Starting Cultivation During a Trip

Chapter 14: Chapter 14: Daoist Divine Techniques, Samadhi True Flame

For a thousand years, the Nanxuan Palace drifts in eternity, and Ancestor Lv’s Magic Sword holds the first rank in the arts.

Now, sudden firelight descends; the sword’s song startles like a dragon.

Upon the clifftop’s bitter edge, the peach wood sword that has stood in silence for six centuries emits a soft hum, shattering the wandering breeze, washing the moonlight bright and pure, the azure clouds shifting as if pausing to linger.

”Six hundred years... Six hundred years... Ancestor Master Chunyang left this sword here... Finally someone has stirred the Pure Yang True Intent...”

Deep within Nanxuan Palace, between sheer cliffs, a hidden cave resonates with a hoarse, deep voice, accompanied by the clashing of chains.

”Grandmaster Uncle... You... please be at ease...”

At that moment, by the cave mouth, a little Daoist tremblingly holds up a flashlight, peering into the depths, hesitating to enter, caution soft in his warning.

”Don’t be afraid... I am quite normal now...” the hoarse voice comes again.

The flickering lamplight stretches shadows long within the cave; in that instant, a withered figure slowly takes shape...

It’s a man, hair in wild disarray, gaunt to the bone, clothes tattered to near nothing, limbs shackled with heavy chains, nailed against the narrow cave’s wall...

Above his head, a stone carving of a lion’s skull, mouth gripping a seven-foot longsword, aimed straight at the withered man’s brow.

Lion with sword in jaws—demon-suppressing might!

”At Qingwei Palace... Did something happen today?” the withered man suddenly asks.

”To—today is the Jade Scroll Transmission ritual... Xia Weisheng, Senior Sister... She... is there...” the little Daoist stammers, voice trembling.

”Xia Weisheng? The little girl Senior Brother took as disciple... She is the one who awoke the Pure Yang True Intent? Such wondrous talent...” The withered man’s head lowers, hair like a veil, visage hidden.

”Come here... I’m a bit thirsty...”

The little Daoist hesitates, clutches his flashlight tighter, and just steps haltingly forward.

”Hahahaha...”

Suddenly, the withered man bursts into wild laughter, neck twisting serpent-like. He jerks up his head; on his forehead, chilling white bone is revealed, crimson eyes twisted and bloodshot. He opens his jaws, white teeth razor-sharp, snapping for the little Daoist’s throat...

Buzz...

Almost instantaneously, a large, broad hand seizes the little Daoist, jerking him violently backward.

The withered man lunges into emptiness; heavy chains clatter, snapping taut, yanking him back toward the stone.

Meanwhile, the sword in the lion’s mouth issues a sharp hum, like a beast’s roar, deafening the air...

”Kill... Kill them all... Then I shall become... I shall become... Pure Yang... Pure Yang...”

The withered man howls skyward, frenzied as one possessed. The lion’s sword drops, its tip piercing his scalp, crimson blood welling forth—at last, he grows quiet.

”S—senior brother...”

The little Daoist, still in fright, glances back to see a cold-faced Daoist standing behind him.

”How many times must I say—don’t come close. Have you no will to live?” the cold Daoist chides in a deep tone.

”Sen—senior brother... He... How could he be...”

”Grandmaster Uncle’s Daoist skill is unlike any other...” the cold Daoist sighs.

Who could have known, this figure raving as a madman, chained within the cave, is the junior brother of the current Zhenwu Sect Leader, Chu Chaoran—a prodigy surpassing all at Zhenwu...

Even Chu Chaoran once said, had he not been entrusted with Zhenwu, the position of Sect Leader would not pass outside his junior brother’s hands.

Yet, it was precisely his startling brilliance that made his path so different...

”Heart Demon Guide, Heart Demon Guide, this body is but Great Medicine’s primer, nourishing all thoughts as demons awaken, the broken flesh transformed to Demon Suppression Well...”

”Burn and burn, until within and without are wholly obliterated, only then step onto the Pure Yang Heaven-Stepping Bridge.”

The cold Daoist sighs softly, voice low: ”This is the Cult of Welcoming Demons into the Dao; turn all thoughts into demons—if one can hack them away, then Pure Yang will appear...”

The Daoist Sect’s path demands restraining the consciousness, preserving the primordial spirit, until, with a single thought returning to truth, the heart no longer stirs or wanders.

But the Cult of Welcoming Demons is the very opposite: not suppressing thoughts, but amplifying them without limit—as if raising demons, all swarming together, and slaying them returns all to stillness...

That is the Realm of the Infinite, that is Pure Yang without Yin.

”To embrace demons with the body, yet be born toward the Dao... This... It’s madness...” the little Daoist murmurs in awe.

To become a demon, and yet achieve enlightenment...

”Pure Yang... Pure Yang... Of all those in history seeking immortality, how many attain Pure Yang... They go mad, they die... all for the Pure Yang Great Dao.”

On the cold Daoist’s face, a trace of reverence appears; unconsciously, he turns to look toward the distant Qingwei Palace.

Tonight, if Xia Weisheng can be transmitted the Zhenwu Jade Scroll, perhaps in some far-off future, she may challenge that realm...

But who knows whether she will end like the man in this cave—mad, or dead...

”Let’s go...” The cold Daoist takes a final, deep glance, then murmurs lightly.

”Sow the Immortal Golden Pill in earth and sand—sooner or later, one must leave home behind. Wholehearted, just seeking the path to longevity; whether god or demon, kill them all...”

”Hahaha... Whether god or demon, kill them all...”

The crazed laughter echoes behind, lingering in the ancient cave, gradually dying to leave only loneliness and darkness as eternal companions.

...

Qingwei Palace, within the Pure Yang Hall.

Zhang Fan, bored to his bones, glances out the window toward Zhenwu Hall; the main hall ablaze with light, the chanting of scriptures and mantras unending, and outside, a Seven-Layered Copper Lighthouse stands in stark relief...

Taoist Pojie had said, the Seven-Layered Glazed Lamp... once all its oil is consumed, the Jade Scroll Transmission ceremony will be complete.

”Already at the sixth layer...” Zhang Fan notes with a glance.

Only the last Glazed Lamp remains—once this flame is spent, it’s done.

”Just a little longer,” Zhang Fan yawns.

Boom...

Suddenly, from outside the hall comes a violent noise, the ground shuddering and rumbling in its wake.

”What’s going on?”

Zhang Fan jolts upright, body half out the window, looking for the source.

”The front courtyard...”

Dust whirls high—rising from the front courtyard.

After a brief hesitation, Zhang Fan heads downstairs, leaves the Pure Yang Hall, and rushes toward the courtyard.

Boom... Boom... Boom...

Just as he reaches the courtyard, two figures are hurled, cannonball-like, landing at Zhang Fan’s feet—none other than Daoists Wu You and Wu Wei...

They spit blood, robes shredded, faces pale beyond imagining; especially Wu You, whose right arm ends abruptly, fresh blood streaming down without end...

”This...”

Zhang Fan’s face shifts—the two figures ahead are all too familiar.

”You again?”

Qian Shengwu and Qian Shaokun spot Zhang Fan too, but their gazes remain scornful, as if he’s invisible. Behind them, the Demon Suppression Well is already forced open; the stone seals above, shattered...

”You—you dare run rampant on Zhenwu Mountain...” Wu Wei grits out, trembling with rage.

”Heh, tonight is the Zhenwu Mountain Jade Scroll Transmission... all the masters are away... so empty, why not run wild?”

Qian Shaokun’s chill laugh cuts the air, his eyes as sharp as knives, sweeping Zhang Fan up and down.

”Go call for help, quick.”

Zhang Fan’s heart skips; biting his teeth, he mutters low.

”Ri—right... call for help...”

Wu You and Wu Wei exchange glances, both turning to look behind them toward Zhenwu Hall... where the Jade Scroll Transmission ritual is underway, the last Glazed Lamp on the verge of extinguishing.

”If you call now, it’ll be too late...” Qian Shaokun sneers.

”Difficult Insect... is hungry...”

Qian Shengwu nudges his gold-rimmed glasses, an icy gleam flickering in his eyes.

Splat...

As his words fall, a soft sound—scarlet blood begins to drip...

Zhang Fan lowers his gaze to see a black shadow piercing his back, threading through his chest...

”For fuck’s...”

”Sir...”

Wu You and Wu Wei’s faces turn deathly pale, stepping back as a monstrous shadow rises—over three meters tall, features obscured, a mass like some writhing insect clad in midnight.

”So this is the Difficult Insect...” Wu Wei murmurs, sensing the mountain’s temperature plummet.

The Elixir Book records: within a human body, there exist one hundred and eight insects, governing health and fate, life and death intimately entwined.

Which means, humans are born with a hundred and eight kinds of insects, impacting life’s destiny, birth, aging, sickness, and death.

Take this ’Difficult Insect’—the calamities one faces in life are tied to its presence.

Later, the Saints tasted every herb, exorcising demons and curing pestilence, so most of these insects hidden in the body faded out of sight.

The Dian Nan Qian Family, who knows from where, gained the method to refine the Difficult Insect, and indeed successfully bred one, which was later subdued by Zhenwu Mountain and suppressed inside the Demon Suppression Well.

Now, at long last, the Difficult Insect is unleashed.

”Whoever sees its difficulty, must suffer calamity!”

Scarlet blood trickles from the Difficult Insect’s tail as it hoists Zhang Fan high, then with a casual flick, slams him hard against the ground, the hollow in his chest gaping and ghastly...

At that moment, his vitality is wholly spent.

”Finally dead.”

Qian Shaokun’s mouth curls into a smile—a satisfaction for finally erasing the regret of not killing Zhang Fan before.

Clang... Clang... Clang...

Howling winds, retreating clouds, the ancient toll of bells echoing into the void. Before Zhenwu Hall, as the very last Glazed Lamp approaches its end, it is snuffed out at last.

At that instant, a surge of blazing gold light bursts forth from the hall, rocketing skyward—then veers straight for Zhang Fan.

”That—that is...”

”The Jade Scroll... Zhenwu Jade Scroll...”

A cry of alarm splits the moonlit night!

The gates to Zhenwu Hall swing open; Xia Weisheng bolts outside, dark hair loose, her face exhausted, a faint trace of blood at her lips...

She has failed... The Jade Scroll Transmission has, in the very last moment, collapsed to nothing.

No one could have foreseen that the ancient jade scroll symbolizing the Zhenwu Dharma Lineage would, just before conclusion, spiral out of control and shatter into the sky...

Buzz...

The jade scroll, round as a disk, phoenix and dragon patterns carved onto mortal dust, inscribed with celestial script and talismanic seals—thus the lineage is passed through generations...

In a stream of twilight radiance, the Zhenwu Jade Scroll transforms into a ball of gentle light, flying directly into Zhang Fan’s corpse, fusing into the gaping hole in his chest.

”Zhang Fan...” Xia Weisheng’s jade hands clench tight.

”Zhenwu Mountain’s Jade Scroll... handed to a corpse? The lineage ends here...” Qian Shaokun blurts in disbelief.

Roar...

Just then, the Difficult Insect—like living shadow—lets out a thunderous shriek, diving for Zhang Fan’s body.

In a flash, a thunderous crash erupts, sending dust billowing, engulfing both the Difficult Insect and Zhang Fan.

Buzz...

Suddenly, a faint glow rises from the shroud of dust, accompanied by the Difficult Insect’s shrill, anguished wail.

”What’s happening?”

”That is...”

Upon Zhenwu Mountain, the wind dies, smoke is swept away; the blue clouds become white dogs, and the bright moon shapes itself as a jasper disk, shining upon this moment as though time stands still.

Gazes aghast, all eyes pivot to one point...

As the dust dissipates, a lone figure emerges—Zhang Fan—emanating flickering firelight from his eyes, mouth, and nose, flames twining like scarlet silk, burning as Samadhi True Flame descends to earth. Moonlight breaks; the air ripples and twists...

Even the Difficult Insect, under the scorching of this strange fire, howls in terror, the darkness of its body dissolving, baring its true form.

”Impossible... This is impossible...”

Qian Shengwu blanches, voice shaking as a dreadful suspicion rises in his mind...

Within his heart, a wild roar resounds...

”The Profound Sect’s forbidden secret, the Daoist Family’s Supreme Divine Technique...”

”Samadhi True Flame!”