Chapter Eighty-Seven: The Eastern Immortal Springs

Mythical Journey Dongfang Baihua 3340 words 2026-04-13 09:02:38

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Chapter Eighty-Seven: The Eastern Immortal Source
Chapter Eleven: The Hidden Joys of the Capital’s Forests Amid the Tumult of the Seven States and the Chaos of the Spring and Autumn (Seventeen)

The three of them watched as the colorful banners turned into black mist and gradually dissipated. Only then did they begin to recover from their shock, descending to the ground, where they lifted the unconscious Shi Lei and made their way to where Zhang Lan and Ye Hua were. Upon seeing Ye Hua sitting in meditation, they dared not disturb him. Ma Fei whispered, “Sister Zhang, about Brother Ye…”

Zhang Lan replied softly, “Brother Ye forced himself to withstand the Fire Man’s Three-Star Solar Flare. I fear his meridians are injured and his inner energy depleted! Still, after a short rest, he should be fine. I’m more concerned about Brother Shi’s condition.”

Ma Fei sighed, “I already checked on him. His arm is broken, and he’s passed out from the pain!” With that, he took a porcelain bottle from his robe, poured out a pill, and fed it to Shi Lei. After a while, Shi Lei slowly regained consciousness. Realizing everyone was staring at him and feeling waves of pain from his arm, he frowned and gritted his teeth, “Why are you all staring at me?” At his outburst, everyone burst into laughter, knowing that Shi Lei was out of danger.

In the distance, rumbling booms could be heard from time to time. The group turned to look and saw, some thirty yards away, that the elder who had just fought so fiercely now lay motionless on the ground—whether dead or alive, none could tell. Farther yet, lightning flashed and flames roared, signs of a ferocious battle whose participants were unknown.

Worry gnawed at their hearts, for they knew that lingering in this place was dangerous. Yet, since Ye Hua was still meditating, they could not leave. After a long wait, Ye Hua’s breathing grew louder and heavier; the left side of his face flushed red, as if blood might drip from it, while the right side turned an eerie, oily green. The observers all recognized these signs: excessive yang on the left, a surge of false fire; excessive yin on the right, the sign of cold and wind trapped within.

Their concern deepened as Ye Hua’s face alternated rapidly between red and green. At last, the colors faded, leaving his face pale, and two wisps of white breath slowly exhaled from his nostrils. The group knew then that the union of yin and yang, water and fire, had been achieved; his internal injuries were no longer serious, and they finally relaxed.

Sure enough, Ye Hua suddenly opened his eyes. Seeing his companions gathered around, he said apologetically, “I’m sorry to have kept you all waiting, brothers and sister!” Zhang Ke laughed, “We should be thanking you, brother! Had you not defeated that cultivator, we’d all have been captured today, losing face entirely!”

Ye Hua forced a bitter smile. “You overpraise me, brother,” he thought to himself. “It’s more than that! That elder clearly wanted to kill me outright! You all came out unscathed, but I…” Yet he kept these words to himself. Gazing into the distance, he could not hide his worry, thinking of his cousin Gao Lu, a follower of the Sun and Moon Divine Alliance. After this battle, the odds of his survival seemed slim.

Turning to the others, Ye Hua asked, “Brothers, is there a way for us to leave this place?” Ma Fei nodded, “If we combine our strength, we might break the barrier, but with just us, it’s not enough. If several dozen joined forces, the barrier would surely fall!” Zhang Ke agreed, “Brother Ma is right! Why don’t we search ahead for other disciples who may be alone?”

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Ye Hua said, “Very well, let’s go.” No sooner had he spoken than several figures flew toward them in the distance. Gu Yunqi chuckled, “Well, what a coincidence! We were just talking about finding others, and now someone’s coming to us!”

As the group approached, they saw eight figures, all young cultivators around twenty years old. In moments, they drew near, and Ye Hua and his companions were surprised to see among them Tian Liang, Brother Tian from the Fifth Transmission Institute, who had sparred with Ye Hua the day before using the Suxin Palm. The newcomers were equally surprised and delighted. Tian Liang called out, “Brother Ye! Brother Zhang! What are you doing here?”

Noticing the group’s disheveled, bloodstained appearance, Tian Liang grinned, “Looks like you’ve just been through a fierce fight! We saw flames soaring from this area from afar—looked as if a demonic dragon had descended, and someone unleashed a Three-Eyed Ray. Was that you?”

Ma Fei managed a wry smile, “Brother Tian, you have sharp eyes and a brave heart! To be fighting so fiercely and still notice what’s happening elsewhere—far beyond anything we could do!” Tian Liang blushed, “You’re teasing me, Brother Ma! It was all thanks to our senior, Lü Yunke.” He pointed to a young man in blue beside him. “Senior, these are the Brother Ye, Brother Zhang, and Brother Ma I mentioned yesterday.”

The blue-robed youth cupped his fists, “I am Lü Yunke. I’ve long heard of your great deeds!” Ye Hua and his companions returned the salute. Ye Hua asked curiously, “Forgive my boldness, but are you also a disciple of Patriarch Qing Ling?” Lü Yunke shook his head and smiled, “No, I am from the Eastern Immortal Source. The eight of us are fellow disciples, known as the Eight Friends of Peach Blossom Spring. Brother Tian joined us only after entering the Capital Martial Hall, unrelated to our Eastern Immortal Source.”

At the mention of “Eastern Immortal Source,” everyone was stunned. The Eastern Immortal Source, rival to the Western Immortal Source, was one of the seventy-two blessed lands, but always shrouded in mystery, its immortals rarely seen in the world. Now, realizing these were its disciples, none dared underestimate them.

Tian Liang glanced into the distance and exclaimed excitedly, “Big brother, look—that’s Zhang Juzhen of the Divine Fire Sect! The Three-Eyed Ray must have been his!” Lü Yunke turned, “Indeed, brother, that old villain at last! We’ve searched for him for so long!” A short, plump youth beside him growled angrily, drew a longsword that flashed white, and prepared to rush forward.

“Third brother, don’t be reckless!” Lü Yunke said sternly, his gaze growing sharper, eyes like blades. Ye Hua and his companions felt a chill—such a killing aura was not something ordinary men possessed!

“We must not let this villain escape today!” several others cried. Lü Yunke turned, “Fourth and Eighth brothers, be patient. He will not escape! But these guests are present, and the followers of the Divine Fire Sect have already wounded our friends—let us not be discourteous.”

Reluctantly, the others complied, offering embarrassed smiles to Ye Hua’s group, then glaring with hatred at the fallen Zhang Juzhen, as if afraid he might flee. Ma Fei and the others quickly understood—there must be deep enmity between these two groups. The coincidence of encountering their nemesis here made sense now.

Ye Hua exchanged a glance with his companions. “Since Zhang Juzhen is your enemy, we leave his fate to you, brothers. We have no objections.”

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Lü Yunke apologized, “Brothers, it is only right that you wish to settle the score with Zhang Juzhen, who wounded you so grievously. But we have searched for him for so long—we cannot let him escape today. I hope you can forgive us!” Ma Fei replied, “No need for courtesy, brother!” As he spoke, a tall, thin youth behind Lü Yunke stepped forward. “Big brother, let me deal with this villain!”

Lü Yunke nodded, “Be careful, Eighth Brother.” The tall youth sneered, “Today, I'll send his soul into oblivion!” In a flash, he was beside Zhang Juzhen, holding a golden ring that he swung fiercely at the elder’s head.

But Zhang Juzhen suddenly slid backward three or four yards, dodging the blow. The thin youth sneered, “I knew you were faking!” The ring blazed with golden light, expanding to dozens of yards, and as Zhang Juzhen stopped, the ring still covered him, descending once more. Zhang Juzhen looked startled. “Shrinking the earth to inches!” he cried, then laughed coldly. Blood-red light surged from his body as he struck the ring with his palm, sending it flying with a metallic clang.

He laughed harshly, “Though I’m badly wounded, you youngsters will find it hard to take my life!” All realized that Zhang Juzhen had been feigning unconsciousness, hoping to escape notice, only to be confronted by his sworn enemies.

Zhang Juzhen glanced at Ye Hua and his companions, fixing Ye Hua with a murderous glare, as if to remember his face. Then he turned to Lü Yunke and the others, laughing, “So, the disciples of Liu Fenglin from the Eastern Immortal Source! Even if you find me, it’s useless. We’ve fought twice, and I escaped both times, didn’t I?”

With that, his body radiated bloody light, abruptly transforming into a cloud of blood that shot skyward, trying to pierce the barrier and escape. Ye Hua and his group were alarmed, about to call out and deploy their magic, but the disciples of the Eastern Immortal Source merely watched, a trace of mockery on their lips.

Ye Hua’s heart stirred. Lü Yunke simply stood there, watching the blood cloud, sighing softly, as if lamenting the futility of the old man’s struggle. He raised his right hand slowly, revealing a sword bright as autumn water, and swept it gently at the cloud—as if brushing water with a feather, careful not to disturb a ripple.

A faint thread of sword light arced through the air, so subtle as to be nearly invisible. No one could believe such a featherlight cut could stop Zhang Juzhen’s blood sacrifice escape technique, which, though diminished, still retained most of its power.

Yet as the sword light touched the blood cloud, it silently split in two. A distant, earth-shattering scream followed: “You—!” Then nothing more. Ye Hua and his companions were left dumbstruck, staring at Lü Yunke, their expressions transformed with awe. Lü Yunke’s fellow disciples showed no surprise, as if they had expected this. The blood cloud slowly dispersed, leaving nothing behind; Zhang Juzhen’s soul and spirit had been utterly destroyed with a single stroke.