Volume One: The Wild Boy Chapter Fifty-Five: The Demons of Bohai

Just as the demonic claw was about to seize the young man's life, a long spear shattered Yang Wuliu's grand dream. Riding the momentum, the spear forcefully dispersed the savage dog's assault and gently carried Lin Changtian to the ground. As the dust settled, the confidence within the flowing robes radiated from every gesture; Lin Changtian gazed intently, feeling reassured, and closed his eyes, drifting into a hazy sleep.

This was none other than Chen Mo.

A silver spear and a white robe.

Behind him stood the warriors of “Yu,” imposing in their cloaks and armor, brimming with vigor. The striking white, interspersed among the black-clad figures, exuded a chilling sharpness. Their cold eyes swept over the crowd from Ru Prefecture—first the Seven Clans, then the Ten Elders, and finally settling on Wei Shaoqing. He spoke, “I am Chen Mo, hailing from the southern reaches of the Central Lands. The one behind me is an honored guest of ‘Yu.’ Whether you are the Seven Clans, the Ten Elders, or even the Northern Emperor himself, none of you may lay a finger on him.”

The Ten Elders each scoffed and pursed their lips but dared not utter a word in reply. After all, “Yu” had always been shrouded in mystery, their strange actions backed by overwhelming power. Across the Central Lands, only the Lin family of the North and “Yu” of the South could dominate an entire region with a single force.

Yet, it was unthinkable for all of Ru Prefecture to be silenced by an unexpected guest’s declaration.

Thus, the gazes of the Seven Clans and Ten Elders converged on Wei Shaoqing, as if, in this moment, he must once again play the role of Ru Prefecture’s master.

“You expect all of Ru Prefecture to drop everything over your single sentence, to excuse this youth’s night of chaos? Your honor seems a bit too great,” Wei Shaoqing said, stroking his white beard, his expression displeased.

The moral high ground was clearly on Ru Prefecture’s side; no matter how the old fox weighed his words, he could easily press Chen Mo into a corner of righteousness.

Between his lines, there was clear disdain for the people of “Yu.”

Chen Mo remained silent. In the past, he would have retorted a few sharp remarks, unwilling to concede the upper hand. But this time, one of “Yu’s” supreme figures was leading the group; negotiations were no longer his to conduct.

The youth in the green rain cloak and wide-brimmed hat seemed out of place in this realm. After all, who wears rain gear on a sunlit day?

As if hearing the silent ridicule in others’ hearts, the youth removed his hat, lifted his head, and smiled up at the sky—a smile both healing and slightly awkward, reminiscent of a calf newly loosed from the pen, blending composure with innocence.

It was a studied composure.

Yet, a light rain began to fall on the heavenly street, moistening everything in silence.

The youth donned his hat again, bowed his head, and played with his fingers. As the rain grew heavier, both the black-clad and the white-robed behind him produced rain hats they’d prepared in advance, putting them on and watching the drenched townsfolk of Ru Prefecture scurry for cover.

Now, it was Ru Prefecture itself that seemed out of step with heaven and earth.

Wei Shaoqing managed a bitter smile, tossed aside his cane, and, bowing deeply, adopted a posture of utmost humility toward the young man who had not yet come of age. “All of Ru Prefecture awaits your instruction, elder.”

With a gesture, the heavens could change; with a command, day could become night.

A true Heaven-Decree cultivator could destroy Ru Prefecture in the blink of an eye.

So, Chen Mo had not exaggerated. In the presence of a Heaven-Decree master, the Seven Clans and Ten Elders were indeed insignificant.

Even if Wei Shaoqing could muster the divine might that had once shattered the Lin family, he would still not be this youth’s match—for there is no comparison between borrowed power and true Heaven-Decree strength.

The youth grew silent. Ru Prefecture was truly dull.

He was wholly convinced that even if he slaughtered the old man’s grandson, the elder would only keep a smiling face and speak gently to him.

Without another word, the youth turned, waved to Chen Mo, and the group departed Ru Prefecture’s domain with perfect composure before the very eyes of its defenders.

It seemed that half a year of uproar was finally drawing to a close.

Yet the common folk of Ru Prefecture rejoiced, for in their eyes, the outcasts could no longer obscure the rising light.

...

A month later, by the shores of the Bohai Sea.

Lin Changtian was utterly baffled. For a month, he could not fathom what he had been doing.

He clearly remembered the last thing he saw was Chen Mo, but when he woke, it was this youth carrying him through many places without ever pausing.

No matter what methods he tried, the youth never slowed his pace.

“Hey, hey, hey, who are you really? Where’s Chen Mo? I still have two kids back in Ru Prefecture—did that boy get rescued or not? Listen, if you’re unwell, go see a healer; there’s nothing I can do for you.” Lin Changtian had lost count of how many times he’d repeated such words, but never once received a reply. He refused to give up, chattering endlessly every day, determined to force the youth into speaking.

Usually, when a chatterbox meets a silent type, the former is doomed to disappointment. But for Lin Changtian, it only stoked his competitive spirit. He curled his lips into a wicked grin. “Boy, if you wanted to get my attention, you’ve succeeded. Now, tell me—what’s your motive in winning my favor with such effort?”

The youth in the green rain cloak ignored him, rolling ink-black stones between his fingers, searching the muddy sands by the sea and drawing.

Lin Changtian couldn’t make sense of it, but watching the youth furrow his brow and dash back and forth like a headless fly, he couldn’t help but smile, cautiously gave the boy a kick, and braced himself to have his head shoved into the earth as usual.

But this time, the youth merely glared at him and continued his work.

Having suffered so long, Lin Changtian seized the opportunity, kicked him again, and watched with interest as the boy’s face flushed but still did not retaliate.

“Wait a moment. I’ll talk to you after I finish this.”

“Heavens!” Lin Changtian leapt up in astonishment. This was the first thing the youth had said to him in a month.

Excitement surged—he finally knew the boy wasn’t mute. Seizing the moment, he cleared his throat and affected a reserved tone. “Sir, where do you hail from? For what purpose did you abduct a dashing youth like myself? All this way, you’ve said not a word, using only force to communicate with me—what, have you grown a conscience today and decided to repent? If so, kindly lift your backside, raise it two feet high at a forty-five-degree angle, and let me have a few kicks to vent my grievances. If you do, I’ll forgive this month’s illegal kidnapping!”

No sooner had he finished than the youth finally lost patience with his prattle. Unleashing Heaven-Decree means, he caught the escaping Lin Changtian, forced him to raise his rear two feet high at precisely forty-five degrees, and sent him flying into the sea with a solid kick.

He traced a graceful arc through the air, and entered the water without so much as a splash—proof that Lin Changtian’s theory was flawless.

“Stop bothering me. For your information, Chen Mo is with the two kids; they’re perfectly safe. As for your business, wait until I finish my drawing.”

Suspicious, Lin Changtian glanced at the youth who had returned to his meditations, but said no more, instead observing the changes along the Bohai coast.

The shoreline remained as majestic as ever, but the surrounding territories had long become the domain of monsters. Along the way, the once-mighty Qin Emperor was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps, as Yu Baili had said, the relentless tide of calamities finally scattered humanity’s resistance, driving them from the seaboard. Yet, the creatures did not advance inland, seemingly content to dwell where they were.

They had encountered monsters along the way, but none could come within thirty feet of the youth in the green cloak. When he casually wiped out evil spirits, he did so with the ease of a demon-quelling celestial.

This was precisely why Lin Changtian dared not cross swords with him—he had seen with his own eyes how titanic monsters, dozens of yards tall, were as fragile as paper in this youth’s hands.

Though Lin Changtian was often “bullied,” he had witnessed every manner of spirit and fiend around the Bohai Sea. In the miraculously-formed sky lake, a mountain stood where light and darkness tangled, its sunny side adorned with precious jade, its shadowy side with stones from the earth’s pool. Therein slumbered a nameless divine stag that raised a flood and charged the youth, only for the youth’s hat to absorb every drop, and even the stag’s antlers were shattered in two. There were also salamanders with four legs and long tails; their cries were indistinguishable from a baby’s wail. Seeing the stag slain, they gathered en masse, came ashore gasping for air, and hurled themselves to certain death. Lin Changtian remembered the youth’s look at the time—he merely shook his head in regret.

After watching the monster fish destroy themselves, the youth took Lin Changtian off the island, flipped his hand downward, and the sky lake poured out all manner of corpses. When the lake was drained, the mountain began to totter. Suddenly, from South Mountain, birds in pairs—blue and red—took flight. From North Mountain, monsters descended. The youth covered Lin Changtian’s eyes, forbidding him from seeing clearly.

Lost in thought, Lin Changtian heard his name called. Distracted, he followed, nearly stepping onto a steep, hidden slope. The youth shouted a command, and the slope instantly turned to quicksand. A giant centipede flew out and vanished in a few breaths. Cold sweat poured down Lin Changtian’s back; one foot still in the air, he crashed to the ground in a heap.

The youth ignored him, dove into the sea, and soon resurfaced with an eight-foot-wide centipede, leaving Lin Changtian gaping in shock.

“That centipede—is it the same one? How did it get so big?” Lin Changtian shouted, scrutinizing the creature’s body.

The youth’s hand glowed with green light; he plunged it into the centipede and withdrew a snow-white pearl, motioning for Lin Changtian to swallow it.

But Lin Changtian only snorted, tilting his head back in a gesture of unyielding defiance. “I am, after all, a learned man—why would I eat your bloody thing raw? Even if I starve, I won’t so much as glance at it!”

“It boosts virility, expels cold, and if you take it, you won’t wet the bed.”

Lin Changtian snatched the pearl, swallowed it in one gulp, and declared righteously, “Virility isn’t the point. I’ve always wanted to be the first to try a centipede pearl since I was a child.”

The youth regarded Lin Changtian’s thick skin with curiosity, thinking it must be the source of his lifelong cultivation—perhaps that was how he survived Wei Shaoqing’s attack, by taking the blow with his face.

“Weren’t you curious why I brought you here? If you want the truth, do you want to hear it?”

Lin Changtian shook his head vigorously, showing not the slightest interest in so-called “truth.”

This left the youth momentarily at a loss. He straightened his hat, took it off, and repeated the process several times, unable to comprehend how Lin Changtian, who had made such a fuss all the way, now shrank back.

Before the youth could ask, Lin Changtian spoke first. “Sigh, whenever two men are alone together and one wants to talk, it always means trouble. With people like Chen Mo, it’s not so bad. But with someone as strong as you, I’d rather not know anything—learn too much, and your days are numbered.”

The youth nodded and said no more. He dragged Lin Changtian to a scenic spot on the beach, pointed to his own drawing, and asked, “Does this look familiar?”

Lin Changtian was speechless. How could he not know this mysterious sketch? It was the most widespread scholarly art in all China: the Desk Doodle Method!

Look at those unvarnished lines—a few strokes outlined a stick figure. Above that, heavens! The figure had clothes, and even a long sword, making it all the more “civilized,” and somehow the stickman seemed more animated...

The “profound” nature of this drawing was so great that Lin Changtian hesitated for a long time before slowly saying, “Magnificent, truly magnificent! I never imagined ‘Yu’ would have two such hidden talents as you and Chen Mo. If they don’t display your work in the Versailles Palace, I’ll never go—this is a loss for the history of human art!”

The youth blushed furiously, flattened a nearby sand dune with a blow, and only when Lin Changtian fell silent did he say, “To tell the truth, this picture actually concerns you. I’ve deduced for a long time, but this is all I can come up with. Of course, my skills may have a tiny influence. But since we’re here, I’ll trouble you to tell me personally—what exactly did you see that day at Bohai?”

The moment he finished, a chill flashed in the youth’s eyes, locking onto Lin Changtian’s pupils. No matter how well Lin Changtian feigned, instinct betrayed him, giving the youth his answer.

His deductions had not been wrong in the slightest.