Cultivating for a hundred lifetimes to ascension Chapter 1471: 796: Broken Pen

Flipping open the book with his hand, Zhao Sheng delved into the tales inside and kept voicing his admiration without pause.

A smile played on Old Shopkeeper Chen's face as he observed silently, offering no words.

Soon after, Zhao Sheng shut the book, his curiosity piqued intensely, and inquired, “Mr. Chen, might I ask who penned this book?”

Old Shopkeeper Chen's face grew somber, and he let out a heavy sigh. “This ‘Rebirth Record’ came from the hand of my late friend Li Zhi. Sadly, fate proved cruel, claiming him three years back. In his final days, he left this volume and a few treasured possessions in my care.”

Hearing this, a touch of regret crossed Zhao Sheng's features. “Indeed, the heavens begrudge brilliance! Could you tell me where Mr. Li rests? I'd like to honor his grave.”

Old Shopkeeper Chen was taken aback, yet he dismissed any deeper suspicion and shared the grave's whereabouts.

With his goal met, Zhao Sheng lingered only briefly, exchanging a few more words before seizing the moment to depart.

Sensing no foul play, Old Shopkeeper Chen rose promptly and escorted him to the door.

Not long afterward, Zhao Sheng, guided by a servant from the Chen Mansion, strode swiftly out through the estate's main entrance.

Having stepped down just two stone stairs, a recognizable silhouette abruptly emerged from the nearby street bend, hurrying toward the Chen Mansion.

Zhao Sheng's eyes fixed on the approaching figure, and a faint smirk tugged at his lips.

It turned out to be the delayed Lin Heng.

Lin Heng quickly neared the Chen Mansion's front, crossing paths with Zhao Sheng at that exact instant.

As they brushed past each other, a sudden notion flickered in his mind. Glancing up at the composed Zhao Sheng, he halted his stride, his face etched with contemplation.

Noticing Zhao Sheng on the verge of leaving, Lin Heng bowed deeply all at once and called out clearly, “Hold a moment, fellow cultivator!”

Turning back, Zhao Sheng replied coolly, “What business do you have with me, sir?”

Lin Heng picked up on the icy tone from the other man, and an odd tightness gripped his chest. Forcing a grin, he said, “Your bearing strikes me as exceptional and out of the ordinary. I'd like to know you better. I'm Lin Heng, courtesy name Zhongzhi. Might I have your honorable name?”

“Our paths cross fleetingly, with no future encounters likely. No point in sharing names. Goodbye!” Zhao Sheng shook his head and prepared to pivot away upon uttering those words.

At that sight, a peculiar glint sparked in Lin Heng's gaze, and he quietly etched the man's features into his recollection.

Were the setting more suitable today, he might have probed to check if this was a “fellow Daoist.”

Yet he remained unaware that his restraint today spared him from death.

Zhao Sheng had no desire to end Lin Heng's life, particularly given the man's prior “valuable assistance.”

Besides, he wasn't one to delight in bloodshed, thus allowing Lin Heng to dodge disaster.

…

Beyond Mingxi Town by a few miles, amid untamed hills and overgrown fields, clusters of burial mounds dotted the landscape.

The next day, Zhao Sheng made his way back to the familiar spot.

To his surprise, Li Zhi's tomb sat merely a hundred paces from the remnants of an unmarked sepulcher. Though freshly raised, the earth pile was already overrun by weeds.

Positioned before the headstone, Zhao Sheng clasped his hands and offered three respectful bows, then produced a sheaf of yellow paper, flicking it gently. Carried by the breeze, the sheets ignited and drifted softly to the earth.

Next, he arranged fruits and treats beneath the stone as tributes.

With these rites finished, Zhao Sheng issued an order, prompting Chen San to pull a long face, grab an iron spade, and start excavating the mound.

As he labored, Chen San muttered under his breath, “Young Master, unearthing a grave invites heavenly wrath. Should the Master find out, he'll snap my legs for sure, and even you won't get off easy—”

“You'll get double your monthly pay when we head back!” Zhao Sheng responded evenly.

“Oh, Young Master, keep your distance to avoid the grime, lest it curse you with misfortune!” Energized by the promise, Chen San wielded the shovel with blurring speed, its motions creating ghostly trails.

Within a single hour, the entire mound lay exposed, forming a wide rectangular hole. Down in its depths rested a hefty crimson coffin, robust and radiating an icy chill.

“Pry it open!” Zhao Sheng eyed the coffin below and commanded steadily.

Chen San nodded with unease, mopped the perspiration from his brow, swallowed hard, and then clenched his jaw to jam the spade into the lid's edge, forcing it ajar with effort.

After strenuous pushing, the cover finally gave way. It slid aside gradually, unveiling the contents within.

Hmm?

Zhao Sheng's eyes sharpened abruptly, betraying a flicker of astonishment and uncertainty.

No corpse! No grave goods!

The coffin stood barren—utterly devoid of anything!

“Young Master, it's empty in there.” Chen San stared in bewilderment, blurting half a cry before spitting to ward off ill omen, lamenting his luck.

Zhao Sheng's gaze tightened a fraction, and he offhandedly directed Chen San to secure the coffin once more.

Chen San jumped to it without delay, throwing himself into the task.

As noon's sun blazed high, the dark-shrouded vessel ferried the pair back toward Mingxi Town.

The craft moored, and they stepped ashore. Zhao Sheng then devised a reason to send Chen San ahead to the residence.

Once Chen San had vanished from sight, Zhao Sheng strolled leisurely beside the river, lost in thought with each step.

Before long, he arrived at the base of a stone-arched bridge.

Right then, a stout figure was coming down from the span, and their stares met, both freezing for a beat.

Surprise washed over Su Heihu. From his earlier memories, the Zhao family's Young Master had always shrunk from him like a rodent from a predator, yet now he seemed transformed into another soul.

He showed no fear; instead, his stare held an unnerving serenity, as though appraising—a dead body!

The notion sent a fierce tremor through Su Heihu, alerting him to peril in a flash.

But prior to mounting any guard, Zhao Sheng lunged forward unexpectedly, his form blurring as he closed to within arm's reach in three bounds.

Bam!

Despite Su Heihu's reflexive muscle clenching and his rigid technique surging to life, the blow landed squarely on his Tan Zhong acupoint at the chest's center.

The strike looked effortless and offhand, yet it focused power to a pinpoint, the impact drilling straight into his vital organs.