Chapter 26: I Have Always Been Deeply Selfish

Fortunately, in this season, wild boar meat is not so easily spoiled.

The chieftain breathed a sigh of relief. Having slaughtered so many wild boars, the question of how to deal with their meat was a difficult one.

There is a natural cave near the tribe, cool and breezy inside; drying the wild boar meat there would not be hard.

Of course, that would be tomorrow's task. For now, it was time to rest.

Not only the other tribespeople, but even the chieftain himself felt mentally and physically exhausted.

He could hardly endure it anymore; he was no longer a young man, but old and worn.

Soon, the area emptied out, the bustle faded, and everyone dispersed. No one paid attention to the changes beneath the altar.

This was only natural; all were weary beyond measure, unable to hold on any longer, with no energy to spare.

No one could have imagined that beneath the altar, something was stirring—a monstrous wild boar glaring with crimson eyes, its mood violent, yearning to leap up and slaughter someone.

It seems some are about to break through.

Ye Chen was highly sensitive to changes in energy.

The wild boar meat was extraordinary, able to strengthen the tribe's members further.

And this was not even the flesh of a demon beast—just one step short—yet it had such nourishing effects, almost unbelievable. Had the boars perhaps consumed some spiritual herbs, their medicinal power condensed within the meat, undigested, now benefiting the tribespeople?

Such a notion was merely a jest—how could fate be so coincidental?

Still, it was a boon. Ye Chen chuckled inwardly, and welcomed it.

Before the altar, spirit butterflies fluttered in graceful dance, divine power thundering as it surged toward the monstrous wild boar.

Ye Chen felt a curiosity toward this creature; before tonight, it had hidden itself so well, even he hadn't sensed anything amiss.

Now, panic and unease filled the wild boar monster's heart—a terror akin to facing its natural enemy.

It wished to flee, but could not; divine power transformed into a mysterious seal, descending upon it.

A hum resounded.

Clusters of black mist swirled, as the boar monster grunted furiously, forced to shrink significantly, then suddenly bounced, landing before the spirit butterflies as if transformed into a plaything.

It struggled, fought hard, but could not break free.

The boar monster continued to evolve; torrents of black mist surged, streams of vital energy shot skyward like smoke signals, solidifying its form from ethereal to tangible, as if truly becoming something remarkable.

Yet it was all in vain; before Ye Chen, the wild boar monster was pitifully weak, barely qualified to even bare its fangs and claws.

Did the wild boar monster only form after the mass death of wild boars? If so, then it made sense it evaded my perception.

After all, before this, there simply was no such monster; Ye Chen could not have felt it.

He mused inwardly, "I wonder if this is an exception. If not, there could be far too many of these monsters."

The conditions for their formation were not stringent; perhaps the forests beyond were teeming with them.

Ye Chen felt a subtle unease. "Humans are not favored by heaven and earth; even the spirits of the world regard us as pests, while monsters might be uniquely privileged."

Under normal circumstances, this would not be so—but this world was inherently abnormal, born anew from ruin, learning bitter lessons, but perhaps now verging on extremes.

"Is the world turning against itself, seeking to become a realm of ghosts?"

"I hope my suspicions are wrong."

Still, a sense of unease surged in Ye Chen's heart, leaving him momentarily dazed.

"What's the use of worrying now? When the boat reaches the bridge, it will cross."

He snapped out of it, laughed at himself, and no longer dwelled on the matter.

The tribe was quiet, with only the cool moonlight veiling the world in a thin, delicate shroud.

The tribe stood amidst the dim night, the mellow silver shining on it, like a colossal beast crouched among the trees and grass.

"It's time to twist the consciousness of the tribe's people."

Ye Chen's method bordered on demonic, but he cared little. To say 'twist consciousness' was merely to add some flavor; it would not alter much.

Between two evils, one must choose the lesser. Ye Chen had no wish for a bloody conflict with the tribe; he must replace Ling Bamboo and become the tribe's new faith.

This path was fraught; any softness might invite backlash, consequences far beyond his ability to bear.

If he were strong enough, with solid foundations, he would not need such measures—but Ye Chen had few options.

"I have always been selfish," he admitted to himself.

He did not abuse the weak with his blade, but if there was profit to be made, he had no qualms about ruthlessness.

With more choices, Ye Chen would prefer a path kinder to both himself and others.

But this tribe was the last straw he could grasp.

If he truly fled, seeking another tribe to start anew, it would be an ordeal akin to hell; if he encountered another totem like Ling Bamboo, he might as well not live.

Ye Chen acted, reversing reality and illusion, pruning the memories of the tribespeople—this was not difficult.

Yet there were some who gave him trouble; Fang, for instance, nearly tripped him up.

This startled Ye Chen; since Fang had broken through to the extraordinary, Ye Chen's own level was not much higher.

Of course, Ye Chen, as a deity, had mystical means, while Fang lacked any inheritance and could not wield his power effectively.

If it came to a real fight, Ye Chen could easily kill Fang, but this was about twisting consciousness, not direct combat. If he failed, Fang might end up an idiot.

Such a useful tool, not yet put to proper use, would be wasted; that would be a pity.

Luckily, Fang was fortunate—he merely endured a nightmare, with little lasting impact.

"Fortunately, I didn't meddle with the chieftain or the shaman."

Ye Chen sighed. "The chieftain and shaman's consciousness is more resolute. Though their strength is less than Fang's, this does not correlate directly; they are much more difficult to handle."

"If I acted rashly and made them idiots, there would be no remedy."

"It all comes down to my lack of strength."

"I must focus more on enhancing my power."

Golden streams of light, like rising mist, soared in the void realm, as if displaying the creation of heaven and earth.

The void realm, once flat and round, was pieced together from dreams, resembling a small landmass.

Now, changes stirred; ripples shimmered at its edges, spreading outward in all directions.

A spirit butterfly fluttered above, weaving through the void, as if stirring some mysterious power, guiding the realm to undergo this earth-shaking transformation.

At the boundaries of the old land, fissures appeared in the void—pitch-black, deep, emanating a terrifying energy that surged and roared like hellish dragons.

A peach tree took root within the void, shaking its branches, as countless blossoms fell, transforming into a rain of petals that dazzled the world.