A Pawn's Passage

Seeing this scene, Zhang Juyan ignored his wounds and struggled forward with great difficulty.

This was his last chance—his only chance. If he missed it, even if his identity remained undiscovered, who knew how many years or decades he would have to wait before the Palace Master left the Wanxiang Daoist Palace again?

Yao Pei no longer paid attention to Zhang Juyan. Instead, she looked up at the amber enveloped in golden light.

Under the repelling force of the immense divine power, Yao Pei could not even approach Xingye Lake, let alone touch the amber.

The purple smoke rose into the air but did not continue ascending. Instead, it slowly spread outward, covering everything in its path.

At that moment, a voice murmured, “The spring colors in the woods fade too soon; the morning rain and evening winds are unbearable. Rouge-stained tears linger in drunken sorrow. When will we meet again? Life is but an endless regret, like the water that flows eastward.”

Qi Xuansu could not see anything around him. All he could hear was this verse from The Joy in Reunion. The Star Observation Deck and the Wanxiang Daoist Palace were nowhere in sight. Only the vast, all-encompassing purple mist remained, blotting out the heavens and earth.

As the crack in the amber widened further, a pillar of light shot upward. A faintly translucent figure emerged from within the radiant beam, both arms folded across her chest. The figure appeared to be a barefooted woman in deep slumber, clad in a Daoist hechang and a lotus crown, which was the uniform of a second-rank Taiyi Daoist master.

Seeing this, Zhang Juyan’s complexion turned even paler, devoid of all color, as if he had also become translucent. He opened his mouth, but only hoarse, rasping sounds escaped his throat.

In the next instant, a crimson arc of blood shot out of his mouth. This was the deadliest technique of the Taiyin 13 Swords—the Immortal Blood Sword.

With that final strike, Zhang Juyan, already gravely wounded, was utterly drained of life. His flesh withered away, leaving behind nothing but skin and bones.

He had transformed his entire essence and lifeblood into that one final sword strike, pouring them entirely into the woman’s body. His blood spread within her like ink dissolving into water.

The once-motionless woman stirred. Her form began to solidify, shifting from a semi-transparent illusion to a tangible being with flesh and blood.

She slowly stretched out her body. Her toes brushed lightly against the lake’s surface, sending ripples outward and spreading in ever-widening circles.

The woman appeared to be in her thirties, looking like a flawless sculpture crafted by the heavens, without the slightest imperfection. Her eyes remained closed, but her eyelashes quivered slightly. Her expression was serene, as though her earlier words had been nothing more than whispers from a fading dream.

Seeing this unfold, Yao Pei furrowed her brows.

She had miscalculated.

Yao Pei had deliberately spared Zhang Juyan’s life because she wanted a captive. Her instincts told her that Zhang Juyan was not just a pawn in the Ziguang Society and that he was someone of significant importance. In other words, Zhang Juyan was not like Pei Muyu, who was a recruited peripheral member. He was a core figure within the Ziguang Society, carrying countless secrets. Thus, capturing him alive would be an immense achievement, whether from the standpoint of the Daoist Order or that of the Quanzhen Sect.

But what she had not anticipated was that Zhang Juyan had already resigned himself to death. By the time he unleashed the Immortal Blood Sword, it was too late to stop him—nor did she have the power to do so. After all, she had a lower cultivation compared to Zhang Juyan.

This was also the greatest flaw of Heavenly Calculation. By forsaking emotions and desires, one could become as precise as a mechanical construct. Yet at critical moments, it failed to predict the erratic nature of human emotions—ultimately leading to miscalculations.

Qi Xuansu felt that something was amiss.

As someone who had personally experienced the great calamity of Jinling Prefecture and witnessed the divine descent of True Lord Siming, he could tell that what was unfolding before him was not quite the same.

At first, he and Yao Pei believed that the Ziguang Society’s objective was to steal divine power from the Confucian Sage statue at the bottom of Xingye Lake. Their reasoning was based on the fact that Qi Jianyuan had been sent to Wanxiang Daoist Palace to handle the matter. After all, there was no reason for Qi Jianyuan to deceive Yao Pei, who was his ally.

Later, they had come to believe that the Ziguang Society’s goal was to facilitate the divine descent of True Lord Ziguang. As the situation evolved, no matter how Zhang Juyan tried to mislead them, he had been pushed into a corner.

Thus, in their view, Zhang Juyan had only two choices—surrender or make a desperate gamble. His final decision seemed logical—sacrifice himself and use the divine power within the Confucian Sage statue beneath Xingye Lake to summon True Lord Ziguang to the Wanxiang Daoist Palace. In seeking life through death, he had pursued the only path left to him. This was precisely why Yao Pei had chosen to severely wound him instead of killing him outright.

But neither of them had expected that Zhang Juyan had a third option.

The woman took slow steps forward, leaving behind a trail of lotus-shaped ripples in her wake. With each step, a lotus bloomed.

As she continued forward, the purple mist gradually dispersed. When it cleared, Qi Xuansu realized that Xingye Lake now appeared significantly larger, stretching endlessly beyond the horizon.

Behind the woman where sky and water met, an enormous full moon was slowly rising. It was so massive that even though only half of its body had emerged above the horizon, it already dominated most of the sky, creating the illusion that it was close enough to touch. Such a sight might lead an uninformed observer to believe that True Lord Taiyin had descended.

This indirectly confirmed Qi Xuansu’s suspicions—this was not the descent of True Lord Ziguang.

At that very moment, a figure descended from the sky, landing on the shore of Xingye Lake.

“Yao Pei, step back. This is not something you can handle.” The person who arrived was none other than Sun Hewu.

Yao Pei did not act recklessly. Instead, she withdrew to Qi Xuansu’s side.

Only then did Sun Hewu turn his gaze toward the woman, unable to hide the shock in his eyes. “Zhang Wuhen, you’re still alive? Back then, on Yunjin Mountain, the Heavenly Preceptor clearly had you—”

Qi Xuansu was startled to hear this. Sun Hewu actually recognized this woman. Not only that, she appeared to be a member of the Zhang family.

Her name, Wuhen, meant no regrets. Yet, the verse from The Joy in Reunion she had just recited earlier was filled with lament. “Life is but an endless regret, like the water that flows eastward.”

Yao Pei murmured, “Feng, Qing, Yun, Jing, Shan, Shi, Wu, Ju...something doesn’t add up.”

“What’s wrong?” Qi Xuansu asked.

Yao Pei continued watching the woman, who was now walking slowly across the lake.

She first gave a brief explanation about True Lord Ziguang, then elaborated, “That was the Zhang family’s generational naming system. The Omniscient Sage who married True Lord Ziguang belonged to the Shan generation, so his child should have been from the Shi generation. This woman is from the Wu generation, while Zhang Juyan is from the Ju generation. There’s a missing key figure—something doesn’t add up. Even so, I think I’ve roughly figured out Zhang Juyan’s motives.”

Qi Xuansu also came to a realization.

Zhang Yuelu’s father belonged to the Ju generation, while the Heavenly Preceptor was from the generation before that, the Wu generation. Connecting this to the unfinished words of Sun Hewu, the truth became apparent—this matter likely involved an internal struggle within the Zhang family. It might even explain why Zhang Juyan had never practiced the Zhang family’s Five Thunder Celestial Heart Method and chose to study the Taiping Qingling Sutra of their longtime rivals, the Li family.

At the mention of the Heavenly Preceptor, the woman Sun Hewu had called Zhang Wuhen suddenly halted.

Her voice shifted abruptly, shedding its previous sorrow and turning cold and resolute. “Through past and present, the dust on the road beneath Mount Beimang buries the heroes of time. Life is but an endless regret, like the water that flows eastward. Who will share this silent sorrow as distant geese return to the skies? What use are unmatched glories when one wrongly blames the heavens? A thousand cups of wine cannot wash away the past. A true man walks his path without debating fate.”

As her words faded, the woman slowly opened her eyes. The previous serenity on her face vanished—only ruthless hostility remained.

It was as if she had only now awakened from that long and distant dream.

She did not immediately respond to Sun Hewu. Instead, her gaze fell upon Zhang Juyan’s desiccated corpse, grief flickering across her face. She lifted a hand gently, summoning Zhang Juyan’s weightless body into her embrace.

The woman was tall, and though Zhang Juyan’s shrunken corpse should have seemed grotesque in her arms, the sight was not at all absurd. She gently closed his lifeless eyes and murmured in a soft voice, “It has been a long time...my son.”

Zhang Juyan’s body slowly became translucent and ethereal before dissolving into countless specks of light, drifting away into the air. Then, all the scattered light particles merged into Zhang Wuhen’s body.

The mother-and-son pair were once again reunited as one.

Once Zhang Juyan’s body had completely vanished, Zhang Wuhen slowly lowered her hands and turned to face Sun Hewu. “So it’s you, Sun Hewu.”

Having served through the reign of three Grand Masters, Sun Hewu had met countless figures that existed only in legends and written records. Thus, he was well aware of many secrets buried deep within history’s forgotten pages.

“It’s me.” Sun Hewu’s expression was grave. “Weren’t you dead?”

“I was dead—but now I’m alive again,” Zhang Wuhen scoffed.

As she spoke, she pressed a hand against her chest. “That day, atop Yunjin Mountain’s Demon-Vanquishing Platform, Zhang Wushou cast aside our sibling bond and used the Heavenly Preceptor’s Twin Blades to destroy my physical body. The pain was so excruciating that I can still remember it vividly.”

Only now did Qi Xuansu learn that the Heavenly Preceptor’s name was Zhang Wushou and that he had a sister named Zhang Wuhen. Qi Xuansu had uncovered the names of both the Heavenly Preceptor Zhang Wushou and the Imperial Preceptor Li Changgeng. The only one left was the Earthly Preceptor, whom he only knew shared the same last name as Yao Pei.

Sun Hewu’s voice was low and firm. “Brother Wushou carried out justice, putting righteousness before family. You deserved your fate.”

“I deserved death?” Zhang Wuhen laughed. “The more one struggles, the shorter their lifespan. The heavens abhor excess. That name was personally given to him by the Great Sage Yan Feiqing. Zhang Wushou certainly lived up to Great Sage Yan and the Zhang ancestors’ expectations by becoming a loyal hound for the family and the Zhengyi Sect.”

Sun Hewu frowned. “Brother Wushou is the current leader of the Zhengyi Sect and the Heavenly Preceptor of this generation. He is one of the three Deputy Grand Masters of the Daoist Order. Above all, he is your brother, not a mere hound for the Zhang family or the Zhengyi Sect.”

Zhang Wuhen replied indifferently, “His greatest purpose is sustaining the Zhang family and Zhengyi Sect’s existence. Just as maintaining the Daoist Order’s existence is the greatest purpose for all of you.”

Sun Hewu retorted, “Then does your existence only hold meaning if the Daoist Order is destroyed?”

Zhang Wuhen did not answer. Instead, she raised her hand. Countless strands of moonlight converged into her palm, coalescing into a single, radiant point of light that she held in her grasp.