Chapter 83: 72 Roads of Dust, Curiosity Killed the Cat
Chapter 83 – 72 Roads of Dust, Curiosity Killed the Cat
“Tsk, tsk, tsk!”
“Truly worthy of the Kunlun Holy Land, this market never ceases to bustle with life!”
Chen Changsheng swept his gaze around with genuine curiosity, while Ye Hensheng, trailing a half-step behind, awkwardly buried his face in his chest.
Walking in this man’s shadow was simply too humiliating.
Whispers of yesterday’s staggering wagers at the Kunlun Stone Workshop had already flooded the entire Holy Land. Countless apex prodigies and monumental figures now waited at the pavilion, anticipating Chen Changsheng’s arrival.
Yet this eccentric entirely disregarded the gathering storm, choosing instead to leisurely stroll through the street stalls.
Moments prior, an envoy from the Kunlun Stone Workshop had arrived to formally invite him, only to be met with his flippant remark.
“The emperor sits untroubled while the eunuch sweats. I am in no rush, so why are you panting like a dog?”
The envoy’s expression had instantly blackened like the bottom of a charred wok.
One had to understand, this messenger was an outer Elder of the Kunlun Holy Land!
While not a titan of the sect, he still commanded respect and face within the territory.
Chen Changsheng’s sheer audacity had enraged the man so thoroughly that he flicked his sleeves and stormed off.
“Merchant, what is the price for this?”
Chen Changsheng plucked a battered object from the sprawling mat and asked.
Spotting a fat sheep ripe for the slaughter, the stall owner’s face bloomed into a radiant smile. “Honored guest, your discerning eyes are sharp! This is the crowning jewel of my humble stall.”
“Three centuries ago, my venerable master braved nine deaths and one life to drag this relic from the depths of the Sacred Ruins.”
“Were it not for the profound karmic fate between us today, I truly would never—”
“Halt.”
Chen Changsheng mercilessly severed the merchant’s rambling pitch.
“I care little for the dusty history of this trash. Just tell me what it costs.”
“Two hundred pounds of God Source.”
Hearing this exorbitant demand, Chen Changsheng wordlessly dropped the item back onto the mat, turned on his heel, and walked away.
Seeing the plump sheep slipping from his grasp, panic seized the merchant.
“Honored guest! The heavens set the asking price, but the earth allows for haggling. At least counter my offer!”
“My apologies. My pockets are not deep enough to indulge such delusions.”
“When I walked past this exact spot yesterday, you were begging for a mere twenty Spirit Stones. Now you demand two hundred pounds of God Source. Do I look like a sheep waiting to be sheared?”
His pathetic scheme thoroughly punctured, the stall owner squeezed out an awkward chuckle.
“So the honored guest is a true connoisseur!”
“Had I known, I would not have dared make such a foolish joke. Guest, you name the price, and I swear upon my Dao heart I will not argue.”
“I have no desire to part with wealth, but I can offer an exchange.”
As he spoke, Chen Changsheng manifested a blank jade slip, his spiritual essence rapidly carving a bizarre, twisting sigil into its surface.
The moment the stall owner’s eyes locked onto that rune, the color drained from his face.
He stiffly rose to his feet, scrutinizing Chen Changsheng with immense caution before testing the waters. “My internal flames have been burning fiercely of late, clouding my vision.”
“I wonder if the honored guest possesses a remedy to clear the fog and restore my sight?”
The corners of Chen Changsheng’s lips curled upward, perfectly validating his silent hypothesis.
“When the earth shatters the high ridge, the lone peak of the western mountains remains pristine for a millennium.”
The stall owner narrowed his eyes to slits, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “When the gates open to the vast sea, three rivers merge their currents to flow for ten thousand years.”
“Do you walk the path of blood or the path of shadow?”
Hearing the merchant probe for his exact lineage, Chen Changsheng merely offered a faint smile and scooped up the fractured, decaying scale.
“That is not for you to know. Deliver this sigil back to your superiors; someone will recognize its weight when the time comes.”
With those parting words, Chen Changsheng turned and melted into the crowd.
The stall owner stood frozen, staring at Chen Changsheng’s retreating silhouette for a long breath before frantically packing his wares and vanishing from the street.
……
Watching Chen Changsheng leisurely toss the worthless, broken scale in his hand, Ye Hensheng felt as though a hundred invisible claws were shredding his internal organs.
The burning hunger to understand that cryptic exchange was driving him mad.
Noticing his turmoil, Chen Changsheng remarked with cold amusement, “If a question gnaws at your mind, speak it. Suppressing such violent curiosity will only stagnate your Qi.”
Granted permission, Ye Hensheng hastily ordered his chaotic thoughts and probed cautiously.
“Brother Chen, that exchange just now… am I permitted to know what transpired?”
“I suppose I can shed a sliver of light upon it,” Chen Changsheng said, idly waving the fractured scale. “This belongs to an old acquaintance.”
“I was merely leaving a coded greeting.”
“Barring any unforeseen deviations in the Dao, this old friend will come seeking me in due time.”
Chen Changsheng paused mid-step, a profound, calculating smile stretching across his face.
“Actually, I feel you might benefit from knowing a little more. Do you wish to hear it?”
“If Brother Chen is willing to bestow such knowledge, I am naturally honored to listen.”
“That string of poetry was the exclusive blood-code of the 72 Roads of Dust.”
The absolute terror contained within those words instantly annihilated Ye Hensheng’s curiosity, leaving him with the overwhelming urge to fiercely slap his own face.
The 72 Roads of Dust was the sworn, mortal enemy of the Kunlun Holy Land. Their leader was none other than the tyrannical bandit king, Wu Li, a monster who had plundered the Middle Heavens for decades.
Any soul even tangentially associated with the 72 Roads of Dust would be hunted to the ends of the earth by the Kunlun Holy Land’s enforcers.
A sickening, bitter smile crawled onto Ye Hensheng’s face. “Brother Chen, please spare me your jests. Such blasphemy cannot be thrown around so casually.”
“Who is jesting? This truth is heavier than refined gold.”
“Since your appetite for secrets is so vast, I possess even more devastating truths. Shall I recount them for you?”
“My curiosity has been entirely severed. I wish to know absolutely nothing.”
Ye Hensheng shook his head with frantic desperation. In the cultivation world, the weight of unearned secrets only accelerated one’s journey to the grave.
Observing the stark terror gripping Ye Hensheng’s features, Chen Changsheng merely smiled and ceased his merciless teasing.
Little fool, constantly prying into the abyss. Let the abyss stare back and terrify you into silence.
……
Kunlun Stone Workshop.
Having wasted the majority of the daylight wandering the markets, Chen Changsheng’s group finally strolled into the expansive grounds of the Stone Workshop.
The secluded inner courtyard, historically an exclusive realm devoid of crowds, was now practically overflowing with cultivators.
Upon spotting Chen Changsheng crossing the threshold, a young man boasting sword-sharp eyebrows and eyes like profound stars strode forward. “This venerable one must be Brother Chen.”
“I am Jiang Ping of the Kunlun Holy Land. Urgent matters bound my hands yesterday, preventing me from personally welcoming your esteemed self. I beg your forgiveness for the slight!”
Facing the esteemed Kunlun Holy Son, Chen Changsheng plastered on a flawless, courteous smile.
“To be personally received by the Holy Son himself is an unmerited honor.”
“Today, I have returned to partake in Stone Gambling. I can only hope Brother Jiang will bestow his profound guidance upon me.”
After navigating the mandatory layers of hollow flattery, Jiang Ping shifted his piercing gaze toward Ye Hensheng and his companion.
“These two fellow Daoists must be the renowned prodigies of the Eastern Wasteland.”
“I was completely unaware that Brother Chen hailed from the Eastern Wasteland as well. Curiously, why is Brother Chen’s exalted name absent from their roster?”
“Hahaha!”
“Brother Jiang praises me far too highly. The Eastern Wasteland is a cradle of true dragons and soaring phoenixes. My meager cultivation foundation is barely worth a glance.”
“I am merely here to fill the background. An insignificant ant such as myself naturally lacks the qualifications to grace the Prodigy Roster.”
Hearing Chen Changsheng’s masterful deflection, a glint of predatory amusement flashed within Jiang Ping’s eyes.
“If a leviathan like Brother Chen is deemed unqualified, then this Eastern Wasteland roster must be filled with existences that defy the heavens themselves!”
“I must certainly find an opportunity to witness their terrifying might firsthand.”
“Please, follow me. Several other Fellow Daoists are already gathered within. Allow me the honor of introducing you.”
With a sweeping gesture, Jiang Ping guided Chen Changsheng’s group toward an elegantly carved, spiritual wood pavilion.
Within the structure sat five distinct auras—three men and two women, all radiating the oppressive might of peak cultivators.
Among them sat a singularly familiar figure. It was the very same Purple Mansion Holy Maiden he had crossed paths with the day before.
……