Chapter 148: Struggling to Survive for Three Thousand Years

A flash of cold light erupted from Ning Changjiu's embrace. The dagger struck first, followed by the sword's killing intent. The air in the wooden building solidified after a brief surge, the blade's sharpness resembling a sudden, violent snowstorm.

The blade stopped before Elder Zhang, touching the skin of his throat, a single bead of blood trembling on the dagger.

Elder Zhang belatedly looked at the dagger, frowning. "What are you doing? Are... are you suspecting me?"

Ning Changjiu gave him a deep look, then withdrew the dagger.

His move had been a test, but the killing intent was undeniably real.

Yet, Elder Zhang remained completely still.

Ning Changjiu returned the dagger to its sheath, then placed the sheathed dagger on a nearby table with both hands, saying, "My apologies, sir."

Elder Zhang gave the dagger on the table a cold glance, his anger barely concealed. He touched his neck, then settled back into the stuffy antique chair and sighed, "You may leave."

Ning Changjiu and Ning Xiaoling left the wooden building.

"Brother, did we really misunderstand him?" Ning Xiaoling asked, uncertainly.

Ning Changjiu shook his head decisively. "It's him."

Ning Xiaoling asked, "Why? If Elder Grandpa Zhang is really a master, why didn't he react just now?"

Ning Changjiu explained, "Precisely because he's a master, he was so calm. An ordinary person facing an assassination wouldn't react like that... And his calmness was also a warning to me."

Ning Xiaoling worried, "So what do we do now?"

Ning Changjiu replied, "His implicit message is that he won't make a move against us, and that we should quietly wait for this Ghost Festival to pass, without causing any further trouble."

Ning Xiaoling frowned. "But what does he want with us two ordinary disciples, keeping us locked up here?"

This was also what Ning Changjiu wanted to know. He suddenly recalled Bing Rong's assassination that night—could Elder Zhang have been the one who secretly infiltrated Hidden Peak and granted Bing Rong her cultivation level?

If that were true, then Lu Jiajia would ironically be safe at the moment.

But what exactly did Elder Zhang intend?

Ning Changjiu reflected on Elder Zhang's various actions in his previous life, hoping to find some details, and then he suddenly understood something else.

The three folding screens in the Sword Hall contained sword intent, and in his previous life, Elder Zhang's paintings also showed clear traces of a cultivator, yet in this life, his brushwork seemed only that of an ordinary mortal painter.

The reason for this should be that his current cultivation level is higher than in both the past and his previous life, allowing him to truly conceal his power.

In his previous life, Elder Zhang couldn't hide his power, perhaps because he was injured...

Ning Changjiu already knew who had inflicted that injury: his Fourth Senior Sister.

Eight years ago in his previous life, Fourth Senior Sister came here and presumably fought Elder Zhang, then took him to River Town. But for some unknown reason, that battle didn't happen in this life.

Seeing her senior brother silent, Ning Xiaoling mused aloud, "If we can't go back, Master will be worried sick, won't she?"

Ning Changjiu shook his head. "Someone went back in our place."

Ning Xiaoling exclaimed, "What?"

Ning Changjiu voiced a bizarre possibility: "Those two paintings lost their vitality... it's possible that people identical to us have returned to the peak in our stead."

Ning Xiaoling remembered the two lifelike paintings and shuddered. "Can Master tell?"

Ning Changjiu said, "Lu Jiajia would see through it instantly. I just fear she's in deep seclusion and won't have a chance to."

Ning Xiaoling twisted her fingers, deliberating, "Given your relationship with Master, she should secretly come looking for you, right?"

Ning Changjiu froze, looked at Ning Xiaoling, and asked with a wry smile, "What... what relationship do I have with Lu Jiajia?"

Ning Xiaoling straightened, immediately declaring, "Hmm... an utterly ordinary master-disciple relationship!"

They walked through the courtyard where bamboo shadows swayed and rustled in the wind, lanterns illuminating pockets of the night. Birds flew back after they departed.

Entering the hall, Ning Changjiu stopped.

In the darkness, a pair of pitiful eyes were staring at him.

"Xiao Lian?" Ning Xiaoling was slightly surprised, calling her name softly.

The little girl must have been awakened by their knocking.

Xiao Lian opened her mouth, her hands gesturing haphazardly, unsure what to say.

Ning Changjiu, however, seemed to understand. He crouched down, meeting her gaze, and gently ruffled her hair. "Don't worry," he said earnestly, "we'll help you."

Xiao Lian stopped her movements and nodded vigorously.

"Brother, have you thought of a way?"

Ning Xiaoling paced back and forth in the room, unable to sleep, while Ning Changjiu, as usual, sat by the window, half-bathed in moonlight.

Ning Changjiu replied, "We must find a way out of this palindrome."

Ning Xiaoling thought her senior brother was getting increasingly verbose. She continued to ask, "But how do we get out? Are we supposed to dismantle everything described in this poem?"

Ning Changjiu gently shook his head.

Although her senior brother had dismissed it, Ning Xiaoling felt she had found the correct answer.

The next day, she subtly removed the bell from the door.

"This bell is so pretty! Can I have it when I leave?" Ning Xiaoling shook it in her hand.

Qiu Sheng found it difficult to refuse the immortal master sister.

Soon after, the immortal master sister became increasingly audacious in her demands.

She pulled out the lotus leaves from the water jar at the entrance, unhooked the lantern hanging on the wall, climbed the tall building to drive away the little gray sparrow, even getting a severe peck in return from its counterattack.

Yet, the Ghost Festival in Lotus Field Town showed no signs of disappearing.

She wondered if it was because the poetic imagery hadn't been fully eliminated. She hesitantly looked at the bamboo and the courtyard wall, weighing whether chopping down all the bamboo and tearing down the walls would provoke Elder Zhang's wrath.

Finally, she cast her gaze towards the "bright moon" in the poem, remained silent for a long time, and abandoned all her ideas.

She put all the taken items back in their original places, quietly waiting to see if her senior brother could find a solution to break the deadlock.

Time returned to calm. Ning Changjiu sat in the room daily, neither eating nor drinking, lost in silent contemplation. From time to time, he would dip a finger in water and write something on the tabletop, only to shake his head and wipe it away.

Ning Xiaoling, meanwhile, operated on the principle of a blind cat finding a dead mouse, wandering out daily, either visiting docile small animals or strolling through the rice paddies. Sometimes she would even search the lotus pond for the giant python, but the python seemed truly terrified; even without her senior brother nearby, it refused to surface.

One day, two days... time would not slow down in the slightest for their anxiety. In the blink of an eye, the date of the Four Peaks Sword Assembly in the Heavenly Sect was fast approaching.

Han Xiaosu, hidden inside the porcelain bottle, watched the painted figure identical to Ning Changjiu. Her worry and fear were so profound that she couldn't even rest her spirit in sleep.

Two days ago, she had tried to escape through the window but was discovered by the other party.

Han Xiaosu had initially thought she was doomed to die, but to her surprise, the figure merely said to her coldly, "Go back."

Han Xiaosu felt as if she had received a great pardon, and trembling, she scurried back into the porcelain bottle, not daring to glance at him.

After that, the painted Ning Changjiu seemed truly unaware of her presence. He would transform into a painting, lying quietly on the bed, sleeping like a human, and his sleep time grew longer and longer.

During this period, Han Xiaosu tried to leave again, but each time she merely moved out of the bottle, Ning Changjiu would awaken, transform from a painting into a human, and stare at her coldly, as if he would shatter her soul in the next moment.

After Han Xiaosu was forced back into the porcelain bottle for the third time, she quickly calmed down. She suddenly wondered if this Ning Changjiu was actually afraid of her.

Over the past half month, he hadn't shown any extra reaction to her presence.

Han Xiaosu imagined that if she were him, she would absolutely eradicate any potential threats, leaving no hidden dangers.

But she remained afraid. She felt that Ning Changjiu was neither a relative nor a friend to her, and it didn't seem worth the risk. His saving her seemed to be due to a promise made to someone, but who was that person? She couldn't remember at all.

So, the two occupants of the room remained in a silent standoff.

And now, deep within Hidden Peak, a sword's clear chime resonated in a small area. Nan Cheng opened his eyes; dozens of iron swords impaled around him hummed and vibrated. With a thought, they effortlessly tore themselves from the hard rock and hovered beside him.

The disheveled Nan Cheng swept away the long hair obscuring his eyes. He exhaled a turbid breath, gazing at the neatly hovering flying swords. As he raised and lowered his arm, the flying swords moved in sync, as if they were extensions of his own body.

"Is this the Acquired Sword Embryo...?" Nan Cheng felt a surge of awe. He turned his palm into a fist and clenched it, and the already rusted iron swords collectively crashed into the wall ahead.

Iron filings fell like autumn leaves.

After tonight was the Four Peaks Sword Assembly, and he had coincidentally formed the Acquired Sword Body tonight. His cultivation, which had fallen, not only returned to its peak but even advanced significantly, now just a step away from the Longevity Realm.

The clang of the iron swords gradually faded from his ears.

He was ecstatic, struggling to find someone to share his joy with, wishing the senior figure were here.

By the way... where exactly did that senior go?

A worry stirred in Nan Cheng's heart. He felt that his forming the sword body today was no mere coincidence; it must have been part of that senior's calculations. But why hadn't he come to see him? Was this truly such a minor matter in his eyes, something done effortlessly?

He discarded these distracting thoughts, feeling the immense power of the sword body—a new, incomparable realm. He reveled in it, calming down only after a long while.

Nan Cheng took a sword and trimmed his two-year-long unkempt hair. He left his cave dwelling, exited Hidden Peak, then remembered something. After a moment of hesitation, he entered the Library Pavilion.

He intended to thank Elder Uncle Yan Zhou; if it weren't for his recommendation years ago, a young disciple like himself might not have had the privilege of obtaining the jade token and cultivating in seclusion at Hidden Peak.

He walked into the Library Pavilion and froze.

"Elder..." He saw Yan Zhou half-lying on the ground, his back not touching the floor, holding a sword in a strange posture. He initially thought Yan Zhou was awake and wanted to call him, but as the first syllable left his lips, he suddenly realized that his Elder Uncle seemed to be sleepwalking?

But as the word "Elder" was uttered, Yan Zhou woke up.

His peculiar sword stance instantly collapsed, and his body fell to the ground.

The old man opened his eyes, stretched, and looked at the sword in his hand with a strange, frowning expression, as if wondering why he was sleeping with a sword.

Only then did he turn his gaze to the person who had entered the library at night.

"Who is it?" Yan Zhou's tone was unwelcoming towards the young man who had disturbed his peaceful slumber.

Nan Cheng bowed with his sword, a little nervous. "Disciple Nan Cheng. Over two years ago, I was fortunate to receive Elder Uncle's favor and was able to cultivate in seclusion. Having achieved great success today, I came specifically to express my gratitude."

Yan Zhou grumbled, "Couldn't you have come during the day?"

Nan Cheng apologized, "Disciple was too overjoyed and wanted to bring Elder Uncle the good news early; I didn't pay much attention to the time."

Yan Zhou rubbed his eyes. Since Elder Yan's death, he hadn't slept well for many days. After finally managing to rest peacefully for a while today, he had been disturbed by a disciple. Feeling a little annoyed, he waved his hand, saying, "I know, I know."

Nan Cheng knew it was best to leave now, but he suddenly remembered that he seemed to have seen Elder Uncle Yan Zhou's peculiar sword stance before...

Then, the image of the senior figure backstabbing the gray-robed elder with a sword flashed through his mind. So, that sword move was taught to him by Elder Uncle Yan Zhou!

Nan Cheng said admiringly, "As expected of Elder Uncle! Even in his dreams, he doesn't forget to practice his sword."

Yan Zhou was about to simply dismiss him, but those words made him pause. "Practicing sword in my dream?"

Nan Cheng was slightly surprised. "Elder Uncle was just holding a sword stance."

Yan Zhou looked at this serious-faced young disciple and scoffed, "Just because I'm a senior, old and high-ranked, any random pose I strike while sleepwalking is considered sword practice?"

Nan Cheng was taken aback. "Elder Uncle... wasn't that sword practice?"

Yan Zhou, who finally wanted to get a good night's sleep, couldn't be bothered with him anymore. He tossed the sword, and it flew precisely back into its sheath. He yawned, turned his back, and walked towards his reclining chair.

Nan Cheng knew he shouldn't say more at this point. He quietly turned and left, then closed the door.

Yan Zhou looked at the sword in its sheath and chuckled self-mockingly. "Sword moves, sword moves... The Heavenly Edict Sword Scripture has been lost for so many years, yet even in my dreams, I still can't let go? And I've made a fool of myself in front of a junior."

Nan Cheng walked out of the Library Pavilion and headed towards his long-sealed room.

Suddenly, he caught a scent of alcohol.

"Lu... Lu Yuanbai?" Nan Cheng walked to the staircase and saw the wine jars and the half-drunk man on the ground, uncertainly calling out his name.

Lu Yuanbai looked up at the young man with messy hair and stared blankly for a long time before recognizing him. "Oh, Nan Cheng, the chief disciple! You're out of seclusion? Our peak's honor in the Four Peaks Sword Assembly tomorrow depends on you."

Nan Cheng wasn't particularly keen on dealing with this uncle-master who had a low cultivation level and loved to drink, but out of respect for seniority, he smiled, sat beside him, and had a few sips of wine and exchanged a few pleasantries.

Unfortunately, Lu Yuanbai had a low tolerance for alcohol. After only two cups, he collapsed, drunk, still mumbling a name indistinctly.

Nan Cheng sighed.

He stood up, intending to leave. As he passed a certain room, his sword heart stirred, and he sharply turned back, staring at the door. He could feel a sudden surge of killing intent emanating from inside.

Han Xiaosu, who had hesitated all night, finally made up her mind before dawn. She thought that the white-robed young master was her only reliance now; if something happened to him, how would she live? Her dream of returning to River City to sculpt a golden body and become a river god would truly be shattered.

Most importantly, she truly disliked this painted puppet before her.

Through her careful observation, she was now certain that this dummy was bluffing. And having cultivated these past few days, she had gained some cultivation, so she might as well test her strength against this dummy.

Han Xiaosu convinced herself, bolstered her courage, and floated out of the porcelain bottle.

Ning Changjiu awoke, transformed back into human form, and sat on the bed, his voice devoid of emotion, "Go back."

Han Xiaosu scoffed, "Who are you trying to scare? If you really had power, why didn't you act sooner?"

Ning Changjiu's voice remained mechanical, "I don't wish to cause any complications."

Still trying to scare her... Han Xiaosu's conviction grew stronger.

"Die!" she snapped, striking with her palm.

But she realized she had severely underestimated the dummy's power.

Ning Changjiu raised his hand level and met her palm with his own.

That single palm strike nearly shattered Han Xiaosu's soul.

He hadn't lied to Han Xiaosu; he truly just didn't want to cause any complications. From the moment he was drawn, he was instilled with consciousness: abide by the rules, remain in seclusion, avoid being discovered by anyone, never engage in combat, and absolutely never kill.

After delivering that palm strike, Ning Changjiu performed a mechanical evaluation in his mind, and another directive was unlocked: "Unless absolutely necessary."

He struck a second time.

Han Xiaosu regretted it immensely, thinking she really shouldn't have interfered. Now she was about to die, unknown to anyone. If that person were truly still alive, even if he knew of her death, he would probably be happy to be rid of a burden.

Just as she was about to be obliterated by a single palm, the door suddenly shattered, and a sword instantly appeared between them.

Ning Changjiu's palm struck the sword, causing the rust on its blade to flake off, revealing a smooth, bright sword body.

"Senior?" Nan Cheng lunged with his sword, blocking Han Xiaosu, and looked at the murderous figure in surprise.

"No! He... he's not!" Han Xiaosu shrieked from behind him.

Ning Changjiu seemed not to consider Nan Cheng an enemy. He looked at the ghost girl on the ground and said coldly, "Kill her."

Nan Cheng snapped back to attention and only then realized the girl was an Yin spirit. As a prestigious orthodox sect, how could the Heavenly Edict Sword Sect allow an Yin spirit to infiltrate? She must have ill intentions! He didn't question the senior's reasoning but, out of an inexplicable trust, turned directly and swung his sword at Han Xiaosu.

"No!" Han Xiaosu cried out. In that moment of life or death, she frantically raised the hairpin in her hand, her words jumbled. "This... this, seeing this hairpin is like seeing..."

She couldn't remember the rest of the words, but when she pulled out the hairpin, Nan Cheng's descending sword indeed hesitated.

Then, his body also stiffened.

In just a blink of an eye, a sword tip emerged from his lower abdomen.

"You..." Nan Cheng turned his head incredulously, looking at Ning Changjiu's puppet-like, cold face. "Who exactly are you?"

Han Xiaosu's soul trembled uncontrollably. Only then did she shout, "He's not the benefactor! He's fake, the benefactor hasn't returned, hasn't returned!"

Ning Changjiu had originally intended to unleash his sword energy and directly kill the disheveled young man before him, but he too had underestimated the opponent. Ning Changjiu discovered that his sword energy was not under his control; instead, it traveled along the sword blade and hilt, backlashing against him.

Ning Changjiu mechanically withdrew his hand.

Nan Cheng was injured. With the power infused in him, he originally had a chance to counterattack, but the commotion here alerted Yazhu, who arrived with her sword in a few breaths.

"What happened?" She looked at the scene before her in shock.

Ning Changjiu knew the situation was lost.

In the adjacent room, Ning Xiaoling opened her eyes.

She silently rose, and then her entire body began to burn.

She knew that Ning Changjiu had died, and in their predetermined understanding, if either of them died, the other was to convey this information to their master.

The scroll burned to ashes, and from the flames, a red butterfly fluttered away, crossing the window and disappearing into the night.

By the time Yazhu and Nan Cheng understood everything and realized Ning Xiaoling was also a fake, they entered the room, but could only see a pile of ashes on the floor.

"Brother, is there really no way?" Ning Xiaoling waited with him for dawn to break.

Ning Changjiu said, "This palindrome is not without a solution."

Ning Xiaoling sighed, "I actually thought of that too. If we can find where the poem is inconsistent when read forwards and backward, maybe we can break it. But where is this poem inconsistent?"

Ning Changjiu said, "There is. Even the best palindrome has one place that cannot be read in reverse."

"What?"

"The title." Ning Changjiu calmly stated the answer.

Ning Xiaoling's eyes lit up as if enlightened, and then she suddenly realized that this poem had no title!

This must have been deliberate, to prevent them from understanding this point and breaking free!

"Breaking the title"... what an excellent play on words.

Ning Xiaoling felt excited.

"But what is the title?" his junior sister innocently asked.

Ning Changjiu reached out and patted her head, looking at her as one would a silly child, and sighed, "That's what your senior brother has been thinking about these past three days."

"Oh..."

Ning Xiaoling felt everything was back to square one.

As they spoke, a black cat suddenly leaped in through the open window. It meowed at the two of them, its sound still like a baby's cry.

Ning Changjiu stroked its soft back and fur. Then, looking at the black cat, he uttered two words that sent shivers down Ning Xiaoling's spine:

"Xiao Lian..."

In the darkness, waves suddenly surged across the shimmering, vast expanse of the lotus pond.

Lotus leaves swayed, and the mud at the bottom churned. A smooth, black back rolled through the water, its arching body like surging, dark tides.

After several days, the giant python with a green head and black body resurfaced. It moved like a raging torrent sweeping through the lotus pond, its body rising and falling, creating massive waves, as if it were the wrath of a river god.

Finally, the water gradually calmed. Moonlight reflected faintly on its exposed scales. Its upper half rose upright from the water, its snake head held high, gazing at the silvery moon, its eyes holding a pride not seen in a thousand years.

It seemed to be waiting for someone.

After a while, an old man walked to the edge of the lotus pond.

It was Elder Zhang.

He raised his hand, and the giant python, as if sensing his presence, slowly swam over. It lowered its head, and the old man's hand rested on its forehead.

"Three thousand years it's been..."

Elder Zhang's fingers gently stroked the scales on its forehead. The old man stood still, like an ancient tree weathered by frost and about to decay, gazing at the bird that once often perched on its branches a thousand years ago, his eyes filled with a remembrance that transcended time.

"Three thousand years, and one of us is crippled, his shattered bones imprisoned as a vessel by the Purple Sky Dao Gate, while you've become a fool..."

"We are beings more ancient than the Lords of the Divine Realm. If not for that person, Nine Infant could now naturally take over a Divine Realm. You and I would be divine envoys and Heavenly Monarchs. Why are we barely surviving to this day? These three millennia, we've lingered in the world, outliving so many... even five hundred years ago..."

Elder Zhang sighed softly, not continuing, his body seeming to age even further.

"Alas, I went through immense hardship to piece you back into your current form. Don't disappoint me."

A red butterfly flew to his front.

This meant that the fake Ning Changjiu and Ning Xiaoling had been discovered.

But it was almost dawn, and these things no longer mattered to the grand scheme.

He looked at the sky. This was his millionth time gazing at the rising sun.