"A Ling... A Ling is..."
Song Zi'an held the feather, his voice trembling so much he could barely speak.
"It is fine," Chen Zhou said calmly.
"It eats well and sleeps well. It even found an old friend at my place, and they get along quite well."
"It asked me to bring this to you, saying it misses you."
Hearing those words, Song Zi'an could no longer restrain himself.
"A Ling..."
He thought of his master, whose fate remained unknown, and of those carefree days on the mountain.
A Ling was still here, which meant his master’s legacy still existed, and his master’s hope was still alive.
Two lines of hot tears fell from Song Zi'an's face, dripping into the large black cauldron.
He stood silently before the stove, closing his eyes as his fingers gently stroked the texture of the Nine-Age Crane feather.
That familiar touch made him feel for a moment as if he had returned to the mountain.
Back then, his master would always scold him for being stupid while teaching him how to identify the texture of ingredients. A Ling would stand nearby, arrogantly preening its feathers, occasionally stealing a peck from the vegetables he had just chopped.
"Master..."
Song Zi'an murmured to himself. Suddenly, a surge of inspiration erupted in his heart like a volcanic explosion.
He felt it.
His master was here.
Though invisible and intangible, the bond of the God of Food lineage made him certain beyond a doubt.
"Since you've come, then I shall cook a dish."
Song Zi'an opened his eyes. The anxiety within them had vanished, replaced by intense focus.
He set the cauldron and boiled the water.
He did not use any complex culinary techniques or rare seasonings.
He simply placed that crane feather gently into the boiling water, then ground the pine nut into powder and slowly sprinkled it in.
The crane feather did not sink; instead, it drifted gently with the ripples, emitting a faint, delicate fragrance.
It did not smell like meat or medicine; it smelled more like the passage of time.
It was the solitude of the Nine-Age Crane and the persistence of the unaging pine.
Song Zi'an's hands were steady. Every stir felt like a dialogue with someone in the void.
Outside the door, Chen Zhou stood quietly for a moment.
He watched Song Zi'an’s devoted back and the wisps of white steam rising from the cauldron, making no sound to disturb him.
Although he had no idea what Song Zi'an was trying to achieve—and a bizarre concoction like stewing a feather with pine nut powder certainly seemed absurd—he could sense that Song Zi'an was in a special state.
It was the state of entering the Dao.
Chen Zhou turned and left the kitchen, quietly closing the door behind him and leaving the space to the cook.
This night felt exceptionally long.
When the darkness finally passed, the red rain that had fallen for nearly half a month finally stopped.
The rain ended abruptly.
Just as suddenly as the daylight arrived.
One moment there was a fine drizzle, and the next, the clouds rapidly dispersed.
Chen Zhou pushed open the window.
A wave of unprecedentedly fresh air rushed over him.
The scent of blood and the stench of rot within the palace had completely vanished.
The entire provincial capital seemed to have been thoroughly scrubbed by this red rain; everything was clean.
Chen Zhou narrowed his eyes and released his perception.
The ghost qi, resentment, and death qi that had been fading earlier were now entirely gone.
Heaven and earth were cleansed.
It was almost too clean.
It was like a stained table that someone had scrubbed ruthlessly with a spiked mace, stripping even the lacquer away to reveal the pale, raw wood beneath.
Crack—
A crisp sound of tearing suddenly echoed from the sky.
Chen Zhou looked toward the horizon and saw the very center of the firmament split open, as if someone had forcibly torn it apart.
A massive golden crack appeared out of thin air.
Immediately after, an endless torrent of golden light poured down from the fissure.
The golden light was not blinding; instead, it carried a warm and peaceful aura. Like molten gold, it instantly covered the entire provincial capital.
Wherever the golden light touched, the glazed tiles shimmered, the red walls grew more vibrant, and the entire palace was gilded with a sacred golden edge.
Bathed in this golden light, Chen Zhou did not feel warm.
Instead, a strange chill rose from the depths of his heart.
Chen Zhou felt as if something high and mighty was coldly staring down at him.
'It's coming.'
Whatever was in the sky was about to emerge; a massive pressure was brewing.
Chen Zhou was certain that in just a few days, the so-called Golden Buddha would truly descend upon the world.
Just then, a small mound of earth suddenly bulged up from the floor of the side hall.
Mud splattered as a bald head poked out from the ground.
Wu Gou crawled out, covered in dirt, while Diting, clutched in his arms, rolled its eyes from being squeezed.
As soon as he emerged, he rushed toward Chen Zhou with a strange cry.
"This is bad, Great Fiend! This is bad!"
"The underworld is in total chaos!"
Wu Gou patted the dirt off his clothes, looking completely shaken.
"What happened?" Chen Zhou frowned. "Speak slowly."
Wu Gou gulped down a large mouthful of tea before panting out, "It's a mess, everything is a mess."
"I just took Diting for a stroll through the Eighteen Levels of Hell to look for a bite to eat."
"And guess what?"
"The malevolent ghosts locked in the cauldrons and on the mountains of blades suddenly went berserk!"
Wu Gou gestured wildly, his eyes wide with exaggeration.
"It’s like they were on stimulants. Their eyes turned blood-red, they gained Herculean strength, and they're struggling desperately, even starting to devour each other."
"While they go mad, they're also weeping, as if something is burning their souls."
"Hell can barely contain them anymore. The underworld is a chaotic mess right now."
"Severed limbs and rivers of blood are everywhere."
Chen Zhou's gaze sharpened as he listened, and he looked out the window at the sky full of golden light.
"Is it related to this golden light?"
"Most likely!"
Wu Gou rubbed his bald head, looking frustrated.
"The Golden Buddha is said to be the purest thing in existence. Its light can penetrate the ground."
"Those filthy ghosts and monsters are going to be purified."
"I don't think they want to be berserk; they're probably just driven mad by the pain."
Chen Zhou nodded and asked another question.
"Did you deploy the sinful karma?"
This was the task he had sent Wu Gou to handle, a crucial part of his future plans.
"Of course, no problem at all!"
Wu Gou beat his chest in guarantee. "You can trust me to get things done."
"However, something isn't right with the ley lines."
"What is it?" Chen Zhou looked at him.
Wu Gou pulled the shrunken Nine-Ring Tin Staff from his robe. "It's a good thing you gave me this staff. Once I got underground, I could finally see the true face of the ley lines."
"I told you before that the dragon vein was locked by eighteen Dragon-Suppressing Stakes, right?"
"Well, I was wrong."
"This time, as I approached with the staff, it vibrated so hard it almost flew out of my hand."
"I used the staff to open my dharma eye, and good heavens, those aren't Dragon-Suppressing Stakes at all!"
"Those eighteen pillars are pitch-black and covered in countless wailing faces. They are made entirely of condensed sinful karma."
"And it's an incredibly dense, heaven-reaching sinful karma that has been accumulating for who knows how many years."
Chen Zhou raised an eyebrow at this.
A dragon vein contained a nation’s fortune and a small amount of merit. Using sinful karma to lock merit?
No wonder a perfectly good dragon vein had mutated into a corpse dragon.
Rate on N.U.
