blood, tiny stars shimmered.

Seeing Zhang Sheng made no move to hide it, Sun Yu and Daoist Fu Feng both stared at the bloodstained scripture. Sun Yu’s eyes burned the moment he saw the first four characters.

Heaven’s Wild Deviant!

Daoist Fu Feng, with greater cultivation, continued reading. Each word, each phrase, struck his spirit like thunder and lightning. After only a fraction of the text, he could not help but cry: “Is this an aura technique? But such ruthless, overwhelming power—who could wield it?”

“Yuan’er can.”

Sun Yu said: “This… surely it won’t work?”

Daoist Fu Feng added: “I’ve seen Xiang Weiyuan—he is indeed extraordinary. But to wield such a celestial technique? He’s still far short. Master Zhang, this scripture is unprecedented. But precisely because of that, even a slight deficiency in aura or a moment’s misstep means utter annihilation!”

Zhang Sheng extended a finger. From its jade-like tip, a wisp of black mist slowly rose. The moment it appeared, Sun Yu and Daoist Fu Feng’s faces turned ashen—they saw their own instant obliteration. The vision was so real, so visceral, that even with unshakable spiritual resolve, they trembled involuntarily.

Zhang Sheng said: “This is what sealed my spiritual power for six years. With it, Yuan’er can wield it.”

Daoist Fu Feng stared at the black mist on Zhang Sheng’s fingertip—part envy, part terror. “What kind of aura is this? I’ve never heard of such a thing!”

Sun Yu said: “This is a celestial treasure! If you used it yourself, your cultivation would soar for at least three years—and attaining a Dharma Form would be as easy as reaching into a pouch! To give it to another for an aura technique… it’s a waste!”

“Merely an external thing. What’s there to waste?” Zhang Sheng picked up the scripture and vanished into the night.

Sun Yu felt a sudden emptiness at his waist—the token granting him free passage was gone. Daoist Fu Feng stared at the spot where Zhang Sheng had disappeared, thoughtful. “Younger brother truly cares deeply for this disciple.”

Sun Yu asked: “What will you do tomorrow, Master?”

Daoist Fu Feng smiled bitterly. “I was hesitant before. But now that I’ve seen ‘Heaven’s Wild Deviant,’ I’ll give my all tomorrow.”

“Aren’t you afraid the other families will blame you?”

Daoist Fu Feng spread his hands. “I’ll return the immortal silver and treasures I took, and forfeit all my possessions. A financial loss, nothing more. But one man wrote ‘Heaven’s Wild Deviant’—the other can wield it. My immortal path is long. Do I really need to think?”

Sun Yu sneered: “Of course—your Celestial Mechanism Sect is full of smooth-tongued cowards, always riding the fence!”

Daoist Fu Feng laughed heartily, unashamed. “I call it following Heaven’s will! You fools of Xueming Hall, obsessed with feng shui, couldn’t understand. We walk different paths!”

Sun Yu had no reply to Daoist Fu Feng’s audacity. “Then I leave it to you tomorrow.”

Daoist Fu Feng said: “Rest easy, younger brother! The martial evaluation hinges on the judges’ discretion. Watch my skill tomorrow!”

But as he spoke, he remembered ‘Heaven’s Wild Deviant.’ His expression changed. “Perhaps… I won’t be needed tomorrow.”

Sun Yu, lost in thought, sighed suddenly. “What a pity.”

Daoist Fu Feng felt it too—every muscle ached. “Indeed, what a pity!”

In the dormitories, candidates rushed to and fro, forming alliances, exhausting every last effort for tomorrow’s martial evaluation.

Xiang Weiyuan kept his door shut as always, deeply studying the Southern Vermilion’s Unrevealed Scripture, rising occasionally to practice. The scripture warned that aura techniques must not be used often—but Xiang Weiyuan found that no matter how much he used it, the invisible thing within him—the scripture called it “aura”—remained unchanged, neither diminished nor increased. He didn’t know what the Southern Vermilion’s Unrevealed Scripture consumed. The scripture also claimed immense cost—but now, he couldn’t fathom where the cost lay.

As he practiced, Xiang Weiyuan suddenly sensed something. He turned—and saw Zhang Sheng standing inside the room, as if he had always been there.

He bowed quickly. “Master, why have you come?”

Zhang Sheng had been watching him for some time. “Your Southern Vermilion’s Unrevealed Scripture is well-practiced. But circumstances have changed. You must now switch to this.”

Zhang Sheng handed Xiang Weiyuan ‘Heaven’s Wild Deviant,’ then let a wisp of black mist drift from his fingertip. “This celestial aura sealed my spiritual power for six years. It is fierce and absolute—perfect for unlocking ‘Heaven’s Wild Deviant.’ I give it to you now. You will endure soul-rending pain, flames burning your body, demonic illusions twisting your mind. You must endure.”

Xiang Weiyuan nodded. “Disciple fears no pain.”

Zhang Sheng knew his disciple’s nature. He pressed one finger to Xiang Weiyuan’s forehead and sent the mist inward.

Xiang Weiyuan felt a cool thread enter his mind, then spread through every limb and vein—like a single drop falling into the ocean, vanishing without trace.

Under Zhang Sheng’s watchful gaze, Xiang Weiyuan stood still. Nothing happened.

“Did your spiritual sense tear?”

“Did karmic fire burn your heart?”

“Did delusions arise? Did demonic spirits dance?”

Zhang Sheng asked repeatedly. Xiang Weiyuan shook his head each time.

Zhang Sheng had imagined countless outcomes—even prepared to sacrifice everything to protect Xiang Weiyuan’s primordial spirit. But he never imagined… nothing would happen.

Still, nothing happening was good. Though puzzled, Zhang Sheng set aside his doubts and began explaining ‘Heaven’s Wild Deviant.’

This aura technique fused Zhang Sheng’s six years of walking among mortals—his observations, his feelings, his rage at injustice. It fused heaven’s indifference with wild, violent fury. It demanded immense aura, and easily warped the user’s temperament and spirit.

Zhang Sheng explained in detail until Xiang Weiyuan fully understood.

Xiang Weiyuan had awakened early. He had heard Zhang Sheng say circumstances had changed, yet never asked what. Only after the lesson ended did he speak: “What must I do in tomorrow’s martial evaluation?”

Zhang Sheng stood with hands behind his back. “Level them for me.”

“Who are ‘them’?”

“Everyone.”

As Zhang Sheng left the dormitory, his face was as pale as paper. Blood again seeped from his nose. Long ago, his premature breakthrough had injured him. Creating ‘Heaven’s Wild Deviant’ had stirred heavenly mechanisms, worsening his wounds. Now, he could barely hold on. After teaching Xiang Weiyuan, he returned to his room to meditate. Tomorrow morning, master and disciple each faced a great battle.

At dawn, the immortal mountain glowed bright again. Several ten-zhang immortal cranes circled distant peaks. Candidates emerged from dormitories, urged by Daoists toward the examination hall.

Inside the hall, hundreds of cushions lay arranged. Along each of the four massive pillars coiled a giant serpent, its glassy eyes lazily observing the entering candidates.

As always, each candidate saw their number and took their seat.

The elderly Daoist stood at the front and struck a bronze bell beside him. Then he called out: “Martial Evaluation—begin!”

(End of Chapter)