The next morning, at the city gate.
The man who had beaten up the Temple warriors yesterday truly showed up here once more.
Many people gathered to watch, murmuring among themselves about this hairless man—how he could still be standing here alive, and how those Temple warriors seemed to turn a blind eye to him, completely ignoring his presence.
The Temple, astonishingly, didn’t seem to care about its dignity being tarnished, letting him live on. What a strange affair.
–I’m here to pick the strongest among you to learn the martial arts I bestow,– Yang Zicang called out, cupping his hands around his mouth. –Whoever wants to learn, step forward.–
Having fought wolves and tigers since primitive times, and having slain dinosaurs solo after a thousand years, he couldn’t be a hundred percent certain of someone’s potential as a mighty warrior—but at least seventy to eighty percent sure.
With just one glance, most people around were already mentally crossed off his list.
No one dared to step forward.
After waiting a while, Yang Zicang, somewhat belatedly, realized something.
He turned to look at the new gatekeeper by the city gate and gestured, –Come here.–
The person who was pretending not to recognize Yang Zicang nearly wept with excitement at these words. He scrambled over in panic, ready to kneel, but Yang Zicang kicked him in the shin, and with a –woof,– he yelped and hopped around clutching his leg.
–Stop shouting. I’ll ask you, who’s the kid beside you?–
–He’s… he’s my son.–
–Are you willing to let your son learn my martial arts?–
The man instantly let go, trembling as he prostrated himself. Red-eyed, he scrambled up and wildly yammered at the boy.
The dark-skinned lad ran over quickly and dumbly tried to mimic his father’s motions, only to be tossed into the air by Yang Zicang, who gave his joints a thorough feel-over.
–Not bad. With proper training, he might barely manage to kill a few saber-toothed tigers in the future. Let him start learning martial arts with me from now on. Oh, by the way, can you read?–
–Yes, yes!–
The man said stiffly—after all, if he couldn’t, he could still learn.
–Good, then you’ll teach him.–
With that, he dropped the puzzled kid to the ground, patted his back, and sent him off to play.
Many in the crowd were stunned. A young man could barely restrain himself from stepping forward, but those around him whispered low: –Aren’t you afraid of the Sanctuary’s retribution?–
–Are you all for blind eyes?–
Another person led their child away. Soon, more people emerged.
The news of how this man, who single-handedly defeated a group of warriors wielding sacred artifacts yesterday, had already spread like thunderous shockwaves among the nearby tribes and small villages.
Yang Zicang hadn’t yet realized what he had done. To the residents, long intimidated by the formidable authority of the Temple, his actions yesterday were nothing short of earth-shattering.
The common understanding had always been that anyone who defied the Temple would not survive the same day. Yet today, this unspoken rule was shattered.
……
At night, a boy who had gathered firewood returned to a somewhat dilapidated thatched hut.
His stomach growled hungrily. After patting his flattened belly, the frail boy picked a few fruits he had bundled back with the firewood, rubbed one in his palm, and shoved it into his mouth.
Suddenly, a burst of cheers erupted from outside.
–Great… we got it…–
–Let’s celebrate, hahaha…–
The boy turned to glance outside as several people walked by, laughing heartily. They seemed to be discussing something worth rejoicing over.
Taking an envious glance, the boy placed the bundle of firewood next to the hut.
–This martial technique is powerful. Ali Ya, you must study it well.–
It was as if a bolt of lightning flashed through his mind.
The boy stepped across the doorway in two strides, staring blankly at the departing figures of the villagers as faint voices drifted into his ears.
–Martial arts… even the Holy Temple fears…–
–That man must be… connected to the Undying King…–
The boy’s breathing grew heavy.
He felt as if he had glimpsed a ray of dawn. Had his prayers to the Undying King finally been answered?
The boy immediately returned home, grabbed the clothes he couldn’t bear to wear, glanced at them, then ran to the river to wash himself clean. Afterward, carrying them and wild fruits, beneath the sparse starlight, he rushed toward the city filled with people consumed by hatred.
Even the dangers of the night couldn’t make him retreat; he had to reach that place before dawn broke.
……
At dawn the next morning, even more people had arrived.
–Eikali, hurry and get in line.–
–Big blockhead, you’d better perform well.–
–Sari, don’t worry, this lord is not a bad man. Go and wait by his side.–
Yang Zicang selected his preferred candidates more meticulously. He planned to leave three books here for now and then go elsewhere to place the remaining two.
Behind the crowd, a short, thin figure, wearing slightly tight linen clothes, stood with disheveled hair, staring blankly at the man who seemed to merge into his surroundings.
In his eyes, this man appeared to be glowing.
–Alright, stand over there.–
–Hmm, you’re not fit for this. Try again next time.–
Yang Zicang returned a child to his parents, and the boy immediately burst into tears.
Like panning for gold in a surging tide, he selected a handful of candidates while discarding the rest—over a hundred people in total. As time grew short, a child who had been lingering at the back, never getting a chance, scrambled desperately toward Yang Zicang.
–Hey, where’d you come from, you wild monkey? Don’t you know how to queue?–
–Get to the back, it’s not your turn yet.–
Someone walked over to drag him away, but unexpectedly, this seemingly frail child twisted his arm with a stubborn force, darting to the other side. He then dropped to the ground in front of a middle-aged man and looked up.
–I want to become a warrior. Is that okay?– he asked, his gaze fixed firmly on Yang Zicang.
After Yang Zicang shooed away a ten-something-year-old, he turned to look at this slightly impudent child, shaking his head as he said, –You’re too weak.–
The boy clenched his fists, nervously stuttering, –Sir! I, I…–
At a loss for words, he hung his head.
Without a second thought, Yang Zicang rejected the child, unwilling to waste a single ability sphere on him.
Ignoring the boy, Yang Zicang carried on with his work until nearly noon. Only when he had selected ten promising candidates did he stop.
That child kept kneeling there the whole time.
–Aiyo. Don’t be like this. Go back.–
The boy looked up in despair, yet deep down he stubbornly believed this was the guidance of the Undead King.
He remained silent, not saying a word.
Adding in those selected the previous day, Yang Zicang shook his head and turned around, addressing the twenty people of vastly different ages: –There are three books here. Study them well together. Each of you picks the one you like best and take turns reading.–
Seeing three more different martial skills laid before them, the warriors from the Temple couldn’t help but clench their hands, their hearts filled with both anticipation and tension.
–Three years from now, I will return here to see your progress. If anyone can meet my expectations, I will form a covenant with them and grant them ten years of life.–
Wow—the crowd could hardly believe it.
Other than the Undead King himself, no one would dare utter such words.
After leaving these words, Yang Zicang vanished from the spot.
The crowd fell prostrate in a state of awe. They finally understood who this man represented. The little boy who had been kneeling stared in shock at the spot where the man had vanished. He had never imagined such a thing would happen. Yet it was real.
Three years—he clenched his fists tight.
……
The candlelight flickered, casting the shadows of several people dancing on the wall.
–Ashi, how is it? Are you satisfied with this batch of Divine Water?–
The strange liquid, carrying a pungent and intoxicating aroma, stimulated Ashzag’s tongue and throat as it flowed down.
Ashzag, now a bit taller than before, narrowed his eyes slightly as he nodded.
Around the wooden table were several men, three of whom had very thin and short body hair. Though these men couldn’t match the stamina of the warriors beside his father, their minds always seemed capable of conceiving strange ideas and crafting peculiar creations.
–I… I want more. Can I have just a little more?– Ashzag murmured, his eyes dazed.
–Of course. You are the future Chief. Fulfilling your wishes is what we’re here for.–
At the mention of the word –Chief,– Ashzag’s eyes cleared for a moment. He grunted and said with disdain:
–Do you even know that my father has received the Immortal King’s boon and been granted a new life?–
The two men by the table exchanged glances, each spotting the sharp glint in the other’s eyes:
–Of course we know. We also know that the Chief can live for a hundred years.–
–A hundred years!–
Ashzag stared in shock at the tall, skinny man who had spoken. He counted on his fingers but grew befuddled by the time he reached nine.
A hundred years—what an unbearably long span of time. He was certain he would never live to see such an age himself.
–But you will become the Chief, just three years from now,– said the man refilling the strange liquid as he poured.
–How could I? My father will always be…–
–No, Xi. The oracle has declared that you will be the new chief.–
–Oracle?–
Ashizagu was somewhat bewildered as he looked at the man. –You mean that one in heaven you always talk about…–
–Yes, the Great God of Light.–
Upon uttering these three words, the man’s expression turned solemn.
The others around him immediately set down their bowls and bowed their heads devoutly.
–I didn’t want to tell you now, but the time is almost here.–
–What’s almost here?–
–The Great God of Light is the creator of the world, the Supreme Ruler. He cast darkness to the other side, creating the night. To bring punishment upon the night, the Great God of Light created the Immortal King.–
–Impossible.–
Seeing that Ashizagu didn’t believe it, someone beside him sneered and interjected, as if mocking the youth for being unable to see such obvious truths:
–The Immortal King came from the heavens, which is why he can fight against that cometary star that also came from the heavens. How can you still not understand! Yet the Immortal King can only fight that star; he is no match for the Great Light!–
Ashizagu was stunned.
It was as though he had heard the deepest, most forbidden secrets of the world—realizing that there existed an even greater being above the Immortal King.
–We are the earthly emissaries of the Great God of Light. This wondrous water, which can send people back to heaven, is the gift of the Great God of Light.–
The boy lowered his head in shame—yes, he should have thought of that long ago.
The youth took a sniff of the turbid liquid in the bowl, which carried hints of fruitiness and sourness. It turned out to be a gift from the Great Light, the creator of the Undying King; no wonder it made one feel as if floating up to the heavens.
–Me, could I really be the Grand Chancellor?–
Leave a Reply