Jiang Yizheng heard someone calling her and struggled to open her eyes, only to see Ning Buwei looking at her.
“Father, are you real or fake?” Jiang Yizheng asked in a weak and sorrowful tone, as her nightmares were filled with Ning Buwei’s cold face ready to silence her forever.
Ning Buwei remained silent for a moment, then reached out and patted her head.
Jiang Yizheng’s eyes filled with fear as she backed away repeatedly, wailing, “You must be fake!? Father, save me—”
Ning Buwei said, “…Keep wailing and I’ll leave you here.”
Jiang Yizheng immediately shut her mouth, looking around at the eerie tomb and that terrifying ice coffin, so scared that tears were about to fall.
Ning Buwei sighed, “How did you get in here?”
Jiang Yizheng carefully peered at him, muttering softly. “Fake fake fake I can’t see or hear anything.”
Ning Buwei said in a gloomy tone. “…Jiang Yizheng.”
That familiar tone—Jiang Yizheng tentatively reached out and poked the back of Ning Buwei’s hand. It was warm, human.
“Wuwuwu Father!” Jiang Yizheng hugged Ning Buwei’s arm, and the tears that had only been welling in her eyes now poured out as she cried earthshakingly, “I was so scared! What kind of ghostly place is this? Why is there a coffin? Aaaah the child inside wearing that ugly dress looks exactly like me when I was little! Aaaah and your name is carved on top!”
Ning Buwei’s ears were nearly deafened by her wailing. With a wooden expression, he watched as she smeared tears and snot all over his sleeve, and asked in an odd tone, “That dress… is it really that ugly?”
Jiang Yizheng hiccupped from crying, wiped her face hard, and sobbed. “It’s so colorful and ugly! So scary!”
Ning Buwei fell into a strange silence for a moment, “Then what style do you think looks good?”
“Hic!” Jiang Yizheng looked at him in horror, stiffly let go of his arm, and turned to run, but was caught by Ning Buwei grabbing her collar.
“Let me tell you! My father is Ning Buwei! The great demon Ning Buwei! Even if you transform into his appearance, I can still recognize it! When my father finds out, you’re finished!” Jiang Yizheng first threatened, then said desperately.
“Big big brother I really meant no offense! You you you- please spare me I’m just an innocent poor cultivator passing by! Wuwuwu I don’t want to die!”
Ning Buwei belatedly realized his timing for asking had been inappropriate. Seeing Jiang Yizheng almost scared out of her mind, he sheepishly rubbed his nose and stuck several calming talismans on her back, then took her out of the burial chamber.
Jiang Yizheng was bathed in sunlight again, and with the effect of the calming talismans, she finally seemed to come alive. Staring at Ning Buwei’s familiar face, she wanted to cry but didn’t dare, “Who are you really?”
Ning Buwei clicked his tongue. “How did you all come from the flying ship to the Floating Sky Realm?”
Jiang Yizheng stammered. “Little Black’s formation—”
“Stupid.” Ning Buwei gave her a disdainful glance and turned to walk away.
Jiang Yizheng finally got up from the ground and followed him.
With that disdainful tone and impatient expression, this was undoubtedly her father.
“Father, what kind of place is the Floating Sky Realm?” Jiang Yizheng tentatively asked as she followed behind him.
“A secret realm that drifts randomly in the sky,” Ning Buwei said.
“Father, how did you find me?” Jiang Yizheng asked again.
Ning Buwei tossed her a piece of rope, “Tracking formation.”
Jiang Yizheng fumbled to catch the rope, confirmed it was the rope she usually used for hanging laundry, and asked puzzledly. “Father, why did you take my rope?”
Ning Buwei’s back stiffened, and he turned to stare at her.
Although Ning Buwei’s cold demeanor was quite intimidating, Jiang Yizheng instinctively felt her father was being evasive. “Father, one last question, that child called Jiang Ling in the burial chamber—”
Ning Buwei raised his hand to form a seal, but Jiang Yizheng quickly covered her forehead and shouted, “Father, you can’t be so dishonorable and seal people’s memories just because you’re powerful!”
Ning Buwei narrowed his eyes, “Who told you this was for sealing memories?”
“The Venerable taught us,” Jiang Yizheng said proudly. “He also taught us a set of mind techniques!”
This fearless attitude was completely different from the trembling little rabbit she was moments ago.
Ning Buwei: “……”
That surnamed Chu.
His thoughts transmitted accurately through their Dao contract to Chu Jun’s mind. Chu Jun, who was holding his son and preparing to catch a dragon: “??”
Ning Buwei stiffened, then casually ignored Chu Jun’s confusion and focused on lecturing his daughter, “Where did you get all these questions from?”
Jiang Yizheng looked at him pitifully, muttering softly. “But I really saw the words ‘Tomb of Jiang Ling, daughter of Ning Buwei’ carved on the coffin… The handwriting looked just like what you would carve…”
When Ning Buwei had previously taught her and Feng Zizhang to draw talismans, he occasionally wrote annotations. Although her father’s talismans were as messy as dog scratches and incomprehensible, his handwriting was quite beautiful, so she naturally remembered it well.
Ning Buwei glanced at her and turned to walk ahead.
“Father, wait for me!” Jiang Yizheng ran to catch up.
Ning Buwei remained silent with a grave expression the whole way, making Jiang Yizheng afraid to ask more questions. She carefully tugged at Ning Buwei’s sleeve, “Father, I won’t ask anymore, don’t be angry.”
Ning Buwei looked at her with a complicated expression, and seeing her being so careful made him feel uncomfortable, “I’m not angry. The child lying in that burial chamber…”
He paused, then said. “Died over four hundred years ago.”
Jiang Yizheng froze, “Over four hundred years ago?”
“Four hundred and eighty years ago.” Ning Buwei said gravely, “I—”
Just as he was about to continue, the blood-colored marking on the back of his hand belonging to Feng Zizhang suddenly flickered violently, then showed signs of breaking.
Clearly his life force was about to expire.
Ning Buwei grabbed Jiang Yizheng’s collar and threw her onto his flying sword, saying, “Let’s save Feng Zizhang first, we’ll discuss this matter later.”
Jiang Yizheng obediently nodded.
Compared to satisfying her curiosity, her brother’s life was more important.
****
Feng Zizhang only remembered that he was catching Little Black with Huanhuan, but due to one careless moment, he appeared in this exquisite mansion, truly leaving him bewildered.
The furnishings in this mansion were luxurious and exquisite, but the style and materials were ones he had never seen before, more ancient and grand compared to current styles. An endless stream of spiritual power enveloped him, feeling extremely comfortable.
But Feng Zizhang was still worried about his brothers and sister, only wanting to quickly go out and find them. However, before he could leave this extremely luxurious hall, he suddenly heard an imposing voice.
“Child, I see your bones are extraordinary and your talent exceptional. Would you be willing to become my only closed-door disciple?”
Feng Zizhang stumbled in fright and looked around vigilantly, “Who’s there? Who’s speaking!?”
“My true self has already ascended to the upper realm, this is merely a trace of divine consciousness I left behind to pass on my legacy,” that voice said. “If you agree to be my closed-door disciple, this mansion and all my life’s learning will be yours, and within a hundred years you will certainly dominate the cultivation world.”
Feng Zizhang: “…Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
That voice was clearly stunned for a moment, “Why? Don’t you want to become stronger? Don’t you want to ascend?”
“Uh…” Feng Zizhang scratched his head and said sincerely, “Thank you for your kindness, senior, but my father always tells us that there’s no such thing as a free lunch, and besides, my aptitude is ordinary, I just want to live well.”
Being lucky was already enough—this was the only positive evaluation from his father.
Living on persistently would lead to becoming stronger—this was the encouragement from the Venerable.
Although Feng Zizhang wasn’t particularly clever, he firmly remembered his father’s and the Venerable’s words, which specifically manifested as being naturally content with mediocrity.
With his good luck, he would probably survive, and if he survived, he would probably become stronger—there was nothing wrong with that logic.
The owner of that voice clearly couldn’t understand his convoluted thinking and said angrily, “Such a rare opportunity offered freely, and you refuse it! A rotten wood cannot be carved!”
(TL: A rotten wood cannot be carved=This is a Chinese idiom originating from Confucius’s Analects (《论语》), specifically from a passage where Confucius laments the inability to teach someone who is hopelessly unteachable.)
Feng Zizhang respectfully performed a junior’s bow, “I wish senior an early success in finding your true successor.”
Just as he was about to leave, the great door suddenly slammed shut before him.
“Since you’re so ignorant, don’t blame me for being impolite!”
Feng Zizhang was startled, “Can taking disciples really be forced like this!?”
“Ignorant child, being chosen by me is your honor!” A sudden fierce wind arose in the hall, attempting to sweep him into the inner chamber.
Suddenly, a force grabbed his belt and pulled him out of the whirlwind.
Feng Zizhang fell dizzily to the ground, feeling something hard beneath him. Just as he was about to speak, a soft hand covered his mouth, and a voice transmitted into his mind, “Fellow cultivator, please remain silent.”
Feng Zizhang opened his eyes wide to see a woman looking at him with a grave expression, and beside her was a little girl of eight or nine years.
“I am Yang Qianrou from the Divine Medical Valley,” the woman said. “Fortunately, you didn’t believe that old monster’s words. He has been trapped in this formation for many years, seeking a willing substitute to replace him. The substitute must be willing, and these are all the cultivators he brutally murdered for refusing.”
Feng Zizhang looked down while saying, “How do you know—”
His voice suddenly stopped as he saw scattered skeletons all around, and beside his foot was a still-warm corpse.
Well, now he knew how Yang Qianrou knew.
“Where are you!? Come out! Come out right now!” That voice gradually became frenzied, “You can’t escape! Refusing means only death! Come out!”
Feng Zizhang nervously swallowed and looked at Yang Qianrou, “Fellow cultivator, do you have a way out?”
Yang Qianrou shook her head, “My niece and I have been trapped here for a day and night, every escape attempt was discovered by him.”
Yang Lingzhu hugged her little red snake, “We could try to kill him.”
Yang Qianrou patted her head, “We can’t defeat him.”
Feng Zizhang took out the Snow-Refined Armor from his storage ring, “We can temporarily hide in here.”
Yang Qianrou sensed the dense spiritual power from the treasure and thought badly, “Fellow cultivator, put it away quickly!”
But before she finished speaking, that strange elderly voice suddenly sounded behind them, “Good, I’ve finally found you! I’ve been trapped in this formation by Yan Jinzhou for exactly four hundred and eighty years! I’ve had enough!”
“Run!” Feng Zizhang pushed Yang Qianrou and Yang Lingzhu away, using the Snow-Refined Armor to forcefully block an attack, but due to insufficient cultivation, he was violently thrown back.
“Ignorant child!” The person roared, countless iron chains emerged from all directions, binding Feng Zizhang’s limbs, actually trying to drill into his forehead to forcefully possess his body.
“This vessel is perfect! Hahahaha perfect perfect! Heaven truly helps me! Once I get out, I’ll tear Yan Jinzhou into ten thousand pieces! How dare he trap me here for so many years! And his disciple Ning Buwei… I’ll make her and Ning Buwei wish they were dead!”
Om—
A Buddhist chant came from above, a golden Buddhist seal pressed down from the sky with its own golden light. Whether it was Feng Zizhang or Yang Lingzhu and Yang Qianrou, all were stunned dizzy, while that troublemaking old monster let out a piercing scream and hid somewhere unknown.
A monk holding a Zen staff slowly descended from the sky into the empty courtyard. He had handsome features, a red mole between his eyebrows, slightly downcast eyes, and a compassionate expression. A massive, majestic Buddhist manifestation appeared behind him.
Half wrathful vajra, half compassionate buddha, yet there was no discord between the two aspects.
“Amitabha,” he raised his hand, slightly lowered his gaze toward Feng Zizhang and the other two, and performed a Buddhist greeting.
Yang Qianrou’s expression became excited as she recognized that fleeting Buddhist manifestation, “Are you Zen Master Mingsang!?”
