61: Wait, the inheritor

The tremor deep within the earth vein was like the dying heartbeat of a slumbering ancient beast. Each throb shook the cramped secret passage, sending dust cascading down.

Wrapped in the tattered cloth that bore the Karma of the Dao Market, Zhang Xuanyi's figure shot forward like a specter merging with the darkness.

In his ear, Su Qingzhu's voice, laced with a hint of electrical static, was nevertheless crystal clear and carried an unprecedented gravity: "Wrong! Xuan Mingzi's Qi flow shows no signs of leakage; it's all converging madly towards the bottom of the cauldron! He's not destroying the dragon vein... he... he seems to be using the energy of the entire dragon vein to awaken something!"

Before her words even faded, Zhang Xuanyi's footsteps came to an abrupt halt.

The stone walls flanking the secret passage were no longer mere rock; they had transformed at some unknown point.

Dense, ancient talismanic scripts were carved upon them. The grooves of each stroke were caked with dark, dried blood clots.

Though long dried, these bloodstains still exuded a bone-deep resentment and unwillingness, as if countless pairs of eyes in the darkness were watching him, this latecomer.

"The cauldron... is not a ritual vessel..." A voice so faint it was almost dissipated sounded by his shoulder. It was the lingering remnant soul of the Old Market-Stall Dog, its presence weaker than a candle in the wind. "It's... a pot..."

Zhang Xuanyi's heart jolted violently. An image sealed deep within his memories surged to the forefront of his mind.

It was from a time when his Master, Li Zhiyai, drunk, had pointed at the sea of clouds on the horizon and spoken deliriously: "The tianshi cauldron, the tianshi cauldron... Heh, what a huge pot! Simmering Dragon and Tiger, stewing Yin and Yang, a simmer lasting three hundred years, all to refine that single spoonful of life-extending soup, just so the orthodoxy of Tianshi Mansion... could endure for eternity..."

Back then, he had dismissed it as drunken rambling. Now, every word seemed to drip with a bloody chill.

The end of the secret passage suddenly opened up, revealing an immense underground cavern.

A colossal bronze cauldron, easily three stories tall, hung suspended in mid-air in a bizarre fashion.

Cloud script and dragon patterns on its body seemed alive, yet they were entwined by a thick layer of black Qi, emanating an ominous aura.

There was no fire beneath the cauldron, yet violent waves of black flame roiled ceaselessly. This was no ordinary fire, but Yin fire condensed from the purest earthly malevolence and resentment.

And at the very center of that giant cauldron, a figure sat cross-legged.

It was Xuan Mingzi.

But he was no longer human in form.

The bronze-like skin covering his body was flaking off piece by piece, revealing the stark, withered bones beneath, like an ancient deity statue molting its skin.

He slowly opened his eyes. Those eyes held no pupils, no whites—only a vast sea of talismans composed of billions of characters slowly swirling within, so profound it seemed capable of sucking in one's Divine Soul.

"Zhang Xuanyi." His voice was no longer human, more like countless grains of sand grinding against each other, dry and grating. "You've come. Do you know, as the ninth Cloth Master, every talisman you sold in the Dao Market, every coin you spent, is stained with the blood of the eight 'Seniors' before you?"

As his words fell, Xuan Mingzi's skeletal finger lifted slightly.

Hummm——!

On the walls of the bronze cauldron, light and shadow flowed, projecting scenes of startling clarity.

In the images, one Cloth Master after another, draped in tattered cloth, at the peak of their success and ambition in the Dao Market, was recalled by a "Recall Order" from Tianshi Mansion.

Then, cold chains pierced their collarbones, hoisting them high.

Their faces cycled through shock, disbelief, and finally, despair and venomous hatred.

In the end, they were thrown into this giant cauldron like sacrificial offerings.

The black flames beneath the cauldron instantly surged, refining their Physical Bodies, Divine Souls, and even the Dao Market Luck they had accumulated over a lifetime into clusters of dazzling light orbs. These sank to the cauldron's bottom, becoming the so-called "Dao Market Spiritual Foundation," the very Foundation for Tianshi Mansion's control over the world's dragon vein Luck!

"No... impossible..." Zhang Xuanyi's breath almost stopped.

At that moment, Su Qingzhu's voice sounded again, filled with suppressed horror and trembling. She seemed to have finally deciphered the inscriptions on the mysterious bronze coffin: "I understand now... I understand everything! 'Cloth Master' was never a position; it's a qualification, a qualification to become a sacrificial offering! Each Cloth Master, when they develop the Dao Market enough to influence the Luck of a region, is 'Recalled' by Tianshi Mansion! The so-called 'offering' is just another name for slaughter!"

Slaughter!

What an accurate, and what a cruel, word.

Zhang Xuanyi's entire body trembled violently. An uncontrollable rage surged from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.

He remembered the scene of his Master, Li Zhiyai, burning his books and taking his own life—the Paper ash flying everywhere, the resolute yet desolate look in his eyes.

He had always believed his Master died for the Dao. Only now did he understand it was nothing of the sort... "So, when my Master burned his life's work back then, it wasn't martyrdom..." The corner of Zhang Xuanyi's mouth twisted into a smile uglier than crying, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar. "It was... an escape?"

"He was clever." Xuan Mingzi—or rather, the monster within the cauldron—actually nodded. His talisman-sea eyes showed no emotion. "He chose the most extreme method, ending himself before the 'Recall Order' could arrive, destroying his own qualification as an 'offering.' He escaped. But he couldn't destroy this pot, nor could he take away the spark hidden within the Dao Market. Now, it's your turn, Ninth."

Xuan Mingzi's bony, skeletal hand slowly extended towards Zhang Xuanyi, making a gesture of invitation.

"Come, join me. Let's overturn this pot that has simmered nine generations of us!"

Boom——!!!

A deafening roar shook the heavens and earth, but it didn't come from the cauldron chamber—it came from deeper beneath their feet!

The entire underground palace shook violently. An enormous rock layer was violently shattered. An Old Earth Vein Turtle, colossal beyond imagination, used its already cracked shell to breach the final barrier leading to the cauldron chamber.

Its aura had weakened to an extreme. Golden blood seeped from its shell—a sign it was burning its Origin Dragon Qi.

"Young one... this old one... can't hold on much longer... take it!"

The old turtle let out a distant, desolate roar and spewed a stream of the purest Origin Qi from the dragon vein!

That golden Dragon Qi, like a celestial river flowing upstream, instantly poured into the unremarkable tattered cloth wrapped around Zhang Xuanyi!

Sizzle!

A soft sound, and the tattered cloth that had followed Zhang Xuanyi for so long instantly burst into raging golden flames!

The flames were warm, not scalding, yet contained a majestic, righteous energy capable of incinerating all filth in this world!

By his shoulder, the Old Dog's remnant soul let out a final low roar within the golden flames, filled with attachment and release.

"Master... it's... time to close the stall."

Soul Flying Away and Spirit Scattering. The cloth had burned to ashes.

Zhang Xuanyi's eyes were bloodshot. Tears mixed with golden flames rolled down his cheeks.

He raised high the burning remnant of cloth, now a golden torch, and strode step by step towards the bronze cauldron suspended in mid-air. His voice echoed throughout the underground palace, filled with boundless grief, indignation, and resolve.

"You used the lives of eight generations to refine elixirs and prolong your Dao. Then today, I'll use my own life to light the fire!"

"Today, the price of this Dao Market, I'll set it myself!"

As his words fell, he charged forward. The golden torch in his hand, like a meteor flying against its course, slammed fiercely towards the giant cauldron roiling with black flames!

At that moment, a sharp, peerless Sword Qi tore through the Void Realm. Cui Wujiu's figure broke through the barrier and entered.

But he did not attack Zhang Xuanyi as expected. His gaze was locked fiercely onto the cauldron wall.

A new projection was forming there—in the scene, a young child was being held down by several Daoists in Tianshi Mansion robes. A Reverse Three Caverns Talisman, shimmering with a sinister black light, was brutally implanted into the center of his forehead.

That child was unmistakably a young Cui Wujiu!

"I... I was also raised with pseudo-liquid..." Cui Wujiu's body trembled violently. The pride and belief that had sustained him all along crumbled in that instant.

He jerked his head up, looking at Zhang Xuanyi charging towards the cauldron with an extremely complex gaze, and shouted hoarsely, "If you can truly destroy this cauldron... take me with you!"

Zhang Xuanyi did not look back. He had only one target!

However, just as the golden flames were about to touch the cauldron's body, a sudden change occurred!

From the very core of the roiling black flames within the cauldron, beneath the skeletal hand belonging to Xuan Mingzi, a pale, bloodless, yet remarkably intact hand slowly extended from a seam in the cauldron!

The hand was slender and delicate, its nails neatly trimmed. And on the tip of its index finger, two small characters were clearly etched in blood—

Ninth.

Su Qingzhu's exclamation exploded in Zhang Xuanyi's ear: "That's not Xuan Mingzi! The person in the cauldron... is the previous Cloth Master?! The Eighth? No... the Ninth is you! Then who is he?!"

Simultaneously, a cold, fragmented sound mixed with countless garbled codes flashed in Zhang Xuanyi's mind:

[Lv.7.5—Spark Awakening... waiting... Successor.]