Chapter 913: Zhang Family Unrest

On the second day of the second month, the Dragon Raises Its Head—it is the Spring Plowing Festival.

The state's greatest affairs lie in sacrifice and war; every year on the Spring Plowing Festival, the nation holds rituals to pray for favorable winds and rains, and a bountiful harvest.

In past years, such grand ceremonies were presided over either by Zhang True Person or the Director of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau.

This year, Pan Yun is presiding.

But apart from the state rites, the Celestial Masters' Mansion also holds its own annual sacrifice at Long Hushan without fail.

Other Daoist temples across the land often emulate this, so Long Hushan's academic term always begins after February.

How could one not perform the sacrifice?

By now, Pan Yun was no longer dizzy; she gathered her vital energy, compressed all her power into her Upper Dantian, and stepped into the barrier as if she were an ordinary person.

Indeed, she actually stepped right in.

Pan Yun exhaled in relief and immediately flew toward Long Hushan.

She dared not use the Three Treasures Cauldron or her sword to fly—she simply ran along the road using lightness skill, legs pumping.

Half an hour later, she entered Shangqing Town.

After the second day of the second month, the busy farming season begins; everyone is working in the fields, and the streets are nearly empty.

Add to that the fact that Long Hushan has not yet reopened for term, and the streets are even quieter.

Yet the shops remained open—though apart from the Shopkeeper and apprentices, not a single customer was present.

So when Pan Yun suddenly flew into the main street, her feet tapping lightly on the archway before landing, she drew intense attention.

The Shopkeepers spun around sharply; once they recognized her, their harsh gazes softened into warm smiles, and as she turned to look their way, they gave her a slight nod in greeting.

Do I know them?

A question flashed through Pan Yun's mind.

Though Shangqing Town is small, she had visited every shop here over the past few years—but she rarely spoke to the Shopkeepers.

And with so many students here, they shouldn't know her, right?

This was merely Pan Yun's assumption; in truth, every Shopkeeper and apprentice on this street knew her—and her three junior disciples—perfectly well.

Though puzzled, Pan Yun still smiled and nodded back, then turned her gaze to the empty street.

The Shopkeepers, now turned away from Pan Yun, immediately changed expression—Oh no, oh no, another demon has come.

But soon, their faces relaxed again; they muttered inwardly: Come, come, make a ruckus, make a ruckus—get it over with quickly.

Pan Yun stood defiantly in the center of the street, one hand on her hip, watching for a while; realizing not a single customer remained, she thought for a moment, then turned to seek out shop owners for information.

The moment she moved, the Shopkeepers who had been sneaking glances at her flinched—forgetting to signal their apprentices, they leapt forward, slammed their doors shut with a bang, and locked them from within.

Pan Yun paused slightly, then turned toward the next shop.

The Shopkeepers of other shops all shut their doors.

Soon, five or six shops in front of and behind Pan Yun were all closed.

Perhaps the slamming doors were too loud—distant shops had people peeking out to see.

Pan Yun looked over; the moment their eyes met, every head snapped back with a hiss, followed by a chorus of bangs—within moments, every door on the street was shut.

Even the Divine Inn had closed its gates and extinguished its lanterns.

Pan Yun stood frozen, then finally found her voice: "What did Fourth Sister do to cause this?"

Pan Xiaohei: "Maybe it's your fault? After all, you're the State Advisor now."

"If they recognized me as State Advisor, wouldn't they be rushing to flatter me right now?" Pan Yun firmly refused to accept blame.

She stood still, sinking her mind to check her inventory of talismans and the explosives she'd taken from the Ministry of Military Equipment.

While helping the Ministry refine cannon barrels and casings, she'd heard an official mention, "The explosive's power isn't enough," so she cheerfully improved their formula.

Because the manufacturing methods differed and purity was hard to control to match the original, she collaborated with the craftsmen to revise the formula.

She aimed to achieve the original explosive's power using current technology.

Many failures occurred during testing.

Each failed batch could blow an entire room to dust with a single detonation.

This was one reason why gunpowder formulas advanced so slowly.

Gunpowder experiments were too dangerous.

This time, progress went smoothly because Pan Yun was present—she could instantly detect the explosive's reactivity and slap a barrier talisman on it just before detonation, halting it manually.

But like a battery's insulating sticker, once removed, the battery connects to the device and activates instantly.

These explosive tubes, wrapped tightly and sealed with only a single yellow talisman, worked the same way—remove the talisman, and they explode the next instant.

Their detonation speed was faster than hand grenades or fuses on cannons—immediate, no delay.

Pan Yun singled out all these failed batches and placed them within easy reach.

Then she stuffed a pile of talismans into her sleeves, chest, pockets, shoes—even folded one and tucked it into her hair.

Pan Xiaohei covered its face with a paw, mortified: "Thank heaven no one saw."

Pan Yun: "Even if they did, I wouldn't be ashamed—isn't fearing death natural for a cultivator?"

Pan Xiaohei: "You're one step from Second Marquis—what are you afraid of?"

Pan Yun glanced at it: "Overconfident? I may be State Advisor, but I know my limits—there are mountains beyond mountains, people beyond people. Can I defeat my Senior Brother? Can I defeat Elder Zhang in the Imperial Palace?"

Pan Yun drew her sword and gripped it: "The Zhang family has a thousand-year legacy—who knows what monsters or Laozu they still keep hidden?"

Pan Xiaohei: "Then why go to the Celestial Masters' Mansion at all?"

Pan Yun gazed toward the Celestial Masters' Mansion, her eyes resolute: "Even if I can't defeat them, Fourth Sister and Third Brother may be inside—I must go see."

Pan Xiaohei: "Even if it means death?"

Pan Yun: "Who among us lives forever?"

"You just said you feared death."

One person and one cat walked toward the Masters' Mansion, bickering as they went: "I'm afraid of death, but some things matter more than life."

Pan Xiaohei: "This is your second time nearly getting yourself killed."

Pan Yun paid no mind and walked to the front gate of the Masters' Mansion.

She looked up at the plaque and the mighty stone lions before the gate.

It was barely the hour of Wei, yet the mansion's gates were tightly shut, not a single sound coming from within—as if it were an abandoned house, an obvious anomaly any passerby could see.

Yet the old farmer tilling the fields below the mountain knew nothing of it.

Then again, there were two hours' walk between them; he was probably a villager from some hamlet at the foot of the mountain, never coming up to Shangqing Town.

Pan Yun stood before the gate, admiring the stone lions and the plaque; seeing no one emerge to acknowledge her, she had no choice but to step forward and knock.

Her hand had barely reached out when it felt as if pressed against a thin film; she raised an eyebrow, gently touched it, then pressed again.

She found her hand could press against the transparent film and touch the gate, but could not pierce through it.

This was a high-level formation.

Pan Yun pretended ignorance and pounded on the gate with both fists.

Perhaps the formation detected her Yuan energy—her knocks were loud, yet the sound that emerged was faint and muffled; even standing right before it, Pan Yun struggled to hear it clearly, let alone know if anyone inside could hear.

She kept knocking, and when no one answered, she shouted toward the gate as she pounded: "Is anyone there? Anyone? Senior brothers, senior sisters, uncles, aunts—I've returned from my trials and come to report!"

After knocking for a long time without reply, she pressed her ear against the film, listening for movement inside.

But she suspected the formation also had soundproofing properties—how could such a vast mansion produce not a single sound while she stood right here?

Pan Yun pulled back her head, lowered her gaze in thought for a moment, then stepped back three paces.

Pan Xiaohei, perched on her shoulder, trembled violently and hurriedly stopped her: "Y-you—you're not going to—?"

"Break the formation," Pan Yun said solemnly. "Today isn't a day off. The Masters' Mansion has its gates shut and its formation activated—no one knows if Uncle, Aunt, Senior Brother, or Senior Sister are in danger. For the Daoist lineage of Great Ming, I must get inside."

Pan Xiaohei stared at the explosive tube in her hand: "... But you don't need explosives, do you?"

"The Masters' Mansion is huge—if I walk all the way around to find the formation's core, how long will that take?" Pan Yun had already placed the explosive against the gate, pressed right against the formation.

"My experience tells me: act early, don't delay!"

Pan Yun pulled out a bottle of paste and a thread, stuck the thread to the paste; after a moment's thought, fearing one tube might not be enough, she pulled out another and placed it on the opposite side, repeating the process.

She carefully tugged both threads backward, retreating twenty meters, then pulled out two cotton plugs and stuffed them into her ears.

Gripping the threads tightly, before Pan Xiaohei could say another word, she yanked hard—two talismans snapped free, and in the next instant, two thunderous booms shook heaven and earth, making the entire Shangqing Town tremble.

Pan Yun shielded her eyes with her sleeve as smoke obscured her vision, but her sharp eyes still caught the film before the gate being blasted open into a gaping hole—only for it to immediately contract again...

The formation repairs itself!

Without hesitation, Pan Yun drew her sword and charged forward, rushing into the formation and kicking the gate with all her might.

The Masters' Mansion gate, unprotected by the formation, burst open under Pan Yun's Yuan-charged kick!

The gate crashed down with a bang; Pan Yun stepped through with sword in hand, and the disciples of the Masters' Mansion, standing in formation with swords drawn, watched her in silence.

Pan Yun stepped out of the smoke, saw them, paused, and her solemn expression instantly melted into a grin: "Senior brothers, senior sisters—you're here! You scared me half to death—I knocked and no one answered, I thought you were all dead—I—"

The lead youth cut her off with a blank expression: "Who are you?"

Pan Yun immediately grew serious, clasped her sword in salute: "Disciple Pan Yun, third-year student of Long Hushan, greets you all, senior brothers and sisters."

"A third-year student dares to blow up the Masters' Mansion?"

Pan Yun waved her hands frantically: "Senior brother, you misunderstand—I didn't come to blow up the Masters' Mansion! I came to report after my trials, knocked and got no answer, and found the strange formation outside—I feared for the safety of Uncle, Aunt, Senior Brother, and Senior Sister, so I was forced to break in..."

A voice suddenly erupted in their ears: "Sharp-tongued, unlike Zhang Li or Tao Ji—more like Wang Feiyin." The sword-wielding disciples lowered their hands and stood respectfully.

Pan Yun lowered her gaze, silently clenching her sword, her spine chilled.

She smiled, about to speak, when a distant voice, cold and detached, already said: "Bring her in."

The lead youth responded with a nod, looked up at Pan Yun, and stepped aside to invite her inside.

Pan Yun smiled, adjusted the token and jade pendants at her waist, and followed him.

They passed through courtyard after courtyard and many alleyways, finally reaching the rear area near the mountain.

There stood five large courtyards in a row.

Before each courtyard was a garden—though called a garden, it held little vegetation, only a vast open space, at its center stood a circular platform, upon which sat over twenty people, divided into two opposing factions.

Pan Yun immediately spotted Master Xuanmiao seated at the front.

Her face was pale, lips bloodless; Tao Ji sat behind her, watching anxiously.

Pan Yun's expression remained unchanged, her faint smile still in place; her gaze swept over Lin Jingle and Li Wenying behind them, then turned curiously to the people across from them.

Hmm—none looked familiar, but judging by their age and condition, they were no better off than Master Xuanmiao's side.

Pan Yun withdrew her gaze and followed the youth to the front of the platform, where two old Daoist Priests sat—both with white hair and beards, yet skin smooth and ruddy, fingers long and strong, veins faintly bulging on their backs, showing not a trace of age.

Most importantly, Pan Yun could not sense their cultivation depth at all.

Her smile grew more genuine as she followed the youth past Zhang Liuzhen.

Oh—Zhang Liuzhen sat cross-legged on the ground, pale-faced but smiling; beside him knelt a youth of similar age, whom Pan Yun had never seen, but whose face she had scanned and already guessed his identity.

He knelt beside Zhang Ziwang, who now had blood at the corner of his mouth, a deathly pale face, and faint breath—appearing on the verge of death.

Clearly, his heart meridian was damaged.

Pan Yun stepped past them, bowed respectfully to the two elders: "Disciple Pan Yun pays homage to you both, venerable elders."

"You are Wang Feiyin's little sister, Pan Yun?"

"That is this disciple."

Cross-legged, Zhang Liuzhen smiled: "Laozu, Sister Pan is still the State Preceptor of Great Ming—a favorite of Your Majesty."

The two Laozu showed no change in expression, but studied Pan Yun more intently.

The world had changed drastically; Great Ming had just endured a great crisis—they knew this.

In fact, they suspected Zhang Maocheng's death was tied to this great upheaval.

The Zhang clan head was closely tied to the Great Ming dragon vein, and Zhang Maocheng's decline was so swift that he might have sensed something was amiss long ago.

Both of them turned to look at Zhang Liuzhen.

Before Zhang Maocheng died, it was Zhang Liuzhen who had been by his side the whole time; only he knew the true situation.

No, there was one more person.

The two of them looked at Zhang Ziwang, pressed their oppressive aura over him, and said in a low voice, "Speak. What exactly happened?"

They had been roused from seclusion three days ago by the sound of killing.

The moment they came out, blood was flowing across the ground. The second branch claimed the clan head's death was suspicious—that he had been killed by the heir, Zhang Liuzhen—and was leading men to attack the main branch,

but they didn't know Zhang Liuzhen had long made preparations. After luring them into the urn, he cut off their retreat, and with inside and outside working together, he nearly had the second branch completely surrounded.

When the two Laozu Sect elders were startled out of seclusion, the second branch's Zhang Zhengchang had nearly died on the spot; at this moment he was leaning weakly against a chair nearby, sustaining his life with pills.