Unintended Immortality-Chapter 390: Changyuanzi

The vast world seemed to contain only him.

As the night deepened, countless stars appeared in the sky. Their numbers were impossible to tally; the more one tried, the more they seemed to multiply. Although the battle had dispelled much of the pervasive ghostly and yin qi, plenty still lingered. With nightfall, ghostly flames began to flicker into existence, floating in the air and casting a faint light over the earth.

In the distance, a new yin soul had begun to take form.

With the changes to the heavenly order, the dense yin and ghostly energy in this region meant that anyone who died here—unless killed by methods that destroyed both their spirit and soul—was almost certain to become a ghost.

Song You walked toward him.

The middle-aged Daoist had just transformed into a ghost, emerging from a pool of blood and flesh. Yet, Song You was neither surprised nor alarmed. Instead, the Daoist found a small rise amidst the ruins, climbed it with steps as steady as any living man’s, and sat down cross-legged, gazing into the distance.

Far away, the fox demon, cloaked in radiant multicolored divine light, ascended into the heavens, releasing a torrent of divine rays as it battled the three marsh dragons.

The flashes of light from their fight even illuminated this side of the battlefield.

Because of the fight, the land alternated between light and shadow, the brightness flickering like a broken lantern.

Everything was reflected in the middle-aged Daoist’s ghostly eyes.

It wasn’t until Song You approached that the Daoist turned his head slightly to glance at him.

“State Preceptor, your leg is no longer lame?” he asked.

Song You stopped in front of him, leaning on his staff, looking down at the ghost. This former State Preceptor had some cultivation, but not much. Even now, as a ghost, his strength was barely better than that of an ordinary mortal who had just died and become a new ghost.

“My limp was both in my body and in my heart,” the middle-aged Daoist said, his voice faint and hollow, as though it might dissipate with the wind at any moment. He cast a brief, indifferent glance at the distant smear of red and white—the indistinguishable remains of his own body.

He seemed entirely unbothered by it. “Now that my physical body is gone, my heart’s ailment is gone too. Naturally, my limp is cured.”

“And what was your heart ailment?” Song You stood where he was, gazing down as he softly asked the question.

“I once told you,” the State Preceptor said calmly, “that my lameness was a result of my master’s actions. I have never deceived you about that.”

Song You nodded slightly.

Often, those who constantly lied were poor at deception, while those skilled in deceit would speak the truth more often than not.

“My master was also my father. My original surname was Du,” the State Preceptor continued, his tone light and unhurried. “Two thousand years ago, I refined an elixir of immortality for the emperor of the Yu Dynasty. You already know the outcome. The emperor died, and the Yu Dynasty didn’t last even two hundred years. Yet, our pursuit of the elixir of immortality never stopped.

“Sometimes, even I don’t understand why generation after generation clung to this goal so stubbornly. True, the allure of immortality is a temptation no emperor or great demon can resist. But my ancestors, despite their foolishness compared to me, were cleverer than most. Surely they knew that in their lifetimes, immortality was an unattainable dream.”

He paused for a moment before continuing, “But two thousand years is a very long time. Over those two millennia, generation after generation worked toward it. Even the greatest mountains can be moved over such a span.

“When it came to my father’s generation, he studied Daoism at Fengtian Temple on Mount Luming. While pursuing the Dao, he used alchemy as an excuse to search for the elixir of immortality. He failed, of course. Though his body achieved longevity through the pills he consumed, his soul became disordered. He turned into something akin to a corpse demon—a creature of corruption and darkness.

“At that time, I was both his disciple and his only son. I stayed by his side through it all. Later, I fought with him, and during that fight, he tore apart my leg. That injury has stayed with me ever since.”

“And did that become your obsession?” Song You asked.

“Partially, but not entirely.” The State Preceptor's voice carried a tone of ambiguity.

The State Preceptor withdrew his gaze from Song You and turned toward the distance. Remaining seated cross-legged, he resembled an ordinary Daoist from a quiet temple, meditating while appreciating the mountain breeze and rain.

Then, he began to speak, “I’ve never had much talent for cultivation. No matter how hard I practiced, my Daoist arts never improved much. However, I’ve been clever since childhood. Anything that required intellect, I could master with ease. Even things I’d never encountered before—one glance, and I could often see their essence.

“Because of that, it seemed like I could succeed at anything, yet I was left unsure of what I should truly pursue.”

In the distance, the battle between the fox demon and the marsh dragons grew fiercer.

Various flashes of divine light illuminated the area, making it alternately bright and dark. Explosions echoed continuously, and waves of energy swept over them, causing even the State Preceptor’s ghostly form to flicker unsteadily.

“It seems you chose the hardest path,” Song You remarked.

“It was because it was the hardest,” the State Preceptor replied, undisturbed by the gusts of energy. “It was also because my ancestors always sought to refine the elixir of immortality. My father pursued the same goal, even to his death. So, I wanted to see just how difficult it truly was. With my abilities, I wanted to see if it could be done.”

“I see.”

“But talking about it now is meaningless.” The State Preceptor turned his gaze back to Song You and continued, “I waited for you to come to say only three things.”

“My purpose in seeking you is the same,” Song You replied calmly.

The State Preceptor showed little expression at Song You’s words. With mutual understanding already established, there was no need for further display.

He spoke plainly, “Though I sought immortality, I served the empire faithfully during my tenure. I put all my effort into state affairs and, while I did make use of yin ghosts, I never committed any acts detrimental to Great Yan or humanity. Even with Mount Ye’s Ghost City, I poured my utmost effort into it.”

“And the Water-Splitting Blade falling into the hands of northern demons—is that not detrimental to Great Yan and humanity?” Song You countered.

“So, fellow Daoist, you’ve acquired the Water-Splitting Blade,” the State Preceptor said, shaking his head with a hint of regret. Song You’s cultivation was so profound that he couldn’t even predict this outcome, let alone attempt to calculate it.

He continued, “But the Water-Splitting Blade was originally kept in the royal treasury. Do you truly believe that the Martial Emperor would act solely based on my words, giving me anything I asked for?”

“The Emperor is formidable.”

“None of that matters anymore. The Emperor has only two or three years left to live. This plan has already failed, and he will never become the Ghost Emperor of the underworld,” the State Preceptor said with a sigh, before returning to his main point.

He said, “The system for the Ghost City in the underworld has already been established, and its laws set. All appointed officials were virtuous people during their lifetimes. In this, I acted with no ulterior motive. Nor did I pave the way for the Heavenly Palace or the Emperor.

“It is not that I was disloyal to the Emperor, but because I already knew, from the time you arrived in Changjing, that he could not become the Ghost Emperor. Even if my grand plans succeeded, he would never sit on that throne.”

The State Preceptor raised his head to look at Song You. “Fellow Daoist, you can continue to use the existing system and laws of the Ghost City. Once the yin ghosts return, rebuild the Ghost City, and it will operate as before.”

“That is the first matter.”

The State Preceptor did not worry that Song You would mistrust him. Likewise, Song You did not harbor much suspicion.

After all, whether or not the State Preceptor’s claims were true would not be difficult to verify. Regardless of belief, Song You would inevitably examine the situation for himself.

“The seal you placed on the Ghost City’s ghostly energy—it will last more than just one year, won’t it?”

“Three years.”

“Many ghosts in the Ghost City were burned by me,” the State Preceptor said after hearing Song You’s reply. He nodded calmly, showing neither surprise nor doubt. “As a result, the formation of the underworld will likely be delayed. More importantly, the process of condensing the underworld itself is not a short one.”

The State Preceptor continued, “Once, I had a dream—a vision of the underworld’s formation. From the five directions of heaven and earth—east, west, south, north, and center—five pieces of spiritual earth flew in. From afar came a spring imbued with the power of the four seasons and boundless vitality. Together with the spiritual energies of yin and yang and the essence of the sun and moon, these elements shaped the underworld in its infancy.”

“A dream?”

“It was a revelation from the Heavenly Dao.”

“The Heavenly Dao gave you a revelation?” Song You turned his gaze toward the State Preceptor.

The State Preceptor looked up and met Song You’s eyes.

In that instant, Song You understood.

If it weren’t for his intervention, this lame Daoist would likely have succeeded in refining an elixir of immortality. This was a new path not yet blocked by the Heavenly Dao—one that could grant longevity, at least until Heavenly Dao intervened. Moreover, this man truly could have brought the underworld into existence within the near future.

This was no ordinary individual.

“The five pieces of earth from the east, south, west, north, and center, as well as the spring of the four seasons,” the State Preceptor said. “I spent years searching for their traces. I managed to retrieve the earth from the north and center, fearing they might be destroyed in battle, and stored them in the county city of Yinnan.

“The southern earth is likely hidden among the mountain ranges south of Yunzhou. The eastern earth resides on an isolated island beyond Langzhou. The western earth lies deep in the deserts of the Western Regions. As for the spring of the four seasons, it’s probably in Jingzhou. However, the spring’s spiritual energy dissipates once it leaves its source. It would take someone well-versed in the Four Seasons Rotation Method to retrieve it.”

“This is the second matter,” the State Preceptor said.

He continued, “In the past, I was troubled by my inability to extend my ‘yin lifespan’ while prolonging my ‘yang lifespan.’ Then, by chance, I found inspiration from an ancient ruin. I’ve always believed that this problem is far from simple.”

“Someone sought to use you to refine an elixir of immortality? Or to plunge the world into chaos?” Song You suddenly turned his head, looking toward the fox demon still engaged in battle in the distance.

“I believe it’s the latter,” the State Preceptor replied.

“Do you have evidence?”

“My mind is clouded—I can’t put it into words.”

“This makes three matters then.”

“There’s nothing more to say.” The State Preceptor sat calmly on the small hillside, his gaze fixed on the distant battle between demons, and said, “Let my soul be extinguished. Otherwise, when the yin ghosts return, I fear I won’t know how to face them.”

“Whoosh...”

A gust of wind swept past, and the middle-aged Daoist’s ghostly form dissolved into smoke and vanished.

If the events of Mount Ye remained untold, this Changyuanzi would likely leave behind a respectable reputation in folklore and history books.

Song You shook his head with a faint smile and glanced at the battle raging in the distance.

With just one look, he turned away, his back to the battlefield, as if indifferent to the earth-shaking clash between the great demons. Instead, he faced the remnants of Mount Ye ahead. The flickering spiritual light stretched his shadow long across the devastated land. Then, summoning the majority of his remaining spiritual energy, he raised his bamboo staff high and struck it down with force.

“Buzz...”

The spiritual light rippled outward across the ground, endless and boundless.

Magic and divine abilities brought both death and life.

Boulders and debris floated into the air, returning to their original positions.

The collapse of the mountain had taken only an instant, a testament to the boundless destructive power of the ancient great demons. Now, under the glow of spiritual light, the mountain was gradually reassembling, its restoration equally awe-inspiring and beyond imagination.