Chapter 587 - 587: Jun Tianyun Tracks Immortal Emperor

The heavy vermilion gates of the Zheng Clan compound remained shut tight, barred with thick iron beams and sealed beneath fluttering protective arrays that hadn't seen daylight in decades. Outside in the bustling teahouses and shops, rumors rustled through the crowd like dry autumn leaves caught in a sudden gust.

"Have you seen the Zheng residence? Truly closed off… not even an errand boy stepping outside to sweep the front steps!" a wandering rogue cultivator murmured, leaning across the greased wooden table of a roadside tea stall.

His companion across the bench blinked, lowering a bowl of coarse tea with keen curiosity. "Closed their gates? A haughty martial family like the Zheng Clan swallowing their pride and holed up like tortoises? What under heaven happened to cause this?"

The passerby chuckled, though his eyes darted cautiously left and right before he lowered his voice. "Where have you been hibernating, brother? You haven't heard of the Cloud Sword Little Monarch, Feng Chu? That rising youth took first place in the tournament, and right on the tournament platform, he butchered one of Patriarch Zheng Chang's direct sons like an animal!"

" The Zheng Clan naturally couldn't swallow such a loss! Their lineage, their face, their ancestral treasures, all trampled! They tried to mobilize their elders and hire assassins to retaliate the second his seclusion ended. But who could have predicted that Feng Chu would turn the entire tide upside down?"

A sharp hiss of cold air escaped the listener's lips. "Turned the tide against a whole martial clan?"

"Utterly overturned them!" the first man whispered, slapping his knee in dark fascination. "Feng Chu's sword was truly as rumorsc. Not only did he slaughter his way through their ambushes, but he also fought Patriarch Zheng Chang until the old bastard ended up half-dead on his sickbed!"

" Look at the clan now! The ancestral foundations cracked, their pride ground into mud. Without their patriarch's peak cultivation backing them, the Zheng Clan won't be able to stand upright in this province much longer."

"Hiss... Truly a rising meteor," the companion sighed, shaking his head with lingering awe and dread. "Who would have thought a lone youth walking out of tournament could single-handedly bring down a venerable martial family?"

"A meteor burns bright, but a genius without restraint is bound to harvest enemies under every blade of grass," the tea drinker replied with a grim chuckle. "Word on the streets is that his rampage didn't stop there. Now, even the great Deng Clan is hunting him down for their own blood debts. Truly, the winds are rising and too many fishermen waiting in muddied water. The Jianghu is about to get chaotic."

Deep within the innermost sanctum of the Zheng Clan manor, an oppressive gloom hung over the master bedroom. Thick curtains blocked the afternoon sun, leaving the chamber illuminated only by sputtering spirit lamps and the bitter stench of medicinal broths.

Beside the wide canopy bed stood Zheng Tai, the patriarch's sole remaining son. His young face was grim, his knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists against his thighs, trembling under the weight of an empire falling apart around his shoulders.

Upon the silk mattress lay Zheng Chang.

The once-domineering patriarch looked scarcely human. Thick medicinal plaster and dried herbal pastes encased his limbs and torso like a stone sarcophagus. His breathing was so shallow it barely stirred the bedsheets, and his face, once severe and haughty, was battered into a squashed eggplant.

Zheng Tai turned sharply toward the old steward standing by the bedside, his voice rasping with suppressed hysteria. "Is there any word from the Three Healing Physician? Did you bring him?!"

The steward's shoulders slumped, his eyes hollow as he let out a long, helpless sigh. "Young Master... this old servant knelt outside the clinic until my knees bled. But the physician... he flatly refused. He said he owes a personal favor to Feng Chu. As long as it concerns the Zheng Clan, he will not step foot across our threshold, nor will he dispense a single speck of medicine for the Patriarch."

"That ungrateful dog!" Zheng Tai hissed, venom dripping from his gritted teeth. His chest heaved with impotent despair as he looked back at the dying figure on the bed. "Father's foundation is already shattered… even spending half of our treasury, it's unsure to keep him alive. Without the miraculous needle arts of the Three Healing Physician, he won't survive past midnight today!"

"Is that so? But this young master wishes it, then even King Yama will have to wait before the doorsteps."

The languid, leisurely voice echoed through the sealed room as naturally as breeze of autumn air.

Zheng Tai and the old steward stiffened. Their heads snapped around in pure, petrified horror.

Standing leisurely by the mahogany partition was a young man in immaculate robes. He leaned lightly against the carved wooden pillar, his arms casually crossed over his chest, regarding the dying patriarch with calm, amused detachment.

Neither the already running defensive formations around the estate nor the heightened senses of the two martial artists had caught even a whisper of his arrival.

He was simply there, as if he had always standing in the room.

"Who…who are you?!" Zheng Tai stammered, his blood freezing solid. The sheer emptiness of the young man's spiritual signature was more terrifying than the roar of a monstrous beast.

The youth stepped forward, completely unbothered by their panic. He looked down at Zheng Tai, his lips curling into a faint half-smile. "Do you wish for your father to recover, or do you prefer picking out his coffin before sunset?"

Zheng Tai swallowed a mouthful of bitter, dry saliva. Every instinct screamed that this mysterious figure was an unfathomable anomaly, yet facing the abyss of his father's certain death, he had no cards left to play. Clenching his trembling jaw, he nodded frantically. "I... I beg Senior to save my father!"

The young man didn't waste another breath. With a flick of his wrist, a dark, lustrous medicinal pill materialized between his fingers, radiating a dense medicinal aroma.

Before the steward could blink, the young man flicked his finger. The pill transformed into a streak of emerald light, slipping effortlessly through Zheng Chang's parted lips.

For a brief, agonizing moment, the chamber was dead silent.

Then, a vibrant, burning flush rushed into Zheng Chang's pallid, gray cheeks. The erratic, dying flicker of his pulse suddenly surged like a roaring mountain stream.

"Ugh... Ahhh!"

A deep, guttural groan tore from Zheng Chang's throat as his bloodshot eyes snapped wide open. Vitality exploded through his dormant meridians, pushing against the hardened crust encasing his limbs. "Break it... shatter this damned plaster!"

"Patriarch is awake! Quick!" The steward scrambled forward in frantic happiness. Circulating his internal qi, he hurriedly struck the hardened shell with precision, shattering the rigid herbal casing into fragments of gray crust and freeing the trapped limbs.

Zheng Tai stood frozen, his eyes wide in utter disbelief. Beneath the crumbling paste, his father's broken bones had completely realigned, the crushed flesh knitting together with miraculous speed. In mere moments, a man who had one foot inside the gates of the underworld was breathing steadily, his complexion nearly fully restored.

Thump!

Without a second thought, Zheng Tai dropped heavily to both knees, striking the floorboards with a fervent bow. "Senior's grace is higher than the heavens! My Zheng Clan will never-"

"Save your pleasantries," the young man interrupted casually, stepping past the kneeling son to look straight down at Zheng Chang on the bed. His languid demeanor vanished, replaced by an invisible, suffocating pressure that seemed to freeze the surrounding space in solid ice. "I did not waste a high-tier pill out of charity. Since your jaw can move again, Patriarch Zheng, speak. I wish to know every single detail of your clash with Feng Chu."

Zheng Chang felt the oppressive mountain of spiritual intent crushing his chest, realizing instantly that this mysterious benefactor could snuff out his newly restored life with a mere thought. Shuddering under the young man's clear, piercing gaze, the patriarch dared not hesitate for half a breath.

Gritting his teeth, Zheng Chang cursed in a low, trembling voice filled with lingering disbelief. "That monster... Senior, we meticulously prepared the Qi Scattering Poison! It was an ancient medicine meant to dissolve a cultivator's internal qi and turn their meridians into mush the moment they ingested it."

" Yet... when the venom entered Feng Chu's veins, it was utterly useless! It didn't affect him at all!"

" Not mention that strange sword art, how is it possible he can use elemental energy freely? Even Martial Grandmasters only focuses on one element. Yet he could use his martial techniques, even taking the entire poison head on!"

" Hahh… The only thing that hurt him was the magical treasure I kept with me for years. The Blood Sealing Thorn Ropes, it injured him severely and almost blocked his path. That's why he couldn't kill me completely."

Su Qingyao's voice echoed from the God's Space, " That does sound like the Taiyi Five Elemental Sword Technique. Looks like your guess was true."

" That bastard!" Zheng Chang clenched his fist, " How dare he! That arrogant bastard even called himself Immortal Emperor!"

Su Qingyao: "...."

Jun Tianyun sighed as he turned around, " I received the intel that I wanted. You can recover in peace."

" Senior, Wait!"