I Might Be a Big Shot — Chapter 54
Changkong Zhuoyu and Li Xinglun flew upward. At the valley floor, the Sacred Yao Spirit let out a long sigh, dispersing the ancient yao beasts that remained from the primordial era back into the white mist. Her divine sense spread into every corner of the Mystic Fog Yao Valley, watching the little yao live happily within it — and that was her happiness.
Once they rose into the sky, the white mist gathered again. Changkong Zhuoyu smacked his forehead and said, “Oh no, I forgot to ask the Sacred Yao Spirit about the white mist.”
Li Xinglun, however, was unconcerned. “We already know that you are the successor of Nüwa. The white mist must be a treasure unique to the successors of Nüwa. Even if we learned what this artifact is called, it wouldn’t matter much — haven’t you long since been able to wield it?”
“That’s true,” said Changkong Zhuoyu. “This identity as Nüwa’s successor doesn’t help me recall the past at all. What I care about isn’t what kind of heaven-defying artifact I possess. It’s just a name — it doesn’t matter.”
So the two of them didn’t bother to turn back and ask the Sacred Yao Spirit, but flew straight up.
Above the valley, nine yao elders craned their necks to watch, but only the Eight-tailed Fox still sat steadily on a rock, though his gaze remained fixed on the valley entrance.
The instant Changkong Zhuoyu and Li Xinglun emerged, the nine elders scuttled back into the shadows, hiding their bodies. But in that instant, it was enough for Changkong Zhuoyu to clearly see what they looked like.
They were all descendants of the ancient yao, but most were missing hooves or horns, looking ugly and shameful. Yet this did not damage their essence. The Sacred Yao Spirit cared deeply for the yao of the Mystic Fog Yao Valley. Even though these elders once coveted the Sacred Yao Spirit, she never truly harmed them.
After the two of them landed, the Eight-tailed Fox slowly rose and said, “The Mystic Fog Yao Valley’s barrier remains intact. It seems you are not the successor of Nüwa.”
For some reason, a faint sense of satisfaction rose in the Eight-tailed Fox’s heart.
He didn’t actually dislike Changkong Zhuoyu — this person was pure of heart and good-looking. The Green Hills fox clan had little resistance to good-looking humans with a scholarly air; they couldn’t help but like them. Otherwise, so many young foxes wouldn’t have run over and soak his tails with their tears. He just… found that inexplicable confidence of Changkong Zhuoyu rather annoying. He really wanted to see him crushed and crying.
The Eight-tailed Fox frowned slightly, not knowing why he would have such a strange thought.
“How could that be?” Changkong Zhuoyu revealed a smile that made the Eight-tailed Fox want to bite him. “I am naturally the successor of Nüwa, and I have received the inheritance. Didn’t you see the formation below already responding to me?”
“Then why…” The Eight-tailed Fox felt the spiritual energy of the Mystic Fog Yao Valley — the barrier showed no signs of being broken.
“Naturally because I also used the secret arts taught in the inheritance to maintain the Mystic Fog Yao Valley,” Changkong Zhuoyu said smugly, lifting his chin slightly. “I am the successor of Nüwa. The Mystic Fog Yao Valley is mine. How could I bear to let my own domain fall apart?”
“Nonsense!” an elder in the shadows shouted angrily. “How could the Mystic Fog Yao Valley belong to a mere human? Moreover, a human who gains the Sacred Yao Spirit will immediately become a yao god — great changes would occur. Yet nothing has happened, and your strength… heh, is mediocre.”
At the words “mere human,” Changkong Zhuoyu already began to frown. In his heart, he had always been a great figure — how could he tolerate the word ‘mere’? So he took out his fan, gently swaying it a few times, and said to the shadow: “This Elder… who is missing ten eyes… if you really think I’m just some small fry, you’re welcome to try.”
His eyes sparkled, as if saying, “Come on, fight me — I’ve been waiting since the moment I entered the Mystic Fog Yao Valley.”
Li Xinglun sighed helplessly. He had known that before coming to the Mystic Fog Yao Valley, Changkong Zhuoyu harbored the same idea as he did at Heaven-Shaking Peak — subdue the yao with strength. His master was not a warmonger, but wherever he went, he liked to show off his strength first. To Changkong Zhuoyu, strength was a good thing — and good things should be shown off, just like the fan Li Xinglun bought after painstakingly copying manuscripts for money. To Changkong Zhuoyu, it was a treasure worth flaunting.
Thinking of this, Li Xinglun’s lips curved slightly. He thought, never mind — whatever his master wanted to do, as his disciple, he could only give his full support. What else could he do?
So, before the elder missing ten eyes could erupt, Li Xinglun casually picked up a white bone and smashed it viciously into the cave above where the elder hid. Instantly, the mountain collapsed and the entire cave caved in. Amidst a miserable scream, the elder crawled out from the rocks, covered in dust, glaring viciously at Li Xinglun with his remaining four heads.
“Guiche?” Li Xinglun asked. {A many-headed bird-like creature, often considered a bad omen or a harbinger of calamity.}
Guiche, also called the Nine-Headed Bird, was one of the ten great ancient yao. The elder before them had only four heads left — clearly he had lost five heads and ten eyes.
“Not quite,” said the Eight-tailed Fox. “If he were truly an ancient yao saint, how could he have lost five heads in the valley? He’s just a descendant of Guiche, with only the form but not the substance. Losing five heads didn’t even weaken him much — who knows how those extra heads came about.”
“Eight-tailed Fox!!!” Guiche roared in fury. Among the ten elders, discord was common; exposing each other’s shortcomings was normal. But they usually avoided doing so in front of juniors and outsiders. Now the Eight-tailed Fox actually spoke of his weakness in front of Changkong Zhuoyu — this enraged Guiche.
The Eight-tailed Fox swept Guiche a cool glance. Even he didn’t know why, but he just found Changkong Zhuoyu more pleasing to the eye.
“Enough talk — isn’t it a fight you want?” Li Xinglun said to Guiche. “My master is no ordinary person — how can you expect him to make the first move at your say-so? If you wish to fight my master, you’ll have to get past me first.”
Changkong Zhuoyu was a little confused at first, but upon hearing Li Xinglun’s words, he immediately felt his disciple truly understood him. He was a great figure — how could he move at someone else’s whim? Of course he should be the grand finale.
But… Changkong Zhuoyu looked at Li Xinglun with concern. Even though Guiche had lost five heads, his strength was still at the Great Ascension stage. If Li Xinglun were at Soul Transformation stage, he might be able to challenge despite the difference in cultivation stages — but after a year of seclusion, he was still at the Nascent Soul stage, and the gap was simply too great.
Sensing his master’s worried gaze, Li Xinglun’s eyes softened noticeably. He turned to Changkong Zhuoyu and said, “Master, don’t worry. I feel I can fight a yao elder now. Besides, even if I’m defeated, you’re right here by my side, aren’t you?”
“Then… go ahead and try,” Changkong Zhuoyu said, keeping as stern a face as he could. “I’ll be right here.”
Just as Guiche was enraged by the attitude of this master and disciple and about to strike, another elder in the shadows said, “Hmph! A mere youngster dares to think of fighting us? You’re not qualified.”
Changkong Zhuoyu’s gaze fell on that shadow. If he remembered correctly, this elder resembled Shangyang. {A bird that dances on one leg to summon rain, often appearing as an omen of storms or floods.}
“What if I said I received a strand of Nüwa’s divine sense inheritance?” Li Xinglun said calmly. “The Sacred Yao Spirit holds decades of memories of the Mystic Fog Yao Valley. I know roughly how you maintain the forms of ancient yao saints — and I also know what your weaknesses are.”
These words instantly angered the elders — especially Guiche, still covered in dust from the rocks. He spread his wings in fury and lunged at Li Xinglun.
Guiche was originally ten-headed. After one head was bitten off by the Heavenly Dog, he became a yao, his dripping blood bringing calamity and his fallen feathers turning into a disastrous fire. As early as the ancient times, it was said that wherever Guiche’s blood fell, no grass would grow. His feathers became yao fire — anything it touched turned to ash.
Elder Guiche howled to the sky, spreading his wings. Crimson flames flared up, engulfing the entire valley, making Li Xinglun, holding nothing but a bone, appear especially small.
But under the might of heaven and earth, Li Xinglun leapt lightly. With a wave of the yao beast bone in his hand, the sparse divine power within the Mystic Fog Yao Valley gathered to him, forming a vortex of divine power around the bone.
The yao fire struck the divine power vortex — only to be absorbed by it. The flames, enough to incinerate the entire valley, couldn’t even penetrate the divine power vortex around Li Xinglun, not harming him in the slightest.
Changkong Zhuoyu watched Li Xinglun amidst the raging flames and finally understood why his disciple, who always stood behind him, had to make the first move now.
The Nüwa inheritance was originally meant for the successor of Nüwa. Countless people and yao coveted it, but in truth, apart from someone truly protected by Nüwa’s primordial soul, neither their divine soul nor their body could withstand this inheritance. Yet the yao elders didn’t know this, the would-be thieves of the Sacred Yao Spirit didn’t know this — and even the Sacred Yao Spirit herself didn’t know.
According to Nüwa’s design, the Hundred Flowers sect should have known. But since they would only choose the true successor of Nüwa, there was no need to speak of it. However, the Sacred Yao Spirit was unaware, and she gave part of the inheritance to Li Xinglun. Though it was only a very small part, even the divine sense of an ancient god was not something an ordinary person could bear.
Fortunately, Li Xinglun was a blood cultivator. His body and divine soul, reinforced by special blood markings, were far stronger than those of others. He forcibly withstood the impact of the divine power, spending an entire year in seclusion to merge that sliver of divine sense into his own soul. Yet this fusion was merely a forceful suppression — from the moment he awoke, Li Xinglun had likely been trying to absorb this ancient god’s consciousness that threatened to devour his soul. To fully merge with this divine sense, he had to immediately use the methods of divine power taught within it, turning it completely into his own — only then could he absorb this power.
This power wouldn’t raise his cultivation stage, but it would stabilize his divine soul, making it as strong as that of an ancient god. Whatever happened, he would never suffer total soul annihilation. Combined with the properties of a blood cultivator, once he succeeded in absorbing it, Li Xinglun would essentially become undying and indestructible. No one in the cultivation world could truly kill him.
{And here is our answer — Xue Qianjie must still be alive within the demon realm, waiting for Changkong Zhuoy to remember and for Li Xinglun to leave into the past.}
Having figured this out, though Changkong Zhuoyu still worried about his disciple, he held himself back from intervening, gazing at Li Xinglun in the flames with concern, secretly clenching his fist to cheer him on.
~ Chapter End ~
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