Chapter 418: Chapter 418

Chu Kun asked curiously, “According to the ancient Talismanic Branch’s methods, breaking through to the Great Ascension stage with Initiation and Talisman Conferral requires a Daoist Altar, right?”

For Talismanic Branch cultivators, the breakthrough from the Sixth Heaven to the Seventh Heaven requires the presence of an altar.

For breakthroughs beyond the Seventh Heaven, it may vary depending on the individual.

However, according to the ancient Talismanic Branch’s tradition, once one reaches the Upper Three Heavens, each breakthrough to a new major realm must rely on an altar and the formal request for Talisman Conferral from the ancestral masters in the heavens.

Currently, the Mount Longhu lineage of Han Dynasty has relocated the entire sect and disappeared from the mortal realm.

There were rumors that Pan Hailin happened to be traveling outside at the time, and so he missed the event.

Xu Yuanzhen didn't specifically seek him out, which ended up isolating Pan Hailin from Mount Longhu’s Ancestral Sect in the Han realm.

“Although they don’t have the Three Treasures of the Tianshi, they do possess artifacts anchoring the sect’s fortune, called the Twelve Supreme Talismanic Scriptures of the Three Caves.”

Lei Jun speculated, “If Pan Hailin had taken one or more of these talismans with him when he left, perhaps he’s using them now to proceed with Talisman Conferral.”

According to Han Dynasty legends, these talismans were bestowed by the heavens.

Through the True Canon of the Dao of Righteousness and these twelve talismans, the Mount Longhu lineage established their doctrinal foundation.

Given Pan Hailin’s talent and status in the sect, it wouldn't be surprising if he temporarily held stewardship over one or more of the talismans.

Chu Kun asked, “I remember you once mentioned that these twelve talismans don’t include our sect’s ancient Three Caves Three Heavens Talismanic Canons, right?”

Over the years, reports have gradually returned from the Han realm.

Lei Jun and the other Tang Dynasty cultivators had become increasingly familiar with the situation there.

The Twelve Supreme Talismanic Canons of the Three Caves were said to be categorized into eight departments: three talismans of the Dou Department, two of the Thunder Department, two of the Fire Department, and one each from the Plague, Pox, Water, Wealth, and Taisui Departments—making twelve in total.

Earlier, Lei Jun had subdued Elder Ma Zongxiang of Mount Longhu in the Han Dynasty. He cultivated two life-bound mystical arts: Doumu's Four Saints Talisman and the Plague-Enshrouding Talisman, the former being one of the Dou Department’s three talismans, and the latter belonging to the Plague Department.

In the Han realm, Mount Longhu’s mystical talismans have now been renowned for many years.

“Sounds a lot like the ancient Heavenly Court,” Chu Kun mused aloud.

He then asked Lei Jun, “Senior Brother, I heard that lately, the Vast Void Temple in the Han realm has been frequently contacting those Great Demons?”

Lei Jun replied, “Even in the Tang realm, the Vast Void Temple’s methods are connected to this. It’s not surprising.”

With the growing surges of spiritual energy in the Han realm, the accompanying demonic aura had grown ever stronger.

Many great demons had begun to wreak havoc.

Though the Vast Void Temple could hardly control those top-tier demons, the mere establishment of mutual contact—moving in tandem when necessary—had already drastically increased pressure on the Han Dynasty court.

Lei Jun said, “The Twelve Great Aristocratic Clans of the Han realm had already begun cooperating with the Imperial Court. Recently, more and more promising heirs from these families have joined Daoist and Buddhist Holy Lands such as Pure Yang, Shushan, Bodhi Monastery, and Xuanyan Temple.”

Chu Kun nodded knowingly.

In such circumstances, when outstanding youths from noble families join sects and holy lands, their intention clearly isn't to disrupt.

On the contrary, it reflects recent exchanges and a softened relationship—standing united against common foes.

Chu Kun himself was no stranger to this.

Back when he entered the Dao at Mount Longhu in the Tang realm, it was a time when relations between the Suzhou Chu Clan and the Tianshi Mansion were relatively cordial.

Later changes in attitude stemmed from shifting times and political developments.

Even back then, some within either the Tang Mount Longhu or the Chu Clan may have anticipated the changing tides.

But that never impacted Chu Kun’s personal choices and decisions after entering the Dao.

Unquestionably, the current turmoil in the Han realm was pressing the great clans and noble houses alike.

Lei Jun and the other Tang cultivators had refrained from entering the Han realm for years, only making occasional diplomatic visits to Datong.

Han realm cultivators maintained a basic level of vigilance—but didn’t go so far as to panic.

But when combined with the aggressive Vast Void Temple and its demon alliances, the situation became far more serious.

And then there was the unease surrounding the Western Region Buddhist Sects.

Even though the Treasury Division Chief Vandato hadn't appeared for a long time, let alone the legendary Venerable Sage of Wisdom, their mere names still made the Han noble houses wary.

The Han court treated the Sumeru Treasury Division as before, and Vandato’s other subordinates continued to aid the Han Imperial Court, yet the noble families remained on guard.

In this, they shared common ground with Buddhist sects like Bodhi Monastery and Xuanyan Temple.

Chu Kun asked, “If Sumeru is so dominant, shouldn’t Vast Void Temple also feel like they’re treading on thin ice?”

Lei Jun replied, “The Venerable Sage of Wisdom seems to be in poor condition. Otherwise, Vast Void Temple wouldn’t be acting so recklessly.”

“But there might be ulterior motives behind such bold behavior. Despite their violent doctrine, they’ve never completely isolated themselves—whether in Tang or Han.”

Chu Kun nodded slightly.

Lei Jun continued, “Once things settle on Penglai’s side and I have no other pressing matters, I’ll head over to the Han realm and take a look.”

Chu Kun asked, “Will you go as yourself or assume another identity?”

Lei Jun replied, “Going as myself would draw too much attention. It's fine for a quick visit, but if I want to investigate deeper, I’ll need to go undercover.”

While the brothers were speaking, Jiang Yu, the Sect Leader of Pure Yang Palace in Tang, was meeting with Mu Chunyang, Head of True Martial Monastery in the Ming Dynasty.

Much like the prior meeting with Three Spring Palace cultivators from the Lone Eagle Khanate, this reunion evoked complicated feelings among the Tang cultivators.

Mu Chunyang, however, remained composed.

He had requested to relocate a branch of his sect to the Tang realm. Jiang Yu considered and agreed.

Mu Chunyang added, “One more thing, I hope Daoist Jiang might guide a newly-initiated disciple of mine. He has commendable potential, though still young and inexperienced.”

Jiang Yu replied, “We’re all fellow Daoists of the Alchemical Sect. Mutual support is only right. I may seek your guidance as well in the future, so there’s no need to stand on ceremony.”

Mu Chunyang said, “He possesses the Pure Yin Celestial Physique, just like you.”

Jiang Yu remarked with realization, “Congratulations to True Martial Monastery for gaining such a successor.”

Having a Pure Yin Celestial Physique enter the Pure Yang Palace might sound like black comedy, but in truth, Pure Yang gives rise to Pure Yin. The Pure Yang Palace had its ways to cultivate such physiques—it was never wasted on Jiang Yu.

But for True Martial Monastery, this constitution was even more ideal.

Pure Yin cultivators couldn't wield Pure Yang Celestial Fire directly, but they could practice the monastery’s signature True Martial Heavy Water without issue—complementary in every way.

Hearing this, Lei Jun and Chu Kun were both moved. The world was vast, and talent truly flourished.

The split histories of the mortal realms had, in a sense, helped humanity thrive.

A larger population meant a higher chance of cultivating new talent.

During the era of depleted spiritual energy, many might have been overlooked.

But in this era of rising qi tides, gifted individuals were surfacing more than ever.

From current knowledge, the Ming realm was even more populous than the Tang realm.

Despite restrictions under Neo-Confucianism, True Martial Monastery remained the foremost Daoist Holy Land in Ming, continuously producing top-tier talent.

Lei Jun later asked Mu Chunyang, “We recently received word from the Shushan Sect of Ming that their new sect leader has taken the post. Do you know much about this Daoist Wei Jingyi?”

Mu Chunyang answered calmly, “I sent some of my disciples to the Tang realm without departing via the sect's main gate. Brother Wei and others remain unaware.”

Hearing this, Lei Jun, Chu Kun, and Jiang Yu understood.

Mu Chunyang had previously attempted to open a portal from the Ming realm to Guizang, and later joined Chen Yu and others in the Sumeru campaign. He had shown full dedication throughout.

But clearly, he was dissatisfied with the dominance of Neo-Confucianism in Ming.

Outwardly, he played along—even allowing the court to encroach upon the monastery.

But behind the scenes, he had been making other plans and cultivating a new batch of promising talents.

So in a way, the Ming court's suspicion of him wasn’t entirely misplaced.

He had indeed turned a blind eye to both Han Qingtao and the Daoist Nation movement in Ming.

Among Daoist branches, the Artifact Refining Sect, reliant on magical tools, was least constrained by the Neo-Confucian framework.

Now that both Han Qingtao and the Daoist Nation had become history, Mu Chunyang had lost nothing. In fact, the current chaos had created new opportunities.

Still, as he once said to Lei Jun:

Though the Ming realm was unstable and the nation in upheaval—loosening the grip of Neo-Confucianism—it was not the right time to act, lest demons take advantage of the unrest.

Thus, to the Ming realm, he remained a “dead man.”

His focus now was to continue quietly seeking and cultivating those with fated affinity—and to explore realms beyond the Ming.

Jiang Yu offered a suggestion that made Mu Chunyang pause in thought.

Besides Ming and Tang, other realms like the Han Dynasty and the foreign Khanate Realm still had disciples of the Alchemical Sect.

Today’s meeting could be a starting point for broader cooperation.

Not just within the Alchemical Branch.

In the current global climate, authentic Daoist lineages from across realms might consider joining forces.

Mu Chunyang suspected that even if the idea hadn’t come from the Tianshi of Tang, Jiang Yu had likely been influenced by his thinking.

Mu Chunyang already knew: not only had the Tang and Ming branches of Shushan Sect received the Tianshi’s talismanic decrees, but even the Pure Yang Palace had.

To establish a foothold in the Tang realm, Lei Jun didn’t demand a toll.

But honoring him as the leader of Daoist sects in Tang was inevitable.

Fortunately, based on current information, Tianshi Lei was someone who truly grasped the essence of Clear Tranquility—he rarely issued orders.

Mu Chunyang didn’t mind, but trying to unite the various Daoist sects across different human realms clearly wasn't something that could be achieved overnight.

Right now, he was also paying close attention to another rumor he had heard in the Tang human realm.

Over in the Han human realm, there was also a Mount Longhu legacy—one from the ancient Talismanic Branch—that didn’t have the best relationship with Tang's Mount Longhu.

If it was truly a Talismanic Branch legacy with Great Ascension cultivators at the Ninth Heaven, that would imply there was likely a presence beyond the Ninth Heaven behind it.

The Tianshi Mansion lineage of Mount Longhu in the Tang Dynasty was currently thriving, but the situation on the Han side remained unstable for them.

To the Daoist lineages currently rallying around the Tang Tianshi Mansion, this instability was a potential threat.

Though Xu Yuanzhen had previously entered the Han human realm, the Tang Tianshi himself didn’t seem particularly concerned about it…

Mu Chunyang saw it all, but since this concerned internal disputes within the Talismanic Branch, it wasn’t appropriate for him to comment. All he could do was quietly observe.

Such was the case for the Grandmaster of the Ming Dynasty’s Zhenwu Monastery. Meanwhile, the Tianshi of the Tang Dynasty had to deal with internal issues of the Daoist Alchemical Sect.

This had no impact on the Ming Zhenwu Monastery or the Tang Pure Yang Palace.

The complications lay instead in the alien Khanate’s human realm.

Senior Sister Tang Xiaotang couldn’t currently enter the Gate of Kong Sang and had lost track of Li Yuanheng, which left her in quite a foul mood.

Fortunately, she found something else to cheer her up on the Khanate side.

For instance, she was on the verge of being recommended as the new head of the Song Dynasty’s Pure Yang Palace by the remaining disciples there.

Well, more accurately, it was her alias—Elder Zheng Chen—being recommended.

To be fair, the Song Dynasty’s Pure Yang Palace had indeed fallen on hard times in recent years.

They had suffered heavy losses when helping the Song royal court fend off the Golden Khanate.

Most of the Pure Yang Palace cultivators who died weren’t particularly keen on the notion of a Daoist Nation.

During this period, the Southern Red Emperor, Li Hang, carried out a lot of integration work.

By the time the Song royal court completely collapsed, the remaining Pure Yang Palace cultivators were largely advocates of the Daoist Nation ideal.

When Li Hang’s identity and the existence of the Daoist Nation in the Song human realm were exposed, Pure Yang Palace fell into chaos once again.

Opposition forces were no longer a threat.

Luckily, Elder "Zheng Chen" descended like a gift from the heavens.

With Elder Zheng leading them, the remaining disciples could finally resist Li Hang and the Daoist Nation.

However, Elder Zheng did have a tendency to vanish and live life freely now and then.

Still, after surviving the most difficult times, the remaining disciples finally received good news.

Li Hang was dead, and the backbone of the Song’s Daoist Nation—just like Zhuo Changfeng and his comrades from the Ming’s Daoist Nation—had been buried in Penglai.

Elder "Zheng Chen" had also ended her carefree wanderings and reemerged in the world.

The Song Dynasty’s Pure Yang Palace finally began a full purge of its internal Daoist Nation supporters.

Although in the broader context of that human realm, this was just a localized event.

As the only Ninth Heaven Elder left in the Song Dynasty’s Pure Yang Palace, many supported Elder Zheng in taking up leadership.

Tang Xiaotang found herself hesitant for once.

As she put it herself, she’d been the sect leader of Mount Longhu, but never of Pure Yang Palace.

But after all, she wasn’t a true heir of the Pure Yang Palace. It was one thing to goof off with a borrowed title—but to truly lead? That might be pushing it...

What pushed her to decide was the internal rift now forming again within the Pure Yang Palace.

One faction wanted to align with the Song remnants and continue resisting the Golden Khanate and other alien forces.

The other faction believed the Golden Khan had a high chance of stepping into the Ninth Heaven, and his governance style resembled the emperors of the Central Plains—very different from the other alien Khans like the Canglang and the Bailu. Since he now carried the Mandate of Heaven and had taken the Central Plains, it was destiny. As cultivators, they should follow the heavens.

The two sides were at each other’s throats.

Naturally, Tang Xiaotang—or rather, Elder Zheng—had no interest in bowing to the Golden Khanate.

In such a situation, only Elder Zheng stepping forward could restore order.

And so, the already chaotic Song human realm—or more precisely, the alien Khanate human realm—became even more unstable.

The same was true in the Ming human realm.

To be fair, the ministers of the Ming Dynasty had made a concerted effort, and many local uprisings had already been quelled.

The turbulent Ming empire was, compared to before, a bit more stable.

But the two biggest sources of unrest remained unresolved.

One was the havoc caused by powerful demons.

The other was the large-scale uprising of the White Lotus Sect in Qingzhou.

In a way, both were hard nuts to crack.

And both were things that the rigid principles of Ming Confucianism had yet to effectively suppress.

This made handling them particularly tricky for the Ming imperial court.

The good news was, although their campaign to Sumeru had ended in utter defeat, they had already dealt a heavy blow to the Northwestern aliens before entering Sumeru.

So at present, though Ming faced both internal and external threats, the Northwestern forces no longer had the strength to invade again.

On another front, the instability of the Ming empire had caused the sealed portal to the Ruins of Return to open once more.

But possibly due to ongoing conflict between Sumeru’s disciples and the Ruins of Return, very few top-tier demons had entered the Ming realm through the portal.

As a result, the imperial court didn’t have new enemies to worry about. The old ministers could now focus on dealing with the White Lotus Sect and the native demons.

The Empress Zhang Wantong had yet to return from her departure from the Tang human realm.

Zhang Hui, though he disliked state affairs and preferred leisure trips, had remained in the Tang realm for now.

Meanwhile, Meng Shaojie was in the Ming realm—hiding his identity while observing the joys and sorrows of the mortal world.

A student of historiography, he originally intended to study local customs and gather historical documents.

But the current upheaval in the Ming human realm was a grand transformation.

To witness and experience it firsthand was immensely beneficial to Meng Shaojie, now at the Eighth Heaven stage. His cultivation had clearly improved.

With help from Xiao Chunhui concealing his presence, Meng Shaojie also got to meet Xiao’s old acquaintance in the Ming realm—

Elder Guangdeng of the Bodhi Monastery.

He was one of the few Eighth Heaven elders under Abbot Guangshu and was highly capable.

Like the Zhenwu Monastery and Shushan Sect, the Ming Bodhi Monastery currently had only one Ninth Heaven cultivator—Abbot Guangshu.

Elder Guangdeng had been stuck at peak Eighth Heaven for quite some time.

He never said anything, but both Xiao Chunhui and Meng Shaojie believed it was not that he feared the tribulation to the Ninth Heaven, but that he simply couldn’t cross it—just like Yuan Qingci, the current Shushan Sect Master.

Regardless, during the ill-fated expedition to Sumeru, Abbot Guangshu had managed to avoid disaster.

But before one wave settled, another rose—the White Lotus Sect rebelled, and Guangshu had to head to the Qingzhou frontlines, both officially and personally.

On the surface, the Bodhi Monastery had no opposition to Ming Confucian reforms.

But Elder Guangdeng’s private correspondence with Xiao Chunhui said otherwise.

Although Xiao Chunhui had never met Abbot Guangshu in person, he was certain that the connection between the Tang cultivators and the Ming side wasn’t just Elder Guangdeng’s doing.

Elder Guangdeng had already sensed some of the changes occurring in Ming Confucianism.

So far, they only affected martial artists.

But both the Buddhist and Daoist sects were beginning to feel the chill.

As time passed and scholars like Zhou Mingzhe continued experimenting, the number of test battlegrounds only increased.

News inevitably began to spread.

A few martial cultivators began to stir.

Then, the court swiftly and secretly suppressed them.

Lei Jun sat in Penglai, observing through the Zhou Heavenly Mirror of Jade Purity. Everything in the area was reflected within his sight.

Suddenly, the mirror’s glow flickered.

His view turned pure white.

Then, it returned to normal.

Everything looked fine under the mirror’s inspection.

But Lei Jun knew something—or someone—had just temporarily blocked the mirror’s observation.

Maybe the entity didn’t know the mirror’s origins but likely sensed someone was watching from the heavens.

Such perceptiveness was remarkable in itself.

Lei Jun raised an eyebrow.

The Zhou Heavenly Mirror wasn’t even in the Ming realm but was being used via the celestial ruins in Penglai—extremely well-hidden. Even someone at peak Ninth Heaven would struggle to detect its mirror-light through the void.

Yet now, it had been noticed.

Lei Jun didn’t narrow the mirror’s focus but continued to survey a broad area.

This was also a battlefield.

Ming troops had just quelled a rebellion here.

Many of the officers had temporarily boosted their cultivation through special military orders.

Now that the battle was over and orders returned, their cultivation fell back to normal.

At first glance, nothing seemed unusual anymore.

If it was a being beyond the Ninth Heaven, was it inhabiting someone’s body?

If not, and they existed in the human realm directly, that would be unprecedented.

Judging by their cautious behavior, likely not.

Which meant—it had to be someone among these Ming soldiers.

If a Confucian scholar had chosen someone to bear their literary essence, what would happen?

Lei Jun smiled, ceased probing, and moved the mirror’s light to another region.

As long as this place had potential for change and wasn’t just dead water resigned to fate, Lei Jun was hopeful.

The Ming army had returned to camp.

The next day during rest, one mounted officer found a moment to himself.

His expression was calm as he checked his surroundings.

A faint heat pulsed at his chest.

There was a tattoo there.

The warrior, Luo Hai, saw in his mind a towering beastly form.

Its body was like a tiger or leopard, with a dragon-like head and tail. It had wings it couldn’t open and a single backward-pointing horn.

It looked like the mythical Pixiu.

But everything Luo Hai had heard said Pixiu was a spirit beast.

Spirit beasts cultivated spiritual energy just like humans.

But this one? It radiated demonic Qi and ominous aura—it was a terrifying demon beast.

This discovery put Luo Hai on edge.

He didn’t know what level of power this Pixiu equated to in human terms, but it was clearly formidable.

Yet now, this demon beast had attached itself to him.

In a way, it was a blessing in disguise.

Because of the Pixiu, he had become a bearer of a scholar’s literary talent. Though most of it had since withdrawn, a faint connection remained.

He could now cultivate through this link—though he was a martial artist, and the other a Confucian scholar.

To keep this secret, Luo Hai acted with care.

One person might go unnoticed. But what if there were more?

If multiple scholars aided just one warrior… it sounded promising but carried danger.

Still, the biggest concern was the Pixiu itself.

Right now, it wasn’t acting violently—its gaze was cold but calm.

Luo Hai said, “…Senior, was something wrong yesterday?”

The Pixiu spoke in a human voice, calm and even: “Yesterday, I made a mistake. I reacted instinctively and may have exposed myself.”

Though its tone was level, Luo Hai still felt a flicker of fear—like standing before a volcano ready to erupt.

Still, he steadied himself and tried to communicate.

At least they could talk—that was a good sign.

Even so, such abnormality left him uneasy.

“Did someone find you?” he asked.

“Not someone from your court,” the Pixiu replied.

That eased Luo Hai’s nerves.

“Just continue as usual,” the Pixiu instructed.

Luo Hai agreed, though unease lingered.

The Pixiu never gave him tasks or extracted anything from him.

It seemed content just to maintain the status quo.

And that made Luo Hai all the more anxious.

He didn’t know the beast’s origin or intent—or his own fate.

Looking out toward the army camp, Luo Hai shook his head.

He had a military post, but his future remained uncertain.

The mortal world was a great furnace. Some stood outside feeding the fire.

Others could only be the fuel.

Was this life… truly acceptable?

“Senior Brother, since Elder Guangdeng of the Bodhi Monastery got Abbot Guangshu’s permission to contact the Tang cultivators, should we inform Abbot Ruyuan of the Bodhi Monastery in Tang?”

In Penglai, Chu Kun casually asked a question.

Lei Jun replied, “No need for now. I’m sure Layman Xiao Chunhui is still observing the situation.”

Chu Kun asked, “Is it related to Saha?”

Lei Jun nodded. “To Buddhist cultivators of the Ming Dynasty’s Central Plains, the name ‘Saha’ has circulated widely, but they’ve yet to find a way in. However, the void gateway from the Ming Mortal Realm's southern border to the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms is still intact. So they’re not entirely without a path. Of course, the Ming court is likely keeping a close watch on it.”

The upheaval in Penglai marked the Ming’s second collision since Sumeru, this time unexpectedly confronting a Buddhist Venerable from Saha who had taken the form of “Yan Keji.”

The battle ended with “Yan Keji” being barred from entering Penglai again, retreating back to Saha.

The Ming Dynasty, meanwhile, suffered heavy losses once more.

More critically, they confirmed one thing—

Saha was in the hands of Buddhist elites, and there were Venerables there who had already achieved Golden Body.

The relationship between Saha and Sumeru wasn’t necessarily harmonious.

So, the emergence of a Saha Venerable standing in opposition to Sumeru’s Venerable of Wisdom wasn’t necessarily bad.

But for the Ming Dynasty, it was a different story.

Leaving aside the fact that they had just clashed, what would happen if news of this got back to the Ming Mortal Realm? Wouldn’t it tempt places like Bodhi Monastery to stray?

Even though they had done their best to suppress the news, with time, the rumors still leaked out.

Fortunately, Abbot Guangshu was currently locked in a death match with the White Lotus Sect in Qingzhou.

Still, the senior officials at court could hardly feel at ease.

Even if they had concerns, with the Ming Dynasty’s strength drastically declining and internal and external troubles piling up, stability had to come first.

The Ming’s Bodhi Monastery likewise kept a low profile.

“But Senior Brother,” Chu Kun asked curiously, “the Confucian cultivators of the Ming seem to be flourishing right now, but… isn’t it a bit…”

“With how they’re pushing reforms of traditional rites and codes, isn’t their ultimate goal to monopolize the stage? Not just pushing aside martial paths, but eventually eliminating even Buddhism, Daoism, and the Witch Sect from producing Upper Heaven Realm cultivators. When needed, they’ll just temporarily boost someone’s power through borrowed methods.”

“But right now, Heaven and Earth’s spiritual energy is surging, the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths are returning, and every sect is in upheaval. It’s a time of massive transformation.”

“If the Ming were simply clinging to the past, fine. But Guixu, Sumeru, and now Penglai have all seen the re-emergence of beings beyond the Ninth Heaven.”

“Setting aside the Guixu demons for now, Buddhism alone already has two Venerables. How is Ming’s First Minister Zhou Mingzhe still going forward with this so-called reform?”

Suppressing other traditions only to make room for Buddhism would clearly run counter to Zhou Mingzhe’s vision of a golden age—and would only drive more people to study Buddhism instead.

Lei Jun said, “I can’t say for sure what his plan is, but if I had to guess, long-term, he may be trying to replace the legacy of the ancient Talismanic Branch.”

Chu Kun: “The Heavenly Palace?”

Lei Jun: “I doubt Zhou Mingzhe and his ilk are aiming to betray the Ming Dynasty. But dynasties rise and fall—if a new regime emerges and the Confucian hierarchy continues to hold, that alone would fulfill their minimum goal.”

“If they could replace the ancient Talismanic Branch and unify Heaven and Earth under one standard, all the better. Even gods and buddhas would have to step aside.”

“Right now, beings like the Venerable of Wisdom—those above the Ninth Heaven—aren’t active in the mortal world for various reasons. That gives them a window to make something happen. If they can establish a solid framework, it’ll help them attract ‘buyers’ in the future.”

“Or maybe Zhou Mingzhe has already had contact with the remnants of the Heavenly Palace. Who knows?”

Chu Kun glanced at the Zhou Heavenly Mirror in Lei Jun’s hand. “Could it be the powerful presence you previously sensed?”

Lei Jun: “Can’t say for sure yet, but my gut tells me no. That’s likely a different variable coming soon to the Ming Mortal Realm.”

With a wave, the Zhou Heavenly Mirror vanished into his sleeve. Lei Jun turned to Chu Kun and said, “As for Ming, let’s just wait and see. Things in Penglai are stable now. I’m planning to head over to the Ming Dynasty Mortal Realm. Want to come?”

Chu Kun replied, “I’ll stay in Penglai a little longer. Since you won’t be showing your true face, I can help cover for you here.”

Lei Jun nodded. “Sounds good.”

He retrieved the Haoran Mystic Jade.

Vast, righteous literary energy surged forth, instantly transforming his Daoist energy into Confucian scholarly aura.

With the Haoran Mystic Jade at his waist, a large bow appeared in Lei Jun’s hand.

Radiance glowed from the bow.

At first, it shimmered like the first light of dawn.

Then it grew brighter—like the rising sun—and finally, it blazed like high noon.

From within that blazing sun, a figure stepped out.

Chu Kun looked up—it was a middle-aged scholar who appeared to be around forty, with jade-like features and bright, starry eyes. Wherever his gaze landed, charm followed naturally.

He was a couple of inches shorter than Lei Jun’s true form, but still tall and graceful.

The bow had vanished.

“Senior Brother, is this the famed Eastern Yang Hermit, Wang Xu?” Chu Kun asked.

The man before him, now Lei Jun in disguise, nodded.

“Though he came from the Wang Clan of Langya in the Han Realm, the early accounts say he had humble origins. It was only because of his extraordinary talent that he achieved the Ninth Heaven Confucian Realm and earned the title of ‘Peacekeeper Under Heaven.’”

“His presence was what allowed the Wang Clan of Langya to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with other new noble families, eventually earning its place among the Twelve Aristocratic Clans alongside the traditional Four Great Surnames and Six Prominent Houses.”

As Lei Jun’s cultivation had grown, interpreting the traces left in the Eastern Yang Hermit’s retreat and understanding the Sunrise Bow had become easier. Along with intel gathered over the past few years, he had now roughly pieced together Wang Xu’s life story.

“Due to his early experiences and personal inclinations, Wang Xu remained distant from the Langya Wang Clan. He didn’t live at the ancestral grounds, rarely attended ancestral rites, and preferred traveling mountains, enjoying wine, and composing poetry with friends.”

“When he passed away, he didn’t return to Langya but buried himself in his secluded retreat,” Lei Jun explained.

Chu Kun thought for a moment. “Kind of like our former Crown Prince of the Tang, isn’t it?”

Lei Jun’s expression grew more solemn. “There’s something odd. Wang Xu died relatively young, not of natural causes. But his lingering will is hazy—it doesn’t clearly show how or why he died.”

“Even the people of the Langya Wang Clan didn’t know he had passed. His death has always been a mystery.”

“I don’t want to disturb his grave. Though I’m curious, I’ll verify things through other channels later.”

Chu Kun said, “There might be risks. Be careful, Senior Brother.”

Lei Jun nodded. “Before his death, Wang Xu returned to his retreat, arranged everything, and stayed for a while. There were hidden truths, but nothing that showed urgency or distress. His enemies likely couldn’t even confirm whether he was alive or dead.”

Chu Kun added, “If someone was capable of killing him, it must have been a major ordeal. According to reports from the Han Realm, the Eastern Yang Hermit had unmatched literary prowess. Rumor has it he was similar to Daoist Pan Hailin and our own Future Maitreya.”

Lei Jun nodded. “Correct. Wang Xu had the ‘Left-Right Balanced’ Physique, equivalent to our Daoist Primordial Dao Body. While he never flaunted it, he likely had comprehension on par with our Clear Tranquility level—truly a scholar’s jewel.”

Pan Hailin was born with the Primordial Dao Body, theoretically able to practice multiple Daoist traditions simultaneously.

Whether he could reach the highest heights depended on his talent and luck.

So far, Pan Hailin had focused solely on the Talismanic Branch. It was unclear if he could unlock his physique’s full potential.

Still, the Primordial Dao Body naturally made cultivation easier. And aside from the Han Crown Prince Xiang Jing, Pan Hailin was already the youngest Ninth Heaven expert in the Han’s new generation.

If Pan Hailin might break the single-path limit and master multiple lineages, the Tang’s Future Maitreya had already done so.

But before either of them, someone else had done it first—

The Eastern Yang Hermit, Wang Xu.

It was said he initially sought to study literature and ritual but was denied. So he began with the Confucian Divine Archery lineage and quickly made his name.

Later, he mastered Confucian Classical Studies, achieving the Peacekeeper Realm in both.

He then turned to the Confucian Recitation Branch and achieved mastery again.

He cultivated all three Confucian traditions—Archery, Classics, and Recitation—to the Ninth Heaven Peacekeeper level, earning the title “Scholar Supreme of His Age.”

He shone like the blazing sun—so prominent even the Han Emperor couldn’t ignore him—yet burned out like a shooting star, leaving behind a brilliant and brief legend.

“But Senior Brother, now that you’ve taken on Wang Xu’s form to visit the Han Realm… what do you plan to do about the Langya Wang Clan?”

Chu Kun asked, somewhat hesitantly. “Rumors say that after his rise, Wang Xu once returned to Langya, leaving the entire clan scrambling. Afterwards, he barely interacted with them. But the clan’s rise was clearly due to his name, and he seemed to have acknowledged that.”

“They’ve been investing effort in locating his retreat—clearly, they still pin hopes on him.”

Lei Jun said, “Since I’ve taken Wang Xu’s name, I’ll give them a proper account. As for the clan members, no rush. I’ll wait and see. When dealing with people, I focus on what they do and how they do it.”

He draped the Eight Sceneries Treasure Mantle of Supreme Purity over himself.

Under the influence of the Haoran Mystic Jade, even the Daoist aura of this treasured cloak transformed into graceful Confucian energy, as if it were a scholar’s treasure.

Yet the cloak still retained all its original Daoist power.

Chu Kun silently watched as Lei Jun—now fully transformed into “Wang Xu”—vanished from sight.

He merged so seamlessly with nature that no one could sense him. Quietly, he passed through the Tang Realm and Datong, making his way toward the Han Realm.