Chapter 51: Strike the Young, and the Old Emerge; Chen Changsheng What Gives It the Right!
Chapter 51 – Strike the Young, and the Old Emerge; Chen Changsheng What Gives It the Right!
Carrying A’Li as he tore through the dense canopy, Chen Changsheng’s face remained a mask of absolute stillness.
Yet, beneath that placid surface boiled a quiet fury he had not felt in centuries.
Ever since stepping onto the path of longevity, his guiding principle had been to harvest good karma and avoid needless enmity.
In these two hundred years, he had not directly snuffed out a single mortal life.
Even the founder of the Shangqing Temple, the Ascension True Immortal, was not felled by his own hands.
Yet today, a man who traded only in peaceful burials had been drenched in spit—twice.
What karmic logic drove such an act?
He had not knocked upon its cavern to provoke a slaughter, nor had he come bearing a blood feud; there was no reason to incite such insult.
Furthermore, what gave a mere beast the right to cross that line?
It was nothing more than a Thunder Beast at the Soul Formation stage.
He had crossed paths with many Soul Formation cultivators, each a towering figure who dictated the fates of entire regions.
The Wolf King of the Night Moon Country, Wanyan Aguduo; the founder of the Shangqing Temple…
Beyond these Soul Formation masters, he had faced existences whose power eclipsed mortal comprehension.
The Xuanwu Emperor, who had pierced the seventh realm, and the unfathomable Great Horror lurking within the Desolate Ancient Forbidden Land.
Even entities possessing such heaven-shaking might had never degraded him with a mouthful of filth.
He was a true disciple of the Shangqing Temple, an honored guest of the Xuanwu Kingdom, and The Undertaker who walked through the river of history.
Countless peerless geniuses called him a friend, and paragons capable of flattening mountains shared tea and laughter with him.
Bearing such heavy karma, what right did a lowly Thunder Beast have to spit upon his robes?
Fueled by this icy wrath, his pace quickened drastically, blurring through the humid air until they crashed back into the Wu Clan settlement.
The moment their boots struck the dirt, the Great Priest and the clan leader rushed forward, desperation etched on their faces.
Before a single syllable could escape their throats, Chen Changsheng silenced them.
“You proclaim me your God Messenger, so you must have faith in my methods.”
“I will oversee the burial of the Thunder Beast in the Water-Moon Cave within ten winters. If you believe I can sever its thread, offer me your strength.”
“If you believe I will perish, sever your ties and flee this mountain, lest its dying thralls drag you into the grave.”
Leaving those heavy words hanging in the damp air, Chen Changsheng turned and walked away, abandoning the two tribal elders in stunned silence.
…
Within the dim confines of a wooden hut.
Chen Changsheng’s fingers carved intricate cosmic scars into a slab of tree bark, his mind calculating a deadly array.
The rustle of beads announced A-Man’s arrival, carrying a woven tray of fresh, Qi-infused fruits.
“God Messenger, please consume these fruits to soothe the fire in your chest.”
Chen Changsheng did not lift his gaze from the bark, his voice level and cold.
“I am aware of your ancestral edict—to revere the one who steps from the sacrificial altar.”
“While honoring the ancients is wise, the flow of the Dao is never rigid.”
“I am not the entity foretold in your ancient scrolls. Bury the title of God Messenger.”
“If your tongue insists, refer to me as Elder Brother Changsheng.”
“Furthermore, the impending slaughter of the Thunder Beast is a personal transaction. It will not drag the Wu Clan into ruin. Rest your heart.”
Hearing this, A-Man hesitated.
“God… Elder Brother Changsheng, that is not what burdens my mind.”
A flicker of curiosity finally drew Chen Changsheng’s eyes up from his work to study the tribal girl.
“If not the looming beast, then what troubles you?”
Under his detached gaze, a deep, naive yearning surfaced in A-Man’s bright eyes.
“Elder Brother Changsheng, since I was a child, the elders spoke whispers of another realm beyond the canopy.”
“Yet, not a single soul in the Wu Clan has ever laid eyes upon it.”
“You walked in from beyond the mist. Can you describe the shape of that world to me?”
Meeting her gaze, heavy with the innocence of the unblooded, Chen Changsheng pondered for a moment.
“The world beyond these mountains is a tapestry of endless wonder, yet I advise you to never seek it out.”
“Why?”
“Because the malice of the outside world far eclipses the venom of the beasts in these Hundred Thousand Mountains.”
“Out there, death is often the most merciful escape.”
Concluding his warning, he untied a small wooden carving from his waist and held it out along with the inscribed bark.
“Deliver this bark to Clan Leader Gu Li. Instruct him to align the tribe according to the Formation upon it.”
“If I have judged his character correctly, he will choose to strike the Thunder Beast alongside me.”
“As for this talisman, consider it a gift.”
“You have been staring at it since the moment I descended. It makes my robes feel somewhat heavy.”
A flush of deep crimson instantly bloomed across A-Man’s cheeks.
“Elder Brother Changsheng, I was not.”
“Do you believe my eyes are clouded?”
“It is merely a piece of dead wood shaped by idle hands. Take it.”
The carving that hung from Chen Changsheng’s waist depicted a plump, docile sheep.
Having spent decades mastering the Undertaker’s trade, crafting coffins and spirit tablets, his woodworking skills were flawless.
For A-Man, who had spent her entire life trapped in a savage jungle, being captivated by such a delicate, alien craft was inevitable.
“Thank you, Elder Brother Changsheng.”
Gripping the sheep tightly, she bowed in joyous gratitude before skipping out into the humid air.
Watching her retreating figure, a faint smile brushed his lips before his mind plunged back into the grim mathematics of killing the Thunder Beast.
The Beast Clan inherently gathered in broods. Slaying the Soul Formation Thunder Beast within the Water-Moon Cave was not his primary concern.
What truly demanded his caution was the ancient bloodline standing behind it.
Strike the young, and the old emerge from seclusion; strike the old, and the primordial ancestors awaken. This cyclical vendetta was the iron law of the cultivation world.
It was to sever this endless chain of karma that Chen Changsheng dedicated such exhaustive effort into preparing the earth.
After all, uprooting a primeval lineage was not a trivial burial.
He sought harmony, true, but he had never been a frail vessel meant to be crushed by the arrogant.
The heavy insult of those two mouthfuls of spit required a blood price.
…
Under Chen Changsheng’s meticulous command, the Wu Clan rapidly mobilized, tearing into the jungle with feral efficiency.
Towering ancient trees were felled, and deep, resonant Dao Patterns were carved into the damp earth using crude bone tools.
Chen Changsheng drifted through the laboring crowds, his Divine Sense sweeping over the nascent Formation to correct any deviations in the flow of Spiritual Qi.
Amidst the grinding of stone and timber, Clan Leader Gu Li approached.
“God Messenger, will these wooden stakes truly force the Thunder Beast into retreat?”
“They will not. This is merely a tempered variation of a Spirit Gathering Formation. It will anchor the local Spiritual Qi while simultaneously raising a Ward against the encroaching miasma.”
“I have comprehended the profound nature of your Gu Bugs. Their lethality is immense, but karma dictated you face their absolute natural predator.”
“The Thunder Beast’s primordial scales repel the majority of your parasites, and its innate Dao arts violently suppress their vitality.”
“Were it any other adversary, your tribe would not have been driven to the edge of extinction.”
Hearing this ruthless dissection of their martial path, Gu Li let out a hollow, bitter laugh.
“The God Messenger speaks the truth. To survive these Hundred Thousand Mountains, we inherently possessed the means to harvest death.”
“A pity that our ancestral relic, the Golden Silkworm Gu, was lost to the ages. Had it remained, that beast would have met its end.”
“Golden Silkworm Gu?”
“What manner of entity is that?”
“It was the zenith of our clan’s parasitic arts. More accurately, it should be worshipped as the Gu God.”
“The ancient texts claim it could devour the very fabric of the world. Not even the primordial scales of a Thunder Beast could halt its maw.”