In Feng Yichen’s eyes, the Taoist Ancestor who rose from the stone coffin was nothing more than a skeleton fra.
But at this mont, in Jiang Shouzhong’s eyes, the figure before him was a living, breathing person.
White hair and youthful features, crowned with a Star Crown, holding a horsetail whisk, snow-white eyebrows and beard hanging long on both sides, dressed in a simple Taoist robe, exuding an aura of transcendence with every gesture and movent.
This presence was worthy of the title "Taoist Ancestor."
"Not bad, not bad. I never expected Zhenxuan Mountain to produce such a perceptive disciple. Finally, I, the Old Ancestor... can leap out of my coffin."
The Taoist Ancestor looked Jiang Shouzhong over with a satisfied smile.
Jiang Shouzhong, on the other hand, was completely dumbfounded.
Previously, whenever the dead would "co back to life," it was rely in a chanical manner to answer questions.
But now, this old man, who died over six hundred years ago, had "revived" and was casually conversing with him.
Could this old fellow be so kind of Residual Soul similar to a demon?
Or perhaps, like the Old Ancestor of Huoyun Mountain, he might be a lingering Divine Sense from the Taoist School?
"I am no demon."
The Taoist Ancestor lightly patted the stone coffin beneath him and said with a lancholic tone, "There’s no Taoist School here either. Those who ascend take their schools with them, leaving nothing behind."
Jiang Shouzhong trembled in shock: "You know what I’m thinking?"
The Taoist Ancestor chuckled: "It’s not that I know what you’re thinking; it’s that you want to know what you’re thinking."
Jiang Shouzhong felt dizzy; he completely failed to understand what the other party was saying.
Gazing at the thick black liquid surrounding them, the Taoist Ancestor’s expression beca deeply complex. He sighed: "There are those who spend their whole lives striving to ascend to the heavens, yet others can arrive here without lifting a finger."
Jiang Shouzhong’s entire body jolted.
He asked in shock: "What do you an? Am I in the heavens right now?"
The Taoist Ancestor gently pinched his long, snow-white eyebrows between his fingers and smiled, saying: "Otherwise, how else would you be able to see my true form?"
Jiang Shouzhong froze like a wooden statue.
He stared blankly at the pitch-black surroundings, feeling as if everything was surreal.
Was this really the heavens?
So every ti he spoke with the dead, he was actually ascending to the heavens?
This old man better not be lying.
Suppressing his inner shock, Jiang Shouzhong asked directly:
"Is the heavens really this pitch-dark? Where are the other immortals? Why can I only stay here?"
The Taoist Ancestor’s gaze grew distant, and his smile faded slightly:
"Your physical body remains below, so naturally you cannot move around freely. The heavens are not entirely dark, but the part you’re in is just like this. Do you understand?"
Jiang Shouzhong shook his head, expressing his lack of understanding.
The Taoist Ancestor’s tone softened: "So matters grow more confusing the more you explain them. You’ll understand in ti."
Jiang Shouzhong stared skeptically at the Immortal-looking elder before him: "Taoist Ancestor, could it be that you don’t know what’s going on either and thus can’t give an answer?"
The Taoist Ancestor was montarily silenced by the remark.
He clenched a fist and coughed twice into it: "Anyway, this is simply the situation."
"What situation exactly?"
Jiang Shouzhong continued doggedly pursuing answers.
This brat—was he deliberately making look bad? The Taoist Ancestor fell silent for a mont and forcibly switched topics:
"Frankly, the heavens are not great either. It’s lonely, with no scenic landscapes of mountains and rivers, no bustling human marketplaces, and certainly no enchanting ladies of the brothel..."
The last part was clearly the crux of the matter.
From the old man’s words, Jiang Shouzhong caught the intense loneliness of a centuries-old recluse.
This was an emptiness that couldn’t be solved with a few rolls of toilet paper.
The Taoist Ancestor let out a deep sigh and spoke earnestly to Jiang Shouzhong:
"As you are the only promising disciple of Zhenxuan Mountain, I, Taoist Ancestor Grandpa, sincerely advise you: Never ascend in the future... Never ascend!"
"Why not?"
Jiang Shouzhong questioned in confusion.
The Taoist Ancestor shook his head bitterly and said: "The heavenly fairies... you cannot handle them."
"..."
Jiang Shouzhong’s mouth twitched uncontrollably.
Was this really the Taoist Ancestor?
Could this be so prank from Zhenxuan Mountain?
He felt that this old man didn’t seem all that reliable.
Jiang Shouzhong decided he’d had enough of the incomprehensible riddles. He straightforwardly said: "First off, I’m not a disciple of Zhenxuan Mountain. Secondly, I ca here for the Taoist River Map. I assu I’ve passed the test, correct?"
"Do you think I wouldn’t know whether you’re a disciple of Zhenxuan Mountain?"
"Taoist Ancestor, I really—"
The Taoist Ancestor raised his hand to stop Jiang Shouzhong’s explanation, his gaze warm as though he were looking at his own son: "Jiang Shouzhong, you are the Dao, and the Dao is you. This Taoist River Map was ant for you."
The Taoist Ancestor gently waved his arm.
Jiang Shouzhong imdiately felt his body beco light, as if he were being lifted into the air.
A semi-transparent Spirit Talisman began to swirl around him before settling over his chest, leaving behind what felt like a mark.
At the sa ti, pale yellow characters started to erge and float within the pitch-black space.
"Jiang Shouzhong, read these words aloud one by one," the Taoist Ancestor said slowly.
Jiang Shouzhong squinted to examine them closely.
He recognized the individual characters, but when strung together, they made no sense—like a chaotic jumble.
Without much thought, Jiang Shouzhong followed the Taoist Ancestor’s instructions and began reading them aloud: "Essence, myriad, servant, spirit, thunder, dawn, lightning, forget, etiquette..."
With each character he read, the corresponding symbol burst into a brighter glow.
Soon after, it dispersed silently like fine sand.
However, these symbols didn’t truly fade away—they reappeared above his head, quietly hovering and rotating.
As the number of words increased, the floating text in the air gradually rged, transforming into sinister, desiccated black ghostly hands.
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