Chapter 228
Chapter 228
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 228
Chapter Title: A'zhuo, Entering the Mortal World
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The bee insects hoisted the Scruffy Daoist upside down—what they meant by upside down was binding his hands and feet behind his back, threading a pole through them, and lifting him up so his face and belly faced downward.
The Scruffy Daoist's face and body were covered in venomous stingers. Hanging upside down in flight kept the stingers from touching the bees.
But lowering him would inevitably drive the stingers even deeper.
This supreme expert of the Mahayana Realm had fallen most unjustly. He hadn't even had a chance to unleash his skills before the poison took him down, captured by the yin soldiers of the Bee Mansion.
His abilities were formidable, his cultivation profound beyond measure—otherwise, he wouldn't have been so calm facing A'zhuo, the yin commander.
But he never could have imagined the poison bees' stingers would be this vicious!
These poison bees, perhaps yin realm creatures, pierced past both physical body and nascent soul defenses. The toxin that paralyzed the nascent soul was simply too potent!
Chen Shi marveled inwardly. A single misstep, and even a Mahayana Realm existence could tumble hard.
A'zhuo summoned a Bee Official and commanded:
"Escort Xue the Daoist back to the yin realm first. Destroy his physical body, seal his nascent soul, and await my judgment upon my return."
The Bee Official acknowledged the order and departed with numerous bee insects.
A'zhuo approached the pigsty, where five pigs lay inside—three large, two small.
He muttered incantations and blew a breath. The five pigs transformed into five prostrate humans, filthy and caked in grime.
These five were none other than Shi Jingming's family, turned into swine by the Scruffy Daoist's spell. Now freed, they wept loudly and kowtowed to A'zhuo.
"You have six in your household. Where is the other one?" A'zhuo inquired.
Shi Jingming sobbed:
"My father was led to the market by the fiendish Daoist and sold!"
A'zhuo summoned a Bee Official and instructed it to investigate Shi the father's whereabouts.
"If the butcher hasn't swung his knife yet, there's still hope."
The Bee Official flew off.
After a short half-hour, it returned.
"The meat has already been sold."
A'zhuo said to Shi Jingming:
"I cannot save your father. I am powerless in this."
"Speak not a word of my affairs to others, lest you squander your yin virtue and summon ghosts and gods to judge you."
Shi Jingming and his family, old and young alike, were overwhelmed with gratitude and swore never to breathe a word.
A'zhuo did not revert to his Yin Cao Bee Commander form. Still appearing as the honest beekeeper, he departed the village with his bee cart.
Chen Shi followed, asking:
"Uncle A'zhuo, where are we headed?"
"Home," A'zhuo grinned.
Chen Shi froze. Home?
Could a yin commander in the yang realm have a home?
The old ox pulling the bee cart was two Bee Officials in disguise, moving at a decent clip. They crossed mountains and ridges, arriving by afternoon at a village beside a lotus pond. The village hugged the Great South Lake, ancient and picturesque, with a river threading through it into the lake.
The bee cart rumbled over a stone bridge. Several elders cooling off under a tree at the bridgehead fanned themselves while scrutinizing A'zhuo, their faces lighting up with surprise and delight.
"A'zhuo's back!"
"Aunt Qu, Uncle Yuan, Big Uncle—I'm home!" A'zhuo laughed.
Chen Shi watched them chatting at the bridgehead. The scene felt bizarre yet warmly touching.
A'zhuo was plainly a top-tier cultivator of the age, a yin commander to boot. Not long ago, he'd even led yin soldiers to besiege Xue the Daoist, a Mahayana Realm master who had escaped life and death!
Yet now, he was just like any ordinary fellow, heading home, running into villagers,
Chatting about family matters!
His big uncle chuckled:
"A'zhuo, don't block the bridge—hurry home. Your wife and kids have been waiting for you!"
A'zhuo gave a bashful smile, crossed the bridge with the bee cart, and followed the riverbank path homeward.
He seemed every bit the typical villager who'd ventured out to make his way, returning after a long absence. He greeted every villager he met, making small talk, his demeanor somewhat shy.
The villagers were curious about Chen Shi's origins.
A'zhuo explained:
"Hired a little helper. Wants to learn beekeeping."
Chen Shi greeted the villagers.
"What a clever, sensible lad!" they praised.
"Hmph. If I pulled out my provincial exam graduate status to bully you lot,"
Chen Shi mused. Even a yin commander lived as an ordinary man—his own title as a provincial graduate was hardly worth flaunting. He continued playing the everyman.
A'zhuo reached his home and pushed open the courtyard gate.
A diligent woman in her forties bustled inside. Her hair was coiled with a dyed silk ribbon. She carried a winnowing basket, scattering shriveled rice grains to feed the chickens. Spotting him enter, her eyes lit up with shock and joy.
She set down the basket and rushed over. Hesitating briefly at the sight of Chen Shi beside him, she came anyway, embracing A'zhuo and jumping with excitement, laughing wildly. Then, remembering something, she called back loudly:
"Qiao Wei, Qiao Hu—your dad's home! Come out already!"
Clanging sounds came from the main hall. Two boys a few years younger than Chen Shi burst out, leaping at A'zhuo.
A'zhuo roared with laughter, scooping one in each arm. He tickled their faces with his beard, sending them into peals of giggles.
"A'Ying, I earned some money beekeeping on this trip."
After roughhousing a bit, A'zhuo set the boys down, pulled out a money pouch, and tossed it to the woman.
He grinned:
"Should be enough for the household."
A'Ying pocketed the money and eyed Chen Shi suspiciously.
"Auntie."
Chen Shi bowed to A'Ying.
"I'm Chen Shi, from Huangpo Village on Qianyang Mountain."
A'Ying grew wary:
"You're a Chen. Any relation to that old Chen head?"
Chen Shi replied:
"Chen Zhidu was my grandfather."
A'Ying snorted, warming to him even less.
"Your grandpa was no good—full of mischief. He'd drag my A'zhuo into trouble all the time. They'd be gone months at a stretch, coming back beat to hell sometimes.
"And a few other shady types—Du Yiran, Hu Xiaoliang..."
Chen Shi said somberly:
"My grandfather has passed away."
A'Ying fell silent, then after a moment:
"Dead? Then I won't speak ill of him.
"But your grandpa... never mind."
Chen Shi flushed awkwardly.
A'Ying said:
"It's the old generation's sins, not yours. Don't take it to heart.
"You two haven't eaten yet? I'll whip up some dishes.
"A'zhuo, come help with the fire."
The couple bustled off. With a free moment, Chen Shi took out the Judge's Dragon Whisker Brush and examined it closely.
An ordinary brush was just a shaft with wolf hair tip. This one was slightly larger, its tip not wolf hair but dragon whiskers, seeming to hold extraordinary power.
"Does this brush dictate life and death?"
Chen Shi enshrined the Judge's Brush, lit incense, and watched the smoke curl into it—clearly one with the ritual.
He took out the Nether Spring Wandering Dragon Sword and offered it incense as well.
This was sacrifice.
Sacrifice awakened the spirit in treasures.
Beyond sacrifice, there was refinement.
Refinement nourished treasures with one's own vital blood, nurturing their spirituality and amplifying their might.
Chen Shi studied the two treasures intently. The Judge's Brush was dragon whiskers; the Wandering Dragon Sword had absorbed the dragon qi of mountains. Each excelled in its way.
But all told, the Judge's Brush held greater power, with stranger uses.
The Wandering Dragon Sword's functions were simpler.
"Regardless, this treasure was promised to Lord Wuwang.
"No matter how fine, it must go to him."
Once both had absorbed the incense smoke, Chen Shi sacrificed to the Wandering Dragon Sword and Dragon Whisker Brush, placing them in his little temple.
Suddenly, a thought stirred:
"If I can use Stone Islet Lady as a divine embryo for my cultivation, could I use the Wandering Dragon Sword or Dragon Whisker Brush as one?"
He tried channeling the Eight Extremes Golden Vault Divine Chapter. The eight golden gates manifested, but the treasures didn't enter the divine shrine. Though spirited, they fell short of divine embryo status.
A'Ying finished cooking and called them to eat.
Chen Shi sat down. A'Ying piled food onto his plate, ever attentive, and smiled.
"Dear nephew, what you were refining just now—was that a technique? Are you a cultivator? Could you teach A'zhuo? Don't let your Uncle Zhuo's clumsiness fool you—he's sharp as a tack! Picks up anything first try.
"Teach him! Teach him! Auntie will cook you treats!"
Chen Shi stared in astonishment, chopsticks dangling from his mouth as he looked to A'zhuo.
A'Ying clearly had no idea her husband was one of the world's mightiest cultivators—a yin commander no less.
A'zhuo said:
"I'm too old to learn.
"A'Ying, quit fussing."
A'Ying smiled again:
"Could you teach Little Wei and Little Hu then? Private school costs a fortune—we might not afford it."
Chen Shi hesitated, then said:
"I've never been to private school myself, but I can teach."
A'zhuo cut him off:
"A'Ying, enough. Eat first.
"Little Ten's just here to visit me. He'll head back in a couple days—can't stay long."
A'Ying sighed regretfully.
After the meal, she smiled:
"Dear nephew, take Little Wei and Little Hu out to play. Your uncle and I have business this afternoon. Don't come back till the sun's nearly set."
Chen Shi nodded:
"Sure!"
With that, he took the boys out.
Qiao Wei and Qiao Hu were young but sturdy and full of vim—tigerish lads.
Chen Shi led them bird-nesting, mud-eeling, fish-grabbing, even scrapping with village kids. The boys still weren't tuckered.
With time to spare, Chen Shi scouted the village outskirts, then had Qiao Wei and Qiao Hu dig mud in a stream ditch, piling a dam to cut off a stretch, planning to bail it dry and snag fish.
The three were hard at it when several oddly dressed folk passed the ditch and paused, asking those in the ditch:
"Little benefactor, have you seen a big dog like this or a child like this in recent days?"
Chen Shi and the boys were splashing away, mud-smeared head to toe. They looked up to see one holding a drawing of a massive hound wreathed in roiling demonic fire and thick smoke.
Another held a drawing of Chen Shi himself!
Chen Shi's heart skipped:
"The original owners of the Wandering Dragon Sword— they've tracked me down!"
He was about to speak when Qiao Hu and Qiao Wei shook their heads in unison:
"Nope, never seen 'em."
The strangely clad group nodded and headed toward the village.
Once they were out of sight, Qiao Hu and Qiao Wei urged:
"Big Bro Little Ten, run! They're here to settle scores. Too late if you wait!"
Chen Shi laughed:
"How'd you know they're after me?"
"Mom said Dad and your grandpa used to stir trouble outside. Officials would come around with wanted posters."
Chen Shi lightly raised a hand. The ditch water rose on its own, dumping into the far side of the dam. Nothing left but flopping fish. He grinned:
"Grab 'em quick.
"Then home we go.
"These folks are my creditors. I'll wash up by the river and meet 'em."
The boys scrambled for fish. Once done, Chen Shi walked them over the bridge, rinsed their bodies and muddy faces beneath it, then sat under the tree on the bridge.
Sure enough, the odd group hurried back—likely having heard in the village that the portrait match was there, so rushing to the ditch.
Chen Shi stood, smiling:
"Friends, no need to search. I've been waiting here awhile."
The five sized up Chen Shi's features. One vaulted back, retreating a hundred zhang in an instant to the Great South Lake's surface. His foot stomped—crack!—and lake water swirled up like a living water dragon!
Another leaped like flight, bounding six or seven zhang per step, landing dozens away atop a house ridge, legs coiled for launch.
His divine shrine lit behind his head. Nascent soul emerged, technique whirring. Vital blood gathered at his flanks, sprouting six arms that plucked talisman swords from the shrine. The blades bore multicolored talismans, thunder arts dominant—immense power.
Two more dashed past Chen Shi's flank, halting over a hundred zhang out. One raised a hand, lifting the other aloft via spellwork to overlook from above.
One high, one low, each summoned talisman soldiers.
The lower one's flew from his shrine, a howling spinning wheel—hollow center, outer ring bladed, inner sawtoothed. Talismans ignited with a whoosh, bursting into ferocious flames.
The upper one's were over a hundred flying needles arrayed in a ring, tips aimed downward at Chen Shi.
The fifth stood firm before Chen Shi, unmoving. Yet a spirit flew from his shrine too—a divine embryo enthroned, nascent soul cradled in its palm.
All five were Nascent Soul Realm experts. In a blink, their encirclement was set.
Chen Shi's eyes gleamed appreciatively.
"Fine skills, brothers all! This ambush formation must've been drilled countless times.
"But don't misunderstand—I stopped you not to fight, but to return your treasure."
His little temple floated behind his head.
Chen Shi had enshrined both Judge's Dragon Whisker Brush and Wandering Dragon Sword there, tempering them with his vital blood.
Reluctant though he was, the Wandering Dragon Sword was their hard-won prize. Return it he must.
The man facing Chen Shi dressed as a fortune-teller. Surprise flickered at the little temple, but seeing the Wandering Dragon Sword fly out, he dismissed it with a smile, stroking his beard.
"Prudent as a true hero, little brother.
"But you've robbed the Moving Mountain Sect's treasure, offended the Moving Mountain Sect. Think returning a sword ends it? How naive..."
Chen Shi frowned slightly:
"What sect are you from?"
The fortune-teller chuckled:
"Moving Mountain Sect."
Chen Shi gripped the Wandering Dragon Sword, tilting the blade faintly, and said coolly:
"So you're with the Young Master?—"