Chapter 214 – The Monk
At the first light of dawn, Chen Chang'an's figure once again appeared at the entrance of Immortal Spirit City.
He stood upon the bluestone street, staring at the city that might soon face utter calamity, his fingers unconsciously brushing the hilt of his sword.
An hour of searching had yielded nothing. At last, he had no choice but to accept the truth—perhaps this was fate's will.
"No matter what… I have to find a way to protect this city."
He muttered softly, then shook his head with a bitter smile. Facing an Immortal Venerable's descent, even he might not survive—let alone protect the entire city.
The morning wind swept through the empty streets, carrying a few fallen leaves across the stones.
Suddenly, he thought of those clear, indifferent eyes, and a faint pain flickered in his heart.
He prayed silently, with all sincerity: may Ah Li have already left this place—far away, as far as possible.
Reaching into his robe, his fingers brushed against a smooth jade leaf.
It was something he had once obtained from a sign-in reward—exquisite jade, translucent green throughout, its veins inlaid with fine threads of gold that shimmered softly under the morning light.
He had once imagined giving it as part of Chen Xingcai's dowry one day, never expecting that he would end up using it first.
He had told Ah Li before about the story of the "Golden Branch and Jade Leaf" from his previous life—a symbol of the most precious promise in the world.
So… she would understand what he meant.
Gathering spiritual power at his fingertips, he carefully carved a single character onto the back of the jade leaf—"Chen."
Each stroke was carved deep, as though he were pouring every unspoken feeling into the mark.
When the final stroke was complete, the jade leaf trembled slightly and emitted a clear, resonant hum.
Chen Chang'an knelt down and hid the jade leaf beneath the stall where Ah Li had once sat, tucking it into a narrow crack between the bluestones—an unremarkable hollow, just large enough to hold it.
Then he rose to his feet, his robes fluttering gently in the morning breeze.
In his senses, an overwhelming, terrifying aura was stirring—on the verge of breaking free.
What would happen next, even he could not predict.
Chen Chang'an took one last look at the city, then turned away, his sleeve trailing a whisper of wind behind him.
The jade leaf glimmered faintly within the stone's crevice, the golden threads in its veins pulsing like something alive.
From the distance came the deep rumble of thunder, as though some dreadful being was awakening.
…
The heavens hung low. Black clouds gathered thick as ink, layer upon layer pressing down upon the earth.
A colossal black cocoon now hovered silently in the air, its surface crawling with twisted runes—like countless tormented souls screaming and clawing beneath its shell.
Then, a thin crack split down from its top, spreading like a herald of death.
Crack—
The crack widened abruptly. The black cocoon convulsed violently as a rotten, tyrannical aura erupted outward with a thunderous boom.
Pitch-black mist surged like a tide, devouring everything in its path. Grass withered, stone crumbled, and even the air itself seemed to corrode and decay. The earth trembled, the heavens groaned, and the entire world seemed to recoil in terror at the awakening of what lay within the cocoon.
Boom—!
The cocoon exploded completely. Shattered fragments scattered into the air, transforming into a rain of black droplets—each drop infused with corrosive evil energy strong enough to erode all things.
Yet at the center of that storm of destruction, a figure slowly emerged.
A monk, dressed in pure white robes untouched by dust.
His expression was calm, his features serene, his gaze carrying a detachment beyond worldly comprehension. Barefoot, he stepped into the air, and with every step he took, an ethereal lotus flower bloomed beneath his feet—its radiant petals dissolving the spreading darkness in silence. His mere presence made the darkness falter; the world itself fell eerily still.
The monk surveyed his surroundings. Wherever his eyes passed, the threads of cause and effect seemed to ripple, laid bare in his heart. He inclined his head slightly, as though sighing—or perhaps pitying.
Then, his brow lifted slightly. He had sensed a distant aura—sharp, focused, like a blade locked onto him from afar.
The monk smiled—a faint, effortless smile.
"Since you have come seeking me… why not show yourself?"
He began walking forward, unhurried and unrestrained, heading in the direction of that distant aura.
His white robes fluttered lightly, lotus blossoms forming in his wake. It was as if he were not walking upon a land ravaged by darkness, but across a pure and sacred Buddhist realm.
Behind him, the remnants of the black cocoon still burned, its ashes scattering into the wind.
…
Chen Chang'an stood above the Sect Master's secret chamber.
He had already sent away everyone in Immortal Spirit Valley under various pretexts.
Now, the faint golden runes embedded in the chamber shimmered in the air like stars, forming an invisible barrier that concealed his presence completely.
Yet, despite the protection, he felt no safety. His palms were slick with sweat as his gaze locked unblinkingly onto the approaching figure in white.
—A monk?
He had expected the cocoon to release some monstrous evil, overflowing with demonic power and murderous intent. Instead, what stood before him was a serene monk in snow-white robes, walking with the composure of a traveler enjoying the spring breeze. But the calmer the sight, the more dreadful it became.
Because Chen Chang'an's spiritual sense was screaming warnings.
To his mortal eyes, the monk was simply walking forward—but to his spiritual perception, the man's presence was like an endless abyss: vast, profound, immeasurable.
The moment his senses brushed against that aura, it was as though he had fallen into an icy abyss. That presence wasn't violent—it was vast as the heavens, indifferent as the Dao itself. Facing him felt like standing before the will of the entire world.
Worse still, that aura was still climbing. With every step the monk took, the spiritual energy between heaven and earth shuddered—as if in fear, or submission. Chen Chang'an could feel his protective light being silently corroded away, the formation that could withstand a Nascent Soul cultivator's full strike now felt as fragile as paper.
"So this… is the true realm of an Immortal Venerable?"
His throat tightened, fingers digging into his palm.
No wonder that so-called Supreme God he'd encountered before strutted arrogantly yet only dared to drift about in the endless void.
But the one before him—the white-robed monk—walked without haste, eyes calm, a faint, almost gentle smile at his lips.
Chen Chang'an knew, however, that he had already been locked on—like an eagle gazing down upon an ant. No effort was needed; the outcome was already decided.
The wind ceased. The clouds froze.
In that instant, heaven and earth seemed to consist of only one thing—
that white robe,
and the eyes that saw through all things.
…
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