Chapter 79: Monstrous Fortification, Chen Changsheng’s Hidden Trepidation
Chapter 79 – Monstrous Fortification, Chen Changsheng’s Hidden Trepidation
【Host: Chen Changsheng】
【Physical Might: 300 (Fourth Realm)】
【Fleetness: 300 (Fourth Realm)】
【Fortification: 520 (Sixth Realm)】
【Spiritual Essence: 240 (Fourth Realm)】
【Vitality Span: 640】
Chen Changsheng stared at the ethereal script manifesting upon his System Panel, scratching his head in quiet contemplation.
Since his last awakening, the oppressive weight of the Heavenly Laws had grown increasingly suffocating.
Given his temperament, he refused to allow the world to dictate his limits or endure the humiliation of being suppressed.
Thus, a century ago, he had severed his ties to the old ways, dismantling his original foundation to forge a path entirely his own.
Having birthed this new lineage of cultivation himself, he mastered its intricacies with ease, and his measures of power surged with predatory speed.
Yet, after a hundred years of refinement, he still found himself unable to gauge his true standing in this world.
Judging by numerical depth alone, his Might and Fleetness should have long surpassed the Soul Formation realm—the Fifth Realm of the previous era.
However, the label assigned by the System Panel remained stubbornly fixed at the Fourth Realm.
As for his Fortification, it was only through the agonizing fusion with the Golden Silk Cocoon that he had infused another twenty Attribute Points, finally breaking through the Fifth Realm threshold into the Sixth.
“System,” Chen Changsheng spoke into the silence of his sea of consciousness. “Is the expanse of the path I have created truly this vast?”
The voice of the System resonated with cold, mechanical clarity.
“Answering the Host: The Secret Art you have devised is yet unrefined, nor is it sufficient to serve as a universal standard for measuring strength.”
“The standard I employ is the most rigorous and profound amongst all current lineages.”
“For in the end, only the supreme path shall endure the sifting of the ages.”
“Furthermore, the Host should understand that these labels are merely approximations; they do not diminish the Host’s true, underlying foundation.”
Chen Changsheng sighed as the realization took hold.
To put it simply, the standards of the entire world had fallen into utter chaos.
In the past, advancing from the Golden Core to the Nascent Soul realm might have required an increase of a hundred Attribute Points.
But in this era of broken laws, that same leap between the Third and Fourth Realms might demand a hundred and fifty or even two hundred.
Though the names of the realms remained unchanged, the actual disparity in strength was now a yawning chasm.
“No wonder they summoned this ‘Heavenly Talent Assembly,’” Chen Changsheng mused, clicking his tongue.
“In a world where the scales are broken, there is no better measure than a ruthless exchange of blows.”
“Though, I’ve never been one for unnecessary bloodshed, have I?”
He muttered to himself for a moment before his gaze fell upon the sickly, snow-white pup huddled in the corner.
The sight of the small beast caused his restless thoughts to settle into a heavy, somber calm.
Looking at it, he was reminded of a certain person—and certain shadows from his past.
Long ago, following the trail of the Bronze Ancient Hall, he had pursued the truth all the way to the Middle Heavens.
He had confirmed Niansheng’s fate then, but as the centuries bled into one another, his heart began to ache with a familiar concern.
It had taken two hundred and forty years to cross from the Middle Heavens to the Eastern Wasteland, followed by three hundred and twenty years in stasis, and the subsequent era of “nurturing the egg.”
A full seven hundred and sixty years had vanished like smoke.
If one counted the years before his search began, that girl, Niansheng, had already walked the earth for a millennium.
A thousand years—the absolute boundary of vitality for the vast majority of those who seek the Dao.
Is she still drawing breath? Or has she long since returned to the yellow springs?
Chen Changsheng shook his head, scooping the little dog into his arms.
“Little Black, oh Little Black,” he whispered.
“In this boundless sea of souls, where am I to find a trace of her?”
“That girl was always a source of trouble. No matter the peril, she could have at least sent word home.”
“She truly never lets a man rest easy.”
The white pup offered a weak, weary whimper.
It was a response to his voice, but also a clear protest against the ridiculous name he had forced upon it.
Chen Changsheng pouted at the creature’s indignant expression. “A name is but a label; what it is called matters not at all.”
“I am aware you are as white as mountain snow, but I have decided your name is Little Black. Can you not grant me this one small indulgence?”
He paused, his eyes growing distant.
“And who was the being that left you within that Bronze Ancient Hall?”
“I do not fear the Ominous Blight; there are powerful entities in the shadows silently purging that rot.”
“But those ‘Giant Hands’ etched upon the bronze walls… they haunt my thoughts.”
“The Wu Clan of the Hundred Thousand Mountains was likely one of the eighteen guardian races of that hall.”
“You witnessed the predatory might of the Golden Silk Cocoon. Even such a formidable race was ground into the mire by those ‘Giant Hands.’”
“In the end, they only repelled the invaders by embracing the power of the Ominous Blight. If those hands descend from the heavens once more, how shall I stand against them?”
“Others may die before the sky falls, sparing them from the sight of the descent.”
“But I… I must live for a very, very long time.”
Chen Changsheng poured out his grievances to the pup, but the weakened Little Black had already drifted into a deep, exhausted slumber.
He patted the dog’s head, grumbling softly. “You heartless little thing, falling asleep while I speak of the end of worlds.”
“Once I have purged your ailments, I shall certainly turn you into a dog-meat hotpot.”
“Though, I still have no inkling of how to mend your condition…”
“Brother Chen, are you within?”
A voice shattered his soliloquy.
Chen Changsheng didn’t need to sweep with his Divine Sense to know it was Ye Hensheng and his retinue of youngsters.
He rose and seated himself in the primary chair facing the entrance, his posture lazy and unimpressed.
“Enter. The door is unbarred,” he called out.
The doors opened, and Ye Hensheng stepped inside, followed by two others.
One was Su Tian, the Equal King; the other was Zuo Jing, the Third Princess of the Xuanwu Kingdom.
Ye Hensheng’s expression was grave, his eyes shimmering with a trace of lingering shock.
Su Tian, however, wore a look of predatory eagerness; it was clear he viewed Chen Changsheng as a mountain to be climbed.
Yet, it was the Third Princess who was the most transparent.
Her gaze burned with a simmering fury, her stance that of someone arriving to demand an accounting.
The three of them stood in silence before him. Chen Changsheng neither offered them a seat nor ordered them to leave.
The air in the room grew heavy and awkward.
After a long silence spent stroking Little Black’s soft fur, Chen Changsheng finally looked up.
“If you have something to say, speak it plainly.”
“But please, one at a time. Do not clutter my ears with noise.”
“And do not weave riddles or beat around the bush. I find such things incredibly tedious.”
Ye Hensheng stepped forward, cupping his hands in a formal salute. “I have heard of Brother Chen’s recent feats. I must apologize for my previous negligence towards—”
“Cease,” Chen Changsheng interrupted, his voice flat.