Chapter 43: Who Dares to Usurp Heaven’s Lifespan

Bones reduced to ash triggered unimaginable changes.
As the dust dissipated, radiant currents began to swirl, glimmering like sunlight on water, activating some mysterious mechanism.

A thunderous boom shook heaven and earth. Brilliant divine light erupted forth; if not for the illusory realm encompassing all directions, containing myriad wonders, such a disturbance would surely attract formidable foes. It seemed as though some great treasure had emerged—who wouldn’t covet it? Should those malicious outsiders come, the Bamboo Tribe would be nothing more than a speck of dust, easily swept away.

Too weak, lacking any real capacity to withstand calamity; even a hint of malice could crush them. They had to tread carefully.

Streams of energy converged, unleashing dazzling crystalline light, intensely concentrated, transforming into a colossal sword capable of cleaving mountains and seas.

The sword’s glow was exquisite; with a gentle sweep, the world fell silent, bereft of color and sound, as if reduced to a two-dimensional black-and-white tableau—a silent film, stripped of depth, leaving all things pale and colorless.

But soon, like the faint trace of a serpent in ashes, the lost radiance returned swiftly, resembling dawn breaking through the gloom.

Ye Chen realized something was amiss. Amid the intertwining brilliance, he glimpsed a majestic spiritual vein, vast as mountains and seas.

That spiritual vein appeared like a celestial dragon, cloaked in divine light. Yet in an instant, all that light withdrew, revealing its true nature. No longer ostentatious, it resembled the most unremarkable weed in the soil, or a common stone by the roadside. But Ye Chen dared not underestimate it.

“Is the spiritual vein truly about to break its seal?” Ye Chen was startled. “Will it make too much noise? If it gets out of hand, people will die.”

He pondered, “What is the connection between the bones and the spiritual vein? They seem utterly unrelated, yet as the bones turned to dust, the spiritual vein became even more agitated. There must be some link—I simply can’t believe otherwise.”

Digging for answers was meant to uncover hidden dangers within the tribe. The muddled leaders wouldn’t spare Ye Chen if he failed.

He hadn’t found the root of the problem, and now faced a new dilemma: what to do about the spiritual vein?

He hadn’t expected this; he only hoped the spiritual vein wouldn’t cause a catastrophe, sending the Bamboo Tribe down the path to the underworld—Ye Chen wasn’t ready to die yet.

He’d thought nothing was amiss, only for this to occur.

His heart sank, though he felt no regret. The dried well was a ticking bomb; ignorance was no safety.

“The cause of the tribe’s leaders’ collective confusion remains unclear, but I sense an invisible thread connecting it all.”

Ye Chen’s gaze was shadowed. With the aid of the illusory realm, he could see black light rising above the spiritual vein, faint and ominous.

Clearly, the spiritual vein hid unfathomable secrets.

“There is deathly energy—how could a spiritual vein bear such? Did someone bury a corpse here?”

A divine force struck like a blade, piercing through, stirring the spiritual vein’s infinite radiance until it scattered like fireworks.

As the divine light dispersed, a skeletal frame appeared, its body crystalline.

Ye Chen was transfixed, staring at the skeleton.

“Who buried bones here?” The shaman’s voice was cold. “Is this someone unwilling to die outright? Trying to harness the spiritual vein for rebirth? Outrageous! Do they not fear becoming a monster, sowing chaos?”

The shaman was furious. “Was it someone from our tribe?”

Thinking carefully, he could not fathom who would commit such a bizarre act.

Even if buried within the spiritual vein, it was futile; all this stemmed from a heart unwilling to yield to fate, vainly attempting to seize heavenly longevity—a laughable ambition.

But should it really become a monster and wreak havoc in the tribe, disaster could strike without warning. How could the shaman not be enraged?

Who could be so reckless?

The shaman wanted to incinerate the skeleton, but Ye Chen acted first.

The power of the illusory realm surged through; the skeleton shimmered, and its main body dissolved into mist.

It turned out the main body was merely a phantom, an illusion; only a single arm was real.

From that arm, billowing black energy emerged, smoking as it whirled, forming a sinister little beast.

The beast’s eyes gleamed crimson, filled with venomous resentment.

Cold murderous intent flowed forth; the creature became a streak of light and lightning, darting ferociously toward Ye Chen.

“Careful!” The shaman cried out.

Around them, the void seemed to freeze, time itself stretching and distorting.

The beast drew nearer to Ye Chen, yet that short distance became an unreachable shore, forever out of reach.

The beast howled skyward, its roars thick with rage. Crimson flames spewed from its mouth and nostrils, burning the void with a sizzling hiss, as if to melt it into molten lava.

True void would not be so easily destroyed; the illusory realm was fused with its surroundings. Essentially, the beast was trapped within it.

The illusory realm was not entirely stable, and inside it, the beast possessed terrifying destructive power. Raging currents of shattered void flowed wildly, crystalline fragments like tragic ice blossoms, falling one after another.

The beast rampaged, shattering the void, but soon, a mighty force restored it.

Destroyed and reborn, collapsed and renewed—every action of the beast amounted to nothing.

It was all meaningless. Even if the void were torn open, what difference would it make? Unless it exceeded the realm’s limits, it would never trouble Ye Chen.

Ye Chen breathed a sigh of relief. The beast was indeed powerful; outside, its havoc would be formidable, and Ye Chen might not have handled it so easily.

But within the illusory realm, it was like a turtle in a jar—a closed door trapping a dog. Watching the beast crash about in vain, struggling and flailing like a clown, was thoroughly satisfying.

A thunderous boom echoed in the realm as forces coalesced into a towering giant hand.

With a heavy slap, the beast was sent flying; after several such blows, it was dizzy, barely able to defend itself.

It couldn’t die yet, but being battered like this—even with skin of bronze and bones of iron—it wouldn’t last long.

The beast’s fury blazed ever hotter, murderous intent surging, yet it could do nothing to Ye Chen. Its frustration was palpable, but it was powerless to escape his grasp.

“Is this beast the true culprit behind the tribe leaders’ confusion?”

Ye Chen mused to himself. “It seems easy to handle, but only because of the illusory realm’s unique nature. If it came to real combat—even as a god—I might not withstand it.”

Ye Chen noticed the beast, after enduring several blows, remained intact, seemingly unscathed, and his heart twinged.