True and False Immortals, Immortal Thought

Zhang Fusheng practically lunged forward.

He pressed his eyes tightly against the open Daoist scripture, and upon looking at it, it was as if he saw the ultimate truth of heaven and earth, and the essence of the universe!

Because I can't understand it.

He recognized every single character on it, yet when he looked at them, he clearly couldn't understand their meaning.

This feeling is like staring at a word for a long time, and then starting to feel unfamiliar, until you can't recognize it at all.

"Damn it."

A thought flashed through Zhang Fusheng's mind, and white paper and a pen appeared in his hand. He attempted to transcribe the text from the Daoist scriptures.

A terrifying scene unfolded.

As he wrote down a word, that word disappeared, along with the memory and understanding of that word.

Zhang Fusheng wrote furiously, but all he got in the end was a blank sheet of paper and an empty mind.

He still gained nothing.

"Is it that this book is not allowed to be peeked at, or am I just too stupid?"

Zhang Fusheng scratched his head, still feeling it was the latter.

He tried exiting the divine realm and re-entering, and sure enough, the Daoist scripture had been turned to the next page.

The content became even more obscure and difficult to understand, but even so, he still studied it hundreds of times.

Even if you can't remember anything in the end, at least you've seen, experienced, and felt something.

Exit the divine realm and enter the inner realm.

Exit, enter.

This process was repeated, page after page of the scriptures being carefully savored, leaving the mind both empty and expansive—this feeling...

I'm so happy!

Knowledge passes through the brain without leaving a trace. I love this clear and refreshing feeling, just like attending a math class.

Zhang Fusheng sighed and continued repeating "out, in, out, in."

Before I knew it, I had almost finished reading the Daoist scriptures.

He entered the divine realm once again, went to the Five Villages Temple, and lay listlessly in front of the Daoist scriptures, but suddenly froze.

The last page of the Daoist scripture is a blank sheet of paper with calligraphy written on it; the ink is still wet, indicating that it was just written.

The content is only a few words long.

Let's make a deal.

My hair stood on end, a tingling sensation spread through the back of my head, and a chill burst forth from my tailbone, spreading throughout my entire body!

Zhang Fusheng swallowed hard, suppressing his horror. "Make a deal?"

What transaction?

Was this line written by Zhen Yuanzi?

He jumped up, went out, came back in, and the Daoist scripture was still on the last page, but the ink on the brushstrokes, still wet, had changed.

People call me the Ancestor of Land Immortals, and some even say that I am the Ruler of the World.

Zhang Fusheng knew that "Ruler of the World Jun" was the sacred title of Great Immortal Zhenyuan, but...

What on earth is this Ancestor of Land Immortals ?

He remembered that Zhen Yuanzi was indeed the Ancestor of Earthly Immortals, but earth immortals and terrestrial deities—could these two things be the same thing?

Could it be?

Zhang Fusheng's heart stirred. He put away the Divine Realm, then unfolded it again, entered it, sat cross-legged on the bright yellow futon, and gazed down into it.

The calligraphy style has changed again.

' The Six Pure Ones are my friends, and even the Buddha once stood shoulder to shoulder with me.'

'Why not exchange a Transcendent Profound Method for your three thousand Blood Shrine offerings, young friend?'

"If you, young friend, are willing to offer sacrifices at the Three Thousand Blood Shrine, then we may also establish an altar, cast my golden statue, and inscribe upon it the title 'Ancestor of Land Immortals, Ruler of the World,' and through the altar's rituals, I can then bestow my Divine Ability powers to help you embark on the path to heaven."

Zhang Fusheng stared at the large characters filling the page, his eyelids twitching uncontrollably.

Six Pure Ones?

The East Cult's Three Pure Ones, the Western Sect's Three Pure Ones, together making Six Pure Ones, right?

Three thousand Blood Shrine

He frowned and remained silent.

Does a figure like Great Immortal Zhenyuan really need a shrine to be built for his worship?

Or is it Blood Shrine that sounds suspicious?

Something's not right.

Suddenly, Zhang Fusheng recalled his conversation with Huang Qiuxian earlier.

At that moment, when he uttered the name of the Great Emperor Wenguang Lü Yue, Huang Qiuxian trembled with fear, terrified that the Western Sect had "discovered" the Great Emperor Wenguang's true name.

At the time, it just seemed strange, but now that I think about it, there's a big problem!

"Since the Flesh and Blood Plague was bestowed by the Great Emperor Wenguang from Different Dimension, he can naturally reveal his true name. Why does the Western Sect need to 'discover' it themselves?"

Zhang Fusheng muttered to himself:

"Unless, that Great Emperor Wenguang doesn't even know that 'himself' should be called Lü Yue."

He had no idea of his own real name.

Zhang Fusheng exhaled a breath of stale air, exited the divine realm, and re-entered. The Daoist scripture was already closed and quietly placed in front of the shrine.

"Therefore, this [Ruler of the World], the master of Five Villages Temple, may not even know that his own name is [Zhen Yuanzi]."

"They even mistakenly believed that the Ancestor of Earthly Immortals was the Ancestor of Land Immortals."

"Then how could he be Zhen Yuanzi?"

Although I don't know what Blood Shrine is, it sounds like something evil and Evil Qi.

Zhang Fusheng's throat bobbed; if his guess was true, what did this mean?

He suddenly felt that the world was even more frightening.

After a long while, I calmed down.

Zhang Fusheng walked around the Five Villages Temple, examining the giant tree in the backyard repeatedly, but there were no Ginseng Fruit on it.

But on the table next to the tree, there was indeed Golden Striker used for picking Ginseng Fruit.

Zhang Fusheng tried to pick it up, even attempting to transform the fake into the real, the illusory into the tangible, but clearly, he failed.

Even after exhausting almost all his energy, he couldn't make the Golden Striker a reality, not even for a moment.

It remains merely an illusion existing in the spiritual world.

"These tree roots?"

He crouched down, and the roots of the illusory tree were clearly charred black.

Upon closer inspection, even the tree trunk is covered with dense black lines, forming lightning bolt patterns.

Lightning strike?

Zhang Fusheng searched through all eighty-one rooms but found nothing of interest.

There might be one or two old books that I could open, but the text was completely incomprehensible.

With a sudden thought, stacks of paper appeared in his mind. He copied all the text from these ancient books before returning to the main hall.

Zhang Fusheng headed straight for the enormous shrine, which exuded an indescribable majesty. The Heaven and Earth Tablet enshrined there had no effect on him.

Enter the shrine.

"Should we try what Shi Zhengyuan suggested?"

Zhang Fusheng calmed himself and tried to direct his divine thoughts within the shrine, focusing on the tablet inscribed with the characters for "Heaven and Earth."

This shrine and the Heaven and Earth Tablet are clearly fake; they only exist in one's own spiritual world.

Yet it is incredibly real and profound.

The thought permeates the space, and one can vaguely see a Daoist priest, throughout countless ages, repeatedly bowing and worshipping before the memorial tablet.

The Daoist's figure was blurry; he wore a purple-gold crown, a crane-feather cloak, and shoes, with a silk ribbon tied around his waist.

Is this a reflection of the past?

Is this Daoist priest an unknown figure who calls himself the 'Ancestor of Land Immortals,' or is he the real Zhen Yuanzi?

In a daze, Zhang Fusheng saw, in countless scenes from bygone eras, a Daoist priest repeatedly bowing to the Heaven and Earth Tablet.

He looked up and glanced at himself.

He even smiled.

Zhang Fusheng's scalp suddenly tingled; the reflected image shattered and vanished. He staggered back several steps, panting involuntarily.

"He saw me?"

Zhang Fusheng swallowed.

For a long time.

He calmed himself down again and realized that his Mental Intent, which had been immersed in the Heaven and Earth Tablet, seemed to have acquired some special quality, becoming somewhat peculiar.

That portion of Mental Intent emanated from the memorial tablet; clearly, though only a few strands, it became far more substantial and weighty than one's entire spiritual essence!

"Is the Heaven and Earth Tablet like a relay, or an amplifier?"

Zhang Fusheng could clearly sense these wisps of Mental Intent flowing through the Heaven and Earth Tablet.

It seems to have undergone some indescribable 'ultimate sublimation,' gaining an immortal and indestructible quality.

But when he tried to draw those few strands of Immortal Thought back into his body, he couldn't stop coughing up a mouthful of blood!

It's simply impossible.

His body simply couldn't contain thoughts of this level, even if those thoughts belonged to him.

Zhang Fusheng pondered for a moment, then imagined a wooden plaque, and imbued the plaque with his Immortal Thought.

As expected, the wooden sign fell apart.

"After my thoughts circulated within the Heaven and Earth Tablet, their status seemed to rise to an extremely high level, beyond the capacity of my body or any ordinary object to bear."

"Got it!"

Zhang Fusheng suddenly had a bold idea. He then immersed two strands of thought into the Heaven and Earth Tablet and took it out.

One of those thoughts, after reaching its most sublime form, was used to imagine a wooden plaque.

This wooden plaque possesses an enduring charm, exuding an indescribable sense of oppression!

Another Immortal Thought was successfully stored within it, without crushing the wooden plaque!

Zhang Fusheng's heart pounded as he attempted the final step.

He attempted to transform the imagined wooden plaque, which existed only in the spiritual world, into something real.

Like the snowflakes in the small hotel.

His mental energy was rapidly depleted, and waves of dizziness washed over him. He felt nauseous, and his vision blurred.

I don't know how much time has passed.

Zhang Fusheng silently exited the divine realm and returned to reality, his face pale and bloodless, with dense cracks even appearing on his skin.

But similarly.

An old-fashioned wooden plaque, engraved with the words "High Heaven," lies quietly in my hand.

"I did it!"