The abbot of White Horse Temple was named Yuanxin. He was a Buddhist itinerant monk with a seventh-grade Spirit Dao cultivation.
The term "itinerant monk" meant he did not belong to either of the two great Buddhist sects.
That was precisely why he could serve as the abbot of White Horse Temple.
In Great Wei, the three major paths of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism stood as a triad, each a vast and powerful immortal order.
The Confucian school had Yaoshan Academy and its "Eternal Sage," one of only two individuals, besides the former Sword Saint who cleaved open the Heavenly Gate, ever to reach the First Grade realm.
Thirteen hundred years ago, it was the Confucian Saint who, with a single Covenant Scroll, established the "Half of the Nation's Rivers and Mountains," allowing Great Wei to found its empire.
From that day on, every emperor of Great Wei, upon ascending the throne, was required to go to Mount Yao and pay homage before that Covenant Scroll, generation after generation, without exception.
As for Daoism, the "Heaven's Mandate Sect" now reigned supreme, for its current sect master was none other than the empire's female National Preceptor, "The Saint of Destiny," Xu Fu.
It was said she could truly summon clouds with a turn of her hand and disperse rain with another, holding in her grasp the very fortune of Great Wei's next five hundred years.
One thought from her could overturn the heavens.
As for Buddhism, the Garan Temple and the Tara Sect both claimed to be the orthodox lineages, their rivalry fierce as fire and water.
White Horse Temple, being a semi-official post station under the administration of Huangtian City, naturally required someone neutral and incorruptible to serve as abbot.
Otherwise, it would easily be infiltrated and exploited.
Yet even if he was neutral, for a seventh-grade itinerant cultivator to face the Holy Maiden of the Tara Sect directly and still hold his head high was no easy task.
Kneeling on the ground, Abbot Yuanxin swallowed hard and said truthfully, "Yes..."
"Half an hour before Your Highness the Princess arrived, the consort of the Northern Garrison Prince came here with the heir, saying they wished to pay a visit to Your Highness."
"At first, I thought that heir was merely speaking nonsense, so I placed them in one of the temple's meditation rooms."
"Who would have thought... that Your Highness would truly arrive."
Behind the heavy curtain sat none other than Princess Prajna.
She reclined casually upon the couch, her hair black as a waterfall cascading down her shoulders. The soft white robe upon her body unfurled like lotus petals. The ornate, cold necklace of gemstones traced the curve of her chest, accentuating the exquisite form beneath.
Bracelets and anklets gleamed upon her slender wrists and ankles like delicate shackles, yet no ornament, however radiant, could outshine the veiled beauty of her face.
A thin, gauzy veil obscured the upper half of her visage, concealing her eyes.
But even half of her face was enough to enthrall all beings.
"Prajna Princess" was but a title. She had once been the cherished royal daughter of an ancient desert kingdom in the Western Regions.
Legend said that when her homeland was struck by endless sandstorms, barren for a thousand miles and claiming thousands of lives each year, Princess Prajna was moved by compassion.
She made a grand vow, gouging out her own eyes as an offering to Heaven.
The heavens took pity and sent down gentle rain.
The dead land became an oasis; the four directions submitted; prosperity reigned for a time.
But for reasons unknown, the mighty kingdom vanished overnight beneath the sands, becoming a legend.
The Tara Sect later took her in as their Holy Maiden. Her true name had long been forgotten.
Princess Prajna rested her delicate jade hand against her temple, her tone amused.
"So, it was not the princess consort who came to see me, but rather that notorious heir of the Northern Garrison Prince, the one who cannot cultivate, the debauched wastrel?"
"Yes."
"And what does he want with me?"
"From the princess consort's tone, it seems to concern the poison afflicting the heir. She wished to request Your Highness's aid."
Cold sweat drenched Yuanxin. His forehead pressed to the floor as if he could bury himself in the earth.
Who in all the realm did not know that Gu Fangchen was infamous for his misdeeds and lust for beauty?
If he sought out Princess Prajna, could it possibly be for anything proper?
This talk of "poison" was surely just a pretext.
Even the mere thought of such a thing was a desecration of Her Highness's purity.
And now, he had not only come uninvited, but even investigated her whereabouts in advance!
Amitabha... may the blood not splash on me!
Princess Prajna lightly tapped her forehead with one slender finger.
Interesting.
Even the Heavenly Bureau could not obtain her whereabouts, and yet this so-called heir of the Northern Garrison Prince had managed it?
Coincidence could not explain that.
She parted her lips slightly and asked, "And where is that heir now?"
The maid beside her, cloaked head to toe in black, bowed and said, "At the wild ferry at the foot of the mountain."
Princess Prajna gave a sudden soft laugh.
"What a delightful play this will be... Go."
The maid nodded, lifted the curtain, and walked out.
Abbot Yuanxin trembled as he asked, "Your Highness intends to..."
The princess spoke languidly, "Can't you tell?"
"Go and invite our dear heir to be our guest."
, ,
At the wild ferry, silence reigned.
Only the whispering night wind moved the reeds.
Gu Yuandao stood blank-faced, eyes nearly vacant.
Both his reason and his emotions were in utter turmoil.
When the wind stirred, the ashes born from Gu Yuye's disintegration scattered across his face.
He had opened his mouth in shock, and the ashes nearly blew into it, making him snap his lips shut in fright.
Pale-faced and trembling, Gu Yuandao reached out as if to grasp something, futilely.
He looked at Gu Fangchen, who stood before him calm and unflinching, and said hoarsely in disbelief, "You... you killed Father?"
Gu Fangchen raised an eyebrow, smiling as he caught a flake of ash on a twig.
"A blind man can't be a top scholar, can he? Why don't you see for yourself?"
He blew away the ash, shrugged, and said, "If you think it wasn't me, I don't mind letting you take the fame instead."
"After all, I did occupy your nest for nineteen years. Call this my compensation."
Killing the Northern Garrison Prince would, of course, make one famous across the world.
Even when the three Great Masters of Qingman besieged him, they couldn't kill Gu Yuye. Who else could slay the empire's war saint, the man whose power shook the court?
Gu Yuandao's body wavered, barely hearing Gu Fangchen's words.
He muttered, "A gentleman should remain composed even if Mount Tai collapses before him... a gentleman... composed... before Mount Tai... a gentleman..."
He had never imagined that Gu Yuye would die before his very eyes.
So easily. So absurdly.
Killed by this useless wretch who couldn't even cultivate, someone never in their plans!
Gu Yuandao repeated the words endlessly, trying to steady his heart, but no sound came out when he opened his mouth.
Crack.
In that instant, a great fissure split his Dao Heart.
He had reached the fifth-grade Spirit Dao realm, his righteous energy suppressing evil, his will upright and unshakable.
But now, he looked as if stricken by illness, pale, sweating, shuddering like a fevered patient.
Gu Fangchen sneered inwardly.
Confucian cultivators of the Spirit Dao relied upon their "upright mind," a seamless unity of spirit and will.
To break one quickly, the simplest way was to make him feel fear.
Gu Fangchen had said this would be a move to shatter the board, and he meant it literally.
He had three objectives tonight.
First, to prevent Gu Yuye's death from being formally concluded this evening.
Second, to bind Ding Xingfeng to his ship of thieves so he couldn't get off.
Third, to strike directly at Gu Yuandao's Dao Heart and sever his cultivation path.
And now, all three birds had been skewered neatly by one twig.
What a pity, though...
For all his confidence, in truth he had not truly killed Gu Yuye.
As he watched the ashes scatter, regret flickered in his eyes.
For Gu Yuye, who bore the titles of "Heart Demon" and "War Saint," was a supreme old schemer.
How cunning?
Put it this way: up until the point when Gu Fangchen transmigrated, no player had ever truly managed to kill him.
That ridiculous.
The man was so damnably hard to kill that players nicknamed him "The Ever-Living King."
Normally, whenever Gu Yuye appeared in public, there was a two-hundred-percent chance it wasn't his real body but one of his "War Puppets," refined from his own blood essence.
At least three such puppets were known, each at the Third Grade level.
Some even speculated that Gu Yuye's limited realm of Third Grade was only because he had divided his power among those puppets.
Others held darker theories, that his true body's cultivation might far exceed Third Grade.
But those were only players' conspiracy theories, never proven.
The War Puppets shared his karmic link, so even a causality-based skill like the Power of Life and Death would only target the puppet.
Gu Fangchen hadn't planned to kill him yet anyway.
Not only because his own strength was insufficient, but also because Great Wei could not yet lose Gu Yuye.
Gu Fangchen wasn't confident he could stabilize the empire's balance if Gu Yuye died now, nor prevent the Qingman tribes from invading through the passes.
Give him two more years, though, and even if Gu Yuye didn't die, he would.
But now, too soon.
What a pity indeed.
"Gen... gentle... man..."
Gu Yuandao was on the verge of collapse.
Ning Caiyong finally came to her senses, staring in disbelief at Gu Fangchen, then at the ashes on the ground.
It was as though she was meeting her own son for the first time.
Gu Fangchen blinked innocently, dropped the twig, and said with a boyish grin, "Mother, I was just about to tell you, "
"That acquaintance I met earlier, he taught me this trick!"
"He said otherwise, Gu Yuye would never listen to me, so I had no choice. Mother, you won't blame me, right?"
From within the reeds, Ding Xingfeng was speechless.
The Martial Saint's face darkened.
This damned brat, how dare he? Even he hadn't seen this coming.
In his mind, even if Gu Fangchen truly possessed some secret art capable of killing a Second-Grade Great Saint, it would've taken at least three months of preparation.
That was how those kinds of mystical arts worked.
He never imagined the boy would actually act tonight, without a moment's hesitation.
So when Gu Fangchen shouted "Old Ding," it was already too late.
Gu Yuye had definitely heard it.
And really, besides him, who else surnamed Ding had the power to kill a Third-Grade War Puppet?
Ding Xingfeng could only concede defeat now.
Even if he disliked Gu Fangchen, when Gu Yuye came to seek vengeance, could he possibly deny it and admit cowardice?
That was precisely the brilliance of Gu Fangchen's ploy: he'd forced Ding Xingfeng onto his side, knowing the old Martial Saint's pride would never allow retreat.
Grinding his teeth, Ding Xingfeng thought, So what if it's Gu Yuye?
Before me, he's still just a junior.
Ning Caiyong's pupils shrank. She bit her lip and asked softly, "Chen'er... that 'Old Ding' you mentioned just now..."
Gu Fangchen nodded.
Feigning ignorance of his fault, he looked at her and said, "Mother, are you upset? Did I do something wrong? You saw it, Gu Yuye tried to kill me first."
He murmured, "It hurt so much, but Mother, see? I'm not entirely useless."
After that unwillingness vanished, his merged memories flowed seamlessly, his performance now eight parts real, two parts feigned.
There was no longer any risk of exposure.
The original Gu Fangchen had always been like this, doing outrageous things to prove his worth, seeking attention without realizing he'd gone too far.
So this was perfectly in character.
Ning Caiyong was silent for a while, then sighed softly and looked at him with gentle reproach.
"Next time, you must not act so rashly, nor use such extreme means."
She reached out and brushed his hair tenderly.
"No matter what happens, Mother will always protect you."
"If Gu Yuye wishes to harm you, he'll have to face your uncle's sword first."
Across from them, Gu Yuandao froze.
He stared at Ning Caiyong in disbelief.
He couldn't comprehend it.
Gu Yuye was dead, killed by Gu Fangchen!
And yet Ning Caiyong was this calm, not even scolding him, only cautioning him to be less extreme next time...
Either the world had gone mad, or he had.
He clutched his head, hearing faintly a sigh within his mind. A ray of righteous, balanced light, the Righteous Qi of the Vast Heavens, rose and poured through his consciousness like cool water.
Instantly, Gu Yuandao came to his senses.
He seized upon a third possibility.
"Father... isn't dead!"
Only then did Ning Caiyong remember her biological son. Turning to him, she said gently, "Do not be afraid. Your father is not so easy to kill. That was merely a War Puppet."
Gu Yuandao staggered and fixed his gaze on Gu Fangchen.
"You said that on purpose... to destroy my Dao Heart!"
Gu Fangchen slowly curved his lips.
"What's a Dao Heart? I can't even cultivate, how would I know such things?"
Gu Yuandao's blood surged violently, and he suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood.
...
Somewhere in a secret chamber, Gu Yuye's eyes snapped open.
Blood-red pupils gleamed with rage, his face twisted into a ferocious snarl, so unlike his usual calm demeanor.
As he stood, the surrounding stone and soil cracked inch by inch into nothingness.
"Gu! Fang! Chen!"
"Very good, very good indeed. My useless son, how dare you fool everyone and give me such a grand surprise!"
He stepped into the void and in the next instant, he appeared within that pile of ashes, pointing straight at Gu Fangchen.