Deep within the secluded mountains hides an ancient cave, where a thousand-year-old demon reveals disappearing traces.
In Prince Qin’s mory, he once encountered a remarkable figure who imparted Daoist Skills, whose Profound Cultivation was boundless, overpowering the forr Human Xiao, and gaining renown across half of Jiangnan.
"A Thousand-Year-Old Demon... He actually showed up here before!?"
Zhang Fan’s Primordial Spirit was greatly shocked; from his first encounter with this figure on Zhenwu Mountain through the Little Yellow Book, when he was swindled, that person beca like a ghost—sotis stirring up waves, sotis appearing before Zhang Fan to reveal secrets and pass on wisdom.
It was even because of the Thousand-Year-Old Demon that Zhang Fan managed to forge the Fire Dragon Pill Sword.
Yet just recently, this enigmatic Thousand-Year-Old Demon vanished completely from Zhang Fan’s eyes; even the only contact, the Little Yellow Book account, was deleted.
Zhang Fan never dread that in the Primordial Spirit of a person in the Qin Family, whose origins were unknown and who had fallen into Great Night, he would discover traces of the Thousand-Year-Old Demon.
"Previous Human Xiao... he ans my mother. This man once fought my mother and even gained the upper hand?"
"The most terrifying under Heaven, Divine Demon Holy Embryo..."
Judging by the conversation between Prince Qin and the Thousand-Year-Old Demon, that so-called helper must have been Zhang Lingzong.
Prince Qin was defeated in magical combat with Zhang Lingzong, afterwards falling into Great Night, his Primordial Spirit never awakening again.
"I never expected such a harvest."
Zhang Fan was always obsessed with uncovering the true identity of the Thousand-Year-Old Demon, determined to find out who he really was.
Originally, when the Thousand-Year-Old Demon deleted his account, he thought the clues were lost, never expecting this visit to the Qin Family would unexpectedly reignite the trail.
Thinking thus, Zhang Fan steadied his mind, continuing to probe, eager to extract more information about the Thousand-Year-Old Demon from these Primordial Spirit mories before him.
"Hmm!?"
Yet at this mont, from the depths of the shadowy mountains, a soft exclamation sounded from within that pitch-black cave, and the next instant, an intangible ripple swept out.
In that instant, Zhang Fan’s Primordial Spirit suddenly trembled as if a pair of invisible eyes had locked onto him.
"Damn—can he see ? Isn’t this just a mory?" Zhang Fan’s expression changed abruptly.
He entered the other’s Primordial Spirit Inner Scenery rely as a spectator; though waves might arise, they couldn’t touch him.
However, at this mont, the sensation of being watched was all too real, accompanied by a deep terror and unease.
"Damn!"
Zhang Fan’s Primordial Spirit shuddered violently, instinctively trying to retreat, not daring to linger even a mont.
Rumble...
Almost at the sa ti, heaven and earth quaked, all light and shadow before his eyes dissolved away, sky and earth grew dim, and all things were swallowed by the Great Night is Not Bright.
Zhang Fan instinctively turned back—amidst the chilling darkness, only that ancient cave yet existed, un-erased like a brand burned into the void.
The mouth of the cave seed an eye within endless shadow, fixing a dead gaze on Zhang Fan.
A terrible oppression and sense of crisis grew ever more intense.
Rumble...
Lightning flickered, shadows roiled; a chilling, hellish ripple pressed in from all directions, cutting off every avenue of retreat for Zhang Fan.
In that instant, his Primordial Spirit seed seized by a great tribulation, as if about to fall into an abyss from which there is no return—never to transcend again.
Clang... Clang... Clang...
Then, from the depths of Zhang Fan’s Primordial Spirit, the mysterious chains shook once more, as if the first profound tone at the dawn of creation, restructuring the shackles upon Zhang Fan’s Primordial Spirit and piercing that murky, confused world.
Rumble...
Two utterly different ripples clashed violently within this void of darkness.
Zhang Fan’s Primordial Spirit seed to be annihilated; he tasted the greatest terror of his life. Even a radiant universe was reduced to a single speck of light in that mont.
His Primordial Spirit drifted, soaring, as if about to rge with that shining point.
There—seems all life originates.
There—seems all lives return.
Clang... Clang... Clang...
Amidst the aftershocks, chains snaked out from deep within Zhang Fan’s Primordial Spirit, dragging him back from the fading light.
Buzz...
Endless darkness surged like tide, countless shadows crossing past like bubbles, brushing past Zhang Fan’s Primordial Spirit.
"Three Corpses Primordial Pill!?"
Zhang Fan realized sothing. He reached out lightly, suddenly bursting the largest bubble nearest him.
Buzz...
Light and shadow surged—like mist, like thunder.
Just then, one of the most crucial mories in the life of the Three Corpses Daoist slowly surfaced before Zhang Fan’s eyes, transcending dust-covered years, unraveling fate’s orderly flow.
...
Night deepened.
Jiangnan Province, Gusu City.
Cangbei Ancient Town.
A bright full moon hung high, casting its light on the small bridges and flowing water typical of Jiangnan, a black-canopied boat moored by the bank, rocking with the waves.
From a nearby bar ca the low lody of folk songs.
Here, ti seed paused, and everything exuded ease and comfort.
In a secluded alley, quick footsteps echoed, the yellowish lights pulling the racing shadow long and thin.
A girl in a short, slim down jacket and knee-high boots ran, water glimring in her beautiful eyes tinted with panic. Her pace hastened, glancing repeatedly behind her, as if terrified of so unseen danger.
Bam...
In that mont, an explosive crash shattered the night’s tranquility; the once-tidy street suddenly burst open, earth and stone spraying like bullets.
The girl’s face changed abruptly—leaping high, rising three or four ters clear, she evaded the oncoming debris.
Buzz...
Almost at the sa instant, a shadow fell overhead. The girl looked up to see a Daoist, clad in Daoist Robe, descending from the sky. His great hand reached down, flickers of firelight between his fingers—blazing, surging.
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