Chapter 42: Editing Memories

Even though Ye Chen managed to glean some information from Ebony’s memories, it was incomplete—perhaps because Ebony himself didn’t know much.

“Ten years ago, the Dove Tribe shouldn’t have been weak, right?”

Wu’s heart was filled with suspicion. “I never thought the Dove Tribe was particularly strong, but if they had six or seven tenths of their current strength back then, they would have had no trouble keeping themselves safe.”

“What if the Dove Tribe was at the very center of that snow disaster?” Ye Chen’s words made Wu pause, then he erupted in startled anger. “You can’t mean the snow disaster was caused by the Dove Tribe?”

Wu finished speaking, then found himself laughing bitterly. “That’s impossible. If the Dove Tribe had such power, what more is there to say? All the surrounding tribes would have been united under them, forced to bow and submit.”

“It was indeed the Dove Tribe, just as you said.” Ye Chen smiled lightly. “By themselves, they couldn’t wield such power. The great snowfall wasn’t something they could control, but it was connected to the Bone Token.”

“Ten years ago, the Bone Token devoured the Dove Tribe’s totem, activated a trace of its power, and triggered a celestial change that brought the world-shaking snow disaster.”

Wu stared in terror at the Bone Token, a hint of dread flickering in his eyes.

“If this Bone Token can swallow totems, it must be a terrible, ominous thing.” At this, Wu grew worried.

Ye Chen saw Wu’s concerns and shook his head. “No need to worry too much. The Bone Token is in my hands now. Unless it gets enough energy to activate, it can’t cause trouble.”

“It’s the secrets behind the Bone Token that worry me. Our Bamboo Tribe is so weak; we can’t withstand much.” Wu was anxious, feeling that events were spiraling out of control, as if caught in a whirlpool he couldn’t escape.

Wu’s killing intent toward Ebony grew. It was all this man’s fault—might as well kill him.

“Don’t rush,” Ye Chen said calmly, though his attention was focused on Ebony’s memories.

He’d sorted through most of them, hadn’t yet edited the memories, and Ebony’s resistance wasn’t severe—he couldn’t escape Ye Chen’s control.

In Ebony’s memories, a spirit butterfly began to dance gracefully.

The recollections unfolded like a painting.

A sheer cliff stood tall, a few trees rooted in cracks between the stones. Ebony was falling from the precipice, about to be dashed to pieces, when a strange wind swept in.

The wind sang and spread, slowing Ebony’s descent.

Ebony used this to escape danger and, in fact, benefited from it.

Ye Chen snorted coldly in his heart. An external force acted on Ebony; his expression of relief froze in an instant, then he screamed, and with unstoppable force, plummeted again.

“This isn’t right.” A strong sense of crisis welled up in Ebony’s heart, and he felt horror at Ye Chen’s methods.

The scene in his memory was like a pebble thrown into water, rippling the surface—a surreal and bizarre dream on the verge of collapse.

“Twisting consciousness is no easy feat; things have gone wrong already.” Ye Chen stared at Ebony, then cast a divine light down like a heavy hammer, striking Ebony.

Ebony suddenly leapt, eyes wide, murderous intent revealed—then divine power pinned him down.

He groaned, face ashen, struggling with all his might, but it was futile.

Ye Chen’s expression remained calm; Ebony’s reaction was no surprise. With strength left, he couldn’t be subdued so easily.

Who knew when Ebony had awakened, still feigning ignorance to appear weak, but Ye Chen wasn’t careless. Ebony could not overturn the situation.

Ye Chen’s blow struck Ebony’s neck; Ebony collapsed, body twitching, then lost consciousness.

How pitiful—Ye Chen had held back, or this hit would have sent Ebony straight to the Underworld.

Ye Chen’s mood was still gloomy. If he couldn’t twist Ebony’s consciousness and edit his memories, he’d have to kill him—a waste.

Ye Chen thought, if he could send Ebony into the Dove Tribe, it would make future counterattacks much easier.

Though he couldn’t confront the Dove Tribe now, some matters needed early preparation.

“I’ll try again. If it fails, it’s just Ebony’s unlucky fate.”

Ye Chen used force, attempting to twist Ebony’s consciousness—making Ebony believe his escape from the cliff was thanks to the spirit butterfly, that it saved his life. It was a theft of heaven’s merit, forcibly gifting Ebony a life-saving grace.

But a force of resistance made Ye Chen’s effort futile.

“No miracle.” Ye Chen murmured, “Then there’s nothing I can do.”

Ebony’s consciousness was hard to twist. Ye Chen had expected this, so he wasn’t surprised. It was just Ebony’s ill fortune; he’d have to be killed.

Suddenly, Ye Chen felt his vision rise higher and higher, merging with heaven and earth.

Some invisible shackle was pierced, as if heaven’s will poured down upon him.

Then the spirit butterfly appeared, cloaked in flames, as if reborn from fire.

“I’ve gained a divine ability.” Ye Chen felt a stir in his heart. “The Art of Gazing at Fate!”

He hadn’t expected to acquire such an ability.

Anything involving destiny was worth serious attention.

“It was a matter of chance. If I hadn’t become the Dream Immortal Butterfly, I’d never have gotten such a power.”

Ye Chen was self-aware; divine abilities weren’t easy to obtain.

As a ninth-grade deity, Ye Chen could use ordinary Daoist arts, and when he could borrow power from the virtual realm, he didn’t even need to consume incense or wishes.

That was a god’s advantage, but the Art of Gazing at Fate was beyond his normal reach.

Because Ye Chen hadn’t traveled far down the divine path—he’d only just begun.

But the Dream Immortal Butterfly was special; by merging with the divine way, such a power could emerge, even enhancing Ye Chen’s strength.

Though his divine path was limited by incense and wishes, and he hadn’t broken those constraints, he was stronger than before.

Ye Chen didn’t dwell on it, instead immersing himself in the Art of Gazing at Fate.

It was naturally useful. All living things had destiny, and its strength often signified fortune or calamity.

Of course, there were limits; destiny was related to strength but not entirely synonymous.

If he relied too much on this art, he could easily be deceived and suffer the consequences.

Still, it was a valuable divine ability.

“What a coincidence.” Ye Chen looked closely at Ebony—not because he suspected anything amiss, but in wonder. He’d been about to kill Ebony, and now the man had found a way back from the brink.

With his strength increased, Ye Chen could continue trying to twist Ebony’s consciousness.

“Such extraordinary destiny, indeed.”