BOOM!
The bonfire violently erupted, its raging flames swept outward like a storm, and the phantom sound faded into nothingness amidst pathos.
As the dust settled, Yang Zicang’s gradually recovering form emerged.
Athna did not exist, yet Yang Zicang felt an added surge of power within himself.
At that moment, with a few screams from the savages, several red figures streaked through the night sky above their camp and plunged into the flames. These were minor fiends manifested from other artificial constructs.
Now, nearly every savage began exuding a dangerous aura, scrambling about in chaotic escape.
–Damn it, even wrapping oneself in animal skins counts as a disguise?–
Just as this thought flickered in his mind, Yang Zicang immediately felt it twisted away.
Athna: –Priorities matter; for now, focus on the main enemy.–
It felt as if another person had entered his mind, but that was nothing new—Yang Zicang had grown used to it.
Just as he turned to leave, a deep, resonant phantom roar echoed again through the cliffs.
A sinister, shadowy force was gathering within the fire.
–Still alive?–
So this was what Athna meant.
In the dust-laden air, the mass of dark red flames lost its shape. It attempted to solidify multiple times but failed.
Hastily, Yang Zicang fished out a fiendish form and, infusing it with Chronos, fired it off.
Unexpectedly, the residual energy of the Flame Incubus followed the pierced corpse of the incubus, surging far into the distance before enveloping it for refinement.
Asnah: [The incubi you speak of are divided into many different types; this one, born of flames, is far more formidable. Moreover, it contains a wealth of spiritual willpower from primitive worship, far exceeding the level of ordinary incubi.]
After the flame swallowed the spiritual battle tool born in the desert, it swiftly took shape, transforming into a creature several meters long resembling a desert centipede or a ground dragon.
Its head was not as terrifying as a real centipede’s; rather, it was as majestic as a tiger or wolf. Yet, at the corners of its mouth, like a centipede, curved fiery pincers stretched left and right, ready to deliver food into its maw.
They were akin to the fierce, monstrous jaws of a Bobbit worm.
–Holy shit, it can devour its own kind and be reborn?!– Yang Zicang exclaimed in shock.
Asnah: [Rekindling from embers is the fundamental nature of fire.]
The incubus monster’s gaze blazed like torches. It curled its massive body, wide enough for two men, and charged forward swiftly. The scorching heat made the air hum with a muffled roar.
Yang Zicang’s form blurred like a ghost as he dodged out of the way, then raised his Lance to strike viciously.
Boom! Boom!
The monster slithered left and right like a snake, but fortunately Yang Zicang was not afraid of flames, and even when struck by its body, he could quickly recover.
More and more dangerous auras were born around. The aura of the monster that devoured its own kind grew stronger—how could they still play this game?
–Yii yah!–
–Hah!–
The two savage leaders roared angrily, lifting rocks as they charged toward the flames.
–Stop! Both of you!–
[Dispatch!]
The two savages, fearless of death as they held the rocks, ran in an X-shaped path before the monster. The long-haired animal skins on their bodies caught fire from the intense heat, panicking them as they quickly rolled on the ground to extinguish the flames.
[My Astra, the Pulse-Melder, and I have achieved over 80% resonance of the Mind’s Force.’]
[I am beginning to understand the Explosive Wind Fist!]
Yang Zicang involuntarily activated certain powers within him that he had never noticed before. An ethereal clarity enveloped his mind, as if someone were personally teaching him. He clenched his fist and threw a punch!
Rumble!
A massive phantom fist shot out and exploded. The flames scattered in all directions with a roar. The monster within was sent flying far away by this giant-like fist shadow. The moment it touched the Flame Centipede, it expanded into a violent gale that swept across the mountain forest.
[I unleash the Storm Fist!]
The golden radiance of Chronos poured into the beast, spreading and rippling outward. As it swept over the primitives, it temporarily suppressed the birth of the beast-hide nightmare.
[Asna: Remember its feeling. From now on, you’re on your own.]
[My heart resonance with the Confluenceist Asna has exceeded 60%.]
[My resonance compatibility with the Confluenceist Asna has fallen below 45%. Resonance terminated.]
Yang Zicang gazed at the frozen river in the distance.
–Come on, you monster!–
Yang Zicang’s confidence was rekindled.
On the snow, the enraged tiger-headed centipede was lured away by Yang Zicang, its body constantly lashed by the golden-glowing weapon.
He repeatedly used his allocation ability to disrupt its trajectory. Although the nightmare had become considerably more resistant to this ability, through the constant enticement and Yang Zicang’s provocation, it was still led all the way to the riverbank in a relentless battle.
As Yang Zicang struck with one final, all-out blow and then sprinted onto the ice, the fire centipede charged furiously after him!
Boom! Half of the nightmare’s body instantly melted through the ice and plunged into the river, sizzling with a burst of steam like a red-hot iron ingot dropped into water.
–Since you’re in, don’t even think about leaving!–
In the steam, golden light clashed with flames, the destructive power and imposing aura of the two figures leaving the savages utterly awestruck.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Countless savages gathered around, watching this godlike battle with fear in their eyes, finally understanding why even the Witch was willing to bow before him.
–Aarrrgh~!–
With a deafening, muffled explosion, the flame monster, which had boiled away much of the river water, shuddered violently, slumped down, and dissipated like fireworks.
As it died, Yang Zicang immediately rushed to the shore, grabbing without a word the beast hide casually draped over a savage and punching at it.
Thanks to the golden gale of Chronos that had permeated his earlier punch, the nightmare lurking within the beast hides had yet to fully surface.
–Phew, at least I’ve saved one tribe.–
After a flurry of work, turning thousands of beast hides into low-grade artifact templates brimmingwith eerie, unnatural energy, Yang Zicang finally had the chance to wade back into the water, where something was constantly emitting heat, boiling the river with gurgling bubbles.
Picking it up, he found it was a stone like blood jade.
Inside, a lava-like glow flowed slowly, with the faint, sinuous shadow of a wolf-headed flame centipede curled within.
[I have acquired a spiritual object mimicry module; it seems capable of devouring other demonic wraith spirits.]
Startled for a moment, Yang Zicang said, –So your ability is to devour your own kind. No wonder.–
He held the heat-radiating crystal in his hand, tossing it lightly as he stepped ashore. The primitive people gathered around him like worshipping a shaman.
–Stop squatting. From today, I will teach you a language.–
Yang Zicang smiled and said, –Get ready for a painful kindergarten class.–
At the same time, he silently recalled the storm-like punch from earlier, the energy running through him temporarily surfacing in his memory.
One hundred and twenty-one years later.
By the seaside, at a primitive settlement, several aged men fishing with nets saw the familiar figure arrive as promised.
He had said he would appear again when a comet streaked across the sky—and true to his word, that moment had come.
–Zang.–
A few elders, their speech slurred, gathered around him.
–No need to be formal,– Yang Zicang said gently, a broad iron sword strapped to his back, a warm smile on his face.
He turned his gaze to the sky. In the distant heavens, a small point of light trailed across the horizon.
The young man’s pace matched that of the comet as he crossed vast wilderness and distant mountains. In clan after clan he had once stayed, he destroyed every newly born evil wraith’s egg.
Over the years, I taught them simple language, showed them how to fend off wild beasts, how to fish, grow crops, fire pottery, drink clean water, and bandage wounds.
Just as the comet was about to reach the far end of the land, Yang Zicang arrived at the fire tribe.
Another batch of familiar faces had vanished; though a few elders still remembered him, Yang Zicang felt his ties here had largely worn thin.
After a brief exchange, amid the crowd’s reverent gaze, this man—his face unchanged for over a century—temporarily departed.
Accompanied by several chiefs, Yang Zicang made his way to their ancestors’ cave.
–This place was teeming with people sixty years ago, now a neglected memorial hall forgotten by all,– Yang Zicang remarked with a sigh.
Stepping into the spacious cave, though he’d dealt with them for nearly three sexagenarian cycles, this was truly his first time setting foot here.
His gaze swept over discarded grass and hide mats of all sizes, then drifted to the chaotic stone walls, where faint, crude lines marked the surface.
Walking step by step, Yang Zicang arrived at a corner hung with dust-laden beast skulls. Though long abandoned, an ancient sense of solemnity still lingered.
The rock paintings here showed a bit more structure in their strokes.
And then, upon this abandoned cave wall, he found his own likeness.
……
1,400 years later.
By the surging great river, Yang Zicang, clad in a coarse linen robe, ascended the summit beside the waterfall and gazed upon the mountains and the river.
Behind him, in a small clearing, stood thatched cottage.
His Chronos was left with only a thousand years or so.
After seeing increasingly simplified silhouette figures representing himself among several primitive tribes, Yang Zicang roughly deduced where what he was searching for lay.
It lay in the distant future.
Seven thousand Chronos was nowhere near enough.
[I must temporarily detach from the dream.]
Yang Zicang, clutching the radiant envelope, said to himself within his mind.
[I suspect, if I leave now, the next entry will come only when the comet departs once again.]
The envelope exuded a rotating vortex of consciousness, enveloping Yang Zicang in a dreamlike haze where everything around him grew surreal.
The profound wear of millennia of experience receded swiftly, compressing itself into his mind like luggage being folded and packed—the innumerable scenes once lived and the present intertwining in this very moment.
[This time, I can take one item with me.]
–Hmm?–
A certain image flickered.
……
–Hey there, woke up? Look, kid—I don’t even feel like cussing you out.–
A foul smell wafted over, still tolerable for now.
「How long did I sleep?」
The young man held his head as he stood up, while Robin Lo, who was barbecuing meat, leaned in with a skewer.
「Almost a whole day.」His eyes narrowed like a fox as he said, 「Did you go to the world of the Postal Emblem?」
「Yeah.」
Yang Zicang instinctively answered right away.
「Damn, if you worked a bit harder, you could piece together a full Postal Emblem just like that. What a pity, what a shame.」
Robin Lo shook his head gleefully, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
He deliberately tried to piss off that idiot, his mind still consumed by the Chronos Weapon that was snatched away yesterday. Whenever he thought about how the gun was right beside him but slipped through his fingers, Robin Lo felt like landing a few punches on the guy who had been sleeping like a dead pig.
Yang Zicang sensed the state of his body, finding it no different from before he fell asleep.
Although he had spent nearly 2,600 years in the dream, now that he was awake, he felt that experience was already turning illusory like a fleeting dream. Surprisingly, his personality hadn’t been damaged from that prolonged ordeal.
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