Chapter 102: The Rise and Passing of the Ten Thousand Things

Ji Youyun swallowed hard and said to Ji Youfeng, “I’ll let you two out, all right?”

He smiled faintly, with deep feeling in his face. “You’re my only close kin, my younger brother. Even if I still want to get the Great Calamity Canon, I haven’t taken this as far as I can. You’re a Nascent-Soul cultivator; even with a broken leg, it’s only temporary. Once you can go out and cultivate again, there’s no great difficulty in regrowing the limb and recovering.”

He glanced at Fang Hongjian and continued gently, “Look, after all this time you’ve finally found a woman you truly like. Why not take her and live free and easy, in harmony, for the rest of your life? All I need is your section of the Great Calamity Canon. Brother, it could be our Ji family’s chance to produce a True Immortal. Why won’t you let me fulfill that? I can swear that after I’ve learned it, I’ll never trouble you two again. A True Immortal to you lot is like the difference between a man and an ant. Which person would deliberately pick a fight with a mere ant?”

Ji Youfeng lay on his back, arms tucked behind his head, watching the ceiling. He gave no sign of reaction until Ji Youyun finished, then asked in a coldly even tone, “Is that all?”

Seeing no change from two decades ago, Ji Youyun knew this trip too would likely be a vain return. He gave a wry smile and nodded. As expected, Ji Youfeng added, as if nothing in him had stirred, “You can leave when you’re done talking. I just want to be quiet for a bit.”

No sarcasm, no curses—perhaps out of regard for Fang Hongjian’s presence, and fear that in his anger he might put her in a bind.

Ji Youyun knew this inflexible elder brother well. He did not show too much disappointment, and on leaving said, “You two have another look at this and decide. I’ll give you time to think.”

After Ji Youyun left, Ji Youfeng was silent for a long while.
Fang Hongjian, noticing his heavy expression, asked with concern, “What is wrong? You aren’t really taking what he said seriously, are you?”

Ji Youfeng turned his head to look at her. “Suddenly I’m thinking his proposal is actually pretty good, really tempting. What do you think?”

She opened her mouth, speechless. Her face turned red of its own accord.
“Um… it is… pretty good,” she managed.

Seeing her look as though something had lodged in her throat, he brightened, as if suddenly awake, and asked, “Don’t you hate me for being old? Don’t you mind that I’m maimed?”

Fang Hongjian quickly denied it. In the lantern light, Ji Youfeng’s eyes were bright, so bright that the fine lines at their corners were easy to miss.

She brought the tip of her index finger to her mouth and gently bit it between her teeth. A life like this with a senior? It didn’t sound like something terrible.
Yet was this all just to feed Ji Youyun’s ambition?

In that instant she remembered who she was: Fang Hongjian of the Cinnabar Cliffs Sect. On her shoulders still lay her mission to help Junior Brother Chen restore the sect’s standing.

Ji Youfeng watched her with amusement as she made that rare childlike gesture, his expression shifting as if pleased by how much his teasing had unsettled her.

He laughed softly. “Still, after thinking it through, I’ve decided I can’t agree with him.”

Fang Hongjian immediately realized he was at it again—making her fluster with playful words—and she had no idea how to deal with him. She shot him a reproachful look, then asked more kindly, “But I thought you looked genuinely worried just now.”

When she turned to the matter, Ji Youfeng let his smile fade. “You don’t understand my good brother. If there weren’t something weighing on him, he wouldn’t have come to me with such a speech. When a thing is unusual, there’s usually a hidden force behind it. So what is it?”

He rolled onto his side, showing rare irritation. “I can read what others are thinking after studying the Great Calamity Canon. But with him, I’ve spent my whole life trying to guess his thoughts and him guessing mine. He must be tired of that too.”

Fang Hongjian gently changed the subject to soothe him. “What about me—can you read my mind as clearly too?”

Ji Youfeng replied with annoyance, “Yes. You don’t like me. How could I not notice when you keep calling me ‘senior’ every time?”

“……”
Fang Hongjian thought, *Sometimes you’re a senior; sometimes you behave like a child.*

Two days passed without word from Ji Youyun. Ji Youfeng returned to his old self.
The two still played at gambling to pass the time, only the stakes had changed.

Ji Youfeng said, “Kid, let’s raise the stakes. If I lose, I’ll tell you some hidden stories—nothing unfair. If you lose, I’ll tell you this: I remember the wondrous method you used when helping your younger brother to cultivate. I don’t know whether only water-root disciples can practice it. Every time you lose, you’ll recite one verse for me.”

“Is it the Art of Myriad Transformations and Annihilation?” she asked. “It’s our family’s inheritance, grounded in the generating cycle of the Five Elements, so any kind of spiritual root can learn it naturally.”

In Fang Hongjian’s view, the Art of Myriad Transformations and Annihilation was not an exceptional technique. Her parents had only said, “Don’t let anyone know.” They had never said it could not be passed on, and if Ji Youfeng wished to learn, she naturally wouldn’t hide anything. They kept gambling; Fang Hongjian usually lost more than she won, so she soon gave him the full set.

Each time she won, the secrets Ji Youfeng spoke were genuinely hidden truths indeed.

“I only touched your wrist once that far back and found you were very suitable for the Great Calamity Canon. I truly only taught you the opening fifty-odd characters, and you went on to find your own path into it. If a water-root is to cultivate the Great Calamity Canon, it must be supported by the Ten-Thousand-Streams Returning-to-Origin technique as its core combat art. As cultivation rises, that technique becomes crucial. That is why, for the water element, this manual is at an advantage over the other three elements.”

Fang Hongjian had cultivated for so long at Foundation Establishment stage that she had already discovered the drawback of choosing Ten-Thousand-Streams Returning-to-Origin as one’s destined technique. “For water roots it is formidable,” she said, “but against cultivators of other roots, it can barely even preserve self-defense.”

Ji Youfeng smiled. “An ordinary Ten-Thousand-Streams Returning-to-Origin is no different from being trivial against water cultivation. You were fortunate to have raised it a level early. Even for Ji Youyun, who has studied the Great Calamity Canon, the first upgrade of Ten-Thousand-Streams is something for mid-Foundation Establishment. In late Foundation he’d upgrade it again, and with the Great Calamity Canon he’d no longer only absorb water True Qi.”

“Wow. That’s incredible,” Fang Hongjian breathed. In her Qi-Gathering apprenticeship she had used Ten-Thousand-Streams to bully a Foundation-stage Jianhui and had felt firsthand its crushing force. If it could draw in every kind of true essence, that would compensate its native flaw entirely. Just thinking about it made her feel almost reckless with longing.

Then she checked herself. The Great Calamity Canon was Ji Youfeng’s life-preserving amulet; she did not want to receive it from him. Besides, she and Ji Youfeng were in prison—cultivating now was little more than a distant hope, and pressing him would only burden him further.

Ji Youfeng watched her and laughed. “Don’t assume there’s a shortcut no matter how mighty the art is. Even the strongest methods are gradual; there is no one-step miracle. Everyone has different fortune, and that shapes the path of a combat technique’s advancement. When Ji Youyun was in late Foundation Establishment, Ten-Thousand-Streams only gained a single extra ability: absorbing wood True Qi. Even now, he still cannot handle fire True Qi. But he has too many voices luring him on; he doesn’t even need to move his own hands.”

Fang Hongjian nodded, taking it in. She now saw a huge loophole in Ji Youyun’s method. It made sense. Water and fire naturally oppose each other. For a Nascent-Soul cultivator to force water to absorb fire clashes with Heaven and Earth’s law; even with his level, it could hardly be that easy.

She leaned closer to Ji Youfeng, eyes bright. “Senior, you said that by learning the Great Calamity Canon one can tell at a glance what others are thinking. Is that true? If you place your hand on his head, can you also read his past and future?”

“The Great Calamity Canon we have now is only a remnant copy and is bound by many limits,” Ji Youfeng replied. “If you could combine what you and I have learned with the version lost to the demon cultivators, you’d see how strong it truly is.”

Fang Hongjian suddenly looked worried. “Ji Youyun once sent someone to the demonic side. He wasn’t acting blindly. He was certain the Sky Canopy would reopen. If he got that half of the text, would he not grow suddenly in strength?”

“Naturally.” Ji Youfeng said. “By then, perhaps seeing the secrets hidden in your and my minds will not be difficult for him.”

He reached out and lightly touched the crown of her head, reassuring her. “Don’t fear. It won’t come to that. There were three Hua-Shen in total among Daoist cultivators, and Jin Donglou is already dead. A new Hua-Shen cannot appear so quickly. So I think Ji Youyun is pursuing his own plan; he wants first to raise himself to Hua-Shen. I know him well. He is not like my ancestors. He’ll never be content to become a puppet in the hands of Dai Mingchi and Xing Wuyuan.”

His words calmed her. She thought, *Yes, that is exactly what a man like Ji Youyun would do.* When he was only Nascent-Soul, Dai Mingchi trusted him and Xing Wuyuan did not mind taking orders from him. If he ever reached Hua-Shen, would those two really remain so careless then? Better if all three tangled in schemes and claw at each other like rivals.

In the prison cell, one small lamp burned like a single bean of light. Fang Hongjian sat crooked on the bed, her shoulder leaning against Ji Youfeng beside her. Nearly two decades of living together had grown in her a trust beyond expectation. It dissolved the small unease that had stirred in her heart when Ji Youyun had appeared that day without warning.

For a while, she had believed this life with Ji Youfeng would go on for long—if rough weather came, having such a senior to rely on would be enough.

Yet a few days later, someone arrived and shattered that quiet.

He was an elder she had never seen before, ugly beyond measure. His head was extraordinarily large, his face long, his features caved inward as if crushed by an invisible iron fist, and he was short of stature. In short, there was not a single place on him that looked respectable; he was so hideous one felt compelled to glance away.

His surname was Ding, and he was an elder of the Demonic Refinement Great Prison.