Unseen Immortal of Three Hundred Years - Chap 58
Chapter 58
The feeling of being abruptly torn from one’s memories is far from pleasant.
As Wu Xingxue regained his senses, a myriad of voices mingled around his ears.
He could hear Xiao Fuxuan saying, “I have seen you in the mortal realm,” the storytellers and hawkers of Luohua City Market, the wind of Jingguan, distant ghostly wails, and the bell tolls from atop a high tower.
There was even a vague voice of an unnamed spirit, lingering after being freed by his sword, asking him, “Who are you?”
Too many, too many voices.
But eventually, all these voices from his memories dissipated, leaving behind a single thought.
This is that tower.
The tower within the Feng family’s secret grounds, the same one the solitary cultivator had once inhabited.
Wu Yusheng moved through the phantom images of divine trees, gazing at the tower they stood before.
Under Xiao Fuxuan’s sweeping sword energy, the tower was in disarray; beams had fallen and broken, the white jade essence and divine tree branches that it contained were scattered on the ground.
Not a trace of its past glory remained.
Its appearance had changed, its structure slightly altered, and the ancient bell that used to crown its summit was nowhere to be seen. Even the solitary cultivator who once lived in the tower, were they to stand here now, would likely fail to recognize it.
To be precise, it would be impossible for them to recognize it.
Because at the end of that past saga, after Wu Yusheng cut through the chaos, the tower was already destroyed.
The solitary cultivator might have been too depleted to recover; perhaps tired of the constant struggle and revisiting, or maybe it was his benevolent side that prevailed once again.
He cast a spell, closed his eyes, and sat down in the tower, choosing to be buried within it amidst boundless flames.
By all logic, once the tower was destroyed, it should not have been able to reappear.
That’s what everyone would think, except for Wu Yusheng.
Because in Wu Yusheng’s eyes, a destroyed tower could reappear intact.
But not in this world, rather, within a certain thread.
If the heavenly decree of that time had accidentally missed a thread, and the original Spirit King had not cut it off, then everything and everyone on that thread would continue to move forward in time.
Rogue practitioners could unleash that spell, and the tower could continue to exist.
They now stood on a line that hadn’t been severed.
“No wonder,”
Wu Xingxue murmured softly.
No wonder Ning Huai Shan and Doctor Wu had mentioned that Feng Shu Lan’s age didn’t seem to add up, and they had never even heard of Feng Huiming.
Because this place wasn’t on the same line as the present world—it was a branch from the past.
But even in a tangled branch, there is cause and effect; nothing happens without reason.
Generally speaking, even if the tower wasn’t destroyed and continued to exist, it would be most closely related to that rogue practitioner.
Yet now, it appeared within the Feng family’s secret grounds, claimed by the Feng family as their own territory.
That was very intriguing.
Either the Feng family had a close relationship with that rogue practitioner, who had left or died and left the tower to the Feng family.
Or perhaps the most common reason: fearing the tower’s remaining dark spells and forbidden arts might harm the world, the Feng family, as cultivators, enclosed this dangerous place within their domain. But in guarding it, they developed ulterior motives and began to use the power of the divine tree within the tower to aid their cultivation.
Alternatively, the Feng family might have needed to use the tower for some purpose, so they incorporated it into their territory.
As Wu Xingxue was pondering, suddenly, a clear sound of a sword ringing through the air was heard.
The “Mian” sword traced an arc in the sky, rushing towards Feng Huiming and pinning itself to the wall, just grazing his neck.
Feng Huiming turned deathly pale, his eyes fixed on the trembling sword blade.
He didn’t just sit there waiting for doom; suddenly, he slid down, dodged the sword blade, and lay down on the ground, then propped himself up with both hands.
He did a roll, attempting to grab his own sword.
Then, with a “boom,” the “Mian” sword was still pulled out from the wall, accurately pinning right before his hand, as if it had anticipated his move.
Had he stretched his hand a mere inch further, it would have been pierced by the sword.
Feng Huiming gasped for air, rolling over again
Only to be blocked by the sword close to his face once more.
He struggled several times, but eventually, his neck, limbs, and even the top of his head were firmly pinned by the golden sword shadows. Any further movement would result in his immediate death.
“You—” Feng Huiming, with veins bulging in his eyes yet unable to move, clenched his fist and gritted his teeth, “If the immortal has something to say, why resort to such coercion?”
Xiao Fuxuan’s voice then rose, his tone grave, “Why is this tower in your possession?”
Wu Xingxue was initially startled.
Then, he realized, Xiao Fuxuan’s energy still lingered around his heart, allowing him to hear his thoughts and intentions, naturally uncovering what he had been pondering.
Feng Huiming’s eyes were bloodshot. “I don’t know,”
His eyes darted around, glancing at the sword energies threatening his vital points, he repeated, “I truly don’t know.”
Xiao Fuxuan coldly retorted, “You know.”
He gasped, paused for a moment, then hoarsely said, “How would I know? When I came to the Feng family, the tower was already here. Everything I know was told by the family head. I’ve already told you, this is the Feng family’s secret ground. The family head has always told me this, and I have always believed it—this is our secret ground, the tower we built ourselves, I—”
Before he could finish, Wu Xingxue had already approached him, looking down and interrupting, “It seems you truly do know. You almost had me fooled there for a moment.”
Initially, Wu Xingxue thought Xiao Fuxuan’s question was a bluff aimed at Feng Huiming, but he quickly realized it wasn’t. Feng Huiming indeed ought to know something.
Feng Huiming defended himself, “What—I haven’t, everything I said is true, not a word of lie.”
“Is that so? But your reaction was off,” Wu Xingxue observed.
Feng Huiming was startled, “What do you mean?”
“If you truly knew nothing, believing whatever the family head told you, thinking this tower was built by your Feng family,” Wu Xingxue pointed towards Xiao Fuxuan, “then when he asked you why this tower was in your home, you should have confidently claimed it was built by your family. Where else would it be if not in your home?”
Wu Xingxue paused, then added, “Or at least shown a bit of confusion on your face.”
Speaking thus, Wu Xingxue slightly lifted his robe and squatted down, his gaze dropping to Feng Huiming, his voice gradually deepening, “But you didn’t. You answered too quickly.”
His too-quick response, without a hint of doubt, indicated that he understood Xiao Fuxuan’s question. It also meant he knew the tower shouldn’t be standing on Feng family’s grounds.
Feng HuiMing stiffened, staring intently at Wu Xingxue, his lips pressed so tightly they turned pale. This lent him an eerie, deathly aura.
Wu Xingxue frowned slightly.
He almost thought it was an illusion, but after scrutinizing Feng HuiMing closely and about to reach out to probe further, Xiao Fuxuan’s voice suddenly drew near, stating bluntly, “You’re close to death, do you know that?”
The directness of the statement caused Feng Huiming’s expression to change instantly.
Even Ning Huai Shan, who had followed along, was startled, whispering, “Is that true or not?”
Xiao Fuxuan did not reply.
Feng Huiming pressed his lips tighter, his eyes bloodshot, silent.
The pale, deathly aura around him became even more evident, unmistakable. Coupled with his reaction, even Ning Huai Shan clicked his tongue, saying, “Seems like it’s true. Do you know about this yourself? Why so silent?”
“I can live,” Feng HuiMing finally said in a hoarse voice after a long pause. “I’ve found a way. I won’t die. The Feng family… the Feng family can’t do without me now; I won’t die.”
Hearing this, Wu Xingxue raised his eyebrows and exchanged a glance with Xiao Fuxuan.
Using the energy wrapped around his heart, Wu Xingxue sent a message, “Xiao Fuxuan, why is he close to death? The deathly aura on him is strange, not like a physical illness.”
Xiao Fuxuan, after examining Feng Huiming and probing his spirit, responded telepathically, “It seems like—”
“It’s some kind of life-exchanging forbidden art.”
“Life-exchanging?” Wu Xingxue echoed.
Xiao Fuxuan hummed in affirmation, then added, “The other person must already be dead… Someone intends to trade his life with the dead person.”
Wu Xingxue understood.
Someone intended to swap Feng HuiMing’s life with that of a deceased person.
This sorcery was ongoing, perhaps already substantially complete, which is why Feng Huiming was enveloped in this unexplained aura of death.
Indeed, to provoke Feng HuiMing into telling the truth, mentioning these facts directly in front of him would have been most effective, as no one can accept being part of a life exchange, especially as the sacrificial party.
It was truly a sorrowful situation.
But Wu Xingxue chose to communicate telepathically, not wanting to provoke Feng Huiming.
Even if Feng HuiMing remained silent, they could now guess the general situation.
Given Feng HuiMing’s status within the Feng family, the only person who could enact such schemes on him would likely be the family head himself.
Furthermore, since it involved forbidden arts, it inevitably required some dark methods, involving spirits or demonic entities.
With this, the reason why the rogue practitioner’s tower ended up within the Feng family’s possession seemed to become clearer.
Wu Xingxue then asked via telepathy, “Can you find out to whom his life was exchanged?”
“I’ll try,” Xiao Fuxuan replied.
Wu Xingxue nodded in acknowledgment.
Ning Huai Shan, blinking, looked at them a few times, a question mark almost visibly forming over his head. “City Lord, why did you suddenly nod? Did someone say something?”
Wu Xingxue “…”
Ning Huai Shan: “Am I deaf?”
After asking, he seemed to have an epiphany, “Oh, telepathy.”
Seeing Ning Huai Shan figure it out on his own, Wu Xingxue was about to let it go when he felt a poke on his arm. Ning Huai Shan’s pitiful voice came through, “City Lord, don’t just communicate with the Celestial Lodger; it makes me anxious.”
Wu Xingxue “…”
“What are you anxious about?” Wu Xingxue was puzzled.
“I’ll think I’ve done something stupid again, and you’re figuring out how to punish me.”
Wu Xingxue thought to himself how many silly things one must do to have such a thought.
He was about to tell Ning Huai Shan, “If you’re really that anxious, you can use telepathy too,” but before he could speak, he felt the energy wrapped around his heart twitch, as if squeezing it gently, immediately drawing his attention.
Wu Xingxue turned to look at Xiao Fuxuan, hearing the voice of the Celestial Lodger close to his heart, “I’ve found it.”
Wu Xingxue immediately forgot about Ning Huai Shan, asking, “Exchanged with whom?”
“It’s unclear who, but they are beneath the tower,” Xiao Fuxuan explained, then with a grasp, he retracted the “Mian” sword back into his palm. Placing one hand on the hilt with the sword tip pointing downward, he struck the ground decisively.
The cold, sealed ground cracked open with countless fissures spreading rapidly in all directions from where the sword tip touched, revealing what lay beneath the tower.
At the moment the ground began to collapse, Feng Huiming finally burst out, “No, don’t open it.”
In that instant, he disregarded the threat of the sword energy and covered his eyes with his hands. He shut his eyes tightly, even blocking out his hearing, unwilling to see what lay beneath the tower.
Because once he saw it, he would have to admit that he was the one who was meant to be sacrificed from the beginning.
The ground only collapsed a few inches before suddenly stopping its descent.
Countless glowing white chains surged out, their presence announced by the clinking sounds of metal on stone, threading through every crack in the broken ground and emerging elsewhere.
In the blink of an eye, the chains wove into a giant net, capturing the fragmented ground and preventing it from collapsing any further.
“Who is that?”
Wu Xingxue turned his head towards the origin of the chains.
He saw the tower door open, with remnants of mystical thunder and lightning flashing outside, and a figure standing at the threshold, holding the other end of the chains.
The figure appeared to be in his prime, standing upright—a common sight among cultivators, which was not surprising. However, under the light, his face was filled with decay, with two deep lines beside his lips.
For cultivators, appearances seldom change, and a mere century should not have brought such transformation. This person must have lived for a very long time.
The wrinkles on his face always pointed downwards, giving him a look of constant scorn and anger.
The newcomer’s gaze swept across the interior of the crumbling tower, his lips moving, “I heard from my disciples that a distinguished guest arrived in the dead of night, led here by Hui Ming.”
From his tone, it was likely the Feng family head.
“My disciples are all quite young, and in their panic, they couldn’t make themselves clear. I had already retired for the night, and my mind was somewhat weary. After listening for a while, I was still quite confused, only understanding that our guest was no ordinary figure, seemingly an immortal.”
He spoke the word “immortal” with a particularly cold tone, devoid of deep respect.
After all, the Feng family oversees the Luohua City Market and guards the sealed land of the Divine Tree. Their status in the mortal realm is unique, and even when faced with minor immortals, as the head of the Feng family, he never showed fear.
Holding the chains, he stepped over the threshold of the tower, tightening the chains while continuing, “Since an immortal guest has come calling, how could we allow just the elders and disciples to hastily welcome them? It would be a breach of etiquette. So, I made a special trip to meet and see which immortal from the Celestial Capital had the leisure to be so curious about our Feng family’s tower, causing such a commotion, I…”
As he entered the tower and finally shifted his gaze from the cracked ground to the “supposed immortals” inside, his speech trailed off.
His expression tightened as his eyes passed over Xiao Fuxuan.
When his gaze landed on Wu Xingxue, his pupils shrank dramatically, and his thin lips almost trembled.
“You?”
Wu Xingxue raised an eyebrow.
“This reaction is truly strange, as if this family head recognizes me,” he whispered to Xiao Fuxuan, “but I have no recollection of him.”
Xiao Fuxuan remained silent.
After a moment, he said, “There are many people of whom you have no recollection.”
Wu Xingxue “…”
He suddenly remembered the time in the Celestial Capital, when Xiao Fuxuan had mentioned, “I have seen you in the mortal realm,” “in Jingguan,” but he indeed had no memory of such an encounter, always assuming it was merely a chance passing.
Now, this offhand remark seemed to suggest something different from what he had thought.
But at this moment, it wasn’t the right time to probe further.
Because after seeing him, the Feng family head stiffened, eventually winding the chains tighter around his hand. It might have been an illusion, but there suddenly was a sense of finality about him, as if he knew the night would not end well, yet he had no other choice.
He tightened the chains, lowered his gaze, and said in a hoarse, subdued voice, “Even for the two of you, I will not release these chains tonight.”
Wu Xingxue asked, “You recognize me?”
The Feng family head’s wrinkles twitched slightly at the corners of his mouth. After a long while, he spoke, “In my youth, I once fell victim to a dark art and nearly died.”
Wu Xingxue was taken aback.
The legends of the Divine Tree spread because occasionally, people on the brink of death due to accidents were miraculously saved.
Those people had all seen the Divine Tree with their own eyes.
There were also rumors that someone who had seen the Divine Tree turn into a person placed a jade carving on the shrine in a temple at midnight.
The person who spoke of this had also seen him.
“Perhaps it was due to this divine fate that I was later fortunate enough to guard the Luohua Platform,” said the Feng family head, his voice raspy and slow.
“Divine fate, fortunate,” Wu Xingxue softly echoed the words, bending over to pick up a fallen shard of the Divine Tree, “Then you tell me, these shards, this tower, and the ground you’re preventing from collapsing—where do they fit into this divine fate? How are they fortunate?”
Wu Xingxue scanned the area, continuing, “I can’t see how this is related to immortals, nor can I see where the fortune lies.”
The Feng family head’s expression turned even uglier, a rare hint of disarray appearing on his face.
Xiao Fuxuan planted his sword into the ground and wiped off a speck of dust that had splashed onto the back of his hand, saying, “Either you explain, or I force it open.”
The Feng family head abruptly lifted his gaze, then slowly lowered it again. His shoulders were tensely drawn, veins nearly bulging on his neck, but he still gripped the chains, showing no intention of stepping aside. “I have come this far; it makes no difference whether I speak or not.”
Xiao Fuxuan responded gravely, “Fine.”
The moment his words fell, he exerted force with the hand holding the sword.
A massive whirlwind suddenly erupted around the tower, almost reaching from the earth to the sky. The whirlwind, like a long dragon, twisted and drew in everything around it.
Beams, broken wood, shrine cushions, metals, and stones, nothing was spared.
Even Ning Huai Shan and Feng Huiming had to wedge their swords into the ground, clutching them tightly to prevent themselves from being sucked into the vortex.
As if everything was morphing within the hurricane, the chains on the ground clanged chaotically, striking each other and sparking flames.
The chains could no longer hold onto the cold stone ground, those heavy blocks breaking inch by inch in the wind, quickly turning into dust.
In the next moment, Xiao Fuxuan’s long sword swept across, its golden light passing over all the chains.
The bond between a magical instrument and its cultivator is deeply spiritual. As the chains broke, the Feng family head could no longer control himself, letting out a long howl.
His meridians bulged under his skin, presenting a fearsome sight. Yet, he continued to throw out new chains;
For every chain broken, he replaced one.
If ten were broken, he replenished ten.
The sounds of breaking and the clicks of chains layered over each other, but ultimately, he was the first to falter.
Veins on his body cracked open somewhere, blood gushing out, flowing down his arm to his fingertips, staining the chains a bright red.
The moment the first chain failed to connect, his strength waned, and he staggered.
Then came the second, the third…
In the blink of an eye, the chains on one side were all severed.
The family head suddenly lost his balance on one side and half-kneeled on the ground amidst the howling wind.
In the next instant, the other side was completely cut through as well.
Upon hearing a thunderous boom, the luminescent white chains shattered altogether, followed by the collapse of the cold stone floor beneath. What lay beneath the high tower was now exposed.
Wu Xingxue first saw two coffins, positioned within a massive formation, surrounded entirely by candles.
Then, he heard the piercing screams and wails numbering in the tens of thousands.
The last time he had heard such sounds was in the numerous graves of Jingguan, where both the sound and the smell were eerily similar.
It was as if someone had lured the countless dead of Jingguan here, sealing them beneath the tower to nurture these two coffins while cultivating a forbidden life-exchange technique.
Normally, such a malevolent and sinister aura would be perceptible to anyone within a hundred miles.
However, the rafters of this high tower were embedded with fragments of divine wood, whose power just happened to mask these malevolent auras. At the same time, these sinister energies conveniently concealed the presence of the divine wood fragments.
In another sense, it was a form of mutual complementation.
Wu Xingxue’s face darkened.
No wonder the aura of the divine wood here felt both familiar and strange to him, tinged with a sense of evil—thanks to what was sealed beneath the ground.
“Who is in the coffins?” Wu Xingxue asked in a deep voice.
The head of the Feng family, hands covered in blood, clutching the shattered luminescent white chains, knelt among the collapsed rubble, staring blankly at the two coffins. After a moment, he started to laugh hoarsely.
After a long pause, he answered, “They are my son and daughter.”
Son and daughter.
Wu Xingxue furrowed his brows, glancing unconsciously towards Feng Huiming.
Feng Huiming, gripping the hilt of his sword, also knelt on the ground, his head bowed, his breathing trembling lightly.
It seemed, then, that this so-called life exchange was meant to replace his dead children with Feng Huiming.
The head of the Feng family’s eyes were fixed solely on the coffins.
As he bled profusely, he spoke softly, “My son was upright and generous, warm and gentle, even though he was a bit frail. My daughter, two years younger, was brilliantly talented and possessed an extraordinary constitution.
“Tempered like steel”
When his children were very young, he already harbored the thought that, should they grow into adulthood, he might pass the mantle of head of the household to his daughter, blessed with a fine constitution. His son, meanwhile, would take on the role of a supporting elder, overseeing the elixirs and medical halls.
The siblings were to uphold the family’s honor, becoming a tale of greatness.
Alas,
Before they could reach adulthood, both children passed away on the same day, under the same circumstances, without any prior indication. Others, unaware of the cause of the siblings’ death, offered their condolences, lamenting the tragedy without knowing how to comfort him, leaving him with mere words of “restrain your grief.”
But as their father, he knew all too clearly.
In his youth, he had accidentally dabbled in dark magic, which should have led to his demise, yet he was forcefully saved. The method of his salvation was not righteous, and he knew there would be a price to pay eventually.
But never had he imagined that the price would be borne by his children.
He had scoffed a thousand times at his own family’s efforts to eradicate evil spirits, questioning why they would deserve such a fate.
It was utterly unreasonable.
So, he refused to accept it.
He sought every possible means to defy fate, to pull his dearly beloved children from their coffins back to the living world, dreaming of their revival to glorify the family name.
He eventually discovered a forbidden technique for exchanging lives, a method both incredibly difficult and deceptively simple in equal measure.
It required the souls of the deceased and the lives of the living.
The souls of the deceased would lay the foundation for the forbidden technique, and then a living person would be found to exchange lives with.
A single soul, or even a handful, was far from sufficient; he needed thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of souls to pave a path for life exchange. Thus, he turned his attention to the vast graveyards, the resting places of countless lost spirits, of Jingguan.
However, what he hadn’t anticipated was the arrival of a solitary cultivator at Jingguan, who built a tall tower on the spot and patrolled day and night, standing guard. Each day the cultivator remained was another day of delay for him.
So, he made his move.
Not long after, the solitary cultivator fell into madness, strayed into the path of evil, and the tower became a haven for filth and corruption.
Whether to kill or to seal, his actions were now infamous.
