Chapter 80: The Tragic Male Lead with Superb Acting Skills

The Nine Heavens Cloud Talismans each possessed their own profound mysteries. The five talismans of azure, red, yellow, white, and black corresponded to the five elements, weaving through their interplay. The Golden Cloud represented the path of radiant light, its talismanic arts restraining demons and evil spirits. The Ghostly Cloud concealed one’s presence, making the user as elusive as a phantom, subtle and unfathomable, nameless within the void. The Mirage Cloud was the art of formless transformation, capable of shifting into eight scenes at will, rivaling even the thousand illusions of the celestial fox. The Purple Cloud governed fortune and virtue; cultivating this path could enhance one’s fate, avert calamities, and resolve disasters.

“These nine spirit talismans can perfectly remedy my lack of offensive means,” Ji Feichen’s face shone with delight. Not only did they diversify his arsenal, but the construction of this set of talisman treasures required minimal materials, as each was produced by his own hand. By drawing ten thousand of each talisman and refining them into nine true talismans, then merging them into a single Nine Clouds Soul-Dividing Talisman, the vessel for this treasure would be complete.

It could be said this was the least troublesome of treasures to forge. Once ninety thousand true talismans were refined and merged with the array diagram, the process would naturally yield the tower’s safeguarding treasure for this level.

As for the barrier between the second and third tiers, Ji Feichen had already gained some insight. Once the Soul-Dividing Talisman was forged and his mastery reached a certain level, he could use the Nine Clouds method to separate the Light Cloud and ascend into the third level.

With his thoughts settled, Ji Feichen slowly opened his eyes. At that moment, he lay in repose upon a white jade bed within a quiet chamber.

As soon as he rose, a bell at his side rang of its own accord, and before long, Jing Xuan, Zhang Yuanchu, and others hurried in.

“Junior brother, you’re finally awake,” they sighed in relief, immediately expressing their concern.

“I’m fine,” Ji Feichen glanced at the nearby mirror—his spirit listless, his face pale, the very image of one whose energy was depleted. “How many days have I slept?”

“Seven days.”

“So long?”

Zhang Yuanchu, finally at ease, smiled, “You nearly didn’t make it through these seven days. Fortunately, Jing Xuan used a Seven Star Resurgence Pill to keep you alive.”

On hearing this, Ji Feichen quickly offered his thanks to Jing Xuan.

“No need,” Jing Xuan replied, exchanging a glance with Zhang Yuanchu, neither mentioning the matter of the demon.

After some thought, Ji Feichen asked, “These past days, what has been the situation in the Immortal Mansion?”

“This Immortal Mansion is the ancestral ground of the Lingwei Sect—a blessed land spanning thousands of miles. We could never finish exploring it with just our group. So far, we haven’t even found the core.”

“The core? I can help with that,” Ji Feichen smiled. “I wasn’t idle after entering the mansion; I’ve already familiarized myself with the terrain.” He raised his hand, and from a teapot not far away, a stream of water arced forth.

The white line of water twisted and trickled, forming a watery curtain before Ji Feichen, conjuring a map of the Immortal Mansion.

“Lingwei Immortal Mansion forms its own world, shaped as a circle within a square—heaven as a disk, stars densely arrayed; earth as a square, with mountains and rivers standing tall. In terms of direction and terrain, the mansion is divided into front and rear sections.”

With a flick of his finger, a red line appeared, crisply dividing the water map.

“His control of spiritual power is truly exquisite,” Jing Xuan observed Ji Feichen’s hand as he explained.

His palm was fair and clean, clearly well-maintained. From his neatly trimmed nails, one could see this was a man of meticulous habits.

“He wouldn’t be trying to steal my fingerprints, would he?” Ji Feichen was always cautious, and had long since prepared for such things. Even if someone compared his palm to that of the ‘demonic Ji Feichen,’ they would find similarities, yet differences as well.

His slender fingers moved nimbly, and the water map before them shifted accordingly. “The place where we entered is the cultivators’ domain. Deeper in, after crossing a boundary river, lies the realm of mortals.”

“Mortals?”

“That’s right. There are mortals living within this world; they’re likely the kin of Lingwei Sect from long ago.”

The group pondered, and then Jing Xuan said, “Perhaps we should call everyone together to discuss matters.”

At that, Ji Feichen realized all the immortals currently present were from the Supreme Tradition. After consulting, Jing Xuan and Zhang Yuanchu summoned representatives from the other sects.

Out of concern for Ji Feichen’s health, they did not let him move about, holding the meeting in his chamber.

The envoy from Taiyuan Palace, named Fang He, looked upon Ji Feichen with suspicion. “Where did you get this map?”

“I spent some time in the Immortal Mansion at first, so I’ve grasped the general layout,” he replied, producing the Lingwei Sect’s peachwood sword. “Besides, I have information from the sect’s treasure sword to verify it. The map should be accurate.” Ji Feichen had deduced this map within the Nine Heavens Tower; it did indeed match the mansion’s topography.

“The Thousand Peach Demon-Subduing Sword?” Li Xuange’s expression turned dazed at the sight, as memories began to surface.

“This is Lingwei Sect’s sacred treasure—it conveyed information to me,” Ji Feichen continued, pointing to the boundary river. “If you doubt me, send someone there to check; there stands a stone stele dividing the lands of humans and immortals. Among the mortals, any who yearn for the immortal path may cross the river and join Lingwei Sect. Aside from recruiting externally, the sect has its own mortal community.”

This was, in fact, a common practice among the mystic sects. Whenever dynasties fell and the people were displaced, immortals would descend to the mortal world, seeking those with affinity to bring into their blessed lands. Over time, every major sect grew in size; even if they sealed their gates for a millennium, their mortal base was sufficient to maintain their lineage.

“To protect mortals from external threats, their area is placed deep within the mansion, and the entrance is at the Lingwei Immortal Mansion itself. If you seek the mansion’s hub, it should be here.”

Ji Feichen pointed to the central Taiji symbol. “The Lingwei Immortal Mansion is perfectly symmetrical, a structure of duality. The central axis runs through three halls, representing heaven, earth, and humanity. The central Hall of Fertile Soil corresponds to the four cardinal halls, forming the structure of four images and five elements. Ahem…” Ji Feichen coughed, resting before continuing, “To inherit the Immortal Mansion, you must go to the central Hall of Fertile Soil and perform the rite to refine the boundary stele. But as to how to reach it, I do not know.”

What he said was largely conjecture. Yet, the Hall of Fertile Soil was clearly the core—being the axis of duality, the central hall of the three powers, surrounded by the four cardinal halls and at the heart of the five elements.

“So, our present location…” Jing Xuan scanned the water map and pointed to a palace on the eastern edge. “Here.”

Fang He mused, “Then, shall we head for the central Hall of Fertile Soil and open the Immortal Mansion?”

“Brother Fang, can we trust him? He looks just like that demon—he must be related to the fiends!” someone suddenly interjected. This person, having lost spiritual medicine to Tushan, bore a grudge and vented it on Ji Feichen.

Ji Feichen’s expression dimmed, his gaze lowering with an air of sorrowful loss.

“Speaking of which, may I ask—what is your relation to the one who injured Daoist Qinghong?” Fang He scrutinized Ji Feichen.

“Brother Fang,” Jing Xuan frowned, trying to intervene, “Qinghong is still recovering; let him rest.”

“It’s all right.” Ji Feichen forced a smile. “If I am not mistaken, that person should be my younger brother.”

“Brother?”

At once, the crowd’s thoughts ran wild, imagining one of those melodramatic yet common tales in which twins are born to mortals, the elder taken by the mystics, the younger by the demonic sects. Eventually, the brothers become enemies, fighting to the death—or, at the very least, the younger brother’s existence unsettles the elder’s heart, preventing his future enlightenment.

“Was he taken by the demonic sect after you began your path of cultivation?”

“No—he was taken first,” Ji Feichen replied with a bitter smile, turning to Zhang Yuanchu. “Brother, you may recall I once told you how I began my path.”

“You said you fell off a cliff and were saved, thus receiving the immortal legacy.”

“That’s right. My family of four lived in peace, until one day intruders seized my brother. My father was killed, my mother fled with me, and eventually…” Ji Feichen’s eyes filled with grief, the rest left unsaid.

The others, seeing his expression, could guess what had happened.

“His mother must have died, and he, by misfortune, found his immortal fate?”

Seeing Ji Feichen’s demeanor, they dared not pursue the matter further.

“Yes—raise the corners of the eyes, lower the gaze, add a touch of melancholy,” Ji Feichen silently adjusted his posture, playing the role of the tragic protagonist to perfection.

Looking at Ji Feichen, thoughts of their own families arose in the minds of those present, and silence fell over the room.

“So, how did you end up fighting, being brothers?”

“I do not know,” Ji Feichen slowly shook his head. “After I succeeded in cultivation, I sought out those responsible for my family’s tragedy and learned it was the Underworld Sect.”

“That fits,” Zhang Yuanchu thought. “Last year, Qinghong rescued Tushan’s younger brother in Golden Turtle City. But how could he have arrived so quickly just to save someone? He must have been targeting the Underworld Sect.”

Ji Feichen continued, “Later, by tracing our bloodline, I divined that my brother had appeared in Golden Turtle City. But when I arrived, he was already gone.”

“So that man must be Ji Feichen of the Underworld Sect? Master of the Weak Water Path and the Demonic Dragon Sutra—a true monster of the Underworld Sect,” Fang He said slowly. “Your family name is Ji, then?”

“Yes.”

Zhuo Ping Tian pondered, recalling Ji Feichen’s anxious state of late, and filled in the gaps himself.

“So, a few days ago, he realized the one who ambushed us was his brother and went to chase him?” To be wounded by one’s own brother—Zhuo Ping Tian felt a pang of sympathy. “What a pitiful situation,” he thought, though he did not say it aloud.

Ji Feichen’s spirits were low, so Jing Xuan quickly tried to console him. “It’s said that when the demonic sects recruit, they seal memories. Perhaps your brother’s memory has not yet returned, so he does not recognize you.”

“Even so, faced with someone so similar in appearance, would he not at least suspect?” one immortal muttered, but was promptly nudged by a companion. Seeing Ji Feichen’s melancholy, no one dared continue the subject.

“Excellent—my performance is flawless. The first step is complete: I have won their sympathy. Now, for the next phase,” Ji Feichen thought with secret amusement, head lowered, already planning how to further earn their trust, slip away from the mystic sects, and stage another act among the demonic ones.