Chapter 85: Palaces and Cities Reduced to Dust

Moonlight streamed through the wooden window, illuminating the entire room. Zhong Ming and Zhang Nianchen sat cross-legged, facing each other.

Zhang Nianchen’s expression was hesitant. After a long pause, he finally spoke, “Actually, my identity is quite special. I am not an ordinary wandering Taoist. I was born in the imperial palace...”

“The imperial palace? Are you also from the Li family?” Zhong Ming furrowed his brows. Having just seen off a secret crown prince, now someone from the palace appeared. He thought to himself that this was a clash with the royal family.

Shaking his head, Zhang Nianchen said bitterly, “My original surname is Ji.”

“Ji? Descendant of Emperor Wu of the Former Chen, Ji Yan?”

Zhong Ming’s thoughts raced. Shocked, he quickly pieced together Zhang Nianchen’s background.

Zhang Nianchen—the name itself was a homophone of “Zhang Nianchen.” From the moment Zhang Nianchen revealed his name, Zhong Ming should have guessed it. A royal descendant named Nianchen.

After a moment of contemplation, Zhong Ming scoffed and shook his head. “It’s my fault for being stupid. I never guessed your origin. You are indeed a descendant of the royal family, a descendant of Emperor Wu Ji Yan.”

“You survived the fire that consumed the Emperor Wu Palace eight years ago, and you owe your life to my master’s rescue.”

Zhang Nianchen slowly lowered his head, his voice barely audible, like a whisper. “Zhong Jushi, my father is Ji Yan. From birth, my fate was bound to the fortune of Former Chen. When Former Chen fell, I, carrying the true dragon’s destiny, cannot live past eighteen. Only by residing within someone with an extraordinarily special fate can I barely survive.”

“Correspondingly, if you agree, the true dragon’s destiny I carry will also affect you. Perhaps, in the future, you will bear burdens you never should have.”

“Even so, will you still help me?”

“No.”

Zhong Ming smiled sincerely. Zhang Nianchen’s expression faltered, a fleeting sadness flashing in his eyes. He gave a bitter smile. “I cannot blame you, Zhong Jushi. Helping is your kindness; refusing is your right. Perhaps my fate is to be like this.”

It is human nature to refuse to bear undeserved calamities.

Laughing heartily, Zhong Ming patted Zhang Nianchen’s shoulder and continued, “I don’t want to, but I promised your master. As a trade-off, no matter how unwilling I am, I must do it.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic. Although Former Chen fell, dynasties rise and fall—it is the inevitable wheel of history moving forward. Perhaps your master deceived you; no one truly binds their fate to a nation’s fortune.”

Zhang Nianchen stared at Zhong Ming in surprise, stunned by this not-so-funny joke.

Patting Zhang Nianchen’s shoulder again, Zhong Ming said, “I thought it was something serious, but it’s just this. Get some rest; tomorrow we will prepare for the life-borrowing ritual.”

With that, Zhong Ming rolled over, closed his eyes, and began to rest.

Watching Zhong Ming’s back, Zhang Nianchen smiled. He got up and kowtowed deeply to Zhong Ming. “Thank you for saving my life, Zhong Jushi.”

Zhong Ming said nothing, continuing to feign sleep.

When Zhang Nianchen lay down to rest, Zhong Ming slowly opened his eyes and sighed deeply.

In front of him was Li Jianye kowtowing, behind was Zhang Nianchen expressing gratitude. These two great princes of the court—how could Zhong Ming bear such honor?

The favor of two generations of crown princes was about to change Zhong Ming’s life path.

...

Zhong Ming did not sleep well that night. His dreams were filled with bizarre and strange visions. Even before the rooster from the Liang Yu family crowed, he awoke with a start.

Dawn was breaking. Turning over, Zhong Ming saw Zhang Nianchen still asleep, so he quietly got out of bed.

Stepping outside, he saw the old Taoist Zhang Daozhen practicing martial arts. Zhong Ming washed his face and watched the old Taoist perform an unusual boxing form.

When Zhang Daozhen finished, he exhaled deeply and said, “Eight years ago, I was entrusted by my senior brother to take a child from the imperial capital. He is Ji Yan’s third son—not the smartest, not the most spiritually rooted, but the kindest. Born of the royal family, yet with a healer’s nature.”

“Our Longmen Mountain owes Ji Yan a favor. This favor must be repaid with my senior brother’s desperate protection of Former Chen’s destiny. If he cannot protect it, then he must preserve a lineage for the Ji family.”

“You don’t need to explain. I only know you saved Mud Village, and I made a deal with you,” Zhong Ming said softly.

Zhang Daozhen sighed, “A deal, huh? To be honest, my senior brother and I are also part of a deal.”

“Many deals in this world arise from interests, but in the end, they are fulfilled with true hearts exchanging true hearts.”

“Zhong Jushi, you are a good man.”

Having been labeled a good man, Zhong Ming smiled helplessly. “You’d better prepare for the life-borrowing ritual instead of waxing poetic.”

Zhang Daozhen laughed, his smile weary. His hollow eyes gazed into the distance, as if recalling old memories.

Zhang Daozhen was the most spiritually rooted disciple of Longmen Mountain in a hundred years. At nine, he was taken to the mountain by a wandering master, staying there for twenty years.

When the twenty-nine-year-old Zhang Daozhen emerged, he was already at the initial Pill Refining stage, surpassing his master’s skills, becoming a renowned figure in the martial world.

This blind old Taoist was not always blind; once he was a dashing and handsome martial arts celebrity. The name Zhang Daozhen of Longmen Mountain was famous across the martial arts world eighty years ago.

...

He had slain the notorious thief Liu Ying of the Red Flower Gang with a single sword, infiltrated the prince’s mansion alone at midnight to admire the ephemeral blooming night flower, and with Su Tingyou, destroyed the Red Blood Sect...

Many sorrows and hardships marked his youthful travels through the martial world—riding horses across the horizon, drinking fine wine, dancing with swords in drunken revelry, reminiscing about slaying the dragon in the waves of yesterday.

Zhang Daozhen once had such a vibrant journey.

After years of wandering, he returned to the sect at the Great Ascension stage of Pill Refining. Among all of Longmen Mountain, no one had a better chance to glimpse the Nascent Soul realm than he.

He deeply regretted one thing: trusting his senior brother and entering the forbidden land beyond the waterfall to study Zhang Daoling’s Nascent Soul technique.

That one glance cost him his sight; he lost both eyes and was banished from Longmen Mountain, never to return.

Though known as a wandering master, few knew he could never return to his sect. For years, Zhang Daozhen dreamt of going back to Longmen Mountain to offer incense to his master.

Had it not been for his senior brother in the palace who spoke up to save him, his life would have been lost on the mountain.

For a long time, Zhang Daozhen was grateful to be alive, but in recent years, he often thought that dying on the mountain would have been better—at least then he would have returned to his roots.

Repaying a favor with another, saving Zhang Nianchen’s life today could repay his senior brother’s rescue.

Putting away his smile, Zhang Daozhen pulled Zhong Ming aside and mumbled, “Zhong Jushi, let me tell you a story.”

“What story? I don’t want to hear it. You’d better prepare for the life-borrowing ritual.”

Ignoring Zhong Ming’s protests, Zhang Daozhen began, “Eighty years ago, a new star rose in the martial world...”

Though claiming not to listen, Zhong Ming heard the whole story. Looking into Zhang Daozhen’s hollow eyes, he sighed, “Old Taoist, you’ve done well. Your senior brother saved you once; now you’ve fulfilled his wish.”

“Fulfilled, yes, but this poor Taoist longs to return to Longmen Mountain one last time. I fear after this ritual, I’ll never have the chance.”

Zhang Daozhen sighed, his face lined with weariness.

...

The life-borrowing ritual proceeded as scheduled. Soon after Zhang Nianchen awoke, Zhang Daozhen called him to the hall.

In the Li family’s small house, Zhang Daozhen had drawn eighteen talismans with cinnabar. The symbols floated around the room. On the table lay two bronze lamps.

Zhang Daozhen’s expression was solemn. Forming a sword finger with both hands, he intoned, “Begin!”

The eighteen talismans slowly rotated. A faint yellow dome enveloped the three of them.

This formation was called the “Heaven-Hiding Array,” designed to block celestial secrets. It was suitable for stealing fate, altering destiny, and similar forbidden rituals.

With the formation complete, Zhang Daozhen pointed to the bronze lamps. “You two, put your blood into the lamps.”

Standing at the table, Zhang Nianchen and Zhong Ming each held a small knife, cutting their palms. Fresh blood dripped slowly into the lamps.

The lamps resembled lotus-shaped oil lamps, which consumed oil quickly. Zhong Ming felt he had given at least half a bowl of blood—more than he had ever donated in his past life.

After Zhong Ming finished, Zhang Nianchen hurriedly bandaged his wound. Zhong Ming noticed his own hand was still bleeding but waved him off. “I’ll handle it myself. You should tend to yourself first.”

Zhang Nianchen felt guilty, as if indebted to Zhong Ming.

“Disciple, place the wick,” Zhang Daozhen instructed.

Following the old Taoist’s command, Zhang Nianchen took out a peculiar wick—thick with a split end—and placed it in both bronze lamps.

When the wick was set, Zhang Daozhen chanted continuously, pointing at the wick.

With a hiss, the wick emitted an eerie sound, igniting a blood-red flame. The blood in the lamps visibly receded at a rapid pace.

As the flames flickered, Zhong Ming felt a chill down his spine, as if something was flowing out from within him.

The two strands of true qi in his dantian stirred restlessly. Zhong Ming failed to suppress them; the qi swirled wildly inside like headless flies, seemingly searching for the source of harm.

Life-borrowing, a forbidden art that wounds the very root of life, was no trivial matter. Though Zhang Daozhen spoke lightly, it weighed heavily on Zhong Ming.

Almost simultaneously, Zhong Ming and Zhang Nianchen collapsed to the ground, gasping wildly.

Zhong Ming glanced at Zhang Nianchen, whose face was deathly pale, his frail body trembling. Looking down at himself, he felt weak but far better than Zhang Nianchen.

Zhang Daozhen finished chanting and sat cross-legged on the floor. As the spellcaster, the old Taoist bore pressures incomparable to the others.

The two-colored mysterious pills in his jade gourd rose unbidden, spinning slowly around him.

Zhang Daozhen’s face was tense. “Watch the flame carefully. When the blood in the lamp is consumed, the ritual will be complete. Do not let the flame go out.”

“Yes, master!” Zhang Nianchen responded, attempting to rise but his trembling body failed to cooperate.

Zhong Ming gritted his teeth and stood, “Don’t move. Let me see.”

Leaning on the table, Zhong Ming stared at the blood in the lamps, estimating it would take a tea session’s length to burn out.

Time passed bit by bit. As the blood neared depletion, Zhong Ming’s strength waned.

Looking again, Zhang Nianchen lay prostrate, unable to rise. In a daze, Zhong Ming saw strands of yellow light connecting from Zhang’s body to his own.

Countless shimmering lines drifted, entering his dantian, chest, and forehead.

Examining closely, they resembled swimming dragons—strange dragons without horns or claws. They were not true dragons, but an unusual form.

Concerned, Zhong Ming said, “I see many dragons emerging from the little Taoist’s body.”

“Normal. Only you and Nianchen can see these. They are Former Chen’s national fortune residing in him, seeking refuge. From now on, this dragon qi of national fortune must dwell within you.”

Hearing this, Zhong Ming asked, “If the little Taoist loses his fortune, what will become of him?”

“Life-borrowing means transferring burdens he cannot bear to you. My disciple’s fate will become that of an ordinary person. If outsiders investigate, his destiny will be identical to yours.”

After speaking, Zhang Daozhen asked, “How is the blood in the lamps? When it burns out, the ritual is complete.”

Looking at the lamps, Zhong Ming replied, “About one-fifth remains.”

Nodding, Zhang Daozhen fell silent, focusing all his energy on maintaining the Heaven-Hiding Array, ensuring no mishaps in the final moments.

But fate was unkind. Suddenly, the wall outside the formation was pierced by a shaft of yellow light. A massive bronze sword shot through as if slicing tofu.

Clang—

The bronze sword aimed at the formation’s yellow glow, its blade piercing directly in.

Zhang Daozhen, maintaining the formation, gasped and spat blood. The sword shattered the yellow light, its blade slicing through the flame, extinguishing it with a single strike.

The bronze sword hummed softly, circling Zhong Ming protectively, blade pointed at Zhang Daozhen, seemingly guarding Zhong Ming.

“What’s going on?”

Dazed at the sight of the bronze sword, Zhong Ming quickly grabbed it, shouting angrily, “Jue, what are you doing?!”

The sword’s body trembled slightly, struggling to break free from Zhong Ming’s grip, intent on killing Zhang Daozhen.

“Jue, stop!”

Fortunately, a voice from outside the door rang out—Yu Bai’s. The bronze sword reluctantly halted mid-air, a mere foot from Zhang Daozhen’s forehead.

Clang—

The bronze sword gave a reluctant hum and slowly returned to Zhong Ming’s side.

This sudden turn not only wounded Zhang Daozhen but left Zhong Ming baffled. Judging by the sword’s demeanor, it did not intend to harm him; rather, it sought to protect him. Why then did it try to kill Zhang Daozhen?

While Zhong Ming was perplexed, Yu Bai had already kicked open the wooden door and rushed in.

She scanned the room, frowned slightly, then hurried to support Zhong Ming, asking with concern, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Why are you here?”

Shaking his head, Zhong Ming felt the turbulence of blood within cease at the moment the flame went out. His strength was slowly returning; the weakness from moments ago was gone.

Meanwhile, Zhang Nianchen, lying on the ground, gradually regained consciousness. He shook his head, looked around in puzzlement, then hurried to Zhang Daozhen’s side, clutching the old Taoist. “Master, master, what’s wrong?”

Yu Bai looked at Zhong Ming, then at Zhang Daozhen and his disciple, sneering, “I never thought such dark and twisted methods would exist in this world, using life-borrowing to extend one’s own life!”

The bronze sword Jue hummed softly. At its master’s angry command, it pointed its blade at Zhang Daozhen and his disciple.

Zhong Ming finally understood. The bronze sword had sensed danger to him and flew here. The sword belonged to Yu Bai and was linked to her, alerting her to hurry here.

In Yu Bai’s eyes, life-borrowing was forbidden sorcery. She came to slay Zhang Daozhen and his disciple to protect Zhong Ming.

Moved yet sighing deeply, Zhong Ming thought, how could he blame this well-meaning young woman for such a misunderstanding?

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