Chapter 188: Naïveté

Lu Yuan’s heart had just steadied a little thanks to the clear Dao resonance from the old man.

That resonance, born from the Daoist lineage and rites, was his only consolation and guide in this desperate situation.

However, just as he instinctively tried to activate the Jiutian Yingyuan Thunder Sound Universal Transformation Heavenly Pivot Scripture,

and mobilize the few remaining zhenran in his dantian that should have been slowly restoring to nourish his injured right fist and exhausted body,

a freezing, deathly, indescribable stagnation—like the hardest of chains—instantly bound his dantian qi sea!

The zhenran stopped circulating.

No, it wasn’t merely stopped.

It was more like... it had solidified?

Some invisible force had firmly "locked" it deep in his dantian, forcibly severing its connection with the meridians and acupuncture points throughout his body!

the zhenran that had once obeyed like a faithful limb, lively and responsive, now lay like water frozen solid, utterly motionless!

Even the thick external earth-vein yin energy could no longer be absorbed and refined into his own zhenran!

The source of Lu Yuan’s power was cut off!

His face changed dramatically, his pupils snapping narrow!

He immediately stopped moving. Ignoring Hu Huxu, he sat cross-legged and began rapidly changing hand seals.

He formed the Daoist basics—the most core seals—“Inner-vision Perambulation Seal” and “Guiding Return Seal,”

trying to look inward, find the problem, and forcefully break that invisible restraint.

“Mind guards within, return and observe.”

“Qi sinks to the dantian, intent connects the perambulation…”

Lu Yuan chanted the inner-vision method, concentrating all his spirit, attempting to “see” the internal condition of his dantian.

But what he “saw” was a chaotic darkness.

The dantian qi sea seemed shrouded by an invisible, viscous gray mist.

That mist did not belong to him, nor was it simply outside yin energy; it was a stranger, more insidious, more domineering force.

It did not “absorb” or “poison” his zhenran, it directly “forbade” and “isolated” it,

completely separating his zhenran and body from the outside world!

Is it this cave’s problem?

Is it the pervasive earth-vein yin energy here?

Or is it some kind of restriction specifically targeting Daoist zhenran that he had failed to detect?!

Lu Yuan swallowed, then tried several Daoist secret hand seals recorded for breaking internal binds and unblocking meridians.

“Open the mysterious portals, unseal the locks.”

“Three guards pierced, a hundred meridians united.”

“I invoke the law of Prime Honored Celestial, open!”

He pointed to several major acupoints on his body while rapidly reciting an “Opening Orifices and Unblocking Meridians Incantation.”

His seals precise, the incantation clear, yet nothing responded.

No zhenran flowed into his fingertips, and the spells lost their power without zhenran to drive them, sounding like words spoken by an ordinary mortal.

Lu Yuan changed seals again, attempting to use the “Golden Light Dispelling Filth Seal” to draw on the residual righteous qi and strike at the gray mist.

“Heaven and Earth’s mysterious ancestor, root of myriad beings.”

“Countless trials cultivated, witness my divine prowess.”

“Inside and outside the three realms, only the Dao stands supreme.”

“My body bears golden light, covering and mirroring me…”

“Let the golden light appear swiftly, protect the true person.”

“Urgently, urgently, as by the law’s command!”

The Golden Light Charm was one of Daoism’s fundamental defensive, evil-dispelling incantations.

If driven by zhenran, it could cleanse internal corruption and dispel evil obstacles.

But now, Lu Yuan’s interior was empty. After chanting, all that flickered in his sea of consciousness was a barely perceptible, pure righteous thought born of spirit source.

It could not move the strange gray prohibition outside his dantian one bit.

Again!

“Purifying Heaven and Earth Divine Incantation!”

“Heaven and Earth natural order, filth disperse.”

“Within the cave, profound void, resplendent primal source.”

“Mighty spirits from eight directions, make way.”

“Command of spiritual treasure talisman, proclaim to the nine heavens...”

“Evil filth vanish, Dao endure.”

“Urgently, urgently, as by the law’s command!”

Also ineffective.

Without zhenran as a bridge and fuel, no matter how exquisite the incantation or orthodox the hand seal, they remained only hollow forms.

They had lost the essential means to communicate with Heaven and Earth, to summon Dao power and manifest miracles.

Cold sweat broke out on Lu Yuan’s brow.

He refused to give up and tried “Untying Knot Incantation,” the “Breaking Obstacle Seal,” the “Purity Body-and-Mind Seal,” and several other Daoist methods recorded for removing one’s abnormal state and breaking internal and external seals.

For each one, Lu Yuan executed the lineage’s hand seals, words, and mental method without error.

But the results were the same.

Like a stone dropped into the sea, nothing rippled.

Lu Yuan’s zhenran had been thoroughly “locked” to death.

Not consumed, but forcibly forbidden and isolated by a higher, stranger power!

He might still have the cultivation rank of a two-star Celestial Master, but he could not draw on a single bit of it!

Now Lu Yuan, aside from a slightly tougher body and a sea of consciousness hardened by training, was no different in Daoist magic from an untrained mortal!

Maybe even worse!

At least an ordinary person’s breath runs through unimpeded; his zhenran was locked, meridians sluggish, even normal qi and blood circulation affected.

His body grew heavier and his mind more muddled.

From the most basic Guiding Return to the deepest artifact-breaking methods, cold sweat mixed with dust from earlier fighting slid down his face.

Each attempt ignited hope only for it to be snuffed out instantly.

The gray mist outside the dantian qi sea was like the most stubborn lock; however he assaulted it, however he tried to crack it, it held, sealing away all his zhenran.

Frustration, rage, and an indefinable panic like a cold venomous snake slowly coiled around Lu Yuan’s heart.

To lose his zhenran, to possess Daoist rank but be rendered helpless—it felt impossible.

Even...

Lu Yuan’s mind began to think...

No way.

Could the jade pendant... now also be unbreakable...

Wait.

His rapid breathing suddenly stalled. His chaotic thoughts were struck by a lightning bolt and halted.

From the moment he discovered his zhenran had been locked and frantically attempted every self-rescue method, how long had passed?

Dozens of breaths?

A hundred?

Time blurred in his anxiety, but it had certainly not been short.

During that long stretch... what had Hu Huxu been doing?

Why... was he so quiet?

Based on Hu Huxu’s earlier reactions, seeing Lu Yuan’s zhenran locked and the methods failing, he should have been more frantic, more terrified.

He should have been asking questions nonstop, trying to use his Hu family methods to probe, pacing anxiously, muttering curses at the Liu family’s treachery...

Before, outside, he always voiced concern and offered advice at the right times, even if those suggestions were tinged with despair.

But this time, from when he too had sat cross-legged and tried to break the seals, not a single sound had come from behind him.

No questions, no footsteps, not even a stifled sigh or heavy breath.

Silence.

A silence like death.

Only the distant drip of water from the cave’s depths and his own slightly heavy panting from the failed attempts.

A chill shot up from Lu Yuan’s tailbone to the crown of his head!

He swung his head and looked toward the place where Hu Huxu had been standing.

In the dimness, aided by a faint, indeterminate light coming from the cave’s depths, Lu Yuan saw Hu Huxu.

He simply stood there, only four or five steps away.

He did not appear anxious, did not approach or ask anything.

He stood silently, his bent silhouette thrown into a warped shadow by the weak light.

And his face...

When Lu Yuan's light shone onto Hu Huxu’s face, his heart felt seized by a cold hand, his breathing constricted!

That round face that had so recently been written with guileless sincerity, despair, resolve, even gratitude and trust—had completely changed.

Every expression was gone.

Guileless, despair, gratitude, trust...

These emotions were washed away as if scrubbed clean.

In their place was a near-numb calm.

No— not calm—an utter, bone-deep indifference.

What chilled Lu Yuan most was those eyes.

Hu Huxu’s eyes, which had usually been weary and cloudy but occasionally showed complex feelings, now quietly stared at him.

There was no surprise, no worry, no reaction at all to the sudden fact of “Lu Daoist Priest’s zhenran being locked.”

Only an abyssal darkness, and within that darkness...

an almost imperceptible, icy glint, a coldness like a snake sizing up its prey... a malicious mockery.

He stood and watched Lu Yuan, watched the futile struggles, the attempts, the failures,

and the corner of his mouth seemed to twitch up, forming a faint, uncanny arc that made the hairs on Lu Yuan’s arms stand up.

That was not Hu Huxu!

At least not the Hu Huxu Lu Yuan knew—the man who’d wept over his wife’s spirit being freed,

who’d risked his life to repay a debt of gratitude by coming into this death pit with him, who clumsily comforted his daughters and nagged about funeral arrangements—the head of the Hu family of Continuing the Lamp!

A terrifying thought crawled up Lu Yuan’s spine and made his scalp prickle.

He recalled all along the way Hu Huxu’s various “cooperations.”

He recalled his “honesty” about the matter of his wife’s spirit.

He recalled the “full disclosure” of Liu family intelligence.

He recalled how Hu Huxu “just so” stopped him from barging into a black stone hut, then “timely” led him to this “real” entrance.

A dreadful possibility surged: could this have been a setup from the start?

A larger, more intricate trap targeted at him—Lu Yuan—or more broadly at the Daoist rescuers?

And Hu Huxu... from beginning to end, was he the most lethal, most concealed link in that trap?!

Lu Yuan stared hard at the indifferent figure a few steps away, at the cold eyes of the “Hu Huxu.”

His body trembled slightly from shock; the sharp pain at his right hand’s bandage felt almost numb.

Only a bone-chilling cold spread from his heart to his limbs.

“It seems...”

“I was tricked.”

Lu Yuan spoke first.

His voice echoed in the silent cave, flat and emotionless, like stating a fact no longer related to him.

The shock, fright, and anger that had been on his face had ebbed away like a receding tide.

Only a deep, still pool remained.

Lu Yuan slowly rose, his movements stiff and slow from his locked zhenran and injuries.

But he straightened his back and fixed his self-light on the Hu Huxu who seemed like a different person.

The mocking cold on Hu Huxu’s face seemed to deepen when Lu Yuan spoke.

He did not answer immediately, merely tilted his head slightly, regarding Lu Yuan with the kind of appraisal reserved for inspecting an object.

His eyes roved up and down Lu Yuan, as if evaluating how many secret cards lay behind the admission of being deceived.

Or rather, how many... futile, dying struggles.

A low, nasal chuckle finally escaped Hu Huxu’s throat.

This laugh was nothing like his previous guileless or despairing tone; it carried condescension and derision.

“Daoist Lu, your reaction is steadier than I expected.”

Hu Huxu spoke, his voice still that familiar accent from beyond the Great Wall,

but the tone was icy, devoid of any human warmth.

“I thought you’d either curse aloud or refuse to believe.”

“Or... try to fight me to the death.”

Lu Yuan said nothing, only studied him quietly with deep eyes, as if trying to pierce the skin and see the soul beneath.

Seeing Lu Yuan so calm, Hu Huxu seemed bored.

Or perhaps, confident of victory, he no longer needed any pretense.

He stepped forward a little, the cold and cunning mixing more clearly on his round face.

“Right, it is a scheme.”

Hu Huxu nodded.

“It began when you came to my door, or perhaps even earlier.”

Lu Yuan finally spoke, his voice still calm.

“Including the thing about your wife’s spirit?”

“Including the junk in your yard—the Soul-Locking Reverse Return Formation display?”

“Including that heart-wrenching performance on the back mountain?”

Hu Huxu’s mouth twitched as if to make a nostalgic expression, but it formed into a grotesque contortion instead.

“Xiu’e’s matter was true.”

“She died in childbirth, and her spirit had problems. I tried everything but couldn’t keep her. That’s true.”

“The junk in the yard, I did mess about with it—trying to leave behind something to hold onto her last traces. That’s true too.”

“Of course... my pity for Yangyang and Tutu was real.”

He paused. A flash of complex feeling crossed his eyes, then an even deeper cold covered it.

“But those ‘truths’ don’t prevent me from weaving them into a story you would believe.”

“A portrait of a desperate head of household, ruined and driven to seek only his wife’s release, willing to pay any price.”

“You believed it, didn’t you?”

“You believed in my despair, believed in my gratitude, believed I’d betray the Ten Families’ blood oath to repay you by bringing you into this dragon pit and tiger den.”

Hu Huxu shook his head, and the mockery on his face sharpened:

“Daoist Lu, you are still too young, too naïve.”

“Are the blood oaths between the Ten Families so easily broken?”

“If any person, for a little private feeling or a small favor, could easily betray and disclose family secrets, even lead outsiders in to strike…”

“Then what reason would our Ten Families beyond the Great Wall have to maintain a foothold on this land for hundreds of years?”