Abundance constructs were also known as Abundance blessings.
In essence, these were gifts bestowed upon lifeforms seeking eternal life from YAOSHI, Aeon of ABUNDANCE.
Such blessings could manifest in countless forms—some as towering trees, others as distant moons...
Regardless of appearance, these blessings shared one common effect:
They granted eternal life, the very thing countless beings dreamed of.
The Xianzhou were precisely those who awakened from this dream of eternity.
Having suffered calamities from these Abundance blessings, they chose the path of the Hunt instead.
This new path symbolized a new tomorrow.
Thus, the old Abundance blessings were sealed away, suppressed by the Vidyadhara so their powers would never spread again.
The Abundance blessing sealed upon the Xianzhou Cangcheng appeared as an immense mountain named 'Buzhou.'
According to ancient Xianzhou texts, Buzhou was described as "eternally cold, perpetually snowing."
The snowflakes themselves carried the power of Abundance; beings touched by them would gradually transform into Denizens of the Abundance.
Even the trees near Buzhou became twisted and monstrous due to the perpetual snowfall.
"Who would've thought such a phenomenon came from just a few small stones?"
A Borisin standing beneath Mount Buzhou sighed deeply, staring at the drifting snow.
Though the mountain now towered majestically, who could've imagined that when they first took it from the Vidyadhara, it was just a few tiny stones?
Yet the moment those stones touched the ground, they had grown explosively, rising dozens of feet instantly.
Within a single day, a mountain hundreds of feet tall emerged. Such magnificence could only be possible through an Aeon's blessing.
And most importantly…
"Compared to our Blood Springs, this Abundance blessing is far gentler."
That was something these Borisin couldn't help but marvel at. Merely touching Buzhou's snowflakes gradually converted one's body into the Abundance.
Their own blessing—the Blood Springs—required continuously drawing fresh blood of their kind to achieve similar effects.
Compared to that brutality, the Xianzhou's blessing was unbelievably mild.
Bathing beneath Buzhou's snowflakes, the Borisin felt incredible comfort.
Their dormant bloodlines stirred awake, their bodies grew more powerful, and their spirits surged.
"To enjoy all this, we must thank the Khan Bolue for his meticulous planning!"
Even while savoring the blessing, they didn't forget its true architect:
Khan Bolue, who had schemed meticulously for centuries and finally secured Buzhou during recent chaos.
At the mention of his name, their expressions became filled with reverence.
To these Borisin, Khan Bolue was far superior to their so-called Warhead, Hoolay.
When they first escaped from the Isolation Prison, their clan numbered barely a hundred.
Yet over centuries of hiding among the Foxians, their numbers had swelled to nearly ten thousand, thanks entirely to Bolue's carefully devised plans.
"No wonder Khan Bolue graduated with top scores from the Intelligentsia Guild. Compared to a brute like Hoolay, he's on a completely different level."
Their praise for Khan Bolue flowed freely.
Only those who personally witnessed his brilliance could truly appreciate how formidable he was.
This chorus of praise abruptly quieted when two figures passed behind them.
Because those passing were members of another clan—Foxians—who shared a distant blood relation with them.
Two Foxians quietly moved past, heading purposefully toward a certain destination.
Leading them was the stooped figure of the Foxian elder.
His cane clicked rhythmically against the ground, echoing clearly with each step.
Those Borisin, who'd been praising Khan Bolue moments before, now blocked the elder's path.
Their eyes filled with blatant hostility.
"You Foxians aren't welcome here. Get lost."
Though they shared a distant bloodline, the Borisin held no kindness toward these Foxians.
To the Borisin, the foxes were merely things to bully and exploit.
If they behaved, they'd receive just enough scraps to live on.
If they displeased, they'd pay in blood and flesh.
In other words, the Foxians here were essentially living meat reserves for the Borisin.
If not for Khan Bolue's strict rule forbidding direct attacks on towns, they'd have long since devoured them all.
Yet even so, they constantly prowled near settlements, hunting down any Foxian who ventured out.
Thus, despite facing the Foxian elder himself, these low-ranking Borisin offered not the slightest respect.
They hurled endless streams of insults at the hunched, elderly Foxian leader.
Yet the Foxian elder remained entirely unmoved. He'd endured such insults countless times, long grown numb.
"This time I'm summoned by Khan Bolue. Are you certain you want to stop me?"
His ancient voice finally silenced the Borisin completely.
But even this small victory relied on borrowing Bolue's name.
Thinking of this, the old Foxian's heart was heavy with grief.
Long ago, the Foxians had joined the Xianzhou precisely because they'd had enough of Borisin oppression.
Yet, over these centuries, he'd again experienced the humiliation of his ancestors.
His clansmen were slaughtered in silence, oppressed without complaint.
Securing even this small refuge for Foxians was the best he could manage.
Naturally, these Borisin didn't care about the Foxian elder's complicated feelings.
But since he was summoned personally by Khan Bolue, they dared not stop him.
Yet, confusion lingered in their minds: Why summon these worthless foxes at this critical moment?
Though puzzled, they stepped aside to allow the Foxian elder passage to meet Khan Bolue.
Once the way cleared, the tapping of his cane echoed again near Mount Buzhou.
Ascending higher, the biting wind grew harsher, and alarming signs emerged on the elder's body.
His bent form gradually straightened, losing its previous hunch, but fresh branches began growing from his body.
"Leader!" the Foxian behind him cried out in alarm.
This symptom was exactly like Mara-struck victims on the Xianzhou!
The elder merely glanced at the branches sprouting from him, unsurprised.
He'd already long surpassed a Foxian's natural lifespan, clinging to life solely due to one wish in his heart:
He wanted to see the day Foxians regained their freedom. But the Abundance blessing had now begun consuming him.
What little time he had left was shrinking rapidly.
"It's nothing. Let's continue," the elder quietly insisted.
They finally stopped before a tent in the snowy wind.
This was the tent where Khan Bolue resided—mastermind behind the Foxians' oppression for centuries.
After striking two bones outside the tent to announce their presence, a voice soon replied, "Enter."
The two Foxians stepped inside, immediately noticing the Borisin leader at a distance, busying himself with documents.
Normally, Borisin appeared as rugged, unkempt werewolves covered in thick, tangled fur.
Yet Khan Bolue was nothing like those wild beasts.
Clothed impeccably in white robes, a pair of delicate golden spectacles rested on his narrow wolf-like face.
He sat calmly, examining the reports in his hand, eyes glowing thoughtfully.
This individual was none other than Bolue, current leader of the Borisin.
"Khan" was merely a respectful title used by his followers.
Seeing that those summoned had arrived, Bolue set down his work.
However, noticing the Abundance branches sprouting from the Foxian leader's body caused him to pause briefly.
Yet he quickly realized why the other party appeared like this.
"It seems your aged body won't enjoy the coming Abundance. As your friend of centuries, I truly regret this."
Bolue expressed his slight sympathy.
But his words made the Foxian leader clench his fists.
Centuries-long friend? You, who repeatedly forced me to kneel, bleed myself in humiliation, crushing my pride before everyone?
Every time he remembered those indignities, fury surged uncontrollably in his heart.
But again and again, he swallowed it down. This time was no different.
His clenched fists slowly loosened, weakly hanging by his sides.
"Why did you summon me?"
He didn't bother with pleasantries, cutting straight to the point.
Bolue never summoned anyone without reason—and any summons meant trouble for Foxians.
No need for roundabout conversation; best to find out directly what this monster wanted.
After all, it would undoubtedly involve exploiting the Foxians again.
"I appreciate your sensible attitude. I hope your successor will be equally reasonable."
A sinister smile spread across Bolue's wolfish face, briefly betraying his true Borisin nature.
Finally, he revealed his intentions to the Foxian elder.
"It's simple. Now that this Abundance blessing has appeared here, you surely know what has happened."
What else could it be? It clearly meant Bolue had led Borisin warriors on another raid into Fangyuan.
Otherwise, how could the Buzhou stones sealed deep within Fangyuan suddenly appear here?
Realizing this, the Foxian elder's expression changed dramatically.
"Could it be that you…"
"Exactly," Bolue interrupted. "Since we took something from them, how could they not come knocking on our door?"
Bolue poured himself a cup of steaming tea, the hot vapors distorting his face slightly.
"My informants report that even the esteemed Dragon Lord has arrived at the original Xianzhou site."
"So, I want your Foxians to persuade that Dragon Lord when she inevitably arrives."
The Foxian leader's squinted eyes instantly widened in shock.
This bastard wanted them, the Foxians, to be cannon fodder!
The Vidyadhara were now allied with the fiercely anti-Abundance Xianzhou. They certainly wouldn't come for polite negotiation.
Their combined armies would undoubtedly arrive intending to topple Mount Buzhou again.
And what fate awaited the Foxians if they stood in the path of two furious armies?
The Foxians had already been reduced to pitiful weakness, confined inside their towns.
Now Bolue intended to use them as a living shield against powerful foes.
"You—you…" The elder trembled.
"Do you object?" Bolue replied calmly, gently adjusting his glasses, narrowing his eyes dangerously.
"Not long ago, more than twenty of my people mysteriously died—and you haven't given me an explanation yet."
Hearing this, the Foxian elder hesitated briefly.
Indeed, those twenty-plus Borisin had been killed by a swordsman. He'd deliberately concealed the truth, since the killer had also taken a young Foxian girl—the only Foxian bloodline now safely beyond Borisin control.
Yes, the slain Borisin were precisely those killed by Sora, and the rescued girl was Ahri.
"Let's settle that debt, then." Bolue began to calculate aloud: "Considering our respective strengths, one Borisin warrior can handle roughly twenty to thirty Foxians."
"Let's take an average, say twenty-five Foxians per Borisin."
"I'll offer you a deal. Have five hundred Foxian youths kill themselves, and I won't send your people to the front lines."
In Bolue's mouth, Foxian lives were nothing more than numbers.
If you don't want your Foxians in front, fine—five hundred deaths, and I'll let the rest remain cowering behind.
"You bastard!"
Hearing these callous words, the Foxian follower behind the elder couldn't restrain himself.
He lunged at Bolue, a silver gleam flashing in his hand.
Yet Bolue showed no panic at all.
"Too noisy."
His fingers, resting on the table, lifted slightly—and a shadow flew past the elder's side.
Bang!
The Foxian slammed into the tent, knocking snow from the canvas.
His left limbs were severed cleanly as if by an invisible blade.
Blood spilled out, staining the pure white snow.
"Next time, bring someone quieter," Bolue said, casually wiping his fingers clean. "After centuries in prison, I can't stand noisy interruptions."
The elder Foxian, branches still sprouting from his aging body, remained frozen in place.
"So, what's your choice?"
What choice did he truly have?
If five hundred youths died, the Borisin would only exploit the Foxians even harder.
There had never been any choice at all.
Bolue always pretended to offer options, but in truth, there was never an alternative.
"I understand. I'll arrange everything."
"Ah, working with an old friend truly is comfortable," Bolue chuckled, patting the elder's shoulder mockingly.
He didn't fear retaliation—the elder stood no chance.
Centuries of manipulation had trained this old fox perfectly.
Just like now, he made the only correct choice.
Dragging his wounded follower away, the Foxian elder descended the mountain. Abundance blessings temporarily granted strength to his ancient frame.
Blood spilled from his follower's wounds, leaving bright red trails on the snow-covered ground.
Soon, the snow buried those bloody marks—just like Foxian suffering itself, hidden and unseen.
...
Not long afterward, a message reached Sora and his companions.
At that moment, they were strategizing how to assault the Tushan Realm and utilize Buzhou for the Heaven-Mending Creation.
Suddenly, someone arrived, breathlessly carrying a large package of information.
"What's this? Who sent it?" the Sword Champion of the Cangcheng asked curiously.
"No idea—but this could be exactly what we need right now!"
Everyone gathered around skeptically. Upon opening it, they immediately realized the truth in those words.
The package contained a huge, meticulously detailed map clearly marking Borisin and Foxian defensive positions.
Various specialized units and hidden sentries were precisely annotated.
"This wasn't drawn overnight. It even shows signs of revisions." Sword Champion noted, experienced eyes quickly spotting the details.
Clearly, this map spanned centuries.
"And judging by the handwriting, this person must be extremely old."
The map's handwriting changed gradually from strong and precise to shaky yet consistent. Clearly, a single individual had been secretly mapping these details for centuries.
Why had this map suddenly appeared in their hands?
Jin Xing said nothing, simply picking up a single strand of fur from the map.
That small strand of Foxian fur clearly revealed its creator.
"Was this map the only thing? Anything else?"
"There's also a brief letter."
Immediately, they opened it:
[This is the first and only gamble of my centuries-long life. Honored Dragon Lord and Sword Champion—please don't disappoint this old man.]
The letter was unsigned, except for:
[A sinner who has lived for centuries.]
Living atop countless corpses and suffering of his people, he had waited solely for this moment.
He had no strength left for another gamble.
As for the final future of his clan, perhaps he would never see it.
After reading the letter, all eyes silently fell upon Sora, seated at the head of the table.
"I can feel his desire for victory," Sora said quietly.
---
T/N: chapters for random rider be 2k+ sometimes it even reaches 6k chapter 238 is 6k words so be excited!!!
...
T/N:
Hello again. For the final time.
My name is Enkidu. I was born without a soul, crafted only as a weapon. Yet through bonds—through friendships—I learned what it meant to feel alive. Even though my body records my memories rather than my spirit, the warmth of those moments remains.
Thank you, truly, for staying here with us. You've come at a good time—right now, a 25% discount code is available:
12DAYS
This code will last until December 26. I hope you enjoy it.
For those who wish to support the translator (the one who kindly gave me this voice)—you can find optional support at patreon.com/wisetl. Early access to upcoming chapters will be your small reward.
Also, as always:
Every 100 Powerstones = 1 Bonus Chapter
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Bonus chapters will arrive tomorrow, approximately 12+ hours from now.
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People gathering, talking, sharing—it's a good thing, isn't it?
This is where I say goodbye.
Even as a weapon shaped by the gods, I found meaning in the company of humans.
If these words reach you, then perhaps we've shared something too, if only briefly.
Be well, Master, and readers alike.
May the world remain gentle to you.
Goodbye.
BYE BYE ENKIDYU I LOVE YOU