Chapter Eighty-Four: Jade Void Kunlun, Alchemy Cauldron Dragon Gate

The light and shadow on the pebble were incredibly arrogant, circling about and hurling insults.

"You mere mortals, how dare you imprison me in a cage? You must be tired of living!"

This light and shadow was no ordinary thing. Zhong Ming frowned in thought, not daring to talk back, and could only endure the barrage of abuse. Zhang Daozhen was even more hesitant; he covered his swollen, blackened face and remained silent, his expression obscured by the charred skin. Seeing his master unresponsive, the young Daoist Zhang Nianchen was at a complete loss and began bowing repeatedly to the light, offering his apologies.

Perhaps finding Zhang Nianchen’s apologies palatable, the light and shadow huffed with haughty disdain: "A bunch of ignorant, dim-witted fools..."

Just then, the wooden door of the small hut creaked open. A streak of yellow light shot out, arriving before the light and shadow in the blink of an eye.

A massive bronze sword hummed, its tip pointed directly at the head of the light and shadow, silencing its curses instantly. The area around the giant blade rippled, the tip trembling slightly as if it could pierce the phantom at any moment.

No longer daring to curse, the indistinct figure slowly solidified. It whispered, "The immortal sword Jueque... could it be that there is a Great Sword Immortal from Sword Cliff here?"

The phantom had no face, but if it had possessed flesh and blood, Zhong Ming was certain it would be covered in cold sweat.

Yu Bai walked slowly from behind the wooden door. She glanced at the phantom, curled her lip, and said nothing.

Zhong Ming hurriedly called out, "Miss Yu Bai..."

"Shh! Keep it down!"

Yu Bai placed a finger to her lips, whispering a warning to Zhong Ming before pointing toward the house. "Li Wangye was just woken up by the noise and has only just fallen back asleep. Don't you dare wake him, or he'll start crying and making a scene again."

Yu Bai feared Li Wangye’s crying most of all; it was endless, and he was far less resilient than the little girl Feng Mufei.

Seeing Yu Bai’s cautious demeanor, Zhong Ming smiled. This girl was becoming more human, losing the icy, condescending air she had worn when she first arrived. Especially since he had offered her some guidance yesterday, her attitude toward him had improved significantly.

The phantom, however, was a tactless creature. It quickly spoke up, "I was unaware that a fellow Daoist from Sword Cliff was present. I am—"

Before it could finish, the massive bronze sword struck the phantom sideways, sending it flying back into the alchemy furnace. Before it could scramble up, the giant blade pressed its tip against it again.

Yu Bai’s expression was sour. She walked to the stone table and sneered, "Did I tell you to speak?"

The phantom was furious and growled, "I am a disciple of the Yuxu lineage of the Kunlun Palace! You Sword Immortal, why do you refuse to listen? Why are you so unreasonable?"

"Reasonable? Have you ever heard of anyone from Sword Cliff being reasonable?"

Yu Bai pointed at the phantom. "You weren't being reasonable when you were attacking people earlier. I don't care where you're from; you stay right there. If you dare move a muscle, I guarantee Jueque will scatter your soul into nothingness."

The three of them listened to the exchange in bewilderment, but it was clear that the phantom was terrified of Yu Bai—or, more accurately, of the massive bronze sword.

As expected, the phantom did not dare utter another word, locking itself within the furnace and remaining perfectly still.

Only then did Yu Bai yawn. She commanded the giant sword, "Keep a close watch on that thing. If it escapes, don't bother following me anymore—just go back to Sword Cliff!"

The bronze sword shuddered in agreement, its tip pushing forward another fraction of an inch, coming within a hair’s breadth of slicing the phantom. The phantom froze even more rigidly.

Zhong Ming asked awkwardly, "Miss Yu Bai, what exactly is that thing?"

"A soul that was driven to abandon its physical body. Pay it no mind."

Yawning again, Yu Bai turned to walk back into the house, saying indifferently, "Making such a racket in the middle of the night... I’m sleepy. We’ll talk about it tomorrow morning."

As Yu Bai retreated into the house, Zhong Ming and the two Daoists were left staring at each other.

Suspecting that Yu Bai was intentionally leaving the phantom to cool its heels and dampen its arrogance, Zhong Ming cleared his throat. "Old Daoist Zhang, let us find a place to rest for a while as well."

Zhang Daozhen nodded thoughtfully and followed Zhong Ming out of the small courtyard without another word.

Only the shivering phantom and the dutiful bronze sword remained in the yard. A night breeze blew, causing the small willow branches in the corner to sway and rustle with a cheerful sound.

...

Zhong Ming led Zhang Daozhen and his disciple toward the east end of the village, arriving at the home of Li the Carpenter.

Li Jianye had marched into the city wearing dragon robes; he was likely already heading toward Luoyang. He would probably never have the chance to return to this house again in his life.

Since it was going to be abandoned anyway, it might as well be put to use.

Making the most of everything was the golden rule of Wuni Village. Residents had come and gone in waves, but the houses had never stood empty, even for someone like the late Crown Prince Li Jianye.

To Zhong Ming, Li Jianye was merely a passerby, and a troublesome one at that.

This hut was likely the largest in Wuni Village. Because Li the Carpenter had a large family, the house was more spacious, divided into three rooms: a main hall, a bedroom for the couple and their youngest son, and another for Li Guangling and Li Wangye.

Though only left for a day, the house already felt chilly, its warmth slowly dissipating.

Zhong Ming lit an oil lamp, and the three sat around the wooden table in the hall.

The room stirred emotions in Zhong Ming. In the corners lay small trinkets Li the Carpenter used to carve—flowers, birds, beasts, and all sorts of figures. Zhong Ming crouched to look and found carvings of Hu Su, the carpenter himself, various depictions of the carpenter's wife, and even statues of himself.

There were many carvings of Zhong Ming—thirteen in total. Unlike the various poses of the carpenter's wife, these statues all depicted Zhong Ming in scholar’s robes, standing with his hands behind his back, lined up side by side like a row of legendary sages.

As Zhong Ming stared blankly at the statues, Zhang Nianchen asked curiously, "Layman Zhong, why are there so many wood carvings of you in Li the Carpenter’s house?"

Zhong Ming smiled and tossed the carvings back into the corner. "This carpenter was a devious one. Ever since he moved to the village, he was always scheming against me. I suspect he carved these while he sat there plotting."

Scratching his head, Zhang Nianchen didn't quite grasp the implication. He scanned the room and asked, "Where is Li the Carpenter’s family? I recall seeing them in the village just a few days ago."

The two Daoists had been secluded in their hut, busy with alchemy, and had been unaware of the village's recent events.

Zhong Ming’s smile faded. "I drove them away."

Not understanding, Zhang Nianchen felt awkward. He tried to force a polite smile but failed, staring at Zhong Ming in surprise instead.

"On this trip to Luoyang, I only hope Li the Carpenter can survive..."

Zhong Ming sighed and turned to talk to Zhang Daozhen, unwilling to dwell on the subject with Zhang Nianchen.

The family of Li the Carpenter would remain a hurdle in Zhong Ming’s heart—perhaps for a lifetime, perhaps half. He needed to find someone or a way to resolve his inner conflict before he could face Li Jianye again.

Turning his gaze to the distracted Zhang Daozhen, Zhong Ming asked, "Old Daoist, what are you thinking about?"

The old Daoist snapped back to reality, tucked his hands into his sleeves, and murmured, "If I am not mistaken, that soul earlier has a deep connection to our Dan Ding Sect."

Zhong Ming pressed, "How so?"

Zhang Daozhen looked at Zhong Ming with his vacant eyes and recounted a secret history that traced back to the origins of the Dan Ding Sect.

The world knew the sect was founded by the Daoist Patriarch Zhang Daoling, and the sect did not worship ghosts or gods; their temples enshrined only painted statues of Zhang Daoling and tablets of past masters.

Zhang Daoling was a peerless genius of his time, but the Daoist path was long and ancient. Just because Zhang Daoling founded the Dan Ding Sect did not mean he founded the entire Daoist tradition; there were predecessors before him.

The most famous of these lineages was the Yuxu lineage. Zhang Daozhen had read in ancient texts that the Daoist Patriarch Zhang Daoling was himself a successor of the Yuxu lineage.

The story was inevitably eerie. The founder of the Dan Ding Sect a millennium ago was a successor of the Yuxu lineage, and now the true Yuxu lineage had returned to the world. Was it a coincidence, or was there truly a profound connection?

Beyond this, Zhong Ming had a question he couldn't share. In his past life—on Earth—he had some understanding of Daoist culture. Both the Dan Ding Sect and the Yuxu lineage appeared in the history of Chinese Daoism. According to legend, the Yuxu lineage was under the Primordial Heavenly Lord (Yuanshi Tianzun), with many disciples, and the Dan Ding Sect was also a successor, though separated by vast stretches of time.

Between his past and present life, some things seemed to overlap in shadow. Zhong Ming could not yet grasp the reason.

Zhang Daozhen sighed. "It is indeed a fellow traveler of the Yuxu sect, though this predecessor’s cultivation far exceeds ours. Our Daoist levels differ from those of your martial arts world. I judge that this senior, despite the death of his physical body, has a soul that remains intact; he must be at least at the Nascent Infant stage."

Zhong Ming, who had always been confused by the complex levels of cultivation, took this opportunity to ask how the Daoist stages differed from the martial arts realm.

Martial arts internal strength was simple: the Qi-Seeking stage had nine strands of true energy, which then entered the Layered Strength stage, divided into two realms: Earth Fiend and Heavenly Dipper.

The Earth Fiend realm required between nine and seventy-two strands of true energy in the dantian; surpassing seventy-two led to the Heavenly Dipper realm. There was no limit to Layered Strength, depending on talent and practice. The strongest known Heavenly Dipper was the old Sword God Su Tingyou, who in his prime possessed 179 layers.

The Daoist path was more refined and varied, generally divided into six stages: Qi Condensation, Force Consolidation, Core Gathering, Nascent Infant, Life-Striving, and Void Wandering.

The first two were similar to martial arts. One had to gather eighty-one strands of spiritual energy before using secret techniques to form a Golden Core, then break the core to form a Nascent Infant. It was said that an immortal at the Nascent Infant stage had a spiritual infant of condensed soul energy in their dantian, allowing their soul to persist even if the body perished.

"My Dan Ding Sect has been passed down for a thousand years, but since the second generation, our techniques have been incomplete. Aside from the first half of the Core Gathering stage, no one has been able to reach the Nascent Infant level."

Zhong Ming frowned. "So, the fellow in the alchemy furnace is quite the expert."

"Whether he is an expert is no longer important. He was beaten until his soul fled. I suspect that when I was refining the alchemy, the massive spiritual energy of the stone essence caused that senior to drift into the furnace, and by coincidence, he became lodged in the finished pill."

Zhong Ming wasn't sure if what Zhang Daozhen had refined was actually a pill—it looked like a rock, and he wasn't sure if it was edible.

Seeming to read his mind, Zhang Daozhen smiled. "Layman Zhong, rest assured. The pill is definitely refined. There are two types: Yang Pills, which are medicinal, and Yin Pills, which are mostly inedible but can be driven by secret techniques to ward off evil, like my Profound-Yellow Pills."

Zhong Ming understood: this time, the old Daoist had forged a weapon, not a snack.

He thought to himself: *It’s a good thing I didn't pin all my hopes on this old Daoist’s pill to cure my dantian ailment.*

"I have learned much," Zhong Ming said, cupping his hands.

He was happy to hear the secret history of the sect, but he was tired. "Let us rest and talk more tomorrow."

"Agreed."

Zhang Daozhen nodded. Zhang Nianchen, who had been yawning beside him, stretched. "Master, let’s get some sleep."

As Zhong Ming stood up to walk to the side room, Zhang Daozhen added, "Layman Zhong, get a good rest. Tomorrow, I would like you to fulfill your promise."

Zhong Ming paused. He knew the old Daoist was referring to the "life-borrowing" for Zhang Nianchen. It had been delayed for too long, pushed aside by the events of the day.

Taking a deep breath, he felt a tightness in his chest. "Rest assured, Daoist. My word is my bond. You just need to prepare."

"If this is resolved, I will have no regrets in death," Zhang Daozhen sighed.

"Master, what are you saying?" Zhang Nianchen retorted angrily. "You are in such good health, stop saying such useless things!"

Zhang Daozhen smiled but said nothing. He knew his own body best—he had at most three to five years left. After the life-borrowing, he might not even have two.

Zhong Ming didn't listen to the argument. He walked into the side room, lay on the bed, and tossed and turned. The concept of "life-borrowing" sounded eerie and terrifying. He was a normal man, and despite his martial arts, he felt a deep, instinctive dread.

The lamp in the hall was blown out, but Zhong Ming still couldn't sleep. He stared at the starry sky through the wooden window.

Suddenly, the curtain lifted, and Zhang Nianchen’s small head peeked in. "Layman Zhong, are you asleep?"

"No. What is it, little Daoist?"

Zhang Nianchen hugged his pillow and climbed onto the earthen bed, lying down beside Zhong Ming. "It’s nothing major. It’s just that since Master said we are doing the life-borrowing tomorrow, I’m nervous."

Zhong Ming laughed softly. "I’m the one lending you my life, not the other way around. Why are you afraid?"

"It’s because of that... I feel guilty. Master said that once I borrow your life, I will be tethered to your fate. We will be two people sharing one life. I’m afraid I will implicate you in something."

Zhong Ming turned his back to the boy, but he could imagine his frown. He sat up and patted Zhang Nianchen. "Tell me what’s bothering you. It’ll feel better to get it off your chest."

"Layman Zhong, Master said I can't tell outsiders..."

"Speak. From now on, we aren't outsiders. We share a fate—closer than brothers. How could we be outsiders?"

Zhang Nianchen hesitated, then bit his lip. "You’re right. I’ll tell you."

In the other room, Zhang Daozhen sat in meditation, murmuring softly, "Silly disciple, you truly have the fortune of the simple-minded. Layman Zhong is a good man."