Chapter 53: Enslaving the Virtuous Yan Yan

Chen Hongxu naturally understood the old Taoist priest’s self-sacrificial resolve at the Spring Shrine. What he could not fathom, however, was what fragments of truth the old man had gleaned from the lotus seal—shattered remnants of the Soldier Spirit—to dare such a desperate gamble against such overwhelming odds.

To onlookers, it appeared to be a display of peerless dominance: one man against a hundred. But the stakes were his very life. Aside from those who lacked ambition or felt their lives were already devoid of hope or regret, who would not cherish every day they had? And human beings, the older they grow, the more they cling to existence.

Chen Hongxu looked at the little girl, who was destined to remain somewhat plain even after she grew into her own, and sighed.

The girl sensed his gaze. She looked up at Chen Hongxu, wrinkled her nose, and then turned back to stare anxiously at the old priest’s retreating figure. A child’s intuition is the most sensitive; she didn’t understand why today felt so ominous. Though many had died, death was a common sight—back home, her grandfather often killed people, just not in such numbers.

The old priest flicked his sleeves and turned to cast one last affectionate look at his granddaughter, his eyes filled with growing resolve. He pulled his gaze away, steeled his heart, and charged toward the crowd. He had made up his mind: he would trade his life for the chance for his granddaughter to cultivate by Chen Hongxu’s side.

The dark mass of people facing him were all formidable experts. Wukong stood at the forefront, his brow furrowed as his attention remained fixed on Xue Xi, who stood beside Chen Hongxu. Even with his level of strength, he could sense that she was different—though her own power seemed mediocre, her sword intent was heaven-shattering. It was an energy both unseen and unheard of before.

Unable to discern the nature of such an overbearing inheritance, Wukong steadied himself and shouted without looking back, "That sword intent seems to have been leaked because the little girl's body couldn't contain the overflow of the inheritance. She does not possess such immense power herself. Do not be afraid; that kind of attack is but a flash in the pan."

One must admit that Wukong’s insight was exceptionally sharp; his casual remark effectively steadied the morale of the crowd.

Two individuals, clearly serving as scouts, drifted forward tentatively. Their faces were etched with sorrow and nervousness, making it obvious this was not their choice. A moment later, they stood suspended in the air. Seeing that Xue Xi made no move, the crowd took it as confirmation of Wukong’s words. Their fear vanished, replaced by envy and a flicker of greed.

Inheritances cannot be fully integrated in a single day; they require time for the body to harmonize with the legacy. It was clear Xue Xi had just received it. Setting aside her level of compatibility, the mere sight of her clutching Chen Hongxu’s sleeve, looking so frail, set their hearts ablaze. Killing someone to seize an inheritance was not unheard of, though it was rare to encounter someone immediately after they had received one.

Just then, the old priest arrived near the crowd. His surging aura instantly forced the group to regard him with new eyes.

"Hah, it seems to be the Palace Master of the Spring Shrine. I had a falling out with him during the battle for the Sword in the Stone in Europe. Let me be the one to deal with him," a bald man in a red robe, clutching a string of prayer beads, shouted arrogantly.

Those around him smiled knowingly and stepped aside to clear a path. His strength was not to be underestimated, and this was not the time for bravado. After all, they still had to divide the secrets—and perhaps the miraculous spoils—that Chen Hongxu had brought back from the world behind the Heavenly Gate.

The bald man hesitated for a moment, then felt annoyed that no one had stopped him. Cursing his companions as cowards, he did not back down. He exhaled a plume of white mist, tapped his foot against the ground, and lunged at the old priest, leaving behind a blur of afterimages that shimmered with light as blinding as the sun.

Chen Hongxu was slightly surprised. This foreigner’s strength was not trivial, and his stance suggested he had mastered a profound technique.

Fan the Fool, who was well-versed in such matters, chimed in to clarify: "That old man is likely from the Sacred Holy See in Europe. Though they’ve been suppressed by dark forces in recent years, their strength remains formidable. This bald fellow is likely a Cardinal-level figure; he might have some unexpected tricks up his sleeve. After all, faith is the most mysterious thing of all."

Chen Hongxu nodded, then shifted his gaze to Yan the Good, who was still lying on the ground. The man was covered in heavy wounds, looking half-dead. Was this an internal conflict?

Yan the Good offered a bitter smile, spat out a mouthful of blood-stained saliva, and looked directly at Chen Hongxu. "I only wanted to enter a greater world. I never intended to cause you trouble."

Chen Hongxu naturally did not believe him. Yan the Good lowered his head, his fingers twitching as faint wisps of heaven and earth energy danced at his fingertips. It was a dazzling display, enough to ensure he would never starve if he were a street fortune-teller.

Just as Chen Hongxu thought the old man might have a hidden ace, Yan the Good stopped his movements. He looked at Chen Hongxu with a complex expression, sighed, and struggled to his feet. Swaying, he walked to Chen Hongxu’s side and whispered, "A Soldier Embryo. A true one—not like Bai Qi of the Spring and Autumn period, which was a fake. The world will know no peace."

"You calculated this?" Chen Hongxu asked, his expression shifting in disbelief.

"Everything has a trajectory. If something has already happened, it is not difficult to calculate. If it hasn't, one can still approximate the outcome based on existing paths. But because the future is ultimately unknown, it can never be perfectly accurate. Think of a small ball rolling along a fixed track; the path it has traveled is clear at a glance, but whether it will be knocked off that track by human or external force is something no one can know."

The explanation was not as mystical as it sounded once broken down, but Chen Hongxu had no research in this field and could not pass judgment. However, Yan the Good was truly useful. Looking coldly at the man who had revealed the secret, Chen Hongxu said expressionlessly, "You’ve said so much, it’s nothing more than trying to buy your life. Can you afford the price? And don’t forget, I am the vulnerable party here. Don’t make the mistake of sinking the boat; that would be a tragedy."

Yan the Good’s expression was inscrutable. No one knew what he had seen while reading the omens, but this was a time to choose a side; there was no room for a fence-sitter to waver.

He knelt firmly, neither humble nor arrogant. "I know the Soldier Clan has methods of enslavement. You may not think much of my strength, but you will certainly find my abilities necessary. I only want a promise: once you have finished using me, set me free. I don't ask for much—I just want to travel more, see more, and find out if other worlds are the same as this one."

Chen Hongxu knew Yan the Good was staking everything on one throw. He had no interest in prying into what the man had seen; the future was always fickle, and knowing it beforehand only provided a general direction, while robbing life of much of its meaning.

"Are you sure?" Chen Hongxu asked. Yan the Good was not seeking to become a Lotus Guard, but a Lotus Slave—deprived of freedom, with the brand etched into his soul, a form of eternal servitude.

Yan the Good nodded firmly.

Chen Hongxu hesitated no longer. A thin white thread on his arm, as if pulled by an invisible hand, surged toward his palm.

Chen Hongxu pressed his index finger to Yan the Good’s forehead, and the white thread slipped inside like a sentient snake.

Yan the Good closed his eyes, sweat beading on his brow. The sound of his teeth grinding together told of the immense agony of the enslavement. Chen Hongxu slowly withdrew his hand, feeling a sense of relief that he had not made an enemy of a man who had lingered in this world through such secret arts. Yan the Good’s knowledge and abilities were top-tier, but what truly concerned Chen Hongxu was his mindset.

A man who could endure centuries of loneliness, sealing his own memories to reincarnate—and who might have lived for ten thousand years if not for the twist of fate that led Chen Hongxu to wake him—was not to be underestimated. Reaching this agreement, and doing so through the most secure method of enslavement, was a win-win. As for the crowd ahead, even if they were peerless, what was there to fear with the Soldier Clan’s legacy and the bloodline of the Great Sage?