“Now that Choushan Academy’s Nascent Soul cultivators are incapacitated, Fellow Daoist Yun, hold on! We’re coming!” Outside Choushan Fanhai, a strange figure drawn in ink stood in the clouds, it’s the voice of the Six Imperial Tutors. This person had previously attempted to capture Nan Yan at the Hall of Righteous Law but was called away by Ying Zeyui to become a spiritual avatar. Unexpectedly, Nan Yan escaped and later confronted Ji Yang at the Hall.
Ji Yang could control three Nether Rivers alone, overpowering Yaoquanchuan. Although Ji Yang paid a price, the Six Imperial Tutors’ physical body was destroyed. Ying Zeyui’s spiritual consciousness brought him back to Dao Sheng Tian, creating a temporary ink body for his primordial spirit.
Now, the Six Imperial Tutors, filled with resentment, focused on Choushan Fanhai, who had once sheltered Nan Yan. Seeing the Yun patriarch’s sneak attack weaken the protective formation by half, he immediately urged Yaoquanchuan’s ghosts to attack. The first wave sent ten thousand evil spirits through the formation.
Pressure mounted inside Choushan Fanhai. The Buddhist cultivators had to divert half their strength to deal with the invading ghosts, leaving only Mu Zhanting and his Chenzhou followers to face the remaining Shenzhou Confucian cultivators.
— This day has finally come.
Mu Zhanting felt this was his destined moment. The day when all Confucian cultivators would attack him out of jealousy for his talent. Today, he would bear the envy and adoration unfit for his age as the era’s most controversial literary genius.
Mu Zhanting asked his followers to hold back and stepped forward alone, addressing the opposition: “Fellow scholars—”
Suddenly, a goateed late-stage Core Formation cultivator charged at him from the side, stabbing with his brush: “Die, you brat!”
Mu Zhanting dodged the ice spike from the brush tip and asked, “Why such anger, fellow scholar?”
The old goateed man raged, “You killed my son, Hu Rui! Fellow clansmen, grant me this favor. Today, I’ll settle this life-or-death matter with him!”
Surprised by the sudden conflict, Mu Zhanting said, “Very well. Since there’s a grudge, let’s settle it the literary way!”
Filled with vengeful hatred, the old goateed man released his spiritual power and wrote a murderous poetic line with his brush:
“My son should’ve regretted crossing Penglai, Always resenting his youth meeting wolves and jackals!”
Mu Zhanting immediately responded: “Too bad his education was poor, In the next life, he’ll reincarnate to beat Li Bai.”
The old goateed man: “…”
The Chenzhou cultivators stepped back, looking at the opposing Confucian cultivators with pitying eyes.
“Here we go again…”
The old goateed man, well-versed in poetry, suddenly found his mind blank. Seeing the surrounding Confucian cultivators staring at him, he momentarily lost focus. Recalling his son’s death, he roared with a twisted face: “You ignorant brat, not knowing the sages’ intent, Rotting spring and autumn with your vile rhymes. This old man’s wrathful sword in hand—”
Mu Zhanting: “So your son didn’t take after you.”
The old man’s ink sword, barely formed, suddenly shattered. He coughed up blood.
The late Core Formation stage is delicate. A cultivator’s power constantly pushes toward the Nascent Soul, requiring unwavering faith in one’s chosen path. A disturbed mind leads to chaotic spiritual energy, potentially backfiring.
Realizing the danger, the old man clutched his chest, red-eyed: “You… you! Absurd brat, playing a nonsensical tune!”
Mu Zhanting examined him closely. The old man was five chi tall, with copper-bell eyes and a round face. His son, Hu Rui, whom Mu Zhanting had seen in the Mountain Sea Prohibition, had a monkey-like chin and triangular eyes, looking nothing like his father.
Realizing something, Mu Zhanting said, “I’ve never played nonsense. Your son truly doesn’t resemble you. Why not ask the neighbors whose child he is?”
The old man spat out another mouthful of blood. Just then, the Yun patriarch shouted from his entanglement:
“Luoshen Scroll!”
He tossed out a partially torn painting that transformed into a blurry-faced woman. She threw out colorful ribbons to protect him, giving him a moment’s respite.
The Yun patriarch turned angrily: “Elder Hu, what are you doing? Activate the Myriad Poem Screen and kill them!”
His turn was ill-timed. Mu Zhanting suddenly exclaimed, “Fellow scholar, your son also had a fragment of the Luoshen Scroll. This Yun patriarch is generous, giving it to an outside disciple instead of his nephew. Looking closely, their faces do seem to match like chrysanthemums.”
The Yun patriarch was confused. The bleeding old goateed man wanted to accuse Mu Zhanting of nonsense, but a Buddhist palm strike suddenly dispersed the Luoshen painting’s disguise, revealing a charming woman’s face.
Mu Zhanting sensed the opposing Confucian cultivators’ sudden silence. The old goateed man’s lips trembled:
“Patriarch? Why… why is my wife’s face on your life-bound treasure?”
The Yun patriarch stumbled, caught by the Buddhist cultivators for a beating. Despite being at Nascent Soul level, he barely escaped and tried to explain: “Don’t listen to this nonsense! Look, he’s with a fox spirit. This… this is all fox illusion!”
People turned to look at the fox spirit, curled up in a corner warily watching the evil ghosts. Suddenly the center of attention, angrily barked, “What the hell does this have to do with me? How would I know what your wife looks like? It’d be a miracle if I could conjure her image!”
In the dead silence, Mu Zhanting sighed softly:
“Raising another’s child for decades,
Endless green leaves crown the head.
A man’s heart can hold four seas,
This bitter cup I raise to you instead.”
After reciting, Mu Zhanting indulged in self-admiration: “Great poets emerge from ancient rivalries. This verse is a masterpiece of revival. I must include it in the Pantheon of Literary Heroes for future generations to revere.”
The old goateed man swayed, his chest heaving as he processed the words. Suddenly, he tilted his head back, spewing a fountain of blood before collapsing stiffly.
“Elder Hu’s Core exploded!!!”
…
A hundred li away from Maozhou, a weaker Nether River lost momentum. The Daoist Yuanhe, controlling the river, flew into a rage. In his fury, he turned to regroup with the Six Imperial Tutors, but two spatial rifts suddenly burst open.
“You actually—” Before he could finish, unseen, a sword energy struck. Yuanhe’s body and primordial spirit were instantly destroyed, leaving only a stone crown floating in a mist of blood.
The rift widened. Ao Guanghan emerged first, grabbing the Xiaquanchuan Emperor’s crown and tossing it to Meng Xiaolou, who followed.
“Use this to plug the seal gap in Weizhou.”
“No need. Without the Lord of No-Hell driving it, no more evil ghosts will emerge from Weizhou’s ghost abyss. My disciple will handle it.” Meng Xiaolou sheathed his sword and accepted the crown. His divine sense swept over Maozhou, causing his eyebrow to twitch.
“Ao Guanghan, I underestimated you. In this battle of armies, your disciple defeated the enemy general without a single move. This boy is terrifyingly formidable.”
Ao Guanghan’s face darkened. He too had heard the commotion from Maozhou—Mu Zhanting had stepped onto the field, challenging all Confucian cultivators, claiming to surpass Confucius by wielding Mencius, shattering the courage of the scholars.
Chenzhou had lost face, and so had Ao Guanghan.
“Very good.”
As anger rose, Meng Xiaolou suddenly widened his eyes: “Look, at the Nine Tribulations Pagoda where Nao Niang is stored in Choushan Academy…”
Ao Guanghan looked up sharply. At the peak of Choushan, a wisp of red cloud mist curled, gradually taking the shape of a phoenix, emitting a clear cry.
A phoenix’s cry heralds the gathering of souls.
“Nan Rao?”
After a moment of joy, a massive fox shadow suddenly appeared outside the Nine Tribulations Pagoda, covering the sky. Following a fox howl that shook heaven and earth, the phoenix, which should have taken form, let out a mournful cry and plummeted into the pagoda. Simultaneously, the pagoda’s base trembled violently, releasing a wisp of ominous, turbid energy.
“…That fox spirit has opened the Bitter Spring River!!”
…
Meanwhile, in Huigu Valley:
“There’s only one Bodhi leaf. Fellow Daoist, since you already have one, why be greedy? Just wait on the side.”
The cultivator from Shenzhou spoke with disdain, seeing that Nan Yan was only at the seventh stage of Core Formation and a female cultivator.
Mo Xingzhen, having seen Nan Yan in action, inexplicably felt she had a volatile temper and feared she might explode on the spot. Surprisingly, when he turned to look, he found both of them wearing strange expressions—one looking skyward, the other’s face turning green.
“What’s wrong with you two?” Mo Xingzhen asked.
“Nothing, just suddenly felt like the world underwent a dramatic change,” Nan Yan said, rubbing her brow. She glanced at the unfriendly Shenzhou cultivators and asked, “Are you sure you don’t need my help?”
“We can handle a few silver silkworms ourselves,” the cultivators, all at Core Formation, replied confidently.
Nan Yan wrapped her prayer beads in her sleeve. “Then I’ll step aside for now.”
She nodded to Mo Xingzhen, mentioning that the more Punishment Scriptures they collected, the more certain she could be of Jiming’s location. After she left, Mo Xingzhen immediately approached the Shenzhou cultivators to discuss the distribution order.
“Whoever touches the Bodhi leaf first will absorb it. I’ll use a golden silkworm net to pick it first. There should be more Bodhi leaves later. After we cooperate, we’ll distribute them based on contribution. If there aren’t enough leaves, we can make up the difference with treasures or spirit stones. How does that sound?”
…This is the heterodox cultivation method that his master couldn’t tolerate.
Mo Xingzhen had no interest in the Seven Buddhas’ Karma Scriptures, but he wanted to know Jiming’s whereabouts, whether Jiming truly witnessed his master killing Lady Nan Fang, and how to prevent his master from making more mistakes.
A quarter-hour later, three cultivators below simultaneously chanted verses, forming a defensive light formation. Mo Xingzhen and two other Core Formation Confucian cultivators flew upwards. As they neared the middle, they suddenly accelerated, shooting out beams of spiritual light like meteors, attempting to break the Bodhi leaf’s stem.
But when the spiritual light struck the branch, it made a metallic “ding” sound.
“Not good!”
The silver silkworms on the branch, hearing the sound, immediately split into over ten insect balls, rolling down like dense clouds to devour the intruders.
The Confucian cultivators deployed their treasures to defend, but surprisingly, the silver silkworms seemed to only see them. Though interested in Mo Xingzhen, they mostly ignored him.
Mo Xingzhen quickly realized it was due to the insect mother tree resin Nan Yan had given him.
The silver silkworms exploded into a large swarm. One cultivator’s artifact made Mo Xingzhen frown deeply. Seeing Mo Xingzhen unharmed, a Shenzhou cultivator asked, “Fellow Daoist, what sorcery did you use? Quick, save us!”
“Five breaths,” Mo Xingzhen said, then leaped up, grabbing the Bodhi leaf. Miraculously, it didn’t dissolve in his hand, allowing him to take it away.
“Retreat! Quickly!”
Seeing Mo Xingzhen succeed, the cultivators immediately deployed their treasures to protect everyone. With their Core Formation power fully unleashed, the silver silkworms soon found no targets to devour and gradually returned to the treetops, reforming into balls.
As everything quieted down, the Shenzhou cultivators emerged from their protective sacks, disheveled. The one who spoke earlier coldly said, “Fellow Daoist, though we’re chance acquaintances, we fought together. You have a treasure that repels silver silkworms. Why not share it with us?”
Mo Xingzhen replied, “The person with the treasure was the one you asked to leave earlier.”
Most cultivators were sharp-eared and bright-eyed. They immediately recalled Nan Yan’s strange action of applying ointment to her face, their expressions turning ugly.
“A Core Formation cultivator, yet so petty. If she had mentioned having a treasure earlier, I wouldn’t have given her a hard time,” said the tall cultivator who had initially troubled Nan Yan. “Hmm? Did you get the Bodhi leaf? You should hand it over for us to distribute.”
Mo Xingzhen, experienced in such situations, calmly asked, “I can hand it over, but I have a question—that Pengtai Brush in your hand, I’ve seen it with the Shenzhou prince. How did you come to possess it?”
The Shenzhou cultivator frowned suddenly. “Who exactly are you? Shenzhou’s internal affairs are none of your business.”
Mo Xingzhen stared at him silently. After a while, the latter coldly said, “Prince Yun Nian defied his teachers and is confined in the ancestral hall for reflection.”
As they spoke, the others had surrounded them. Mo Xingzhen said, “I can take this Bodhi leaf, but if you take it, it might be absorbed immediately. Are you sure?”
“How are you any different from us?” The tall cultivator found this person strange and was about to signal his companions to act when a burst of spiritual light flashed nearby. The ground trembled slightly. After a moment, they saw the previously scorned early-stage Core Formation female cultivator dragging a demonic cultivator whose spine had been shattered. In her other hand, she held five disappearing Bodhi leaves.
“Oh? You’ve only managed to get one after all this time?”
Killing a demonic cultivator of the same level… so quickly??
The initially murderous cultivators became wary. The tall one asked, “Fellow Daoist, do you have a treasure that conceals you from silver silkworms?”
“I do,” Nan Yan paused, silently saying “my apologies” before continuing, “Earlier, you all rejected my goodwill. I assume you’re all people of high moral character, so I won’t insist. Let’s… trade with primordial spiritual energy instead.”