A Pawn's Passage

Qi Xuansu merely smiled and let the matter pass.

In truth, it was Qi Xuansu and Li Changge who had accelerated everything far ahead of schedule, thoroughly disrupting the established pace.

It was like playing the Holy Xuan Cards. Originally, everyone intended to take their time building a strong hand, but someone suddenly began applying relentless pressure. To avoid being knocked out early, everyone else had no choice but to grit their teeth and keep up, causing the entire game to accelerate dramatically.

Had it not been for the unexpected variables of Qi Xuansu and Li Changge, Zhang Yuelu and Yao Pei would still have been gaining experience in local Daoist Mansions instead of being hastily transferred to the Three Great Halls. There was no other choice. Failing to do so would have been tantamount to conceding defeat in advance.

This was also one of the reasons Sage Donghua decided to appoint Qi Xuansu in place of Yao Pei. Although the Yao family was dissatisfied, they ultimately offered little resistance. Circumstances left them with no better choice. Without doing so, they simply had no way to counter Li Changge.

After obtaining the Qinghuo Pearl, Li Changge had already become a Pseudo-Immortal. Even a manmade Banished Immortal like Qi Xuansu had nearly failed to keep pace with him, let alone Zhang Yuelu and Yao Pei. Without Qi Xuansu, the Li family’s plans might well have succeeded.

Perhaps Donghuang had this intention when he requested the Holy Xuan’s wife for the Longevity Stone Heart from Elder Yao. He wanted to artificially create a second Tantai Yun, an Immortal before the age of 40, giving them a 20-year head start. During those 20 years, any major event would naturally fall to Li Changge rather than anyone else. Just imagine how much merit and prestige he could accumulate over that span. He would have been leagues ahead of everyone else.

Even Qi Xuansu’s meteoric rise had not completely eclipsed Li Changge. Even now, Li Changge still had every chance of turning the tables. At most, he was temporarily at a disadvantage. It was still far too early to call defeat. The road ahead for both men remained long. What mattered was who would have the last laugh.

While the three of them chatted, the sailors completed a preliminary search of the wreck, but they did not find any bodies nor any trace of the crew. It was impossible to tell whether the people aboard had abandoned the ship before it sank or had simply vanished altogether. Their initial assessment was that this was not a Western vessel, but an Eastern ship, an extremely ancient one that dated back to at least before the Jin Dynasty.

That made the situation all the stranger. Although Wang Dayuan had already discovered Sahul during the eras of the Jin Dynasty and the Golden Horde, he certainly had not discovered the Southern Continent. These waters lay far from Sahul and were actually much closer to the Southern Continent. A ship from the Central Plains should never have been here.

As for Western ships, they would not have ventured into these waters until much later in history.

Utu asked, “Could it have belonged to the humanoid insects or the Longevous?”

“We can’t rule out that possibility,” Qi Xuansu replied. “Did you find anything resembling a ship’s log?”

The sailor who had returned shook his head. “We found nothing of the sort.”

However, the sailors did bring back several items recovered from the wreck, like large sealed chests, along with several wooden barrels whose contents remained unknown.

Qi Xuansu swept them with his divine sense, only to discover that he could not perceive what lay within.

This inevitably reminded him of the Mystery Jars from many years ago.

“Shall we open them?” Yang Shaozhen asked, looking toward Qi Xuansu.

Qi Xuansu nodded.

Utu volunteered, “I’ll do it.”

The people nearby immediately gathered around in a circle.

Utu picked out a wooden barrel as though he were choosing a watermelon, patting and listening to the resonance repeatedly. It was obvious that Utu had lived a life among the common folk before he had become Ixchel’s chosen servant. His technique was remarkably practiced.

Hun Ahau, who also came from humble beginnings, could no longer watch this spectacle. “Brother, that’s enough. Are you picking out watermelons or what? Hurry up. If you can’t do it, let me.”

Utu laid the barrel on its side and split it cleanly in half. A foul-smelling black liquid immediately gushed out. The liquid seemed almost alive, spreading rapidly in every direction.

Hun Ahau had anticipated this. His blood qi blazed like an inferno, instantly vaporizing every drop of the black liquid without leaving even a wisp of smoke behind.

“As expected, there’s something suspicious here,” Utu said. “Shall we keep opening them?”

“Of course!” Hun Ahau replied. “My turn.”

This time, Hun Ahau selected a chest without much flair and pried it open by force.

The moment the chest opened, it revealed an enormous mouth, even larger than Little Yin’s, packed with countless razor-sharp teeth and a massive serpent-like tongue. It swallowed Hun Ahau whole in a single bite before snapping shut again, as though nothing had happened.

A few moments later, the chest began to tremble violently. The lid, which had already closed, was forced back open from within. Then a thick arm punched straight through the side of the chest. It was Hun Ahau’s arm.

Immediately after, Hun Ahau burst free, sending the lid flying before reducing the chest to splinters with a few powerful kicks.

Fortunately, he was a Pseudo-Immortal Martial Arts Practitioner. Had it been anyone else, they would likely have been swallowed whole without leaving even the slightest trace behind.

The sight left everyone else thoroughly shaken.

“Anyone else want to open one?” Hun Ahau asked again.

Everyone immediately shook their heads.

However, as a seasoned player—gambler—of the Mystery Jars from Huasheng Hall, Qi Xuansu knew that the more failures came first, the higher the chance that the next attempt would succeed. Now that Hun Ahau and Utu had already served as the pity pulls, he stepped forward and said, “I’ll do it.”

Everyone’s curiosity was rekindled, and they all craned their necks to watch.

Qi Xuansu picked a wooden barrel, wiped away the strange talisman affixed to it, and lifted the lid. After taking just a single glance inside, his expression immediately darkened.

The barrel was packed full of insects—some dead, some alive. It was a nauseating sight.

The entire barrel was essentially an insect cocoon.

Once the barrel was opened, the insects seemed to awaken from hibernation and began scrambling over one another in their haste to crawl out. Before Qi Xuansu could even issue an order, Utu had already conjured flames, reducing both the barrel and its swarm of insects to ashes.

“Is there any point in opening the rest? They’re all traps. We might as well destroy them all,” someone suggested.

Qi Xuansu did not respond.

Yang Shaozhen proposed, “Let me choose one.”

Qi Xuansu nodded. “Go ahead.”

Yang Shaozhen selected a chest, smashed its large padlock, and lifted the lid. A chorus of gasps immediately rose from those around him.

The chest was filled to the brim with gold and silver, dazzling everyone’s eyes.

Qi Xuansu’s expression remained unchanged, but inwardly, he sighed and thought, Damn, I was still too impatient. I should’ve let them open more first.

Hun Ahau and Utu immediately became interested again. It was not because they particularly cared about the gold and silver. They simply enjoyed the thrill of the unknown. This was simply human nature, which was why the Mystery Jars had once become wildly popular.

Nor were they the only ones. The other sailors were growing restless as well. The risks were certainly considerable, but there really were valuable treasures hidden among the dangers.

Hun Ahau picked another chest.

Standing nearby, Utu grinned. “Brother, try not to get swallowed again.”

Hun Ahau snorted and brought down a punch without hesitation.

The punch appeared effortless, yet it carried overwhelming force.

As it landed, the only sound was a faint rustling, like silkworms chewing on mulberry leaves. The entire outer shell of the chest disintegrated into fine powder and drifted away with the breeze, revealing what lay inside.

It was a crystal, and sealed within it was a human head.

The man’s eyes were wide open in anger, never having closed in death.

Judging by his features, he was undoubtedly from the Central Plains.

Hun Ahau held it in his palm, examining it from every angle. “These waters really are uncanny. They seem to contain every strange thing imaginable.”

Qi Xuansu turned to Utu. “What’s your assessment?”

Utu took the crystal-encased head from Hun Ahau’s hands. “This crystal serves a purpose beyond merely preserving the body. It also appears to imprison the soul. I can certainly give it a try. Even so, despite the preservation afforded by this special crystal, so many years have passed that the soul inside must have decayed terribly. It’s like the corpses and ancient relics found in old tombs. They rapidly deteriorate once removed from their original environment. In other words, we’ll only get one chance.”

Qi Xuansu said, “There’s no need to rush. Let’s continue opening the chests one by one so we don’t let anything get out of hand.”

Mindful of his status, Hun Ahau graciously yielded the opportunity to someone else.

The navigator Old Pang opened a wooden barrel, but it was completely empty. Yet the instant the barrel was opened, an eerie peal of laughter echoed throughout the ship. It drilled straight into the mind, impossible to shake off.

The laughter was utterly deranged. No matter how tightly the sailors covered their ears, it made no difference. Their minds became flooded with chaotic thoughts that seemed to materialize into something tangible, producing a horrifying sensation of swelling inside their skulls. Their temples throbbed violently, as though their heads were about to explode. Some of those with weaker cultivation had already begun showing signs of descending into madness.

In the end, Hun Ahau let out an angry snort, using a Martial Arts Practitioner’s Blood Roar to shatter the eerie laughter.

It couldn’t be helped. Had an ordinary Heavenly Being ventured into these waters, the voyage would truly have been perilous. But Qi Xuansu had brought along two Pseudo-Immortals. They held such an overwhelming advantage that very little here posed any genuine threat to them.

No one dared step forward again. Although there were indeed a few valuable finds, they were far outnumbered by these terrifying monstrosities, enough to make anyone’s blood run cold.

“I’ll do it,” Qi Xuansu said. Feeling like there had been quite a few pity pulls, he thought it was time to make his move.

This time, Qi Xuansu chose a chest. When he opened it, it was packed with books of every kind.

“Your luck is quite good, Sage Qi. These appear to be Daoist texts,” Utu remarked.

Qi Xuansu pulled out one of the volumes and skimmed through it. His expression immediately grew solemn. “These belong to the Northern Heavenly Sect.”

Around the time of Sun Lingxiu’s uprising, the Heavenly Sect underwent a major transformation.

Under the old system of the Heavenly Sect, its defining characteristic was the establishment of administrative districts and official posts. Jijiu Daoist officials governed registered households and preached to the masses, implementing a system in which religious and secular authority were unified. The title of Jijiu Daoist used today originated from this very system.

To establish the hierarchical relationship between the Jijiu Daoist officials and their followers, the Heavenly Sect created the Three Assembly Day. On each Three Assembly Day, Daoist believers were required to report to their master’s administrative district and participate in religious rites, register and verify their household and personal records, listen to the Daoist officials announce religious regulations and prohibitions, and undergo evaluations of their merits and transgressions.

After the Heavenly Sect migrated north, its organization fell into disorder, and its religious discipline steadily collapsed. Many Daoist believers no longer attended the Three Assembly Day gatherings at their master’s district, failed to register their households, and neglected to submit their taxes.

Meanwhile, certain Daoist officials arbitrarily appointed one another without regard for qualification, measuring status solely by the number of licenses they had, the number of followers under their jurisdiction, and the size of their administrative districts. They competed endlessly for superiority, overturning established order and throwing the organization into chaos. Some even had fraudulent licenses of office. They observed no precepts, ignored the sect’s commands, violated its regulations and prohibitions, and held the Dao and its laws in contempt. They indulged in greed and abandoned the orthodox teachings founded upon solemn covenants and pure discipline, turning toward depraved and heretical sorcery.

The corruption and decline of the Jijiu Daoist system ultimately gave rise to the current license system. Back then, every Daoist had a license. But now, only high-ranking Daoists were granted licenses based on their ranks.

In the end, the Heavenly Sect split into the Southern and Northern Heavenly Sects. The southern branch, centered on the Zhang family, became part of the Zhengyi Sect. The northern branch, dominated by families of other last names, became part of the Taiping Sect. This division laid the foundation for the later north-south rivalry between the Zhengyi Sect and the Taiping Sect.

Sun Lingxiu belonged to the Northern Heavenly Sect. As a result, although he was revered as a patriarch of the Heavenly Sect, he was also honored as a patriarch of the Taiping Sect.

Since these books belonged to the Northern Heavenly Sect, there was a very good chance that they had once belonged to the Longevous.

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