I Might Be a Big Shot — Chapter 53
Li Xinglun remained in seclusion for a full year this time — so long that Changkong Zhuoyu, standing guard over him, grew bored enough to become good friends with the Sacred Yao Spirit. During this period, Changkong Zhuoyu learned that the Sacred Yao Spirit could actually perceive everything within the Mystic Fog Yao Valley. She was connected to the barrier Nüwa had laid over the valley, and she had already known the moment they entered that they had opened the barrier with the Hundred Flowers sect’s token.
“In that case, why do you still insist that I’m not a descendant of Nüwa?” Changkong Zhuoyu asked.
The Sacred Yao Spirit fell silent.
Though she was only a wisp of divine thought, after millions of years, even a stone could gain spirit, let alone her — originally divine thought of an ancient god, harboring countless ancient divine cultivation methods. Surrounded by such a treasure trove, cultivating was far too easy. It might seem hard to understand how one could develop two entirely different thoughts, but it was simple. The divine thoughts of ancient gods were so strong that after splitting into myriad incarnations, each one became an independent personality, with different experiences and preferences — and these would eventually be reabsorbed by the ancient god as insights into the mortal world.
But the Sacred Yao Spirit was different. She was destined never to be reabsorbed by Nüwa. As long as she did not wish it, she could avoid being absorbed by anyone else.
“Didn’t Nüwa foresee this situation?” Changkong Zhuoyu asked. “The ancient gods should be meticulous — especially a god like Nüwa.”
“She did,” the Sacred Yao Spirit referred to Nüwa as ‘she.’ “If you came to me holding the token, as long as you obtained the token’s recognition, I would be forcibly absorbed.”
That she could say this to Changkong Zhuoyu meant she already completely trusted him — not a difficult thing. Changkong Zhuoyu was simply such a person. He wore his stubbornness on his face and clung to every identity he encountered as his own. He also loved to compare, always wanting to be the strongest in the world, inexplicably narcissistic and confident, even seeing himself as a savior. He had many flaws — even Li Xinglun had found him insufferable at first — but the longer one spent with him, the more one felt the ‘truth’ in him. He laid everything about himself bare before others, good and bad alike. The greatest impression he left was that rare quality in the human world today: authenticity.
He said he would not absorb the Sacred Yao Spirit — and no one doubted him.
Nüwa had indeed thought everything through, using both the token and the Sacred Yao Spirit as double safeguards to ensure her inheritance reached her descendant. Yet no one would have imagined that Changkong Zhuoyu would refuse even a godhood delivered to his hands. How many in the cultivation world could resist such an inheritance?
“It seems that as long as I gain the token’s recognition, then I am Nüwa’s descendant. But that’s just one identity — perhaps by bloodline or by spirit. Even knowing that’s just one of my identities, since I’ve never been to the Mystic Fog Yao Valley before, it means I didn’t know about it in the past. That doesn’t contradict my past, but what was my past before the bottom of the Soul-Breaking Gorge?” Changkong Zhuoyu mused aloud.
“I don’t know,” the Sacred Yao Spirit said. “But you do know the formation inheritance of the Jade Pool. Do you want to ask there?”
“Fine,” Changkong Zhuoyu sighed. “Ah, then let’s go to Kunlun first. It’s been almost two years since the Mount Shu conference — I wonder what’s happened outside.”
He sighed not out of worry for the mortal world — if the seal on the demon realm really opened, even here in the Mystic Fog Yao Valley they would sense it. He sighed because of something else.
Xue Qianjie had also visited the Hundred Flowers sect before and likely came into contact with the Twin Serpents back then. But two thousand years ago, the Twin Serpents hadn’t identified Xue Qianjie as a descendant of Nüwa — so he truly wasn’t Xue Qianjie.
Thinking of this, Changkong Zhuoyu couldn’t help but sigh again. He didn’t even know why, but ever since he first heard of Xue Qianjie’s deeds, he had liked that man, always hoping he was him. When he saw the faceless, lonely painting at the Hundred Flowers sect, a sour pity welled up in his heart — he thought it was just the excitement of seeing his own portrait. But no matter how hard he clung to that identity, Xue Qianjie still wasn’t him.
Changkong Zhuoyu’s chest tightened. He looked at his meditating disciple and thought: why hasn’t Li Xinglun come out yet? He really wanted to hug his disciple and cry a little. Though the disciple had grown taller and was no longer as cute as before, this height was really convenient for hugging now.
Perhaps sensing his master’s grievance, Li Xinglun opened his eyes just as Changkong Zhuoyu was staring at him. Very naturally, he reached out and hugged him, asking, “Master, what’s wrong? Feeling down?”
“I’m not Xue Qianjie,” Changkong Zhuoyu said gloomily.
Ah — this again. Li Xinglun took a deep breath, restrained himself, and said, “I’ve always believed master isn’t Xue Qianjie. Master is such a unique person — how could someone like Xue Qianjie compare?”
Hearing the first sentence, Changkong Zhuoyu became more dejected, but by the second, his expression eased. He wiped his eyes on Li Xinglun’s clothes and said, “But I must have had some connection to him in the past. When we get the chance, let’s learn more about him.”
Li Xinglun took several deep breaths, repeatedly telling himself not to argue with someone who had already left this world. Finally, he managed a forced smile: “Whatever master wants to do, your disciple will naturally accompany you.”
Only then did Changkong Zhuoyu brighten. He checked Li Xinglun’s cultivation and asked in surprise, “Eh? Disciple, why are you still at late-stage Nascent Soul? You’ve been in seclusion for a whole year.”
There were plenty of people who couldn’t advance even after a hundred years of seclusion — but Li Xinglun wasn’t one of them. Normally, he could advance several stages in three months. By Changkong Zhuoyu’s estimation, after a year and having acquired the divine cultivation method, he should already be at late-stage Soul Transformation or even Great Ascension. How could he still be at late-stage Nascent Soul?
Li Xinglun, however, wasn’t discouraged. He simply smiled and said, “This time in seclusion, though my cultivation didn’t advance, my state of mind was well tempered. And the divine cultivation method… how should I put it — it truly is different from the orthodox methods. I seem to understand now why the ancient gods left this world. The mortal world simply couldn’t contain so many warring ancient gods — they had to find a stronger place.”
Changkong Zhuoyu felt his disciple was different now — or perhaps simply different from most cultivators — but he still hadn’t fully stepped onto the divine path. He was still a cultivator. Who knew where this change came from?
“Master,” Li Xinglun suddenly said, “my progress may slow a bit from now on. I need to reorganize my cultivation methods and slow my pace. Before, I was too eager, hoping to reach Great Ascension quickly and ease master’s worries. But now… I’ve realized something different.”
“I’m already happy you feel that way,” Changkong Zhuoyu said warmly. “You don’t need to push yourself so hard. I still want to enjoy teaching my disciple a while longer.”
The master and disciple praised each other back and forth. At first the Sacred Yao Spirit listened seriously, but eventually she inexplicably felt a twinge of annoyance — she felt envious yet wished they would go far away. An ordinary person might have been more polite, but the Sacred Yao Spirit wasn’t weighed down by worldly concerns and directly said, “Shouldn’t you two be heading to the Jade Pool?”
Faced with her clear attempt to send them off, Changkong Zhuoyu wasn’t angry. Instead, he nodded and said, “Then we won’t trouble you further. About the human calamity…”
“Don’t worry,” the Sacred Yao Spirit still had a strong sense of the bigger picture regarding this. “In the inheritance Nüwa left me, there are descriptions of the human calamity. Once the seal of the demon realm breaks down, the Mystic Fog Yao Valley won’t be able to remain uninvolved. At that time, everyone here will step forward. I’ll also work to make that Eight-tailed Fox into a Nine-Tails, strong enough to barely open the Map of Mountains and Rivers.”
“Map of Mountains and Rivers?” Changkong Zhuoyu and Li Xinglun spoke in unison — that was an ancient divine artifact.
The Sacred Yao Spirit’s voice wavered, but she continued: “Yes, the Map of Mountains and Rivers. Did you not know that the Mystic Fog Yao Valley is part of it? Nüwa, with the Queen Mother of the West’s help, forcibly fixed a fragment of the Primodial Wilderness into the Map. Using the artifact’s and formation’s power, the Mystic Fog Yao Valley has existed in an independent space all these years. Once you inherit it, the Map will pass into your hands, and the Mystic Fog Yao Valley will merge back into the mortal world, never again able to remain independent.”
However, if the Map fell into the hands of the untainted Eight-tailed Fox, who resided in the valley, it could be hidden away in a corner of the Map after the catastrophe passed — allowing the Mystic Fog Yao Valley to survive.
“I see.” Changkong Zhuoyu nodded.
At this moment he understood — Nüwa’s inheritance was ultimately about the Map of Mountains and Rivers, one of the Nine Divine Artifacts, used to counter the human calamity.
So far, the three major sects each had one divine artifact, Heaven-Shaking Peak had three, and now the Mystic Fog Yao Valley had one. That left two — likely in the Jade Pool or among the Buddhists.
The Kunlun divine formation had been broken — who knew whether that artifact still existed? The Jade Pool was said to lie just beyond Kunlun’s rear mountains — it seemed they had to go to Kunlun now.
Changkong Zhuoyu nodded to the Sacred Yao Spirit. “Thank you for your help. I’ll tell only the Eight-tailed Fox about your matter — the other nine elders won’t know.”
This would best protect the Sacred Yao Spirit and allow her to continue living in the Mystic Fog Yao Valley, guarding this world.
“I…” The Sacred Yao Spirit spoke haltingly, “…thank you both.”
As her grateful voice faded, Changkong Zhuoyu had already dispersed the white mist and, pulling Li Xinglun along, lightly flew up to the top of the valley.
The white mist once again shielded the Sacred Yao Spirit — this time, no one would know she existed.
~ Chapter End ~
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