That was a graceful, curvaceous body—an exquisite beauty, her eyes tightly shut, her expression serene.
Yet, in such a place, there was nothing beautiful about her.
Countless thick and thin blood vessels grew from the woman’s body, pulsing in time with her heart.
Zhang Xianyu hovered midair, held by Lin Wushui, his gaze fixed on the woman below.
Unlike the restless blood vessels, the woman took a long time before slowly opening her eyes.
Her eyes were red, no whites at all—just crimson pupils filling the entire socket.
The moment she opened her eyes, all pretense was torn away.
“What the hell is this?”
The longer Zhang Xianyu looked, the more uneasy he felt.
There wasn’t a single normal ghost or monster in this Bunker.
Lin Wushui admitted he didn’t know.
“With corpses piled up here for decades, who knows what’s been bred?”
The woman lifted her eyelids, those red pupils glaring at them with venomous hatred.
“You…dare…ruin…my…good…work…”
Zhang Xianyu narrowed his eyes.
“She doesn’t seem able to move.”
Lin Wushui noticed it too.
Perhaps because she hadn’t managed to devour the last two infants, the ritual had been interrupted.
The woman looked terrifying, but her entire body was forcibly nailed to the bottom of the pool.
“I’ll draw her attention. Can you kill her?”
Zhang Xianyu estimated quickly.
“Sixty percent chance.”
“Alright. Be careful.”
As soon as Lin Wushui finished, the surging black mist suddenly split into countless wisps, attacking from every direction.
Under Lin Wushui’s cover, Zhang Xianyu moved toward the center of the pool.
But the woman wasn’t stupid—seeing him rush straight at her, she instantly wrapped herself in a mass of tiny blood vessels, leaving only those venomous eyes exposed.
Zhang Xianyu dodged left and right, not only avoiding her relentless sneak attacks but also quickly planting four Ling Banners at the four cardinal points, burying a Vermillion Five Thunder Talisman as well.
The blood vessels, large and small, shrank from the power of thunder, not daring to touch the Ling Banners, venting all their fury on Zhang Xianyu instead.
Luckily, the larger blood vessels were tangled up with Lin Wushui, and Zhang Xianyu could handle the smaller ones.
Blasting a path with Palm Thunder, he leaped straight to the bottom of the pool, stuffing the remaining three Vermillion Talismans and three Purple Talismans through the gaps near the woman’s eyes.
Sensing danger, the blood vessels writhed desperately, trying to throw out the talismans.
Zhang Xianyu pressed them down with both hands and shouted,
“Pull me up!” as he triggered all six Five Thunder Talismans.
Blinding lightning and deafening explosions followed.
A mass of black mist wrapped tightly around Zhang Xianyu, tumbling with him to the ground.
The combined blast of six high-grade Five Thunder Talismans was overwhelming; the entire cavern trembled, stones falling from above.
Coughing, Zhang Xianyu managed to stand, body swaying.
Fortunately, the black mist had pulled him up in time—otherwise, he’d have ended up like the woman at the bottom of the pool…
Speaking of the woman at the bottom…
Zhang Xianyu looked over, only to see that the charred, human-shaped monster was actually moving again.
At first, it was slow, but then it grew faster and faster.
The scorched skin peeled away like molting, revealing smooth, pale flesh underneath.
Even the blood vessels around her body shed their blackened surface and began to contract anew.
“She’s still not dead?”
Zhang Xianyu’s face darkened.
“She’s absorbing the juice from the Red Moss to recover.”
Lin Wushui noticed the moss withering rapidly outside the cave and said gravely,
“We can’t let her keep recovering.”
His voice trembled slightly, though he forced himself not to show it.
The Five Thunder Talismans suppress all evil, and with six Vermillion Talismans detonated at once, the power was unimaginable.
When he pulled Zhang Xianyu up, his soul inevitably took some damage.
Luckily, he’d devoured many monsters earlier—he just needed time to recover.
Zhang Xianyu didn’t notice anything unusual.
Besides, Lin Wushui was now just a mass of black mist—no ordinary person could tell if he was injured.
Zhang Xianyu’s gaze fell on the four firmly planted Ling Banners.
He gritted his teeth.
“If the Bunker collapses, make sure you protect me.”
He was out of talismans for protection.
If the Bunker caved in, his mortal body—already drained of True Qi—couldn’t possibly withstand it.
“I’ll protect you.”
With that promise, Zhang Xianyu bit his middle finger, drawing a seal with his blood in the center of his left palm.
Pouring all his True Qi into his palm, he pressed it heavily to the ground.
“First turn, Heaven’s Gate shines true; second turn, thunder clashes in flight; third turn, Dragon God exhales mist; fourth turn, thunder and rain pour forth; fifth turn, flying sand and stones; sixth turn, mountain spirits crushed; seventh turn, Yin thunder leads the troops—by my command, subdue evil, destroy filth! Thunder, descend!”
As he finished, the four Ling Banners whipped violently, the Vermillion Talismans beneath them igniting without fire.
Outside the Bunker, the pale sky was suddenly split by a crack of thunder, and then countless bolts of lightning poured down.
Sunlight vanished behind a blanket of dark clouds, as if a storm was brewing to swallow the world.
Inside the Bunker, lightning rampaged.
This Heilei Formation called down heavenly thunder.
It was Zhang Xianyu’s first attempt, and the uncontrollable thunder raged through the Bunker, tearing the Corpse Pool apart.
The bottom was awash with lightning—he couldn’t even see the woman’s figure.
The Bunker’s stone walls, struck again and again, finally collapsed in chunks.
Shielded by black mist, Zhang Xianyu could vaguely hear heavy breathing behind him.
He suddenly remembered—would heavenly thunder—
“Shh…Don’t move.”
Lin Wushui’s voice was low, unable to hide his weakness.
Thunder was the nemesis of evil spirits, and with his soul separated from his body, he had no shield.
The summoned thunder didn’t distinguish friend from foe; even with him suppressing his aura, he still got struck a couple of times.
Fortunately, there was a greater evil in the Corpse Pool to draw most of the thunder’s wrath.
He only took a few light hits.
He shielded Zhang Xianyu tightly beneath him, stones raining down from above until the two of them were gradually buried…
Jiangcheng was struck by the heaviest thunderstorm in its history.
The sudden thunderclaps woke the sleeping city.
Raindrops the size of soybeans hammered the roads and rooftops, drumming out a deep, muffled sound.
One blinding bolt of lightning after another split the sky, thunder roaring without pause, as if heaven itself would crack open.
Freshmen at Jiangcheng University couldn’t sleep.
Delighted, they rushed to balconies and hallways to watch the rain—a day without military training!
In Dorm 510, Luo Danqing and Zheng Pang looked anxiously at the dark sky outside.
Zhang Xianyu hadn’t returned since he left last night.
The thunder and lightning raged for a full hour.
When the storm finally began to subside, a rescue team arrived at the Bunker.
A Daoist in yellow robes dragged a balding, middle-aged man toward the Bunker entrance, shouting above the rain,
“Tell them to dig, now! My junior uncle and the others haven’t come out!”
The balding man was the president of Jiangcheng University.
Lin Wushui and the others had notified him before entering the Bunker.
Every president over the years knew about the Bunker, but it was an unspoken rule not to make it public.
Originally, Lin Wushui and Xie Dingxin were to scout the Bunker first while the others waited outside, ready to evacuate and seal off the campus if necessary.
They’d waited anxiously all night, but no ghosts appeared—only a sudden lightning strike!
The entire Bunker was destroyed, with the worst collapse at the foot of Luocheng Mountain—a pit four or five meters across had opened up.
The Daoist nearly went mad, dragging the president to get the campus construction team to start digging.
The rain kept pouring down.
The construction team leader grimaced.
“The rain’s too heavy, it’s dangerous to dig!”
The Daoist paced anxiously.
“Dig! Triple the pay—no, ten times! Just dig, now! We must get them out!”
With no choice, the workers braved the downpour.
The underground Bunker was a maze.
The Daoist had no idea where they were, so they started digging at the biggest pit at the foot of Luocheng Mountain, nearly a kilometer from the Bunker entrance.
News of the Bunker and Luocheng Mountain being struck by lightning quickly spread among students, sparking wild speculation.
Only Luo Danqing and Zheng Pang were truly worried, suspecting this had everything to do with Zhang Xianyu’s absence.
The digging lasted all day, from dawn until sunset, from pouring rain to glowing evening clouds.
The pit at the mountain’s foot was over ten meters deep.
Dozens of workers and several excavators labored nonstop.
Finally, as they cleared the last area, they discovered people trapped beneath the rubble.
The first to be found were Xie Dingxin and Wang Yi.
The Golden Vajra Talisman Zhang Xianyu had given them saved their lives—
Xie Dingxin used it decisively during the collapse.
Though they suffered some broken bones and scrapes, there were no fatal injuries.
Next was Zhang Xianyu, and finally Lin Wushui.
Zhang Xianyu, protected by the black mist, had almost no external injuries—he’d simply fainted from exhaustion and depleted True Qi.
Of the four, Lin Wushui was the most seriously injured.
The barrier Zhang Xianyu set up was destroyed in the collapse, and Lin Wushui’s body was left unattended, his legs crushed by a massive stone—bloody and mangled, a terrible sight.
Ambulances were already waiting.
The medics quickly loaded all four onto stretchers and rushed them to the hospital.
Zhang Xianyu woke up starving.
He vaguely heard someone sobbing nearby.
Opening his eyes in confusion, he saw a gentle-looking woman holding the hand of a man he’d met once before, quietly weeping.
The man was awake, his handsome face twisted in pain.
His left hand was clutched by the woman—he wanted to pull away but didn’t dare.
Beside the woman sat a stern-looking middle-aged man, also watching Zhang Xianyu with concern.
“You’re awake?”
Lin Wushui glanced around, his eyes lighting up when he saw Zhang Xianyu awake.
He gently said to the tearful woman,
“Mom, stop crying. My friend’s awake—could you call the doctor?”
Wiping her tears, Lin Mother pressed the call button and smiled at Zhang Xianyu.
“Xiaoyu, you’re awake? Are you feeling unwell anywhere?”
No…he didn’t feel unwell…just hungry.
But Zhang Xianyu wasn’t close to these people and wasn’t sure what was going on, so he was too embarrassed to ask for food.
He asked politely,
“May I ask who brought me here?”
Lin Mother paused, looking at her son in confusion—as if to say,
“Didn’t you say he was your friend? Why does he act like he doesn’t know you?”
Lin Wushui looked away, coughing lightly.
“The school sent you. Xie Dingxin and another girl are in the next room.”
Another girl?
Zhang Xianyu’s brow twitched.
“Was her name Wang Yi? Is she alright?”
“No danger at all.”
Lin Mother clearly knew the situation.
“You were all lucky—rescued in time, with no serious injuries. Just rest and you’ll be fine. Only Wushui was hurt worst—both legs broken, so he’ll be off his feet for a month or two.”
Zhang Xianyu’s gaze swept over Lin Wushui’s legs, suspended high in the air.
He paused, feeling the other’s gaze was oddly familiar.
Seeing Lin Wushui watching him, he couldn’t help but ask,
“Do you know me?”
The woman who called the nurse must be his mother, and she spoke as if she knew him too.
It all felt strange.
Lin Wushui, honorably wounded, was a little annoyed.
After everything they’d just been through, how could he not be recognized just because he’d changed forms?
“I’m Lin Wushui.”
He lifted his chin with a touch of pride and held out his hand to Zhang Xianyu.
“Hello,”
Zhang Xianyu shook his hand, feeling the voice sounded more and more familiar.
“I’m Zhang Xianyu, a student at Jiangcheng University.”
Lin Wushui hummed to himself—he already knew, of course—but maintained a serious face.
“If it weren’t for you in the Bunker, I wouldn’t have made it.”
He deliberately brought up the Bunker, even winking at Zhang Xianyu.
Zhang Xianyu was startled, then realization dawned and his eyes widened.
“That…was you?”
Lin Wushui nodded steadily.
“It was me.”
After risking their lives together, the sense of distance melted away.
Zhang Xianyu relaxed, concern in his eyes.
“Are your injuries alright?”
“Just two months in a wheelchair. The rest will heal with time.”
Lin Wushui frowned, grumbling,
“Troublesome.”
“If you know it’s troublesome, don’t go to such dangerous places,”
Lin Mother scolded, heart aching.
“Mom…”
Lin Wushui was helpless.
“Alright, enough of that.”
Just then, the doctor came in to check on Zhang Xianyu, and the topic was dropped.
After the exam, the doctor said Zhang Xianyu was just a bit weak and needed two days of IV fluids, but otherwise he was fine.
Zhang Xianyu wanted to be discharged immediately—the hospital room clearly wasn’t cheap, and if he was alright, better to leave sooner.
But Lin Mother wouldn’t hear of it, gently holding him back.
“You just woke up. Stay for observation, finish all your tests. Don’t think just because you’re young you can ignore your health.”
Except for the children of Tuanjie Village, this was the first time Zhang Xianyu had been fussed over by an elder woman.
He was a bit at a loss, cheeks tinged red, lips moving but unsure what to say.
Seeing him dazed, Lin Mother sat him by the bed and took out a thermal lunch box.
Three layers: white porridge, vegetables, and a bowl of soup.
It was still steaming hot.
Lin Mother always liked children, and Zhang Xianyu’s refined, handsome looks made her especially fond of him.
Knowing he was her son’s friend, she couldn’t help but show extra care.
“The doctor said you’re a bit weak. Eat something first. This afternoon, I’ll have our housekeeper make some ginseng and angelica pig heart soup for you.”
Holding the hot soup, Zhang Xianyu was at a loss.
His ears flushed, making him look unexpectedly young and innocent.
Usually so composed and mature, now he finally looked his age—eighteen or nineteen.
Lin Wushui watched with great interest.
Unable to refuse Lin Mother, Zhang Xianyu sat back on the bed and ate the meal, one spoonful at a time.
It was all light, as hospital food should be, but tasty enough.
After a night of unconsciousness, he was starving, and after finishing the soup, vegetables, and porridge, he sighed with satisfaction.
The ward was kept quiet.
Seeing Zhang Xianyu tired after eating, Lin Mother didn’t linger, gave Lin Wushui a few instructions, and left with Lin Father.
With the elders gone, the two relaxed.
Zhang Xianyu rubbed his full belly, eyes shining as he finally asked what he’d been curious about.
“That black mist—was it really you? I thought it was some Daoist’s trained ghost.”
“How did you do it? Was it soul separation?”
Zhang Xianyu had never seen anything like it, so he fired off question after question, then realized he might be prying and added,
“If it’s inconvenient, you don’t have to answer.”
Lin Wushui didn’t mind.
“When I was seven, I nearly died. Xie Dingxin’s master forcibly called my soul back from the underworld and anchored it to my body. Maybe my constitution’s special—since then, I’ve had this ability.”
“Not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse.”
Xie Dingxin’s master was one of the few true Daoists alive, learned and powerful, with a generous spirit.
Years ago, he owed the Lin family a favor.
When Lin Wushui nearly died, he had to break his own rules to save him.
He hadn’t expected this side effect, so to keep Lin Wushui from going astray, he took him as a secular disciple and taught him alongside his true disciple, Xie Dingxin.
Lin Wushui’s dislike for cultivators could be laid squarely at his teacher’s feet.
Seeing Lin Wushui’s gloomy expression, Zhang Xianyu realized it wasn’t a happy topic and switched to something lighter.
“Do you have a sister? I know a girl who looks a lot like you.”
He gestured,
“She’s about your height, too.”
Come to think of it, their names were similar…
Zhang Xianyu frowned, muttering at the strangeness of the world.
“Her name is Wu Shui…”
“And you’re Lin Wushui.”
Lin Wushui: “That’s my sister.”
Lin Wushui’s body tensed briefly, then relaxed as he gave his prepared answer.
Zhang Xianyu vaguely remembered Wu Shui mentioning an older brother.
He marveled at the coincidence, but then grew puzzled.
“Why don’t you share a surname?”
“I take after my father, she after my mother.”
“I can tell your family’s close. But Wu Shui didn’t visit today?”
This was outside the script…
Lin Wushui panicked inside, scrambling for a lie, but outwardly remained calm.
“She’s gone abroad.”
“I see.”
Zhang Xianyu nodded understandingly, not pressing further.
Lin Wushui breathed a sigh of relief.
Zhang Xianyu didn’t look for more conversation, and Lin Wushui dared not say more, worried he’d slip up.
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
Xie Dingxin poked his head in, leaning on a crutch, his eyes bright as he looked at Zhang Xianyu.
“Can I come in?”
Lin Wushui rolled his eyes.
He was already halfway in—why pretend to be polite?
Ignoring the eye-roll, Xie Dingxin limped over and sat by Zhang Xianyu’s bed, grinning like a fox.
“Yuer, looks like we’re fellow disciples now…”
Zhang Xianyu: “???”
Seeing his wary expression, Xie Dingxin chuckled.
“We took the exam together, received our registers together—even if we’re from different sects, we’re brothers-in-arms. Don’t be so hung up on sect divisions.”
“???”
Zhang Xianyu was completely lost.
“What exam? What register? What are you talking about?”
His soul-deep triple question stunned Xie Dingxin.
After a long pause, he asked,
“You’ve never taken the Daoist Association’s exam?”
Daoist ranks are divided into five grades: the “Du Gong Register” for sixth and seventh grade; the “Wei Meng Register” for fourth and fifth grade; “Five Thunder Register” for third grade; “Three Caverns Five Thunder Register” for second grade; and “Shangqing Register” for first grade.
Each rank comes with different status and benefits, and assessment used to be by recommendation from each sect, then review and appointment by the Heavenly Master Mansion, with register conferred accordingly.
After the founding of New China, the Daoist Association was established.
To support socialist construction, the old system was reformed: register conferral and promotions are now done by annual examination.
Every year, on the fifteenth day of the tenth lunar month, Daoist disciples take the exam at the Heavenly Master Mansion according to their rank.
The tests vary—sixth and seventh grades for the “Du Gong Register” focus on the Early Morning and Evening Sutra, Laozi’s Dao De Jing, Scripture of Salvation, and other basics; while the second and third grades test the Shangqing Scripture, Three Caverns Scripture, and so on.
There’s also the official “Dao Gate” app, with a points system—after the first register, you need both exam and points to advance.
The Association keeps up with the times, and so do its disciples—everyone has the Dao Gate app on their phone.
Xie Dingxin never expected Zhang Xianyu to not even know what the exam and register were.
Hand trembling on his crutch, Xie Dingxin asked, with little hope,
“Which sect are you from? Who’s your master?”
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