Chapter 23: Dancing on the Devil’s Crown

A grand ritual commenced. At that time, the shaman still appeared immature, while the Bamboo Tribe flourished, seemingly even more powerful than it is now. Of course, that was a different era. The Bamboo Tribe as Ye Chen saw it had already suffered grievous losses; in its prime, it would have been formidable indeed.

What Ye Chen inherited now was a veritable mess: barely a hundred people, most of them aged or infirm. Restoring vitality to such a tribe would not be easy. Yet Ye Chen had no room to pick and choose—were the circumstances not so dire, he would hardly have had the chance to seize control of the Bamboo Tribe at all.

The sheer number of people in the tribe was of little direct consequence to him, but in such numbers, the power of their faith and offerings would have been far greater, and the overall strength of the tribe's totems would have been on another level entirely. Even a dying camel is larger than a horse; this comparison made it clear just how weak Ye Chen’s current situation was.

He lacked confidence. If he ventured elsewhere, he might well face the same desperate beginnings. Unless absolutely necessary, Ye Chen had no intention of abandoning the Bamboo Tribe. For that very reason, he needed to address every hidden danger, ensuring internal stability before turning his mind to external threats.

The rolling waves of incense and faith suffused the air, prompting the spiritual bamboo to leap to a higher realm, awakening its own sentience. The spiritual bamboo paused, glancing at a butterfly riding atop one of its branches. Bathed in radiant light, the butterfly also underwent a transformation, breaking through the shackles of its existence and becoming a totem as well.

How outrageous! A thief stealing the power of faith—how brazen! Who did it think it was? The spiritual bamboo, incensed, prepared to strike down the butterfly.

Ye Chen sensed this and understood, “Even though I only trimmed the shaman’s memories, everything that followed evolved naturally. Still, must conflict with the spiritual bamboo arise?”

That had not been Ye Chen’s intent. In the shaman’s heart, the spiritual bamboo clearly held far more weight.

He had not planned to create discord between the shaman and the bamboo, hoping instead to test the shaman’s choices. Time is most mysterious; over countless days and nights, emotions settle and become habit, leaving an indelible impression that endures. As long as the shaman grew fully accustomed to the butterfly’s presence, its existence would become as natural as breathing—impossible to relinquish.

Ye Chen no longer hoped to supplant the spiritual bamboo in the shaman’s heart. He certainly envied the bond between the two—utter loyalty, a companion that could be used without fear of betrayal. But such devotion was rare; Ye Chen only needed to secure a place for himself in the shaman’s affections.

With their bond still shallow, how could he allow conflict with the bamboo? That would be courting disaster—the loss of all he had worked for.

“This won’t do; a mere figment of memory, yet it dares to cause trouble.”

Ye Chen chuckled softly. With a single thought, the spiritual bamboo’s aggressive actions froze; what had been a violent attack now became a gentle caress, turning into playful teasing.

The shaman breathed a sigh of relief, having worried that discord might break out between the bamboo and the butterfly. The scene seemed strangely familiar—surely it was just an illusion, a trick of the mind.

A hum resounded.

Ye Chen summoned his divine power, exposing the golden bamboo seed the shaman had hidden away. The seed hovered in the void, shimmering as it tried desperately to escape, but there was nowhere to run.

“So it was you causing mischief,” Ye Chen sighed. He had not forgotten the golden seed; it possibly concealed some final gambit of the spiritual bamboo.

By tampering with the shaman’s memories, Ye Chen had affected the bamboo’s interests, and the golden seed was clearly unwilling to accept this. Yet with the spiritual bamboo destroyed, any intelligence within the seed was gone.

For now, the golden seed acted on instinct alone. Otherwise, it would have hidden itself and never dared to reveal its presence—that truly would have been inviting disaster.

Had the seed not acted up, Ye Chen would not have intervened so quickly. The bamboo was dead; a leftover seed posed little threat. Only if it fully matured before Ye Chen had grown strong enough would it become dangerous—by then, he might as well bash his head against a wall.

Ye Chen poured streams of divine power into the seed. The seed resisted with all its might, but to no avail. As the power scoured it, wisps of golden mist emerged, gathering in the air to form a lifelike bamboo stalk.

The newly formed bamboo, terrified, flailed its branches as if in a fit, trying to escape.

But Ye Chen was merciless. With a sweep of his power, he conjured divine flames and reduced the bamboo to ash.

The golden seed quieted. After some thought, Ye Chen decided not to take it away, returning it to its original place instead.

The golden seed was, in truth, quite valuable—it could be planted, and with time, might once again bear sentience. But that future bamboo would not be the same as the present one.

For Ye Chen, it held little allure. Better not to snatch away all the shaman’s hopes and invite further complications.

The shaman’s memories continued to twist. The changes made at the initial juncture set off a chain reaction, so that in the shaman’s past, the butterfly was now a companion beside the spiritual bamboo.

At first, the bond between shaman and butterfly was shallow, but once the butterfly became a totem and escaped the seven-day limit, it perched daily on the bamboo’s branches, sharing in the tribe’s rituals.

The people of the Bamboo Tribe welcomed this—so long as the spiritual bamboo did not object, the more totems, the better.

With the endless influx of faith and incense, both the bamboo and the butterfly gradually became extraordinary.

It would be more fitting to call this a fabricated dream than a mere distortion of memory.

As time passed, at some indeterminate point, distance grew between the bamboo and the butterfly.

There was no helping it—Ye Chen had to twist the shaman’s memories thus; otherwise, the eventual confrontation between bamboo and butterfly would lack any logical foundation.

After all, if the two had always been close, a sudden falling out would require explanation.

“This part can’t be altered too much. Let there simply be a gradual growth of discord. The more I meddle, the more obvious the changes, and the more likely the shaman’s subconscious will notice.”

He had already failed once before and had no wish to repeat the effort in vain.

“It’s just that my strength is insufficient—I cannot act with total impunity.”

Ye Chen sensed that the pruned memory was still somewhat awkward. If the shaman dwelled on it, she might notice something amiss.

Still, he wasn’t overly concerned. Under normal circumstances, who would ever suspect their own memories had been tampered with?

Having altered the shaman’s recollections, Ye Chen made sure to trim away all mention of Dream Butterfly. He could not risk the shaman suddenly having a flash of insight and realizing the truth—that would be disastrous.

Aside from Dream Butterfly, it would be hard for her to deduce, out of thin air, that her memories had been manipulated.

Ye Chen had invested so much effort; he did not want to end up at odds with the shaman all the same.

When all the divine powers cloaking the shaman finally dissipated, Ye Chen lowered his gaze, studying her carefully. Everything that needed to be done was done—he could only hope nothing would go awry.