Chapter 123

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Chapter 123: Title

Yang Xingyu wore a peculiar expression, perhaps even he recognized how flimsy the girl’s excuse sounded.

If the city they’d flown into could be called prosperous, this neighboring settlement near their destination embodied squalor and chaos. The rumor of totem deities had drawn an unsavory crowd, transforming the area into a den of opportunists.

Their group moved with deliberate caution.

After conferring with the Team Leader, the young driver shook his head at Qiao Feiyu—the girl wouldn’t be joining them.

The convoy rolled onward, abandoning the questioning figure in their dust.

As the vehicles dwindled on the horizon, the girl’s cheerful facade dissolved.

"Just as suspected."

Seki’s prior stay in Zhongxia had driven her to master Chinese through relentless study. She understood every word…and recognized certain faces among the travelers.

Though Westerners claimed all Easterners looked alike (and vice versa), determined observation overcame such shallow perceptions.

"Qiao Feiyu. Yang Xingyu. Official extraordinary individuals of Zhongxia." Her murmur carried through the arid air. "Here for the totem deities, no doubt. The question is—do we hunt the same prey?"

Her brow furrowed. "If so…" This complication boded ill.

Without tapping into the deity-bestowed abyssal power, her capabilities neared Tier One Pinnacle—yet her control lagged, reducing effective strength to mid-tier one. Against multiple extraordinary opponents, the odds turned grim.

Wielding abyssal energy risked worse consequences. Given humanity’s rabid hatred of the Abyss, they’d slaughter her on principle alone, identity notwithstanding.

Zhongxia’s global reputation gleamed brighter than ever post-Abyss crisis, though certain nations clung to willful blindness and slander.

"The totem deities hold no interest for Zhongxia." Seki’s fingers brushed her collar, recalling her near-exposure during the Nine Provinces lockdown.

No other nation had ever draped its lands in such a precisely calibrated protective dome—permeable to ordinary people and extraordinary individuals alike, yet impassable to her. Proof, perhaps, of her severed humanity.

Adjusting her backpack, Seki accelerated. At full speed, she might intercept the convoy before jungle entry. These past days revealed countless international teams investigating the deities—most too weak or undisciplined to survive the wilds.

Her initial jungle foray had lasted mere hours before unnatural resonances drove her back. Let others play scouts; she’d charmed three groups into being her canaries in the coal mine.

The girl who waved farewell with blossom-bright smiles hid a glacial core. She’d memorized each sacrificial lamb’s face as they marched to their doom.

Every calculated gesture, every lilting laugh—performance perfected. Nothing human remained beneath.

Ahead rolled the investigation convoy.

"Old Qiao." Yang Xingyu drummed the jeep’s window frame. "That girl back there—your thoughts?"

"Nothing wholesome." Qiao Feiyu’s gaze stayed fixed on the rutted road, yet the hitchhiker’s image lingered—a discordant note in an otherwise ordinary score.

"Deities summon all manner of fools. Did you see her? Sixteen? Seventeen? Strolling through this cesspit alone."

Yang Xingyu snorted. "What do these thrill-seekers imagine? That deities will grant them wishes?" The tires spat gravel as the vehicles pushed deeper into the badlands.

“But wasn’t it said that totem deities are weak?”

“Were you asleep during lectures?” Qiao Feiyu retorted icily.

Yang Xingyu blinked in momentary confusion before letting out an awkward chuckle upon realizing the reference. “Those ancient history legends… honestly felt too dull to bother with.”

The Special Bureau had instituted a mandatory Mythological History course for all personnel, primarily centered on archaic texts provided by Leng Xingwen, with supplementary studies on documented deities from the mortal realm.

Belonging to the pre-end-time cultivation era, Leng’s group possessed scrolls containing mythological variations conflicting with widely accepted narratives. Cross-referenced with the inherited memories of spirit cultivators, the Bureau had reconstructed remarkably credible strands of “Ancient Mythology History.”

“Legend states the progenitor of the dragon race once served as a venerated totem for ancient human cultivators. Though dragons are now classified among spirit cultivators, their worshippers haven’t dwindled—they’ve multiplied steadily.”

Yang Xingyu stroked his chin, dredging up half-forgotten exam material. “Now that you mention it, I do recall that bit from the tests.”

“Truthfully, the whole mythos sounds absurd.” He cleared his throat with a roguish grin. “They even claim three ancient deities fashioned humanity itself.”

This contradicted Blue Star’s foundational lore where Goddess Nuwa alone molded humankind from clay.

“To this day, these three deities remain phantoms—names without forms. Who knows if they’ll ever manifest?”

Most accounts derived from the Dragon Lord of the East Sea, whose inherited memories in the deep sea eclipsed those of his draconic peers in both depth and clarity.

The replacement driver, unfamiliar with Bureau common knowledge, leaned forward curiously. “Three ancient deities? You’re not joking?”

Yang Xingyu’s eyes sparkled as he marshaled his thoughts. “First comes the Azure Dragon Emperor—primordial ancestor of dragons, anciently titled Qingdi. Still drawing blanks? Let me reframe: he’s Taihao Fuxi himself.”

Few in Zhongxia could claim ignorance of Fuxi’s legacy.

“Next stands Empress Nuwa, serpent-bodied creator of mankind and mender of shattered skies. Lastly, the Emperor of Heaven—Heavenly Sovereign governing celestial order, marginally elevated above his peers.”

“The Western ‘God’ parallel seems… intentional.”

“Hardly coincidental,” Yang Xingyu snorted. “Missionaries translated their texts using the Emperor of Heaven’s title directly.”

“The Azure Dragon manifests as his draconic self, Nuwa as half-serpent sovereign, while the Heavenly Emperor walks in human guise. Nuwa supposedly sculpted mankind using dragon’s blood and the Emperor’s likeness.” He spread his hands. “That’s all I’ve retained from the lectures.”

Qiao Feiyu interjected, “Records suggest numerous totem deities existed anciently, yet none achieved true divinity—all perished during apotheosis. Our mission: verify their remnants’ authenticity and intervene discreetly if opportunists target them.”

While strategists drafted operational details, field agents like them negotiated action thresholds. If lifeless totems could ascend, why not living beings? The true prize wasn’t dormant deities, but the ascension process itself—a lure potent enough to make mortals gamble everything.

Their vehicle halted at the jungle’s edge, barred from penetrating deeper. Fresh footprints and recent disturbances littered the perimeter—some mere hours old.

“One accessible entry point,” Yang Xingyu mused, surveying the trampled foliage. “Imagine the chaos elsewhere.” Their chosen site was merely the most promising among countless rumored totem locations, leaving vast territories unexplored.

"There’s a new development."

"What kind of development?" Qiao Feiyu and the group approached.

"These tracks only lead inward without any exit trails. Did those who entered never leave?"

"Perhaps they departed through other routes? The jungle’s vast—losing one’s bearings temporarily isn’t unusual," Yang Xingyu speculated.

"Previous investigations show these explorers usually hired local guides. With their expertise, backtracking shouldn’t pose difficulties," Qiao Feiyu refuted.

"Then what’s the alternative explanation?"

"Perhaps they perished." The Ghost in Red’s voice drifted from behind them.

The crimson sunset bathed her scarlet gown, illuminating her classically poised silhouette as dusk settled.

"Red-clad senior," Qiao Feiyu and Yang Xingyu chorused respectfully.

The spirit cultivator inclined her head slightly, eyes fixed on the shadowed foliage. "Merely standing here, I sense the lingering anguish of souls trapped within these woods."

None present could challenge her authority on spiritual matters—her pronouncement carried finality.

"All dead? What carnage must this jungle conceal?" Yang Xingyu murmured, then added, "Though now that I think of it, we’ve observed no returning vehicles either."

A bespectacled academic joined them, unpacking components from multiple cases. His team assembled a metallic cylinder measuring forty centimeters in length.

"Preliminary scans will require time."

"Accompany me," the Ghost in Red addressed the girl shadowing her movements. "Your assistance is required."

As the cultivator glided away, Yu Yue trailed behind with barely contained enthusiasm.

"Absolutely! Just give the order, Red-clad senior—"

"What’s our assignment?" Yang Xingyu turned to Qiao Feiyu. With few extraordinary individuals deployed this mission and their senior departing, responsibility fell to them.

Qiao Feiyu observed the vanished sun’s afterglow. "I’ll patrol for spectral disturbances. Care to join?"

Yang Xingyu coughed awkwardly at the unsettling invitation.

"Pass. I’ll scout for potential game—might supplement tonight’s rations."

"Exercise caution. Most fauna here are protected species. Should you breach regulations, don’t expect shared accountability."

Their partnership protocol mandated joint disciplinary reports for any infractions.

"You think me a poacher? At most I’d snare rabbits," Yang Xingyu retorted, rolling his eyes. "Not that I’d actually consume them anyway."

"Even as awakened beings, bushmeat remains ill-advised." He hefted a restricted blade and vanished into the undergrowth.

Though joking about game, his true intent sought spiritually attuned creatures. Since the Awakening of Spiritual Energy, even sluggish vegetation developed nascent consciousness.

In Zhongxia, all sentient lifeforms—whether quickened plants or animals—were excluded from culinary consideration. These beings possessed childlike awareness, making their consumption ethically akin to devouring infants.

To spirit cultivators, such entities represented their fledgling kin. Discovering wild spiritualized organisms required notification through the Special Bureau, with the spirit community offering commensurate rewards.

——The spirit cultivators were immensely wealthy, offering gold, silver, jewels from human society and cultivation resources with remarkable generosity.

Of course, should they discover any human consuming a spiritually awakened "young one," those fiercely protective spirit cultivators would exact vengeance so severe that the offender would lament their very existence.

The harmony between humans and spirit cultivators in Zhongxia stemmed from an equal treaty rooted in mutual respect.

As for regions beyond Zhongxia… the spirit cultivators currently held limited influence, being Hua Xia descendants themselves. Those without Hua Xia lineage hardly warranted their guardianship.

Curiously, spirit cultivators appeared unique to Zhongxia, much like elves inhabiting only the Kingdom of England and other European nations—distinctly regional phenomena.

No foreign equivalents to Zhongxia’s spirit cultivators had been documented thus far.

Yang Xingyu swept his gleaming silver Long Knife through obstructing branches. The primal jungle’s vegetation clustered in suffocating density.

He’d initially studied swordsmanship under Taoist Priests Li Canghai and Chen Qingfeng, captivated by the weapon’s elegant flair.

—After all, prowess fades with time, but style endures forever.

Yet his swordplay proved mediocre at best, drawing disapproval from professionals and laymen alike.

His eventual choice—a Tang knife with sleek straight blade and elongated hilt—bore engraved characters "Star Rain" and danced with golden tassels, transforming the weapon into a breathtaking masterpiece.

The moment Yang Xingyu gripped its hilt, satisfaction flooded through him.

His noisy progress startled woodland creatures into retreat. Rather than quieting, he sharpened his environmental awareness while advancing.

Recent jungle intruders had carved fresh paths inward, leaving gashes in the foliage too raw to heal—clear trails revealing predecessors’ routes.

…

"Red-clad senior, where are we heading?" Yu Yue inquired.

"The jungle."

"…" The junior agent doubted her hearing.

"But senior, didn’t we agree on entering tomorrow morning? Everyone’s still at camp. Is this… appropriate?"

"Qiao Feiyu remains stationed. He’ll alert me if needed."

"Moreover, I shan’t be the sole early entrant. Another won’t endure until dawn."

Ghost in Red’s insight into her counterparts proved accurate—though unspoken, tonight’s course had been mutually acknowledged.

Puzzlement wrinkled Yu Yue’s brow, yet she heeded Special Bureau training: observe diligently, question sparingly when accompanying powerful seniors.

At twenty-something, the junior agent devoured workplace gossip. The Bureau’s rumor mill—constantly updated online—had revealed Ghost in Red’s standing: excluding Moon Lake Wonderland’s ancient practitioners, among modern cultivators, she ranked within the real world’s top ten.

The senior operative undertook missions solely by whim. This assignment’s unexpected element? Mentoring a novice.

Second-rank cultivation marked Yu Yue as barely competent within the Bureau—her internship likely stemmed from dogged persistence rather than talent. Yet cultivation often defied predictable returns.

"Your cultivation technique?"

"The Clear Wind Technique. My aptitude… isn’t exceptional. This was the only one I could comprehend." Yu Yue flushed, answering reflexively.

"Have you attained mastery?"

"…No," Yu Yue replied with mild embarrassment.

Her progress wasn’t truly slow—most ordinary people barely reached Tier Three after months of cultivation. Reaching Tier Two already indicated talent, while those attaining seventh rank were considered one-in-a-million geniuses.

The Ghost in Red had watched them reorganize cultivation techniques into new registries, though the sheer volume of hundreds of manuals proved overwhelming.

She wouldn’t have noticed the Clear Wind Technique’s existence had Yu Yue not mentioned it.

"Have you memorized the foundational Cultivation Method?" inquired the Ghost in Red.

Yu Yue bobbed her head eagerly. "Yes! Every word."

"Recite it." The crimson-clad woman’s request felt like using celestial might to crush an ant, given her mastery compared to the second-rank cultivator.

"Heart serene as glacial clarity, undisturbed by collapsing heavens… empty words like fallen leaves, humility embracing the valley… tranquility without attachment, flowing waters unstirred, drifting clouds unhurried… mind unburdened by worldly chains, wandering freely through eternity…"

Yu Yue’s recitation trembled slightly, fearing any misstep. As her voice faded, the Ghost in Red entered the jungle—branches and foliage parting before her like courtiers bowing to royalty.

"What essence does cultivation hold?"

The sudden question startled Yu Yue. She recalled textbook answers from lectures: "It refines mind, body, and harmony with nature… aligning with cosmic principles, achieving symbiosis with all existence…" Yet now, breathing air that caressed without chilling, the words carried newfound depth.

The Ghost in Red plucked a leaf, releasing it with a flick. Instead of falling, the foliage spiraled around them in perfect geometric orbits. "Can your second-rank cultivation sustain this dance?"

Enthralled by the whirling leaf, Yu Yue stumbled into the red-clad senior’s arms before jerking backward. "Apologies, Red-clad Senior! I meant no offense!"

The leaf floated before her face as the woman decreed: "Maintain its flight until we exit. Grounding it means failing your trial." Panic surged as the leaf began descending—Yu Yue’s spiritual energy shot out like silken threads to cradle it.

"Do you think spiritual energy alone sustains this world?" Disapproval tinged the senior’s voice. "How long can such crude methods last?" Without waiting for answers, she strode forward, drawn toward chaotic energy currents she’d sensed since arriving—eight centuries of earthly fusion granting her subterranean awareness surpassing any instrument.

Her true motive for this mission lingered in darker curiosities: could those revival rumors breathing life into corpses hold truth? As earth energy pulsed beneath her feet, her thoughts drifted to Moon Lake Wonderland’s revelations from fortnight past—secrets known to fewer than five souls, buried like the mysteries she now pursued.

At camp:

"Ghostly energy readings remain minimal," a researcher noted, eyeing his device while colleagues gathered samples.

"Anything unusual?"

"Surface scans appear normal. Deeper analysis required."

Qiao Feiyu returned with a black-haired boy ghost barely reaching his shoulder. His brow furrowed upon noting the Ghost in Red’s absence. "Why must they all be so troublesome?"

Turning to the spectral youth half-step behind, he asked: "Well, Mingyu? Detect anything during our patrol?"