novelraw Chapter 121 : The Secret of His Birth and a Change of Heart, Tantai Yuxian, I Want You to Aid My Cultivation
Chapter 121 : The Secret of His Birth and a Change of Heart, Tantai Yuxian, I Want You to Aid My Cultivation
Chapter 121: The Secret of His Birth and a Change of Heart, Tantai Yuxian, I Want You to Aid My Cultivation
“The abbot of the Floating Sky Temple?” Shen Yanzhou looked at the old monk with drooping brows before him and asked.
“Follow me.”
“The karmic debt that this poor monk once promised to settle—today, it can finally be resolved.”
The old monk did not elaborate. He simply rose to his feet and walked toward the towering pagoda within the temple, following the path lined with prayer wheels.
Shen Yanzhou did not question further, silently following behind.
The monks of the Floating Sky Temple were all enigmatic, but that suited him fine—it spared him unnecessary delays.
The dome-capped pagoda stood tall and solemn, faintly shrouded in curling incense smoke, rising nine stories high.
Before the pagoda, several warrior monks stood guard. Yet, when they saw the drooping-browed monk, they all stepped aside respectfully.
Shen Yanzhou followed the old monk along the corridor, ascending toward the top of the pagoda. Inside, lamps burned brightly, illuminating walls engraved with countless Buddhas. The ever-burning lights gave the air a sense of ceaseless devotion.
“In those days, this old monk promised His Majesty Emperor Mingde that the coffin brought here by Yun Zang would be placed within the nine-tiered pagoda, to have scriptures chanted day and night for the repose of that mother and son—to aid their reincarnation.”
“Some time ago, His Majesty sent people here again, wishing to know the state of the Soul-Calming Coffin.”
“But there was one thing this old monk did not tell him.”
“Since you have come, Benefactor, then deliver this message to His Majesty for me: The blood of the royal line is rejected by Heaven and denied reincarnation.”
“Heaven’s law has turned away; the six paths no longer accept them.”
Shen Yanzhou slightly raised an eyebrow. What did that mean? Did this monk take him for an envoy of Emperor Mingde?
Something wasn’t right.
There had to be some key he still hadn’t grasped.
Logically speaking, since that Seven-colored Monastic Robe was Yu Chenyu’s handiwork, she should have had contingencies left behind in this Floating Sky Temple.
Or perhaps—was this too part of her calculation?
As he pondered, Shen Yanzhou and the monk had already reached the topmost level of the pagoda. There, golden lamps spread out in a circular pattern, layer upon layer—one hundred and eight in total—surrounding a bronze coffin resting upon a high platform.
The coffin was not large, its surface engraved with intricate Buddhist patterns of Bodhisattvas and Arhats. The faint sound of chanting seemed to echo, exuding a tranquil aura meant to calm the soul.
Upon entering, Shen Yanzhou’s gaze was immediately drawn to a monastic robe hanging beside the coffin.
The robe shimmered in seven colors, its material appearing both embroidered and feather-light. Though draped beside the coffin, it floated in midair as if supported by an invisible force. Ripples of Buddhist resonance spread outward from it—it was truly extraordinary.
Anyone could tell at a glance that this robe carried immense Buddhist energy, surely nurtured day and night by constant chanting.
“The Seven-colored Monastic Robe.”
Shen Yanzhou withdrew his gaze and looked toward the coffin.
The drooping-browed monk placed his palms together, his expression sorrowful. “The kindness of the past is now fully repaid.”
“Master, may I ask—where did this robe come from?” Shen Yanzhou asked.
The monk sighed. “When the Empress worshipped the Buddha, she ordered eminent monks from across the lands to weave a monastic robe glowing with seven colors of radiance, as a symbol of imperial supremacy. Yet in truth, a robe should be colorless. To stain it with false hues invites the Buddha’s disdain. Moreover, to craft one that could naturally manifest seven colors would require an extraordinary material—ordinary cloth or shark silk could never achieve it.
“No monk was willing, so the Empress, in anger, punished all temples in Fanzhou.
“Later, a foreign Daoist suggested that the feathers of the Winged People naturally bore seven colors, and thus could be woven into a robe—an innate seven-colored garment.”
“The Empress gladly agreed. But the Winged People had long since perished. Finding even one survivor was near impossible—let alone weaving an entire robe.”
It was the first time Shen Yanzhou had heard of this hidden tale. The original plot had never mentioned such a thing.
“Since the Winged People were extinct, then in the end—how was the robe completed?” he asked in surprise.
The monk’s eyes filled with sorrow. “Yes, the Seven-colored Monastic Robe was eventually born. The Empress sent her finest experts, who found descendants of those with Winged blood. Their clan lived in Wu Prefecture, numbering fewer than a hundred. To weave this feathered robe, even their youngest were not spared—their skins were flayed, their blood drained…”
Another Buddhist treasure steeped in blood and sin.
Hearing this, Shen Yanzhou looked at the shimmering robe and gently shook his head.
“Then what is the connection between this robe and the coffin?” he asked.
“The woman within the coffin was the last of the Winged People. She was sent to the Falling Immortal Sect as a child. Because of her peerless beauty, she once outshone all others—even the Demon Suppression King admired her beneath her skirts.” The old monk’s eyes seemed to reflect the distant past as he spoke, his tone filled with sighs.
Shen Yanzhou fell silent.
By now, he already understood. The woman lying within the coffin—she was the original body’s true mother, his real mother.
Though he possessed no memory of her.
The only memories he had were those of the Demon Suppression King and the years he’d spent growing up beside the Princess Consort Yu Chenyu.
Yet even so, waves of complex emotions rose in his heart.
After all, he and the original Shen Yanzhou were now one and the same. The woman within that coffin was his mother of this lifetime.
“Thank you, Master Abbot, for revealing all of this.”
Shen Yanzhou took a deep breath.
Though the abbot spoke as though casually recounting an old story, in truth he had disclosed the tangled karmic threads of many past grievances.
The monk’s expression remained serene as he nodded. “Dust to dust, earth to earth. This item now belongs to you.”
With a sweep of his broad sleeve, the Seven-colored Monastic Robe that had been floating above the coffin flew toward Shen Yanzhou and landed gently in his hands.
The moment he touched it, a strange stirring of bloodline reverberated through his heart.
In that instant, visions surged before his eyes—rains of blood, a night black as ink, thunder crashing like waves, winged figures trying to flee but falling like scattered feathers. Iron cavalry surged forth from the darkness, lances thrusting mercilessly.
He heard furious roars, cries of anguish, wails of despair…
It was the blood-soaked elegy of the Winged Clan.
In silence, Shen Yanzhou looked once more toward the coffin. He wanted to step forward and lift its lid—but after taking a few steps, he stopped.
Indeed, just as Yu Chenyu had said, this destiny had been fated from the beginning.
Even if he refused to acknowledge it, the karmic hatred entwined with his original self could never be escaped.
Shen Yanzhou closed his eyes. After a long while, he opened them again.
“When all this is over, I’ll come back to see you.”
He took a deep breath, looked at the coffin once more, then turned to leave the pagoda with the Seven-colored Monastic Robe in hand.
The old monk did not stop him—he simply stood silently beside the pagoda.
A lively woman in red descended from nowhere, bare-footed, smiling beside him. “Every gift bestowed by fate has its price written in secret ink. Since he has survived, he must bear the karma that comes with it. Those who defy the Netherworld steal life from Heaven every single day.”
The old monk pressed his palms together. “Amitabha. Let it be. This has nothing more to do with me.”
The red-clad woman chuckled. “I’m rather curious—let’s see if that man can truly turn this world upside down.”
The old monk said nothing.
Shen Yanzhou gradually walked farther away.
He hadn’t expected the trip to go so smoothly—the Seven-colored Monastic Robe was now in his possession.
“The Cui Clan of Hejian… the Great Qian royal family…”
Standing outside the Floating Sky Temple, Shen Yanzhou gazed toward the Imperial Capital, wordless for a long time.
When he had first crossed into this world, he’d only wanted to escape the fate of a false heir, secretly growing stronger through the nourishment of negative emotion—to become this world’s Great Demon King.
As for any karmic entanglements the original body bore, he had never cared.
In the original story, that man had merely been a substitute puppet—so doomed that death was his only ending.
Even Princess Consort Yu Chenyu had treated him only as a chess piece, without true affection.
Who would have thought that this unlucky man still carried such deep secrets and grudges?
“Existence is reason enough. In another sense, this world, vivid and alive, has already transcended the cold words of the original script. Every person here has their own past…”
Shen Yanzhou shook his head lightly, his mind already turning.
Beyond ridding himself of the demonic stigma, he now had to guard against the Cui Clan of Hejian’s retaliation.
The day his identity as Emperor Mingde’s illegitimate son was exposed would be the day he faced enemies from all sides.
“There’s still time. The Empress’s birthday banquet is at the end of the month.”
“Besides this robe, I’ll prepare her another grand gift.”
Shen Yanzhou’s gaze deepened. The hatred of a slain mother was irreconcilable. If chaos must erupt, then let it rend Heaven itself.
Even the plan to kill Shen Jingxiao could wait.
That man’s ambition was vast—by now, he was likely already making his move.
“It’s time to awaken that strategic trump card…”
After leaving the Floating Sky Temple, Shen Yanzhou rode upon the Soul-devouring Flood Serpent, first departing from Fanzhou and heading toward Wu Prefecture.
He was going to a place called Yunshen Village in Wu Prefecture—to buy pear blossom wine.
That Mad Martial Saint who had sealed himself within the Dragon-Tiger Institute could be awakened by the pear blossom wine of Yunshen Village. Once awakened, he would become bloodthirsty and crazed, killing all he saw.
This Mad Martial Saint was addicted to slaughter—especially to killing the strong. By masking his cultivation with the True Explanation of Primordial Unity, Shen Yanzhou could easily blend in among ordinary people.
When the Empress’s birthday arrived, and this Mad Martial Saint emerged into the world, the resulting chaos would surely be quite the spectacle.
“The most important thing now is still to raise my realm.”
Seated cross-legged on the back of the Soul-devouring Flood Serpent, Shen Yanzhou glanced at his current status panel.
【Techniques: The True Explanation of Primordial Unity (Incomplete, Second Realm 5/16)】
【Name: Shen Yanzhou】
【Secret Arts: Selfless Sword Heart (Incomplete, Minor Accomplishment 1/4), Grand Ascension of Five Emperors, Immovable as the Mountain Art, Dragon-Seizing Force…】
【Dao Arts: Void Escape Art (Can be further perfected), Concealment in the Void (Can be further perfected), Five Elements Fundamental Art (Can be further perfected), Minor Art of Reversing Yin and Yang (3/4, Can be further perfected)…】
【Realm: Martial Path, Early Third Rank; Daoist Path, Early Third Rank.】
【Available Basic Points: 0 (419.24/100)】
Aside from the two basic points he had previously accumulated, he now had two more.
“Time waits for no one.”
Shen Yanzhou sighed softly. After a brief moment of thought, he allocated all his basic points into his cultivation technique.
Soon, his True Explanation of Primordial Unity advanced to the Second Realm, 9/16.
His cultivation realm also broke through—now at early Third Rank in both Martial and Daoist paths.
“With the heritage of the Cui Clan of Hejian, unless one reaches First Rank, it’s nearly impossible to shake them. The Great Qian royal family is no longer at its former height either.”
“If I remember correctly, in the original plot, the Great Qian imperial city was breached, Dragon-Guarding Mountain was filled with the wounded, and they couldn’t even field a single Second Rank cultivator. The royal family’s heritage had been completely drained.”
“But there’s still something that can help me reach First Rank ahead of time.”
Shen Yanzhou pondered.
Within the Great Qian royal family was an ancestral treasure—the Heavenly Emperor’s Cauldron, personally forged by the First Emperor of Great Qian.
It used the mystic bird as fuel, the nation’s fortune as firewood, and had been refined for nearly a thousand years, carrying within it all the destiny accumulated by the dynasty since its founding. Once refined and absorbed, it could make one ascend to sainthood.
This treasure was the very thing all the great clans had once fought to possess before the downfall of Great Qian.
But now, no one knew who had refined the fortune sealed within the Heavenly Emperor’s Cauldron.
“Although the original story didn’t state it clearly, the hidden hints made it obvious that this was a contingency left by the First Emperor of Great Qian before his disappearance—meant to ensure that every successor emperor would possess the power to suppress the Four Seas and Eight Desolations.”
“And to refine it, one must possess pure imperial bloodline.”
“Unfortunately, before Great Qian’s fall, Emperor Mingde was murdered and died of sudden illness. Not long after, the Crown Prince Xia Chongming also died unexpectedly. Moreover, Xia Chongming’s bloodline seemed flawed—he couldn’t stir the cauldron’s response…”
Thinking of this, Shen Yanzhou resolved to secretly return to the Imperial Capital and acknowledge Emperor Mingde, revealing everything to him.
The Heavenly Emperor’s Cauldron must not fall into the Cui Clan’s hands.
Either he would refine it first, or Emperor Mingde would refine it himself. The national fortune that Great Qian had accumulated over a thousand years might allow Emperor Mingde to break through the shackles of First Rank and step into the realm of Half-Transcendent Rank.
Heaven’s order was lost; upon the Nine Provinces of today, no one could surpass First Rank.
Thus, Half-Transcendent Rank was the true limit—but even the step into First Rank had trapped countless supreme experts.
Even Tantai Yuxian had struggled with it for decades.
“How has Shen Tian been acting lately?”
Sitting cross-legged atop the Soul-devouring Flood Serpent, Shen Yanzhou opened his palm. A wisp of human-dao soul from Tantai Yuxian—whom he hadn’t summoned in a long while—appeared before him.
She wore white robes, long black hair flowing, her figure ethereal and transcendent, her aura pure and untouched by the mortal world—yet her gaze was cold, like a star descending from the distant heavens, aloof and unapproachable.
Tantai Yuxian stared silently at Shen Yanzhou, though astonishment flickered in her eyes.
Third Rank.
In such a short time, Shen Yanzhou had already reached dual Third Rank in both Martial and Daoist cultivation. Did he advance as easily as breathing, without the slightest bottleneck?
She even felt that in less than half a year—perhaps in just one more month—Shen Yanzhou might surpass her cultivation.
“I don’t know. I haven’t asked,” Tantai Yuxian said calmly. By now, the Third-Rank Shen Yanzhou had earned the right to stand as her equal.
Dual Third Rank in both Martial and Daoist paths—this level of power could already challenge a Second Rank expert of a single path.
“Truly don’t know, or pretending not to?”
Shen Yanzhou’s voice deepened.
As his words fell, black threads of karma appeared around Tantai Yuxian’s figure, binding her tightly in place.
“Truly don’t know. I haven’t paid attention to him in a long time. I saved him from utter annihilation and rebuilt his body. That is already benevolence to the utmost.” Tantai Yuxian frowned slightly at the threads of karma around her, but ignored them, her tone still indifferent.
“Is that so?”
Shen Yanzhou chuckled faintly. His divine soul stirred, and his hand extended—shifting from immaterial to tangible—as he grasped Tantai Yuxian’s smooth, delicate chin.
Though she existed only as a spiritual projection, it felt as if he had truly touched her. Her body trembled slightly, her eyes turning sharp as if struck by lightning.
Before, when Shen Yanzhou’s Daoist cultivation had not yet reached this level, he couldn’t have touched her soul projection at all—unless she herself manifested physically.
Moreover, back then, Shen Yanzhou had intended to slowly influence and tame her, so he hadn’t used forceful means.
Now, however, he had no patience for restraint. If he wished to fully exploit and harvest Shen Tian’s value as a pawn, then he could only take a darker path.
Compared to Yu Chenyu, his so-called “biological mother,” Shen Yanzhou considered Tantai Yuxian—who had raised Shen Tian from childhood and taught him sword techniques—to hold far greater significance in his heart.
“Shen Yanzhou, what do you think you’re doing?”
Tantai Yuxian’s gaze turned to ice, her aura surging with cold fury. As one of the supreme sword immortals of her age, who would dare treat her with such audacity?
Even bound by karmic threads, she almost couldn’t resist drawing her sword to sever the hand that touched her.
“I told you before—I possess a dual-spirit communion technique, and I wish to exchange insights with you,” Shen Yanzhou said with a faint smile.
“You…”
Tantai Yuxian’s face grew even colder. The sword in her arms rang out with a sharp clang, releasing a blade of chilling moonlight that slashed straight toward him.
But Shen Yanzhou merely flicked a finger, dispersing the sword aura with ease.
“If your true self were here, I might have cared. But now, burdened by karmic backlash, how can you resist?” Shen Yanzhou said mildly.
Tantai Yuxian’s eyes were like eternal ice, glaring at him.
“If you truly have the courage, destroy this wisp of your human-dao soul and sever your chance of ever reaching First Rank.”
“Let’s see if you dare.”
Shen Yanzhou continued, his tone steady.
Tantai Yuxian’s gaze trembled faintly, her hand clutching the sword hilt quivering along with it.
Clearly, reaching First Rank—reclaiming her sword path—was her lifelong pursuit and hope.
Having come this far, how could she willingly give it up and destroy her own future?
“Heh, it seems you’re no different from the rest—lacking the courage and resolve.” Shen Yanzhou sneered, tightening his grip on her chin until the smooth skin of her cheek visibly deformed beneath his fingers.
Yet Tantai Yuxian did not strike back—she only stared at him with frigid eyes.
Before, had Shen Yanzhou dared to act so wantonly, she would have endured karmic backlash to teach him a painful lesson.
But now, with him at dual Third Rank, he no longer feared her soul projection—and could act as he pleased.
And she could not bring herself to destroy this soul fragment.
“I told you before—once a boundary is broken, it only ever sinks lower.”
Shen Yanzhou smiled faintly, releasing Tantai Yuxian’s chin. His tone turned calm and distant.
“Tantai Yuxian, now I want you to aid me in cultivation.”