With a Mortal Body, Winning a Thousand Years

Yun Jingheng leaned against the door frame of Shrek Outer Court, his arms crossed over his chest, a smug smile playing on his lips.

He looked at the fully equipped and ready-to-go troops in front of him and let out a long, extremely sarcastic sigh that made you want to punch him in the face.

"Tsk tsk tsk--"

Xie Xie's eyebrow twitched.

"What a pity."

Yun Jingheng's gaze swept from Tang Wulin's face to Xie Xie's face, from Xie Xie's face to Xu Xiaoyan's face, then to Gu Yue, and finally landed on Ye Xinglan's face, deliberately pausing for a beat.

"I don't need to take the exam anymore."

Ye Xinglan's lips twitched, "You f***ing..."

Looking at her expression, Yun Jingheng's smile widened, like a sunflower blooming too brightly in the sunlight.

Thank you.

Ye Xinglan paused.

The corridor fell silent for a moment.

That moment was so brief, it felt as if time had been paused and then quickly released.

Then they all laughed.

What are you all standing there for?

Shen Yi's voice came from the end of the corridor.

She was wearing a light gray outer robe, her hair was casually tied back with a wooden hairpin, and she was carrying a thick stack of files as she walked briskly from the stairwell.

"It's time to gather, what are you all still dawdling around here for?"

"Okay, let's go!"

Xie Xie ran towards the door, not looking like he had been injured.

Shen Yi's gaze fell on Yun Jingheng was still leaning against the door frame.

She looked at his face, which had regained some color compared to a few days ago, and at the smile that lingered at the corners of his mouth. Her lips moved, as if she wanted to say something.

But she didn't say anything.

She simply spoke in her usual tone, a tone tinged with a hint of impatience, a touch of urging, and a dash of concern she herself might not have been aware of—

"You too, take good care of your injury and don't run around."

He smiled and nodded.

Then she turned around and followed the group.

"Jing Heng! Wait for us to come back!"

"Wait for me to find something delicious to bring you!"

Yun Jingheng watched them leave, then waved to Gu Yue, who turned back and smiled.

He stood at the door for a while until Yuanen Yehui returned from his part-time job.

What are you doing here?

Yun Jingheng snapped out of his daze. "Huh? You're back from work?"

"Yes."

She took something wrapped in oiled paper from her cloth bag and handed it to her.

"Try it."

Yun Jingheng took it; the oil paper was still warm, carrying the aroma of flour and sugar.

"What is this?"

"Osmanthus cake."

Yuanen Yehui said, "The owner of the shop at the morning market gave me two extra pieces for the first batch they made today; their food is really good."

He held the oil paper in his palm and said, "Thanks."

Yuanen Yehui nodded. "They went to take the exam?"

"Um."

"Aren't you going?"

Yun Jingheng smiled. "I don't need to take the exam. I'm on sick leave."

"Are you still able to walk? Do you want me to take you home?"

"I'm just injured, not crippled."

"He didn't even limp two steps."

"..."

Yuanen Yehui stood still, her expression unchanged, but her eyebrows twitched slightly, as if to say, "Come on, I'll be waiting to see."

Yun Jingheng was silent for two seconds, then straightened up from the door frame and stood up straight.

His legs were a little weak; Tang Wulin had carried him out of the house earlier.

I've been standing for too long, and my injury hasn't fully healed yet. I didn't feel it when I was leaning against the door frame, but now that I've shifted my weight onto my legs, a tendon on the inside of my knee is throbbing, like someone is poking it with a needle.

But he took the first step without changing his expression.

Step two.

Step 3.

He took three steps, then stopped, turned around, and looked at Yuanen Yehui.

"They're gone. Satisfied now?"

Yuanen Yehui looked at him, at his face that was trying hard to keep a straight face, and at the thin layer of sweat on his forehead that hadn't yet seeped out.

He smiled, turned around, and left.

"Come back? Where have you been?"

Yun Jingheng looked at her.

"Weren't you going to take me home?"

"..."

Yuanen Yehui turned to look at him.

silence.

Walking beside him, I maintained a distance that was within arm's reach, but one that I would never touch without reaching out.

Sea God Pavilion, Conference Room.

Sunlight streamed in through the windows, illuminating the entire room. The shadows of the window frames fell across the long solid wood table, forming lines like a fence.

Yun Ming sat at the head of the long table, with a file spread out in front of him. The ink was not yet dry; it was the meeting minutes he had just written himself.

His fingers rested on the edge of the paper, a small ink stain on his fingertip—it had gotten there before the meeting and he hadn't bothered to wipe it off.

His outer robe had been changed to a clean one, but the dark circles under his eyes remained, like two ink stains that could never be washed away.

Ya Li sat to his right, with a cup of tea that had gone cold in front of her.

She didn't drink it, but occasionally touched the side of the cup with her fingertip to check how cold it had gotten.

Her gaze fell on the table, on the line cut in two by the sunlight, but it was unfocused.

Long Yeyue sat at the other end of the long table, her silver hair gleaming coldly in the sunlight.

Wearing a plain white robe, with neatly arranged files in front of him, his hands were folded on the table, his fingers long and slender with distinct knuckles.

The meeting room remained quiet for a long time.

A silence fell over the room, and everyone was at a loss for words.

Laughter occasionally drifted in through the window, carried by the wind, and filled the air of the conference room.

Yun Ming spoke up, "I called everyone here today to discuss Jing Heng's matter."

His voice wasn't loud, but in the quiet room, every word was like a stone falling to the ground, leaving a clear mark.

Ya Li slowly raised her head to look at him, her eyes gradually focusing.

"Elder Long... please speak."

Yun Ming ultimately couldn't bring himself to say it.

Long Yeyue held the file in her hand, remaining silent for Jiujiu.

The edges of the file remained motionless between her fingers, but the silence was like a wall, stretching across both ends of the long table.

Everyone was looking at the wall, but no one tried to climb over it.

Long Yeyue's silence was never because she didn't know what to say, but rather because she was deciding "whether she should say it" and "how much to say."

Yun Ming lowered his eyes, no longer looking at her, and didn't want to urge her.

Ya Li withdrew her fingers from the cup and placed them on her knees, her fingertips as cold as jade.

Long Yeyue finally spoke, "These files are ones I found after searching for a long time. They are handwritten copies from eight hundred years ago, the original of which has been destroyed."

"Many parts of the copying were done by guesswork, but the essential parts were all there."

She placed the file on the table, neither pushing it out nor taking it back; it just sat there, like a chess piece that hadn't yet been decided whether to make a move.

Everyone was looking at the chess piece, but no one reached out to take it.

"Zhao Yunhong, the Limit Douluo from over a thousand years ago, titled Calamity Moon, the Son of the Plane, the Chosen One of Destiny, Martial Soul: Moon, possessing two pseudo-divine artifacts formed from Soul Power — the Bright Moon Sword and the Blood Moon Sword."

"No genius in the history of the mainland has ever possessed Zhao Yunhong's talent. He was incredibly strong. Back then, the heirs of the Spirit Pagoda, the Tang Sect, and Shrek all chose to self-destruct and take him with them."

"It's not hard to find from the Shrek Academy's records that Zhao Yunhong possesses laws or authority."

Long Yeyue's voice slowly spread through the quiet conference room, like a long-dormant river finally having its source unearthed, "And there's more than one."

Zhuo Shi frowned. "So Zhao Yunhong's Martial Soul had six forms from the very beginning?"

Long Yeyue gently shook her head, "It's been so long, there's no way to verify it."

"But Jing Heng has Martial Soul Awakening, which is difficult to determine because, based on what I've found, Jing Heng's Martial Soul seem to be incomplete."

"After the Blood Moon Sword merged into Jing Heng's body... I suspect he and Zhao Yunhong probably had a fight."

Zhuo Shi's brows furrowed even more. "A fight?"

Long Yeyue tapped her finger lightly on the cover of the file. The sound was not loud, but in the quiet conference room, it was like a needle dropping on a stone slab.

"That's just my guess."

She said, "When the Blood Moon Sword merged into Jing Heng's body, Zhao Yunhong's lingering spirit should have been attached to it; otherwise, Jing Heng's condition cannot be explained."

"He was unconsciously attacking everything he could see, and he didn't even recognize Yun Ming."

"I think that at that time, the power buried in Jing Heng's body was passively activated, but Zhao Yunhong was the first master, so the power of the Blood Moon would be activated immediately upon integration."

Long Yeyue's voice slowly filled the conference room, each word trembling slightly, as she desperately wanted to make every word clear.

"The moment the Blood Moon Sword returns, its authority will respond first to the will of its original master."

"Although most of Zhao Yunhong's lingering resentment has dissipated, he lived in the Blood Moon Sword for a thousand years, and that sword recognizes his aura and the fluctuations of his Soul Power."

"The moment the sword pierced Jing Heng's chest, the Blood Moon Authority's first reaction wasn't to embrace its new master, but to welcome its old master back. That's why Jing Heng— "

She paused, her gaze falling on Ya Li's face.

"He was struggling, he must have been struggling."

Long Yeyue lowered her voice, as if afraid of disturbing something.

"But he's only twelve years old. He's facing Limit Douluo from a thousand years ago. What can he use to struggle? How can he reclaim his body?"

No one answered in the meeting room.

But Long Yeyue answered it herself.

"He struggled with every single day of those twelve years he lived."

Her voice was no longer soft.

"Zhao Yunhong had a thousand years, while he only had twelve, but he used those twelve years to win against the thousand years."

Yun Ming lowered his head, looking at the tear that Ya Li had left on the back of his hand.

The tears had dried, leaving only a small, round, wrinkled mark, like a dried-up lake.

"So Jing Heng was able to wake up not because the Blood Moon Sword spared him."

Yun Ming's voice was squeezed out from deep in his throat, hoarse and unlike his own, "Is it because he won?"

Long Yeyue nodded.

He won.

"Therefore, we shouldn't be discussing this in today's meeting. We should be discussing Jing Heng's Sixth Soul Ring. Do you have any ideas?"

Long Yeyue's sudden change of heart stunned everyone present.