Starting Cultivation During a Trip

Chapter 144: Chapter 106: The Origin of Destiny! The New Human Xiao_2

Daoist Divine Techniques are bestowed by the Heavens, not achieved through cultivation; those able to awaken them are one in ten thousand.

Since it is a Celestial Gifted Technique, it must be a bug, no doubt.

You must know, thirty years ago when Chu Chaoran was young, he, too, once awakened a Daoist Divine Technique—yet for so many years, ever since he entered the Pure Yang Wuji Realm, no one has seen what his technique truly was.

Dong...

At this moment, a dull thud rang out—Zhang Fan and Wen He fell to the ground simultaneously.

In that fleeting instant just now, the cost to them was simply too great—Zhang Fan fared a bit better; his Primordial Spirit was strong, and so he was merely left feeling weak.

But for Wen He... something like the Divine Evil Fighting Robe is still far too soon for her now.

If not for Jin Mao Day activating it with his Primordial Spirit, if not for Zhang Fan reinforcing with the Celestial Mother Heart Curse, she would likely be nothing but a skin bag by now.

”Five-Thunder Restriction!”

Xia Weisheng bent down to examine, his right hand slowly settling on Wen He’s heaving chest. Lightning writhed between his five fingers, and at the very first touch, runes flashed—branded onto Wen He’s chest.

Instantly, that still-lively Divine Evil Fighting Robe gradually quieted, once more fusing into Wen He’s flesh and blood.

”This thing belongs to our Daoist Sect? For now, I can only do some simple handling.” Xia Weisheng muttered to himself.

She lifted her gaze slightly, looking at Zhang Fan: ”Are you alright?”

”Not dead yet.” Zhang Fan curled his lips.

To be fair, Xia Weisheng arrived just in time—otherwise, tonight, with just him and Bai Buran, odds were they’d be in mortal peril.

”I suspect you’re here to collect on a debt,” Xia Weisheng’s beautiful eyes narrowed, fixing on Zhang Fan without blinking.

Previously, Zhenwu Mountain’s Jade Scroll Transmission had failed due to Zhang Fan, and even the Zhenwu Jade Scroll itself had merged into him and been carried off.

Now, Xia Weisheng and Po Jie, representing Zhenwu Mountain, came down the mountain only to help him out for a bit.

If Zhang Fan is the debt collector, then it’s only fair that Zhenwu Mountain settles the score, isn’t it?

”Why are you still chatting away up here?”

Po Jie walked over, surveying the mess strewn about, all the toppled tombstones and ruined graves, and he just felt an enormous headache come on.

”Senior brother, weren’t you always the one who enjoyed cleaning up messes the most?”

”Damn it, I only clean up because I have to, not because I like it.”

As an ordained monk, even Po Jie couldn’t help but break his own vows and curse aloud.

He’d never have dreamed that the first thing he’d do after coming down the mountain was wipe asses.

If none of this concerned Zhenwu Mountain, he’d let it go—but Bai Buran is a banished disciple of Zhenwu Mountain, Zhang Fan is now registered under their name, and as for Xia Weisheng, she’s doubtless its true successor.

Her reputation outside is far greater than his as a senior brother.

”You’d better get going—the Daoist Alliance people are nearly here.”

Po Jie surveyed the chaos with resignation, pushing all the blame onto the Wuwei Demons—for it was truly their doing. If they objected, they’d have to come confront him.

”Thank you for your hard work, senior brother.”

”Many thanks to Senior Brother Po Jie.”

”Do good work.”

Xia Weisheng, Zhang Fan, and Bai Buran patted Po Jie on the shoulder. With Wen He in tow, they turned and left swiftly without a backward glance.

...

Back home, it was already two in the morning.

Zhang Fan had never felt such exhaustion before, proof of just how much the Divine Evil Fighting Robe depleted his Primordial Spirit.

This time, Zhang Fan did not take the sleeping pills left by Zhang Lingzong, but fell into a deep sleep at once.

Buzz...

Within the Primordial Spirit Inner Scenery, the myriad stars still wheeled above—yet as the Divine Evil Fighting Robe turned and divined the Celestial Secret, it now suddenly manifested before him.

Endless lights flickered—time rewound to ten years before, to that night.

Beneath Dragon Tiger Mountain, in the midst of abysmal darkness, a frail figure emerged from the mountain, wrapped in starlight, treading moonbeams—the silhouette remarkably like Zhang Lingzong’s.

At this moment, he carried something on his back.

It was a coffin, seemingly only half the size of a normal one.

Beneath Dragon Tiger Mountain, the man set down the burden on his back. Before the lofty mountain, beneath the brilliant moon, the coffin slowly opened.

A pale, delicate little hand stretched out from within.

Next, a young maiden slowly emerged from the coffin—cropped hair at her cheeks, eyes limpid and ethereal.

”This is...”

Zhang Fan’s Primordial Spirit quivered—he could scarcely believe his eyes.

Rumble...

The lights and shadows scattered, shifting again—this time, the scene was all too familiar to Zhang Fan.

In front of the ruined Daoist Temple, the great foe departed, riding a white crane, blood painting the long sky.

At age twelve, Zhang Fan used the Divine Splitting Method—amidst endless thunder, with Jiang Lai’s help, he split his Primordial Spirit into three. The enormous force sent Jiang Lai flying, sent her into wild mountains.

That night, destined to be sleepless—who knows how many white bones settled into Dragon Tiger Mountain, how many Daoist lines perished into the mortal world.

The stars turned; the full moon sank westward.

The maiden slowly climbed out of a huge pit, her ethereal gaze turned toward the ruined Daoist Temple.

”So, the Grand Spirit King brought out a living person from Dragon Tiger Mountain!?”

At that instant, a rotund man came over—he didn’t speak a word, but all the fat on his body trembled with each step.

”Heh heh, they fought to the death, never expecting in the end it would fall into my hands.”

With these words, the rotund man strode toward the extraordinarily weakened maiden.

”Layman, it’s time to return.”

Suddenly, an ancient voice resounded through the lonely wilderness.

”Hmm?”

The fat man’s eyes tightened; looking up, he saw an old Daoist, shuffling toward them like a farmer from the fields.

”Who are you? I am Hai Pig—”

Before he could finish, the old man gave a sigh. In that instant, the fat man seemed to plunge into a boundless Purgatory—his skin, fat, bones, viscera all baked by some nameless fire—and in a moment, he was reduced to drifting ash.

The maiden watched the scene without a ripple on her face. She turned to look at the elder.

”Girl, what is your name?” The old man smiled kindly.

”Jiang Lai.”

”Come with me.”

The girl hesitated briefly, then turned toward the ruined Daoist Temple.

”Someday, we will meet again, at the origin of fate...”

So saying, the old man turned and walked into the distance.

The maiden paused but quickly followed after him.

”Grandpa, what’s your name?”

”Chu Chaoran!”

That faint voice faded into the nameless wilds, settling like dust.

...

Middle Earth’s rivers and mountains abound in wonders—deep in a great mountain,

Melodious bells rang, incense swirled up in lazy coils.

Shrouded in woodland, an ancient Daoist Temple lay concealed.

Deep within, a small pavilion—inside a shut room, dim lamplight burned. At center stood a great round table with thirteen seats—though all were unoccupied, at each of twelve seats burned a candle and three sticks of incense; only the highest seat sat empty and cold.

From the rising incense emerged the spectral shapes of twelve animals—only the Rooster’s form was flickering, as if it would dissipate at any moment.

”Rooster, you have failed.”

From the Dragon’s incense came a voice majestic as thunder, making the walls themselves tremble.

”Heh heh, failed... How could I have failed?”

Jin Mao Day’s voice sounded, faint yet tinged with pride.

”I saw... Zhang Lingzong, and his brat... they’re not dead yet...”

At these words, the room fell utterly silent—even the sound of heavy breathing could be heard.

The Grand Spirit King—that man still lives. For them, this was a nightmare.

”Beyond that, I also saw that bastard child...”

”Where is he?”

”Zhang Fan! He’s the anomaly from back then...”

Buzz...

As the words landed, the incense of Pig and Horse flared wildly—the news had shaken them deeply.

”So, he’s entered the Great Night and still has not escaped his Tribulation!”

At that, Mouse’s incense gave off a mysterious voice—neither male nor female.

”No need for panic, no need for fear... Even if that father and son still live, the times have changed.”

Mouse’s incense flickered, bowing as if in ritual, curling upward toward the uppermost seat.

”You mean to say...”

”The seat of the Immortal has stood vacant far too long.”

”One person, one mountain—that is to be Immortal!”

Just as these words fell, the uppermost seat—where the candle had burned out—suddenly blazed with light.

”Of the Three Teachings, there is no Upper Grade; from ancient times, only the Dao has been revered!”

Suddenly, a cryptic voice drifted from the ghostly flame—amid the rising incense, a Daoist figure was about to emerge.

”In this lifetime, Non-action shall prevail.”

”We salute Human Xiao!!”

At that moment, twelve voices rang out as one, reciting that supreme name.