The cold wind swept across the vault of the heavens.
Two little cicadas caught sight of snowflakes.
Perhaps they were the only cicadas in the universe that had ever seen snowflakes.
Pity—resting obediently in his palm, they had no notion of what this meant.
Morris looked up at him; this man emanated an ineffable quality.
–You intend to use Chronos on those primitive people?–
Beyond that, he couldn’t quite fathom why Yang Zicang would do such a thing.
Was it fear that these people’s short lifespans would hinder their mastery of secret arts? That was indeed a concern worth guarding against, for forging a pact consumes one Ability Globe.
–Yes, but I also have a second experiment in mind—though that’s no longer tied to these books.–
A cryptic smile curled across Yang Zicang’s face.
……
On the earth, the Sanctum Order’s dominion over this ancient land had sunk deep into the bone, seeping into every last corner.
Because of the catastrophe that descended once every sixty years, their authority reigned supreme over all tribal chiefs and township lords. The leader commanding these warriors had thus become the true uncrowned king of the world.
On a night lashed by wind and rain, a young boy knelt before the threshold of his own thatched hut with mud-and-stone walls, watching helplessly as his mother and sister were dragged away by the Sanctum Order’s men.
They were sent as gifts into the hands of those so-called –warriors.–
–Why… why do such evil people exist?–
The little boy’s heart was filled with confusion and rage, his face streaked with tears as he collapsed to the ground. From that day on, he never saw his two family members again.
A year later, on a balmy day with a clear sky and drifting clouds, the air was thick with the scorching scent of green grass.
Yang Zicang focused Chronos into the amulet on his chest, adjusting his age, and appeared outside the city as a man in his prime, clad in linen robes. But even so, among the crowd, he was unmistakably different at a glance.
–Hairless wonder, which tribe do you hail from?–
A burly, bare-armed man, noting Yang Zicang’s peculiar appearance, rose from the straw hut by the city gate and stopped him, demanding.
Even among the rare hairless people, the man before him was uniquely striking, as if shimmering with an extraordinary aura. In particular, the amulet on his chest emanated a golden-red, phantom-fire sheen—it was unmistakably a treasure at first sight.
–And you are?–
–I’m a captain of the Hall of Sanctity, Archinas.–
Yang Zicang glanced at the group of people outside the city gate. The last time he was here, these positions didn’t exist yet—it seemed that preliminary city defense personnel had already developed here.
–I know martial arts, and I’ve come here this time to take on disciples,– Yang Zicang said.
–Hahaha.–
Before Aqina could speak, the young men beside him burst into laughter at Yang Zicang’s less-than-robust physique.
Seeing the Temple’s warriors seemingly sneering at someone in unison, curious glances were cast by the townsfolk passing by.
Aqina raised his hand to signal his subordinates not to speak.
–Do you know what this place is?–
–It’s where the Temple stands.–
–And yet you dare talk about taking disciples here? Haven’t you seen those demons? Can you even beat them? Coming to the Temple to take disciples—tch, who are you trying to insult?–
Aqina reached out and picked up the strange longsword with its pitted and scaly armor, leaning against the wooden table.
–Do you know what this is?–
Yang Zicang noticed the crowd growing denser and thought to himself, it seemed that the advertising phase in his plan could be brought forward.
He ignored Aqina’s query. To him, these people just needed one acceleration of time to rot into a pile of bones beneath the earth—nothing worth arguing with.
Yang Zicang turned to look at the crowd of onlookers around him and raised his voice, saying:
–One day from now, I will select literate young people who are physically robust and mentally alert, here, to teach them martial arts. Those who meet the standard will receive a gift granted by me.–
–How dare you show contempt for the Sanctum!–
Ignored, Aqina grew furious. Without a word, he lashed out a blade strike at Yang Zicang.
Thud!
Amidst a cascade of gasps, the long saber fell with fierce blade wind, slashing from Yang Zicang’s right shoulder down to the lower left.
Feeling the resistance of the blade slicing through the person before him, clawing half his garment open, Aqina snorted with a chuckle.
–I just felt that this man seemed to carry some unique aura—turns out he’s just a fraud.–
–What a fool who can’t even block a strike, and yet dares to boast of taking disciples.–
The words had barely left his mouth when Yang Zicang turned his head to look at the man.
–It’s been years since I last came. Has the air of malice grown so thick already?–
–You—you!–
Aqina gaped, raising his finger pointedly at him. The wound on the man’s body—which should have been split in two—was healing rapidly, as if chaotic energy was forming anew.
–A demon, a demon! You are a demon!–
The five men beside him had never witnessed anything like this.
The five people beside him had never seen such a situation before. They had only heard that in the two years before their birth, demons were born across the world—beings of strange forms that could only be slain by the sanctuary’s warriors using sacred artifacts, whose bodies were then crafted into new sacred implements!
With a clattering sound, the five raised their ordinary spears and bows.
They withdrew one after another, turning to look at Archina; only this man could possibly subdue this strange figure.
The onlookers scattered, some so frightened they seemed to revert to their ape-like instincts, howling as they scrambled away on all fours.
Yet a few stubborn fools remained watching from nearby.
With immense force, Archina swung his long blade; though not overly heavy, it emitted a deep humming thrum as he wielded it with his muscular arms, as if it could split rocks.
Indeed, the spiritual artifact weapon itself was indestructible; otherwise, ordinary swords would have snapped under this brute’s hands after a few strokes.
The long blade chopped repeatedly at the middle-aged man, but before long, the strikes grew slower and slower.
Archina watched the man across from him, who stood still with a faint smile, as immovable as a wooden post. His spirit finally crumbled, and he dropped his weapon, crying out as he fled.
A crowd of people followed, running with him.
–Dropped even his weapon.–
Yang Zicang picked up the blade, casually twirling it in his hand. The knife transformed, emitting a deep, vigorous whistle.
[I’ve picked up another spiritual artifact weapon.]
He chuckled upon hearing Moxel’s voice, gripping the blade as he made his way into the town.
Strangely, at least half of those who had fled earlier returned, and they seemed to have summoned even more people.
Yang Zicang glanced at them with a puzzled frown, and instantly the crowd shuffled several steps backward like a disturbed nest of bees.
–These little brats.–
He clicked his teeth and said, –If you’re willing, follow along. Just remember, I’m here to teach martial arts.–
Though called a holy land, the town was quite small.
Soon enough, more temple warriors wielding spiritual artifact weapons rushed over. Some wore animal hides from nearby tribes around their waists, while others bore the skulls of wild beasts.
–Demon, drop the sacred object and get lost!–
–Who’s your current leader?–
The crowd exchanged glances, and Aqina burst forth from one side, roaring, –This demon insults the temple! Everyone, attack together!–
–Wah! Kaka!–
With a chorus of war cries, they charged, several lances thrusting at Yang Zicang.
Boom!
A sharp gale exploded forth, and three figures at the front were instantly sent flying backward.
Yang Zicang clamped down with his arm, and the thrusting spears were firmly locked in place by the powerful force of his bicep. He twisted his feet, spinning his body, and with a loud crash, the whole group fell to the ground.
The crowd behind, who were watching this scene, let out a –Whoa!– in excitement, as if they were witnessing a rare and thrilling spectacle.
Achina’s mind was barely keeping up as he watched this unfold.
Just then, an old man with an orange-red animal skin headband emerged. He furrowed his brows, looking the skilled middle-aged man up and down.
–Where did these wild curs come from, daring to lay a hand on the temple?–
–You people are still so young, yet you’ve mastered the art of throwing accusations so skillfully. Don’t tell me this is the only excuse you have.–
–You! Fine, fine, fine. Since you’ve managed to survive this long, your end is here!–
The old man turned around and scampered off briskly, as if to call for more men.
–It’s Subana! A Subana is here! The chief’s warrior will be here soon. Everyone, don’t be afraid of him!–
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