Chapter Ten: The Relentless Kill

The water in the hot spring suddenly thickened and deepened, with vague, twisting runes surfacing amidst the ripples. The domineering medicinal power felt like countless tiny knives piercing into the body—Ji Wu’s muscles and bones spasmed uncontrollably, agony assailing him from every direction. The pain contorted his face and forced a hoarse howl towards the sky; several times, he nearly leapt out of the spring.

But every time Ji Wu tried to escape, Jiang Yao pressed him back in with a single palm. Her delicate-seeming hand was like a mountain, holding him immovable despite his cries and struggles.

“Mother, it hurts! It hurts! It burns! It’s burning me!” Ji Wu wailed, his face streaming with tears and snot.

“Endure it, Wu, endure it!” Jiang Yao’s beautiful face was cold, her words bitten out through clenched teeth. “At the ancestral rite, you must astonish everyone. You must make them see that Jiang Yao’s son is far superior to Qing Fu’s brat!”

“Awaken the power inherited in your ancestral blood, break through to the eleventh stage of the Shaman’s Path, completely overshadow that Ji Hao!” Jiang Yao growled low. “That Ji Hao—they say he’s already practicing the Shamanic Rite’s secret arts. He’s not simple! Only at the eleventh stage can you be sure to triumph over him!”

A sound like fire crackling came from within Ji Wu’s body.

A tiny flame burst forth between his brows, and several fine strands of firelight stretched from that flame, slowly threading along his skin to every part of his body.

Jiang Yao arched her brows in delight, laughing gleefully. The robust women standing nearby laughed as well, all praising Ji Wu’s astonishing talent—at such a young age, he was already breaking through to the eleventh level. In Jiang Yao’s maternal clan, the Bi Fang Tribe, such genius youths were exceedingly rare!

Jiang Yao lifted her head proudly, her arrogance unshakable.

Ji Wu’s entire body convulsed, his muscles swelling and bulging, bones crackling and popping as his body grew taller, bit by bit. The pain was overwhelming—so much so that Ji Wu fainted. This wasn’t cultivation by his own effort, nor laying a solid foundation through diligence, but forcibly enhancing his strength with overpowering shamanic medicines and rites. Such agony was more cruel than being cut to pieces.

“Wu, you are my son, so you must win!” Jiang Yao’s smile was icy, her enchanting eyes filled with cruel murderous intent. “This isn’t just about your father—it concerns my honor as well!”

Heavy footsteps thudded from within the dense forest, accompanied by the cracking of branches.

The women instantly seized their greatswords and axes, forming a line before Jiang Yao in protection. With several sharp snaps, a giant tree over a hundred feet high trembled, and from the woods emerged an ancient tree spirit, over five fathoms tall, exhaling frost.

Upon seeing Jiang Yao and the others by the spring, the old tree spirit opened its mouth and breathed out a thick plume of cold air, rumbling in a low, menacing growl. Suddenly, wild winds rose by the hot spring, scattering countless fallen leaves into the sky. Dozens of emerald runes flickered across the thick bark of the tree spirit; as they glimmered, the wind grew even fiercer.

Jiang Yao’s face darkened as she made a strange gesture toward the tree spirit. “Spirit of the forest, I am Jiang Yao, daughter of the mighty Grand Shaman of the Bi Fang Tribe. By the covenant of our ancestors, mountain ghosts, and river gods, depart from here. Do not provoke my wrath!”

The old tree spirit lumbered forward, its deep, grating voice echoing from its dark maw. “Bi Fang… Tribe? This… is Fire Crow… Tribe’s domain! This… is my land!”

A long vine extended from the spirit, forcefully pointing at the hot spring. “My… land!”

Jiang Yao frowned at the roiling waters—Ji Wu’s body was writhing in violent spasms, already shrouded in a faint firelight. So long as he absorbed all the shamanic medicine within the spring, he would certainly break through to the eleventh layer and awaken his blood’s unique power.

If they yielded now, Ji Wu might fail at the final moment. Having used such fierce shamanic medicine, if he failed this time, he would not be able to force another breakthrough for at least a year.

And yesterday, Ji Hao had injured Ji Wu; if Ji Wu could not surpass him today, all Jiang Yao’s scheming would be for nothing.

“So this is your land? Well, I, Jiang Yao, must borrow it!” Jiang Yao said coldly. “Name your terms—under the witness of our ancestors, the mountain gods, and river spirits, name your price. I must borrow your territory!”

The old tree spirit was silent for a moment, then slowly stepped forward, approaching the seven or eight women before Jiang Yao. More emerald runes flickered across his moss-covered bark, and above his dark maw, two green flames flared as he opened his ‘eyes.’

Suddenly, the tree spirit roared, spewing a cloud of white frost. The women before him stiffened as a thin layer of ice entrapped their bodies. The spirit’s two massive, thorn-covered ‘arms’ swung fiercely, lashing out and sending the women flying far away, their bones shattering with gruesome cracks and blood gushing from their mouths in fountains.

The old tree spirit had survived at least a thousand years in the mountains, its body tough as iron and strength beyond measure. The robust women’s bones shattered, their blood spurting high as geysers.

“Old wretch, I’ll tear you apart and burn you for firewood!” Jiang Yao screamed, staggering backward in panic.

Jiang Yao was a Grand Shaman, powerful beyond measure—but as a ‘Rite Shaman,’ she specialized in arcane shamanic arts rather than close combat; in pure battle, she was not even as strong as her son, Ji Wu.

The old tree spirit bellowed madly and charged at Jiang Yao.

Her face blanched with terror, Jiang Yao stumbled back, barely able to wave her sleeves and release clouds of dark green, red, and pale blue mists, which enveloped the tree spirit.

For humans, any one of these plant poisons would kill hundreds instantly. But the tree spirit was itself an ancient, sentient tree of the mountains—neither plant toxins nor those from minerals or insects could affect him.

The spirit strode through the poisonous mists, quickly closing in on Jiang Yao. A vine shot forth, piercing straight through Jiang Yao’s chest.

She screamed, her body twisting—and with a snap, she turned into a wisp of green smoke and vanished. Only a battered wooden doll, exquisitely carved to resemble Jiang Yao herself, hung alone on the vine.

From within the puppet came a furious shriek, and the puppet burst into flames. In the blaze, a pair of slender avian eyes flashed.

With a thunderous boom, a blast of fire erupted, sending the old tree spirit flying over a mile away. His thick bark was blasted into fragments, exposing the sickly green wood beneath, and thick, viscous sap gushed forth.

The spirit howled in fury, raising one ‘arm’ in rage. “Pain… wine… ten jars!”

Bleeding profusely, Jiang Yao burst from a clump of grass by the spring, seized the convulsing Ji Wu, and prepared to flee.

In the forest, Ji Hao’s eyes flickered. Like a silent panther, he darted forth, leaving only a blur as he closed in on Jiang Yao.

******

Today’s regular update is complete. I earnestly beg for your recommendations! This afternoon, Pighead was called out—authors from Shanghai, Zhejiang, Jiangsu, and Guangdong had an impromptu gathering, so I left early to play host. Thus, tonight’s update comes early! Regular updates are on track! Tomorrow morning’s chapter will be on time—please recommend!