Chapter 18
Chapter 18: Hangzhou City—A Reunion at West Lake; The Grand Void Dragon Transformation Chapter's General Outline: Tracing Back to the Origin, Aimed Straight at the Primordial
The Grand Void Dragon Transformation Chapter?
As Jiang Linxian's thoughts sank into his Divine Consciousness, the golden characters that surfaced—imprinted yet alive, flowing as though they breathed—their true meaning came to him only haltingly, piece by piece.
The words of the General Outline were like brands upon the soul; to understand even a single one felt as though it carried the weight of a thousand pounds.
General Outline:
The Grand Void is chaos undivided, the mother of all phenomena; The Dragon is change without constraint—the apex of power, the sovereign of form, the manifestation of the Way. Use the body to become the Void; use the Void to receive all things; Receive all things and forge a true form; let the true form reveal itself, and the Dragon's image shall arise.Unconstrained by scale and horn, unbound by bloodline or kind—seize the creative power of Heaven and Earth to fill what is lacking in oneself, trace back to the origin, aimed straight at the Primordial.
Even this opening General Outline alone sent Jiang Linxian's mind and spirit reeling, as though he had glimpsed a vast and magnificent Way cutting across the entirety of creation.
And yet, it went no further than this.
His current cultivation realm, along with his shallow understanding of the laws of Heaven and Earth, was far from sufficient to support any deeper comprehension of the more intricate and abstruse chapters that followed.
To say nothing of actual cultivation—merely attempting to read and comprehend those subsequent golden characters, arranged like stars, interlinked with one another and layered upon each other in rising tiers, was already enough to send stabs of pain and waves of dizziness through his soul.
‘Trace back to the origin, aimed straight at the Primordial…’
Jiang Linxian gazed at that final line in his mind, and seemed to understand at last why that Dragon Pearl had once been able to breathe and cycle on its own, nourishing him with Spiritual Energy in return.
"For the time being, forget about cultivation—even understanding it is beyond me."
Jiang Linxian pressed down the trembling that had risen in his heart from glimpsing this sliver of the whole, and restored his composure.
One must eat 1 bite at a time; one must walk 1 step at a time.
For now, the Grand Void Dragon Transformation Chapter was to him like a divine mountain of boundless treasure—yet he had not even found the gate, let alone entered. He possessed the treasure mountain, yet could not set foot inside.
Things being as they were, there was no use dwelling on it further.
The most pressing matter was to carry out his original plan and learn what had changed over these past 100 years.
He brought along the Toad Sprite—who had chattered noisily all the way, curious about everything yet frightened of it all the same—and departed the bounds of Seven Absolute Mountain.
Following the directions stored in his memory, he made his way toward Lanruo Temple.
What he saw along the route—mountains and rivers remained faintly recognizable, but many details had already changed.
Some of the old official roads had been swallowed up beneath wild grass; faint new trails had appeared in their place.
The locations of villages and towns had shifted as well. Some familiar settlements were now nothing but crumbling walls and broken foundations, buried under wild trees and climbing vines.
The vitality of the mortal world persisted, but its shape and atmosphere had become entirely different.
It did not feel like a dynasty had simply changed hands—it felt more like a last breath being drawn, close to death.
Several days later.
The silhouette of an ancient temple, half-hidden among desolate mountains and wilderness, appeared at the edge of his vision.
Lanruo Temple.
Memories of 100 years past surged to the surface of his mind.
The incense had not been extravagant, but bell-sounds had carried far, worshippers had come and gone, and monks had moved with solemn dignity.
Inside the temple, ancient trees had towered skyward; the Buddha halls had been stately and grave. Though set amid the mountains and forests, the place had possessed its own air of harmonious peace that drove away evil and misfortune.
And yet the scene before his eyes now left Jiang Linxian silent.
More than half the temple's surrounding walls had collapsed. Vermilion lacquer had peeled away, exposing the rotted grey bricks beneath.
The mountain gate leaned crooked, its plaque nowhere to be found. Inside, the halls' roofs had caved in and beams had toppled; thick dust and fallen leaves lay heaped before the Buddha. The once-clean courtyard was now choked with wild weeds, bearing even the tracks of wild foxes and squirrels.
The air was thick with a musty, damp chill. The fragrance of sandalwood and the aura of Buddhism had long since vanished entirely.
The people gone, the temple emptied, the Buddha images covered in dust.
What drew Jiang Linxian's attention even more was that, here in the remaining light of the afternoon sun, the shadows in certain corners of the temple already harbored wisps of Yin—faint, but undeniably present—that lingered without dispersing.
It was not a powerful ghost, nor anything like it—more like homeless wandering souls, or the resentment of those who had died grievous deaths here, which had begun to gather and breed as the temple's divine light faded away and no one remained to perform rites of release.
It could easily be foreseen: should a few more years pass, the place utterly reduced to ruins, its Yang vitality fully dissipated, becoming a "ghost temple" of ill repute for miles around—it was only a matter of time.
100 years of light and shadow had not only changed the Demon Cave Dwelling; it had also withered an ancient temple.
It was just unclear what had happened in between—whether it was due to Pudu Cihang, or whether some other misfortune had befallen it.
Jiang Linxian moved through the temple, his white scales gliding over wild grass and rubble.
The Toad Sprite followed close behind, not daring to breathe too loudly.
Its 2 large eyes darted about warily in every direction, clearly sensing the eerie, ominous air of this place as well.
The only thing in the entire temple that could still be called alive and unchanged was, perhaps, the great Scholar Tree in the rear courtyard.
It still stood lush and flourishing, its canopy spreading like a vast cover, its trunk so thick it would take several people linking arms to encircle it.
Its bark was cracked like dragon scales, standing silent and still, as though a wordless witness that had watched 100 years of rise and fall.
And it was precisely because of this Scholar Tree that the demons and ghosts within several li of the area would gather here.
Jiang Linxian coiled beneath the Scholar Tree for a moment, sensing the Spiritual Energy and Yin that were relatively purer beneath it.
This Scholar Tree seemed not far from achieving Awakening.
A few decades at most; a few years at least.
"Scholar Tree—if you ever need help, call my name and it shall be done. I owe you a debt of gratitude."
Jiang Linxian knew the Scholar Tree had spirit. He wrote his name on the ground.
He took 1 last look at this ruined Lanruo Temple and its solitary old Scholar Tree, then turned and departed.
What he did not notice was this:
After he left, a barefoot girl in green robes had appeared among the branches of the Scholar Tree, watching him go.
****
Hangzhou—Yuzhao Mountain.
The place where Jiang Linxian had first come into the world—back then he had still been an egg—he did not linger there long.
He also went to what had been the White Serpent Cave Dwelling, but from the furnishings and the air within, it had clearly been abandoned for a very long time.
Where would Elder Sister White and Elder Sister Green have gone?
He left the Cave Dwelling and gradually drew closer to areas of dense human habitation.
The official roads widened and grew more orderly; travelers on foot and in carriages increased; the local accents and slang were peppered with many unfamiliar words.
When the outline of that familiar city finally appeared on the horizon, Jiang Linxian slowed his pace.
Hangzhou City.
Still built beside the water, but its walls had clearly been reinforced and expanded—taller, thicker, with watchtowers and sentry platforms of a new design.
At the city gates, streams of vehicles and people surged, alive with noise and bustle, displaying a liveliness and prosperity that far surpassed what had been there 100 years before.
On the canals, boats were built larger now, their masts and rigging rising like a forest.
The smells drifting through the air were also far more complex—not merely cooking smoke, perfume, and goods, but mixed in as well with something like… sulfur and saltpeter.
Beyond the city walls, what had once been suburbs and wasteland had now become rows of connected market districts.
In the direction of West Lake, the greenery remained as before, but the number and style of pavilions and towers along its banks were markedly different—more intricate and closely packed.
100 years of time is enough to transform a city beyond all recognition.
Jiang Linxian did not rashly enter the city.
He was in his demon form at this moment—and though his cultivation had grown greatly, allowing him to better conceal his Demonic Energy, there was still risk if powerful individuals were stationed within the city or if there were special Formation Arrays in place.
He brought the Toad Sprite with him and quietly glided to a secluded water inlet along the bank of West Lake, thick with reeds.
He found a place among the ruins of a sunken, abandoned boat beneath the water for temporary shelter, and at the same time extended his Divine Consciousness outward like invisible tendrils.
Carefully, steadily, he reached in the direction of the city, quietly sensing and observing this Hangzhou City of 100 years later.
Ripples spread across the water, reflecting the clamor of the shore above.
Jiang Linxian surfaced, a pair of Slit Pupils emerging above the waterline, his gaze directed toward the Broken Bridge on the lake—or more precisely, toward the woman standing upon the Broken Bridge.
He had not expected to encounter her at West Lake.