Chapter 213: The Painting
Chapter 213: The Painting
Ye Chen landed on the ground. When his palm touched the earth, a mysterious force spread through his hand.
The ground softened like mud. An enormous arm burst from the soil, palm upturned to catch all attacks from the Fighting Sovereign Elder. Another colossal hand clawed its way out of the softened earth.
The head of a primeval Ancient Deity emerged from below.
Bloodline-induced pressure crushed everyone present, leaving them gasping for air.
“This power…”
The Fighting Sovereign Elder’s face paled. While he could handle the giant hands earlier, this Ancient Deity filled him with dread. How could mere nails resist such horror, even if he were made of iron? Worse still, only the monster’s head and hands had surfaced—if its full body emerged, wouldn’t its form tower over the entire northwest?
“This exceeds my capabilities. I must return to the capital! Only the Fighting Saints or our ancestor can handle this!”
Without hesitation, the elder abandoned Xia Bochang’s group and fled.
“My lord! Save me!”
Xia Bochang never imagined the boy he’d once hunted would become this monstrous. The general screamed at the retreating elder, but the Fighting Sovereign could barely save himself, let alone others.
Ye Chen didn’t pursue. Instead, he drew a white scroll from his sleeve and unfurled it.
“All this… is but a painting.”
“Where will you flee?”
The world seemed to obey his words. The escaping elder, the screaming Xia Bochang, and the half-emerged Ancient Deity froze. Their forms flattened as if pressed by invisible forces, bleeding ink colors onto the parchment…
Truth revealed—Xia Bochang’s group had never truly entered the northwest.
Ye Chen had tricked them into this painted realm for their battle. Not a blade of grass was harmed in the real world.
Rain poured down, drenching Ye Chen.
He rolled up the scroll, conjured a straw hat from emptiness, and vanished into the downpour. His return had only been to aid A Qing’s group. With matters settled, he resumed pursuing his own ‘Way’.
Thus concluded the earth-shaking battle.
The Way of the Immortals announced itself to the world through a Fighting Sovereign’s death—far more impactful than the bloodline cultivator rumors years prior. Escaping a Fighting King paled before slaying a nine-star Fighting Sovereign alongside multiple Fighting Zong and Fighting Kings.
Mountain peak.
Lin Zhenbei, northwest’s overlord, witnessed everything.
In his vision, Xia Bochang’s group had walked like sleepwalkers into Ye Chen’s blank scroll. Ink landscapes bloomed, swallowing the Divine Dynasty experts whole. The entire process chilled the soul.
“Is this the true Way of the Immortals?”
“Terrifying beyond words.”
Lin Zhenbei touched his chest where A Qing’s insect resided—the sole reason he still lived.
“A nine-star Fighting Sovereign! Such power shouldn’t exist!”
Nearby stood Lin Dong, transformed from years past. Once the northwest’s chosen son, he’d absorbed scattered fortunes after Zuo Meng altered his fate, now reaching Fighting King tier. Normal fighters required decades to reach this—Lin Dong defied reason even after having his destiny changed. Had fate run true, he might’ve surpassed his father as a Fighting Zong by now.
“What occupies Lin Castle’s master?”
As they spoke, a jade-green insect burrowed up. Soil coalesced around it, forming a humanoid figure.
Insect King A Qing!
So the herders named her.
“Miss A Qing.”
Lin Zhenbei maintained caution. Her eerie methods frightened him more than A Mu’s directness or Ye Chen’s detachment.
“Brother said Ye Chen handled things, but I doubted… Yet here’s proof.” Though third-stage like her peers, A Qing’s cultivation lagged behind Ye Chen and A Mu’s. But to Lin Zhenbei, all three remained fathomless—Fighting Emperor strength offered no comfort here.
“Brother Ye grows stronger still.”
A Qing inhaled lingering energy, then sighed.
“But the trouble’s resolved.”
“Temporarily. The Divine Dynasty won’t relent.”
Lin Zhenbei’s eyes darkened. Unlike hedging noble clans, Lin Family Castle was all-in with Ye Chen’s faction—their life and death no longer theirs to command. Victory brought survival; defeat meant annihilation.
“Worry not, Castle Lord.”
A Qing pierced his thoughts.
“We chase the Way of the Immortals. True cultivators seek immortality. Achieve that, and none in this world can touch us.”
Such was the Wordless Heavenly Book’s influence—Zuo Meng’s creation steered minds toward his creator perspective. Deeper cultivation eroded worldly desires, culminating in severed attachments and pure transcendence.
“Immortality? Even Fighting Emperors die.”
Lin Zhenbei voiced skepticism.
“Have your son walk our path. With his gifts, he’ll soon reach my level.” A Qing’s true purpose surfaced—to claim Lin Dong, this child of destiny with overwhelming fortune.
At third stage, she perceived fortune’s flow.
Ye Chen harnessed faith. A Mu tapped world-memory. She’d wield mortal fortunes.
Post third-stage, all forged unique paths—A Qing’s recent epiphany.