Chapter 118: The Sacred Scarab’s Tragic End, Chen Changsheng’s Methods
Chapter 118 – The Sacred Scarab’s Tragic End, Chen Changsheng’s Methods
No sooner had the words left the Purple Mansion Holy Lord’s lips than a streak of golden light erupted from Chen Changsheng’s robes.
Crunch!
The supreme treasure of the Purple Mansion Holy Land, the sovereign of all insects, the Sacred Scarab, was dead—ruthlessly bitten in half by a massive, fat silkworm.
Staring at the bloated silkworm currently gnawing on the Sacred Scarab’s remains across the table, the two ancient existences plunged into a suffocating silence.
“This is the so-called ‘sovereign of all insects’?”
“Not anymore.”
“Tell me, does your Holy Land happen to possess any more of these Sacred Scarabs?”
“No. For tens of thousands of years, this was the sole specimen within the Purple Mansion Holy Land.”
Following this brief exchange, the heavy, dead silence returned.
Once the fat silkworm had completely devoured the carapace, Chen Changsheng lazily recalled the Golden Silk Cocoon.
“Since our terms are settled, the pact is sealed.”
“You did not go back on your word before, and I presume this little accident makes you even less inclined to do so now.”
With that said, Chen Changsheng rose to his feet and strolled toward the door.
“Wait!”
“Is there something else?”
Meeting Chen Changsheng’s questioning gaze, the Purple Mansion Holy Lord’s flawless features flushed with a faint crimson.
“Even if you intend to tie the red thread of destiny between us, you should at least arrange a meeting.”
“I, Nalan Jing, am the master of the Purple Mansion Holy Land. I could hardly offer my heart to a man I have never laid eyes upon.”
“I have already arranged this matter. Soon, I will order the Seventy-Two Wolf Smokes to launch an abduction; you will naturally meet him then.”
“It will serve as the perfect crucible for you to test the absolute strength of the man who awakened the Heaven’s Mandate.”
“If he lacks the power to suppress even you, he has no right to bear the Heaven’s Mandate.”
“A friendly reminder, however: I will not breathe a word of today’s pact to a single soul, not even Wu Li.”
“This means he will strike with lethal intent during the raid. If you show mercy, you will be beaten mercilessly!”
Chen Changsheng paused, a cynical smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“There is one detail I am rather curious about. Had I been the one to awaken the Heaven’s Mandate, would you have fallen for me?”
Confronted by his audacious question, Nalan Jing’s expression turned frigidly serious. “Had it truly been you to awaken the Heaven’s Mandate, I could have served as your sharpest blade.”
“I could have stood as your staunchest ally, but I would never have loved you.”
“Because you truly are not the type of man I desire.”
Hearing this blunt rejection, Chen Changsheng mockingly rubbed his own jaw.
“Such a heartbreaking verdict. After all, I hold a fair amount of confidence in this mortal vessel’s appearance.”
“However, such an answer aligns perfectly with my intentions.”
With a final chuckle, Chen Changsheng pulled the door open and sauntered out into the corridor.
Catching sight of Chen Changsheng’s departure, Zi Ning hurriedly rushed inside, her eyes scanning the room. “Master, that insolent beast didn’t utter any further disrespect, did he?”
Nalan Jing paid her disciple’s outrage no mind; her gaze remained anchored to the empty doorway, her cheeks still burning with a faint flush.
The first man in thirty thousand years to tear open the Heaven’s Mandate… it truly sounds like absolute, overbearing dominance.
What kind of sovereign aura would such a man possess?
Zi Ning: “…”
Master, please do not wear such an expression. My Dao Heart truly cannot accept this.
In the mortal realms, such desires are known as an ancient cow grazing on tender young grass. Do you not realize this?
Just as Zi Ning’s internal monologue spiraled into absurdity, Nalan Jing reined in her erratic Dao Heart.
“Ning’er, effective tomorrow, Chen Changsheng is officially the Holy Son of the Purple Mansion Holy Land.”
“And you are to shadow him. Protect him without ever leaving his side.”
Zi Ning stared at Nalan Jing, absolute shock fracturing her composure.
“Master, you want me to protect him?”
“Which of your heavenly eyes perceives that monster needing my protection?”
“I command it, so you shall obey. Will you now openly defy your master’s decrees?”
Crushed beneath Nalan Jing’s sovereign aura, Zi Ning swallowed her bitter resentment and obediently retreated from the chamber.
Once she was alone, Nalan Jing’s mind rapidly dissected the shifting karmic currents.
Her impending connection with Wu Li was but a trivial thread in the grand tapestry. The true axis of power was the clandestine alliance between the Seventy-Two Wolf Smokes and her Purple Mansion Holy Land.
Wu Li was the sovereign destined to bear the Heaven’s Mandate. As his cultivation inevitably soared, concealing his heaven-defying aura would become impossible.
Thus, she and Chen Changsheng now shared an absolute objective: to cast a blinding fog over the other sovereign factions, bleeding out enough time for Wu Li to temper his strength.
History was stained with the blood of Mandate-bearers murdered in their cribs. Until the Heaven’s Mandate was fully absorbed, destiny remained a fragile illusion.
This was a monumental gamble against the heavens. Lose, and her lineage would burn to ash; win, and they would reign supreme over the myriad realms.
And the most flawless method to bury Wu Li’s true identity was to ignite a far more blinding conflagration.
Chen Changsheng’s terrifying depths and unfathomable strength naturally projected the illusion that he was the chosen sovereign.
As long as Chen Changsheng remained an unsolved enigma, the risk of Wu Li’s exposure plummeted drastically.
Gongsun Huaiyu alone could never repel the relentless probing of the rival Holy Lands and Heavenly Talents; deploying Zi Ning as an additional shield was an absolute necessity.
Exhaling a long, trembling breath, Nalan Jing murmured to the empty air, “Casting himself as the bait, and anchoring his scheme upon the foundational pillars of my Purple Mansion Holy Land… What terrifying audacity.”
“The hegemons of the Eastern Wasteland bleed for you, the inheritor of the Seventy-Two Wolf Smokes serves you like a lowly maid, and you navigate the treacherous depths of the Middle Heavens as if strolling through your own courtyard.”
“Even the undefeated Yao Guang Holy Son bows his head in your presence. Chen Changsheng… just what kind of primordial monster are you?”
She fell back into heavy contemplation. Her Divine Sense could not pierce even a fraction of the fog surrounding the man.
She might not have deciphered his true origins, but Nalan Jing was absolutely certain of one cosmic truth: Chen Changsheng was no mere fledgling youth.
…
“Ugh!”
“This is utterly exhausting. Could these so-called sovereigns not just gather in one courtyard to negotiate?”
“Instead, they force this old man to sprint across the realm like an errand boy.”
Glaring at the parchment filled with crossed-out names, Chen Changsheng continued his cynical muttering.
Since departing the Purple Mansion Holy Land, he had paid personal visits to the various sovereign factions, one by torturous one.
The subsequent diplomatic spars had been overwhelmingly tedious.
The formula rarely changed: they dangled heavenly treasures, and Chen Changsheng effortlessly deflected their bait.
This was followed by a dance of hollow pleasantries and the forging of shadowy pacts—usually amounting to a polite agreement not to slaughter one another if an alliance proved impossible.
Chen Changsheng did not believe these vows for a single, fleeting breath.
When the heavenly tribulations finally rained down, refraining from burying a blade in his spine would be the absolute zenith of their moral virtue!
His grumbling momentarily sated, Chen Changsheng lowered his gaze to the final two surviving names on his list.
The Hateless Pavilion and the Kunlun Holy Land.
Yao Yingying’s abrupt challenge during the Heavenly Talent Assembly reeked of hidden karmic threads, prompting Chen Changsheng to deliberately avoid the Hateless Pavilion for now.
As for Jiang Bufan’s domain, the reasoning was far more brutal.
A man who crawled through oceans of blood from a mere quasi-Holy Son to the sovereign throne of a Holy Land possessed a ruthless intellect and unfathomable strength.
Furthermore, under his iron-fisted reign, the Kunlun Holy Land had continuously devoured the realm’s Providence, steadily eclipsing its rivals to seize the mantle of the Middle Heavens’ supreme faction.
Engaging such a venomous serpent required meticulous preparation.
Swish!
Striking a black line through the Hateless Pavilion’s name, Chen Changsheng strode purposefully toward their heavily guarded pavilion.
An iron-forged bone like Jiang Bufan was naturally to be savored for the bitter end.