That thing concerns the great tribulation of the Daoist Sect. Back then, for that thing, countless masters gathered at the foot of Dragon Tiger Mountain.
Now, that man hasn't died; whether it's old and new grudges or the fate of that object, the world naturally will not be at peace.
"For everything that exists, there is a way for it to be destroyed. Where there is strength, there is that which can counter it..."
At that mont, Ye Beichen spoke, his voice pulling the old man's thoughts back to reality.
"He is not truly invincible; throughout his life, he has always had a great enemy..."
"You an..." The old man's heart stirred, as if a thought occurred to him.
"That old friend from the North—he is his nesis..."
The old man fell silent. Ever since the Great Spirit Sect King appeared in the world, there seed to be always a great enemy on his path to power—soone as mysterious as him, and just as strong.
"That old friend's surna is also Zhang..."
Ye Beichen's eyes focused into a single line, his voice low and deep: "If he knows the Great Spirit Sect King has escaped his tribulation, he will not remain indifferent."
With that, Ye Beichen gazed up at the boundless sky.
Since ancient tis, the Heavenly Dao favors the weak, not the strong. For an existence like the Great Spirit Sect King, surely there must be soone in the world able to restrain him?
The way of Heaven: to take from those who have excess and give to those who lack. Such is its principle.
"I understand." The old man nodded.
Now, what Zhongnan Mountain must do is, simply, do nothing at all.
"Senior brother, go ahead. I'd like to be alone for a while," Ye Beichen said in a low voice.
The old man looked at him deeply, said nothing, and turned away.
On the vast mountain peak, only that lonely figure remained.
"I never intended to be stirred by the Jinghong, yet the Jinghong has entered my heart."
Daylight clouds, ancient pines, and rugged stones. Ye Beichen placed his right hand upon his chest, five fingers pressed together as if clutching sothing vital, his soft murmurs gradually fading into the mournful sigh of the wind.
...
Yujing City, suburban cetery.
Zhang Fan arrived early, bringing incense, candles, spirit money, fruits, and offerings.
Today, the Double Ninth Festival—Chongyang—it is both his birthday and the anniversary of his mother Li Linglong's death.
Years ago, Zhang Lingzong told him that his mother died in a car accident ten years ago.
But now, Zhang Fan is no longer a fool; ever since he left Zhenwu Mountain, bits and fragnts, threads and clues... especially after fusing with the Evil Gods and after eting Si Snake Bai Yujing at the Observatory of Profound Mystery...
He now knows many truths about the past.
If what Si Snake told him is true, then his mother was the Human Xiao of the previous generation—not killed in a car accident, but perished during the Dragon Tiger Red Moon, dying in that great battle ten years ago.
No matter what the truth is, today is indeed an important day.
Li Linglong, the tenth anniversary of her death.
As usual, Zhang Fan dialed Zhang Lingzong's phone. As always, no one answered.
"This is unbelievable."
Discontent welled up in Zhang Fan's heart. Normally, neglect would be one thing, but on such an important day, without a word—not only hasn't he co ho, he hasn't even called.
As a father, as a husband, it's a little too much.
"If mom were still alive, I bet she'd beat dad to death."
Zhang Fan muttered quietly, but in his heart, all sorts of wild thoughts were blooming, and he couldn't help but laugh at himself.
If mom hadn't died, dad really wouldn't need to co back.
What a pity...
"Ten years..."
Zhang Fan's expression was tinged with loneliness; his mories of Li Linglong were fading day by day, yet ever since that fateful event ten years ago, he hadn't celebrated a birthday since.
"Hm!?"
Zhang Fan had just arrived at the graveyard, still approaching from a distance, when he saw soone standing in front of Li Linglong's tombstone. Incense was burning in the censer, its smoke curling up into the air.
Zhang Fan stood frozen in the distance, scanning the person up and down.
It was a man, appearing to be in his forties or fifties, his build and height sowhat similar to Zhang Lingzong—just a bit sturdier, and wearing dark sunglasses.
"Excuse , who are you..."
Zhang Fan walked over, a trace of doubt in his voice.
All these years, besides him and his father, no one else had ever co to pay respects at Li Linglong's grave.
"You're Zhang Fan, right."
At that mont, the man removed his sunglasses, revealing pronounced features, especially those pitch-black eyes, deep and filled with a unique light.
"May I ask who you are..." Zhang Fan asked again.
"I am an old friend of your parents, from the North..." The man spoke softly.
"You've grown so much."
"Uncle, have we t before?" Zhang Fan asked curiously.
His father rarely spoke about the past, so naturally he didn't know much about their so-called friends.
All Zhang Fan knew was Liu Fusheng.
"I t you once, when you were still swaddled."
The man chuckled, sizing Zhang Fan up and down; that gaze made Zhang Fan's back shiver—a strange, inexplicable feeling washing over him.
"In the blink of an eye, you're all grown up..."
"Ti only knows how to drive people to old age," the man murmured, a trace of reminiscence flickering in his eyes.
"Uncle..."
Zhang Fan could tell that this uncle must have been close to his parents—ten years had passed, yet his sentint ran deep.
"Your dad hasn't co ho?"
Suddenly, the man's words shifted, asking after Zhang Lingzong.
"No..." Zhang Fan shook his head, slightly embarrassed.
His mother's ten-year death anniversary, and her husband hadn't returned; to be questioned by soone else about it—it really was off.
"Do you know where he is?" The man's gaze slowly left Li Linglong's tombstone, settling on Zhang Fan.
"No idea. I haven't seen him in a very long ti."
Zhang Fan shook his head. Honestly, if he didn't know Zhang Lingzong's real background, he'd have considered calling the police.
"Is that so!?"
The man nodded, putting his sunglasses back on. "If you et your father, tell him an old friend from the North dropped by..."
With that, the man patted Zhang Fan on the shoulder, then turned and left.
"Uncle, what's your na? How should I tell my dad?" Zhang Fan shouted after the man's retreating figure.
"My surna is Zhang!"
The man waved, never looking back, strolling off into the distance until he vanished from Zhang Fan's sight.
"Uncle Zhang!?"
Zhang Fan murmured to himself. From his manner, he could tell this Uncle Zhang was close to the family—otherwise he wouldn't have traveled such a long way from the North to pay respects on the ten-year anniversary of his mom's death.
This kind of affection is worth more than gold.
"More reliable than dad... Mom, if you've got ti, give him a dream, let him get in touch with , will you?"
Zhang Fan pursed his lips, set down the incense, candles, spirit money and offerings, and began to tidy the tombstone. After so bustling activity, he finally burned all the food and other things as tribute.
"Daddy's daddy is a monster, daddy's mommy is a monster..."
Just then, a pleasant ringtone rang out. Zhang Fan took a look at his phone—the caller ID said Bai Buran.
"Huh? I already took the day off." Zhang Fan looked puzzled.
Today is Li Linglong's morial. He'd asked for leave ahead of ti. For Bai Buran to be calling so early—there must be sothing important...
Thinking of this, Zhang Fan answered the phone.
"Hello, boss..."
"What!?"
On the other end, Bai Buran's words instantly changed Zhang Fan's expression.
"I'll be right there."
Zhang Fan hung up, his face clouded and grim.
Just now, Bai Buran told him over the phone that Jiang Lai had gone missing—in Dongshan Province.
In the fire basin, the flas blazed, burning spirit money whirling up into the air, drifting away into the distance...
It appeared as though a shadowy gloom was pressing down from the sky!
...
Shangjing City, White Crane Temple.
Inside a quiet alchemy room, the dancing light of the flas illuminated the ancestral master's portrait hanging on the wall.
At that mont, a young man sat at a desk, looking over a stack of docunts. His handso face held a strange and unusual glimr.
"A woman without a Primordial Spirit? That such an existence could even be found in this world?"
The young man murmured, then stood up.
Beside him, a middle-aged Daoist noticed and his face changed slightly; he couldn't help asking, "Venus, are you going to Dongshan Province in person!?"
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