Chapter 36: A Failed Scheme Backfires

From Ebony’s memories, Ye Chen gleaned a wealth of valuable information. For instance, the Cuckoo Tribe was also at the end of its rope. On reflection, this was hardly surprising—if the Bamboo Tribe had suffered so miserably, how could the Cuckoo Tribe fare much better?

It was truly a case of mutual destruction, with no victor to be found; both hovered at the brink of ruin.

A reckless impulse stirred within Ye Chen—should he simply seize the moment and launch a surprise attack against the Cuckoo Tribe? But after a brief consideration, his blood cooled. This was best left as a fleeting thought. Too many variables threatened disaster, and Ye Chen was cautious by nature. While Ebony’s memories were useful, they hardly offered a complete understanding of the Cuckoo Tribe.

Ye Chen never underestimated his opponents. The Cuckoo Tribe had its own schemes—sending Ebony to undermine the Bamboo Tribe—but could they truly have failed to anticipate the possibility of failure?

Better to bide his time, he decided, and repay his enmity in the future. It might lack the thrill of immediate vengeance, but Ye Chen had no intention of stumbling into a pitfall.

More importantly, if it came down to who could recover their strength first, Ye Chen was confident he would outpace the Cuckoo Tribe.

“Where is this?” Fang awoke with a shudder, nearly scared out of his wits. How had he ended up outdoors after a single sleep?

A wild boar’s grunting made Fang’s face blanch. The beast was cloaked in black miasma, its flesh torn open to reveal bare white bone.

The air around him was icy cold. Terrified, Fang scrambled desperately back toward the tribe.

Crash!

Fortunately, the tribe reacted swiftly—numerous bamboo blades slashed down in an instant.

Fang twisted aside and rolled on the ground, narrowly avoiding the blades. What was going on? It was one thing to kill a wild boar, but did they mean to kill him as well?

A chill settled in Fang’s heart, and only now did realization dawn. Staring at his clansmen, his eyes widened in disbelief.

“How is this possible? You were all supposed to be dead.”

Fang stood dumbstruck. At that moment, the chieftain’s cold voice rang out.

“You’re utterly useless—frightened senseless by a single wild boar.”

The chieftain stared at Fang with undisguised disdain. The earlier annihilation of the tribe’s able-bodied men had not escaped his notice.

Though the chieftain resided in the illusory realm, Ye Chen had not concealed from him what had transpired outside.

“Chieftain, what is happening?” Fang still had no idea, but the chieftain offered no further explanation, nor would he betray even the slightest secret of Ye Chen.

After all, no one could best Ye Chen. If the chieftain showed even a hint of defiance, he would pay dearly for it—not to mention, the chieftain was astute enough to recognize the situation.

“In this place, you cannot truly die. If you lack courage, then die a few more times and see if that helps,” the chieftain said indifferently, then ignored Fang altogether.

He understood Ye Chen’s intentions perfectly: this was a training ground. The timid would be forged into the brave, the reckless would be made to think, and the stubborn would learn to be more cunning.

Otherwise, they would suffer here.

The wild boar was no ordinary creature—Ye Chen had thrown this monstrous beast into the mix to see how his people would fare in battle.

Lest Wu grow bored, Ye Chen shared his vision with him, allowing Wu to witness the events unfolding in the illusory realm.

Wu watched in astonishment, gaining a deeper appreciation for Ye Chen’s methods.

“No wonder the Spirit Bamboo was defeated in the end.”

Wu muttered to himself, emotions stirring as he saw many clansmen long dead alive once more.

“Can those who died truly come back?” Wu’s face brimmed with hope.

Ye Chen shook his head. “I’m afraid not. These clansmen are but constructs, shaped from your memories—not the real thing.”

“But,” he added, “to say they are entirely false is not quite accurate, either.”

Seeing Wu’s crestfallen expression, Ye Chen explained, “A person dies three times: once when their lifespan ends, once when they are buried and no longer belong to this world, and once when they are forgotten by all. So, the figures shaped from your memories cannot be said to have no connection to the real people.”

Wu nodded silently, eyes fixed on the evolving situation within the illusory realm.

The monstrous wild boar was ferocious, its crimson eyes gleaming as it slew many people in quick succession.

Wu grew anxious—even if they were mere phantoms, the sight of his clansmen slaughtered was painful to witness.

But worry was futile; Ye Chen intended to use the beast to temper his people.

The wild boar was a formidable foe, but not invincible. In reality, such a creature, existing halfway between illusion and substance, would be nearly impossible for mortals to overcome. But within the illusory realm, Ye Chen’s authority was absolute. He laid down strictures that rendered the beast’s movements predictable, giving it exploitable weaknesses.

After all, Ye Chen didn’t mean for the boar to be completely unbeatable—this was training, not slaughter for sport.

“Is Ebony dead?” Wu noticed that even members of the Cuckoo Tribe were fighting the beast. This was not out of any desire to save the Bamboo Tribe, but because once the Bamboo Tribe fell, the Cuckoo Tribe couldn’t survive alone either.

“No,” Ye Chen replied coolly. “Killing him would be a waste. He still has some use.”

Ye Chen considered twisting Ebony’s consciousness—if he could turn Ebony into a loyal servant, so much the better. Though the chances were slim, it was worth a try. At worst, he could reduce Ebony to a simpleton, which was no great loss. But there was no need to tell Wu this; should he become suspicious of inconsistencies in his own memories and piece together the truth, Ye Chen would be left spitting blood in frustration.

Though unlikely, it was best not to court trouble needlessly.

Ye Chen carefully combed through Ebony’s memories, searching for an opening. It was no easy task.

“The Cuckoo Tribe’s totems have all been fed to the White Bone Medallion, devoured completely. Clearly, I can’t usurp the totem’s place within Ebony’s mind.”

“That leaves only brute force—a direct editing of Ebony’s memories.”

A glimmer flashed in Ye Chen’s eyes. “Ah? Once, during a hunt, he survived a deadly fall by sheer luck?”

Ye Chen was startled. “Survived a cliff fall? And lived? Is he fated to be the protagonist?”

He did not believe in destiny’s chosen heroes, but some people truly did seem blessed with extraordinary fortune.

Ebony appeared to be one such person. If events had followed their natural course—without Ye Chen’s interference—Ebony might well have succeeded in the end.

Of course, it was only a possibility. Without Ye Chen, there was still Spirit Bamboo, who was by no means powerless. Within the tribe, Spirit Bamboo was Ye Chen’s equal, and Ebony might still have failed, losing everything in his attempt.

Fortune is not omnipotent. Some calamities are simply inescapable.