Chapter Fifty-One: Past Events

The man was dressed in a blue robe, his slender figure standing atop the high platform—seldom eye-catching, for many had already seen him once at Sky-reaching Cliff. Yet, confusion lingered among the onlookers.

How had Shen Yu emerged from the Cliff of Reflection, sealed by powerful formations? And why had he come here directly afterward?

Shang Yingluo, who had been following behind Lou Lianzhao, rubbed her eyes hard, and once she confirmed it was truly him, she leapt up in delight.

To one side of the platform, Lu Wenyu looked puzzled and asked, “How did he get out?”

Monk Huike pondered for a moment and replied, “He is formidable.”

Lu Wenyu’s curiosity deepened. “What, even Master Huike thinks this person is formidable?”

Huike recalled that night in the old Shen residence in Nanhe City—the sword that had been drawn. He answered earnestly, “If his cultivation is at the Spirit Wandering stage of the Daoist path, I could not defeat him.”

At these words, the calm on Lu Wenyu’s face finally shifted. Master Huike of Lingyin Temple was known for his sincerity and never spoke falsehoods; Lu Wenyu did not doubt his assessment. Buddhist disciples were not skilled in combat, but if even the fourth-ranked on the Academy’s Lingyun List claimed he was no match for Shen Yu at the same level, what kind of monstrous talent did this youth possess?

“What a pity…”

Lu Wenyu shook his head with a trace of regret. “Had he chosen the right path, our human race would surely have gained another True Immortal.”

Huike gazed at the slender figure on the field, neither agreeing nor disputing.

...

Under countless astonished and hostile gazes, Shen Yu’s expression remained calm as he said, “Go back.”

Ye Zhiqiu instinctively took several steps back.

Only now did Chen Jianzhi come to his senses, shouting angrily, “How did you get out? What are you doing here?”

He did not attack. On the Ancestor Hall plaza stood the three Hall Masters, countless elders, and disciples from the other seven peaks—he was not worried Shen Yu would dare act recklessly here.

“I’ve come to compete,” Shen Yu replied coolly, giving him a glance.

“You are an accused criminal. What right do you have to participate here?”

Master Daochen rose, his expression cold and dark, shouting, “Disciples of the Law Enforcement Pavilion, where are you? Seize him at once!”

As the elder in charge of the Clear Law Hall, which governed sect regulations, he could not tolerate that such a heartless disciple had emerged from the Daoist Sect—much less that he dared disrupt such an important event as the grand competition. It was an affront to his authority.

At his command, several disciples from the Enforcement Pavilion charged forward.

“Stop.”

A calm voice sounded from afar. Instantly, all the disciples halted in their tracks.

It was someone from the Abyssal Hall—the most revered among the four halls.

Master Daofan walked toward them, accompanied by two others.

All eyes turned to the approaching figures, faces full of emotion. Though rumors about the Daoist Sect had swirled wildly in recent days, these people had never spoken a word—until now.

...

What did their appearance here mean?

Su Mo remained as gentle and refined as ever, like a scholar cut from jade. As the head disciple of the sect master, the eldest brother of the Daoist Sect, he rarely appeared before the masses, yet now drew countless gazes.

Yang Liu, a little shy, kept her head lowered, following quietly behind the two.

Master Daochen frowned slightly. “Senior Brother Daofan, are you here to shield this wretched disciple?”

Daofan’s expression was cool and indifferent. “No. Shen Yu’s sudden appearance means he must have something to say, something to clarify.”

Then he turned to Shen Yu. “Is that right?”

Shen Yu said nothing, his gaze sweeping the crowd—he saw Yu Wenwen, Su Mo, then Yang Liu and Shang Yingluo... and finally, Ming Jian, unconscious on the ground and covered in blood, with several disciples tending his wounds.

“I am a disciple of the Abyssal Hall. Why can I not participate?” Shen Yu’s voice was gentle and calm, with a hint of puzzlement.

Disciples who knew nothing of the situation might have thought Shen Yu innocent.

But the entire Daoist Sect was in an uproar over the events at Nanhe City, and his words quickly provoked scorn and contempt.

Daochen laughed in his fury, pointing at Shen Yu. “Years ago, you murdered your parents, slaughtered your entire household—twenty-six lives—and then traveled to Yunyang Temple in the southwest, where you killed Master Zhishan, a paragon of virtue, and burned the temple to the ground, implicating seven novice monks. Such a heartless monster—do you still dare ask why?”

Shen Yu answered coolly, “Did you see it yourself?”

“Hopeless—still trying to evade responsibility.”

Master Daofan’s voice grew solemn. “Do you dare swear an oath before all that you are without guilt?”

Shen Yu turned around at those words.

“I killed Shen Yuanzhi. Zhishan of Yunyang Temple was slain by my own hand. I was also the one who set Yunyang Temple ablaze.”

He looked at all those gathered around the high platform—the four halls, the seven peaks—and raised his voice. “So what if I did?”

A commotion erupted at once, countless people staring at Shen Yu as if he were mad.

...

“They deserved to die.”

Shen Yu’s voice remained calm as he continued, “Back then, they said I was the reincarnation of a Celestial. Shen Yuanzhi, old and terrified of death, believed a Daoist’s words—that eating my flesh and blood would grant him longevity. So they seized me, cut my flesh, and even had the entire Shen family partake. Tell me—should they not have died?”

His words were laced with bewilderment and deep sorrow.

No one could fathom how, at only seven years old in that grand and somber residence, the kindly, gentle relatives he knew could become demons, devouring human flesh. They tied the child in the main hall and began to cut into him.

The supposed virtuous man, Shen Yuanzhi, near death, considered his own life more precious than his son’s. He involved the entire Shen family.

Everyone went mad—blood-stained, some even chewing loudly.

That scene was a vision of hell.

Human joy and sorrow are never the same. No one could witness it; only Shen Yu stood there, watching them silently.

“I almost died,” Shen Yu said quietly, “but in the end, I survived. As for them, they did not wish to die, but all perished.”

The Ancestor Hall plaza was deathly silent, all present stunned beyond measure by this revelation.

“You’re lying.”

Master Daofan was the first to break the silence. “Even if they ate your flesh, why would they die?”

Shen Yu looked at him without a word, as if staring at a fool.

“He possesses an Innate Dao Body.”

A cold voice sounded from the side—it was Lou Lianzhao, Head of the True Crossing Hall.

Many disciples who had read the sect’s archives suddenly understood.

The body of one born with the Innate Dao Physique holds the true meaning of the Dao—though faint, to mortals it is more poisonous than any toxin.

“That day, several with strong constitutions did not die immediately; the Dao intent rampaged through their organs, leaving them worse off than dead—including Shen Yuanzhi.”

Shen Yu looked at the crowd and asked, “They knelt and begged me to kill them. If you were in my place, would you?”

His tone was flat, devoid of hysteria, as if recounting the tale of another.

Yet it was this very calmness that made people believe him all the more.

This time, not only did the disciples of the four halls and seven peaks fall silent, even the three Hall Masters showed a ripple of emotion on their faces.

Had they been in Shen Yu’s place—what would they have done?

Some recalled the talent Shen Yu had displayed over the years; their earlier suspicions were at last confirmed.

Innate Dao Body.

He was, remarkably, just like Yu Wenwen—an Innate Dao Physique.

“What of Yunyang Temple?” Lu Wenyu of the Academy walked over calmly and asked.

Shen Yu replied, “The one who told Shen Yuanzhi my flesh could grant longevity was Zhishan. So I killed him.”

The crowd erupted once more.

Master Zhishan, famed as a good man throughout the Great Li Dynasty, had truly committed such cruelty?

Master Daofan shook his head. “That is but your word alone—it cannot be trusted.”

Lu Wenyu stopped before Shen Yu and said earnestly, “I will investigate this matter.”

“I am not here to reason with you,” Shen Yu said coolly. “I am here to compete.”

Master Daofan snorted coldly. “You are still under suspicion—how can you participate?”

Shen Yu ignored him and turned to the frail figure beside the high platform.

Master Dao Xuan was silent for a long time before finally saying, “Your spot has already been taken by Zhang Jian of the Seated Forgetting Peak.”

He did not refuse directly. Many were surprised to hear the tacit implication in the master’s words.

Shen Yu nodded, then looked at Zhang Jian and said calmly, “Then I will simply win it back.”