Starting Cultivation During a Trip

Chapter 74: Chapter 73: Together as a Family, Zhenwu Jade Scroll

Outside the material world, time’s secrets come naturally; who among mortals plumbs the depths of life and death?

This body was never truly mine; once divested of the human shell, I become a ghost god.

Golden radiance surges, nearly exhausting all of Jiang Hu’s True Yang...

This is his Talisman—also the reflection of his life: heavy sin upon his soul, cast into a wicked ghost, yet within his heart dwells the Dao, striving toward Immortal Gods.

In life, there is no pure black or white; there are petty pursuits, and also radiant grandeur.

That shadowy blur of black and white envelopes me alone—who can say I do not belong amidst them?

Drop by drop, all converges here; it is like the boundless Heavenly Dao: whether good or evil, righteous or wicked... all are part of its wholeness.

No distinction, no fondness or aversion, letting things flow as they will, manifesting as fate decrees.

The true self is sole and sovereign; I command the Ghost Gods by name!

Yet, this was not what shocked all most.

”His Primordial Spirit can actually harbor an invisible Talisman?” Qi Ji’s gaze trembled, fixed unwaveringly upon Zhang Fan’s Primordial Spirit.

If Jiang Hu’s previous step had swayed him, then the marvel displayed by Zhang Fan’s Primordial Spirit now was truly staggering.

The Ghost Sect’s gates yawn open wide, divine light bursting forth, as Yin and Yang turn, mirroring the mortal world’s good and evil!

Zhang Fan’s Primordial Spirit shimmered with unprecedented brilliance, as if black and white were wild, intermingling streams—no longer so stark and distinct.

”Zhang Fan... what is he truly?”

Qi Ji’s eyes rounded, filled only with unfathomable awe.

Rumble...

Five long rainbows arced through night’s curtain, kindling scorching flames, charging straight for Jiang Hu’s position.

Zhang Fan’s Primordial Spirit, like a lance of light, stood defiant before them.

Boom, boom, boom...

Several bursts shattered the air; five dragons turned and wheeled, fiery light splintered—amidst the rolling waves of heat, Zhang Fan’s Primordial Spirit remained unmoved; the runes branded upon it faded, disintegrating like dust and sand, slowly drifting away.

”I lost...”

Qi Ji shut his eyes tightly, his face drained ashen pale; his body slackened, sinking slowly to the earth.

Here, in the magical combat, he was utterly spent.

Now, all he could do was shakily fumble out his phone and dial a number...

”Victory!”

Zhang Fan’s Primordial Spirit returned to his body’s acupoints; yet his shadowed gaze drifted far, settling upon Shen Qingli, clothed in mourning black.

”Will you not act?”

”Zhang Fan, the fate of the Profound Mirror Treasure Talisman is my fate.” Shen Qingli shook her head.

At that moment, Jiang Hu, staggering on unsure feet, came before Qi Ji and gazed down at him.

”You won... but you can change nothing...” Qi Ji murmured hoarsely.

Now, he was forced to admit: a hidden edge lay within Jiang Hu, veiled to his eyes.

Even so, he would not accept defeat, nor the bitter consequences it brought.

Jiang Hu said nothing, simply turning toward the Refining Talisman Temple.

”Where are you going?” Qi Ji asked, lifting his head with effort.

Receiving no reply, under smoky firelight Jiang Hu’s retreating figure was more solitary than ever before.

Just then, he stumbled—nearly collapsed to the ground.

”Take your rest now.”

Suddenly, a broad hand barred his way, steadying his faltering body.

”Zhang Fan...”

Jiang Hu started, surprise flickering across his face; then he shook his head gently. ”I can save them.”

”I know—trade your life for theirs!”

The words struck, Jiang Hu’s pupils contracted tight, startled as he gazed at Zhang Fan.

”Let me do it...”

”You?” Jiang Hu’s brows bunched tight.

”There are things I must prove for myself.”

As he spoke, Zhang Fan’s hand swept up—like a sharpened blade, dropping to strike Jiang Hu’s neck; Jiang Hu crumpled instantly to the ground.

”Will you kill those two bastards?”

Zhang Fan turned to Shen Qingli.

”You’ll die,” Shen Qingli frowned faintly.

”Seems not.”

Zhang Fan rose, entering the Refining Talisman Temple; the doors wide-flung, a reek assaulted him—stale and fetid, as if rotting flesh, as if maggots burrowing, all brewing in festering damp.

Bodies sprawled across the ground—some beheaded, some limbless, some prey to predation, their flesh gnawed and torn...

”Once the runes are planted, the Consciousness is smothered; seven emotions and six desires are severed.”

Shen Qingli’s words echoed in Zhang Fan’s mind. These people, marked by the Profound Mirror Treasure Talisman, had their Consciousness suppressed; some rendered but walking corpses.

Some, their seven emotions and six desires not wholly cut, instead found certain aspects grotesquely magnified.

The runes wrought by the Profound Mirror Treasure Talisman act like a virus; each body’s response and state unique in individual difference.

They are like viral offspring; as infection spreads, these souls are the primal virus’s nutrients.

The primal virus thus merges with the Primordial Spirit itself.

In other words, as long as hosts are infinite, immortality is unbroken.

In the temple’s depths, some huddled in confusion, collapsed limply, eyes void, soulless...

Some, their Primordial Spirits already undergoing fission, devouring one another...

Others, untouched by runes, yet with all strength lost, like lambs set upon the slaughter line, awaiting the Profound Mirror Treasure Talisman’s final transformation.

Strangest of all: these people seemed not to see Zhang Fan, instead parting to make him passage.

In the temple’s farthest heart, the great furnace—once never extinguished—had collapsed, flames gone, blackened coals strewn everywhere.

”Zhang Fan... you are the youth at Jiang Hu’s side.”

An aged voice resounded within the dusky chamber. Zhang Fan saw—a lump, yes, call it a lump—a mighty mass of flesh undulated, its skin sloughing off, yet always renewing, just like a molting serpent.

That viscous, gleaming red flesh fused seamlessly with the wheelchair beneath—no boundary, inseparable.

And most grotesque—upon that mass, two faces: one aged utterly, and the other, Shen Xiangrong.

Upon their chests, the mysterious tortoise shell—gathered with original runes of the Profound Mirror Treasure Talisman.

”Boy? Surnamed Zhang? All those named Zhang deserve death...” The aged visage grinned with vicious glee.

”You have turned monster!”

Zhang Fan’s brow furrowed; revulsion twisting within him, he silently swore never again to eat braised lion’s head meatballs in this life.

”This is evolution... or, the metamorphosis requisite for a true Immortal...”

The ancient face flashed with biting ridicule in its gaze.

”Heaven and earth are boundless; human lifespans at a hundred, still but mayflies—born at dawn, gone by dusk...”

”Because of this, they mate—striving to continue the family line through progeny...”

”But the Immortals are different—lasting for ages unending, any divergence only saps their strength...” The aged face seemed to pierce all Celestial Secrets.

If human procreation gives rise to tens of thousands from the one, that too is longevity—of a kind.

But true Immortality reverses that flow: scattered bloodlines must be conjoined into one.

And in that hour, that is genuine longevity.

”Follow the current to be human; rebel against it to become Immortal... The Shen Family’s blood too shall be joined as one.”

”This is the way of Immortality!”

”You are all but my elixirs...”

The aged face bore a hideous smile; with sudden violence, a fleshy tendril spawned from the meat-mass, thrusting straight for Zhang Fan, who did not flinch, instead stepping forward to meet it.

That tendril bored directly into Zhang Fan’s chest.

”Young man, you are indeed unafraid of death.”

The ancient visage sneered; the Profound Mirror Treasure Talisman seemed possessed of its own will, exuding a weird, ghostly gleam; monstrous runes coursed up the tendril, burning themselves into Zhang Fan’s chest.

”Congratulations, you’ve become our elixir!” Shen Xiangrong’s face twisted in pleasure.

The more marked individuals, the more Primordial Spirits into which they could possess and rotate, sealing their own undying and indestructible fate.

”Either you die, or I live!”

Just then, blood welled at Zhang Fan’s lips—even as a madman’s smile broke across his countenance.

Buzz...

Suddenly, from his chest, a faintly shimmering sigil effused mysterious light, like a celestial scar cradling a perfect sphere.

”This is...”

”Let us see—will your Profound Mirror Treasure Talisman prove mightier, or my Zhenwu Jade Scroll!” Zhang Fan murmured softly in his heart.