Chapter 110: Crisis

(The second update is here!)

The sky was shrouded in dark, ink-like clouds. Looking back, where could the grand and magnificent Hu Manor be? All that remained were mountains of burial mounds standing tall and imposing. Beneath them lay a colossal, bottomless cavern from which issued endless, ghostly wails and howls. Hearing them felt like a hundred claws raking at the heart, causing such distress that one wanted to shriek in agony. Suddenly, a thunderclap shook the earth, followed by a fierce storm. A demonic creature burst forth from the cavern, its long, sharp claws and hooked beak snapping as it lunged straight toward him.

"Aiyo!"

Chen Jianchen jolted involuntarily, pulling away from his desk. Only then did he realize he was back in his room, where the dim lamp flickered like a bean. Outside, the wind and rain raged, the time impossible to discern.

It was but a Nanke dream.

Having exhausted too much of his righteous spirit today, Chen Jianchen had been mentally drained and had fallen asleep at his desk while reading. Recalling the gloomy and terrifying dream, he felt a flicker of realization. His sleepiness had vanished without a trace, so he draped a robe over his shoulders and opened the window. The wind and rain outside were as murky as a vast, boundless sea, stirring his thoughts. Turning back to the desk, he spread out a sheet of white paper, ground some ink, and lifted his large wolf-hair brush. After a brief moment of contemplation, he began to write with fluid, rapid strokes:

"Opportunities are hard to come by, and encounters are seldom auspicious. With a spine of unyielding pride, I scratch my head in self-reflection, lamenting the sour bitterness of my visage, mocked by the ghosts of the past... Just as the yellow bells are cast aside, the earthen jars thunder; I borrow this grace to pour out my soul in ink, letting the world know of a life half-spent in drifting..."

He wrote with extreme fluidity, as if in one continuous breath. Within moments, a piece of over a hundred characters leaped onto the paper, the ink flowing freely, a truly cathartic experience.

It had been so long since he felt such relief in unburdening his heart.

Chen Jianchen threw down his brush, his mood instantly much lighter.

*Thump, thump, thump, thump!*

Closing his eyes, he looked inward at the world of his Niwan Palace. Surrounded by light, the middle section of the text in his "True Chapters of the Three Foundations" actually began to glow. Counting carefully from top to bottom, the total reached fifty characters.

Fifty strands of righteous spirit.

The righteous spirit had transformed into a sword, now as thick as an ordinary wire and over five inches long. It appeared much more restrained in its glow, with the hilt clearly defined and the outline of a scabbard even beginning to coalesce. It had evolved from a simple blade into a sword and scabbard, its structure becoming more complete.

A gentleman should carry a sword.

In the Tiantong Dynasty, there were strict controls on civilian weaponry, yet scholars who had attained the rank of Xiucai or higher were permitted to wear a sword. To hold a brush in the right hand and a sword in the left was the mark of a true scholar. However, as history progressed and trends shifted, scholars skilled in horsemanship and archery had become as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. While they kept the brush, the sword in the left hand had been replaced by all manner of folding fans. Even in the depths of winter, they would habitually sit by the charcoal fire, snapping open a paper fan with a flourish to discourse eloquently.

To shake a fan while admiring the snow was now a great fashion.

Was this breakthrough through a dream like the Taoist's enlightenment or the Buddhist's sudden awakening?

The "True Chapters of the Three Foundations" emphasized state of mind above all else. Though the mind was ethereal and elusive, it reflected truly upon the cultivation of spirit—the state of "Establishing Words" was clearly progressing well.

Chen Jianchen felt a surge of joy. It seemed that his decision to act as Jiaona’s tutor, provided he contemplated it deeply, would yield significant gains—it was, after all, a part of "traveling ten thousand miles."

*Knock, knock, knock.*

He opened the door to find a disheveled Jiaona. She wore no outer garment, having simply wrapped herself in a cotton quilt, likely having just climbed out of bed.

"Master, I cannot sleep."

Jiaona looked at the open window and then at the desk, asking, "Master, are you writing an essay?"

"Yes."

Jiaona glanced at him. "Master, can you not be so serious? Always pulling such a long face will make you age prematurely."

Chen Jianchen let out an awkward, dry cough. Ever since the little vixen had thrown herself into his arms to weep earlier today, her temperament seemed to have undergone a subtle change. It was no longer the initial hostility and contempt, nor the cautious, wary demeanor of the transition period, but a return to her lively, innate, and cunning fox nature.

To Chen Jianchen, this felt somewhat unnatural.

His personal principle was always to keep things clean and crisp—friends were friends, enemies were enemies, with clear lines drawn. He disliked complicating relationships; simple was better.

Yet, human relationships were rarely what one wished for. They often started as a single thread, only to branch out into a thousand tangled webs...

In truth, Chen Jianchen was not a rigid or serious man by nature; he merely adopted the guise of a tutor to maintain his authority over Jiaona. "Miss Huangfu, it is late. According to the rites, men and women should not touch. You should return to your room and sleep."

Jiaona giggled. "You are human, and I am a vixen. There is no such rule between humans and vixens."

Chen Jianchen put on a stern face again. "That is incorrect. Since Miss Huangfu is here to study and learn the rites from me, you must observe them. This has nothing to do with one's origin or status."

Jiaona curled her lip. "I cannot out-talk you, Master... But I really cannot sleep. I just wanted someone to talk to. Xiaoju is already sleeping like a dead pig, and Sister Lu is not here. Who else can I talk to but you?"

Chen Jianchen frowned slightly. "Are you worried about your father?"

"Yes!"

Jiaona rested her chin on her hand. "In all these years, I have never worried about Father's safety like this."

Chen Jianchen remarked, "That is because you used to be heartless, never caring for the feelings of your closest kin."

"Perhaps..."

Recalling the past, she realized most of it had been mischief: wantonly defacing her father’s collection of calligraphy and paintings, hiding just to worry him, throwing tantrums and overturning tables or throwing bowls when things didn't go her way... None of it had any meaning; it was all the whims of a spoiled child.

Chen Jianchen added, "The old master has deep cultivation and is highly cunning. He will be fine."

Jiaona said, "You don't mean that. You are just saying kind words to comfort me again."

Chen Jianchen chuckled. "Comforting others brings peace to the mind and comfort to the body, so there is no harm in saying it. It is not hypocrisy, but a necessity of human sentiment."

Jiaona blinked. "Is that so? But hearing you say that, I feel as if Father truly won't be in any danger."

Chen Jianchen was speechless. "In that case, hurry off to sleep. When you wake up, the old master will be home."

Jiaona pouted. "But I still don't feel sleepy."

Chen Jianchen was left speechless, realizing he had thought too simply. He had assumed that once he had subdued Jiaona and made her obedient, all would be well. It turned out this was merely the beginning of the trouble. An idea struck him; he pulled a copy of the "Book of Rites" from the shelf and thrust it into her arms. "Go back to your room and read this from cover to cover. You will fall asleep soon enough."

"Really?"

Jiaona was half-convinced, but she took her leave nonetheless.

The night was indeed deep.

After sending Jiaona away, Chen Jianchen himself felt no sleepiness. He stood before the window with his hands behind his back. Although he did not know the cause of this sudden downpour, he felt something was wrong. Thinking deeper, it felt as if a great crisis were lurking in his heart, leaving him restless.

The night deepened, and the chill grew more severe.

*Snap!*

A terrifying, massive tail suddenly swept out from the forest, churning up the wind and rain as it lashed viciously toward Master Huangfu.

Master Huangfu tapped his feet and leaped aside with agility. With a wave of his hand, the coin-shaped magical artifact spinning in mid-air whistled down once more. This time, it was not aiming for Er Qing’s neck, but its tail.

*Hiss!*

Er Qing’s eyes flared with a fierce red light. Its head, the size of a millstone, whipped around and slammed into the master's artifact.

*Boom!*

With a thunderous crash, the coin-shaped artifact veered off course, missing its mark and snapping a large tree in half instead.

Master Huangfu was secretly alarmed. The strength of the snake demon before him far exceeded his imagination. Although he had just broken through to the Golden Core stage and his foundations were not yet stable, the demon’s physical form was exceptionally formidable, giving it a distinct advantage among its kin. Even with a Dongling-grade magical artifact, he could not gain the upper hand in a short time.

Above ordinary magical tools were magical treasures, which were divided into three grades: Dongling, Dongshen, and Dongtian. Their effects increased in power accordingly. It was said that the highest-grade Dongtian treasure could open up a paradise, creating a world of its own—truly profound.

Master Huangfu’s Dongling-grade treasure was known as the "God-Binding Coin," designed specifically to capture Yin spirits and souls. Once ensnared, the spirit would be ripped from its physical body and trapped within the coin as if in a prison, unable to manifest any of its abilities.

The snake demon Er Qing knew the danger. Relying on its agile body to dodge, it kept its head retracted, attacking primarily with its tail and only lunging with its massive head to tear at Master Huangfu when an opening appeared.

Years ago, Er Qing had been a small snake performing for Master Huangfu. They had spent many years together, fostering a simple, instinctive bond. But all of that had turned to dust once Er Qing gained enlightenment. With its own consciousness, the snake demon had its own desires and could no longer listen to its old master. On the contrary, it had been stirred to ferocity, seeking to kill Master Huangfu, consume his inner core, and seize his treasure.

Meanwhile, the black clouds above grew denser. Lightning danced like snakes, and in the center of the sky, the wind and clouds shifted, swirling continuously to form a massive vortex.

The vortex formed; the Heavenly Tribulation was born.

When that time came, the situation would become even more complex and dire.

Master Huangfu felt a surge of anxiety. He prepared to release his nascent soul and stop holding back, intending to kill the snake demon outright.

"Amitabha!"

Suddenly, a solemn and grand Buddhist chant echoed from behind. It startled both Master Huangfu and the snake demon, causing them to cease their struggle and retreat to the side. Looking over, they saw a monk dressed in white as pristine as snow, stepping on a wooden plank and holding an oil-paper umbrella, drifting toward them.