Chapter 149 The Power of Time
Just as everyone thought Chen Chang'an had blocked the heaven-piercing strike, a new mutation arose!
The brilliant swordlight that had stood against the heavens was now being slowly corroded by a viscous black substance.
That dark fluid seeping from the tentacle clung to the swordbeam like a living thing, and wherever it touched, even light twisted and dimmed.
Bulging veins stood out on the back of Chen Chang'an's hand gripping the sword—he could clearly feel something piercing through the defenses of his sword qi, reversing along the flow of spiritual power and invading his meridians.
Chi—
The instant the first drop of black liquid touched his shoulder, his white robe instantly turned to ash.
Even more terrifying was how the black substance soaked into his skin at once. He felt his cultivation itself being devoured and annihilated together.
Though the erosion was minuscule, as a Saint Realm cultivator his control over his true essence was absolute, so he unmistakably sensed his cultivation had regressed—by just a sliver.
His expression turned solemn.
"Hahahaha…" Hong Chenji's mad laughter shook the clouds. "Did you think the Supreme One's power was merely brute force? Let me tell you, every strike of the Supreme carries the laws of heaven and earth!"
He revealed a cruel smile. "Your luck is poor—this strike carries the primordial corrosion of the River of Time! No matter how divine your sword arts, before the years you are no more than a mayfly against a tree!"
Chen Chang'an gave a muffled grunt, his swordlight trembling violently.
As the black substance kept invading, he felt his spiritual power draining—not consumed, but truly reversing.
The vast ocean of true essence in his dantian shrank bit by bit. The starry sea of divine sense in his consciousness ebbed away moment by moment.
Most terrifying was that this loss was unstoppable, like sand slipping through a mortal's fingers.
"Do not struggle," Hong Chenji savored Chen Chang'an's unsettled expression. "This strike from the Supreme will strip away one hundred thousand years of cultivation—the lifespan limit of your lower realm human Saints. You will watch yourself fall from the clouds, feel every ounce of power leave you…"
His voice dropped to a whisper. "And then your flesh will decay into dust like bones in a tomb."
Zheng—
A brilliant swordlight suddenly cleaved toward the tentacle in the sky!
Ji Hongli's figure was so fast it left afterimages, the Tiancong Cloud Sword wrapped in an unprecedented killing intent.
But Hong Chenji had anticipated this. Black spikes exploded from his body, flying before Chen Chang'an and blocking the blade three feet away.
"Don't be impatient," Hong Chenji's voice rasped like grinding sand. "This one… should be your Dao companion, yes? When he becomes a dying old man…"
He deliberately shifted aside to reveal Chen Chang'an's body, already being consumed by the black substance. "Tell me, will he still be able to hold your hand then?"
Ji Hongli did not reply, only launched frenzied attacks.
Though Hong Chenji was hacked until his flesh was shredded, his face still carried an expression of perverse delight.
"Father—!!"
Chen Xingcai pounded the barrier madly, her slender knuckles raw and bloody.
For the first time, panic and despair clouded the girl's eyes.
Hong Chenji narrowed his eyes with pleasure.
This was the scene he most enjoyed—human emotions, before the might of time, were nothing but a joke.
When Chen Chang'an became a skeleton, and Chen Xingcai personally buried her father…
That would be the perfect script bestowed upon him by the Supreme One.
The black tide had already spread across Chen Chang'an's chest.
Chen Chang'an looked at the solemn face of Ji Hongli and at Chen Xingcai pounding the barrier desperately, and suddenly he laughed in relief.
He felt he was doomed this time.
Truly, he should never have left the valley. That black snake he'd met before—maybe it had been Heaven's warning.
And now, his first time stepping out of the valley had ended in disaster.
If Heaven gave him another chance, he swore he would never step out again!
Yet… he didn't regret it.
Because… at least he had done what he ought to do. Death… didn't seem so frightening anymore.
Looking back on his "short" life, he felt he had been happy enough. Though he had stayed hidden in that little valley and never gone out, his daughter was beautiful and filial, and his disciples had grown up, beginning to reveal the peerless brilliance of protagonists of the world.
He suddenly felt dazed.
Had he really transmigrated?
Could it be he was actually just dreaming on his soft one-point-eight-meter bed back on Earth?
Maybe in a moment he would wake up with a yawn.
Then he'd complain with his coworkers about the hardship of being a wage slave while reminiscing over this long, strange dream.
In his ears, Hong Chenji's wild laughter still echoed. "Feel the might of time! A hundred thousand years of cultivation, gone in an instant!"
Chen Chang'an clenched his fists silently.
There was still some reluctance—
In his mind appeared the faces of his disciples—Xiao Chen's gentle grace, Han Yu's quiet endurance, Jiang Che's calm intelligence, and Ji Lingxiu, that girl who looked so dignified and polite but always had schemes running in her head.
They had all grown up… from now on they would truly have to rely on themselves.
He, their useless master, was only good at giving motivational speeches.
He had finally made the decision to come out, and now it was over immediately.
But they were all children of destiny; they should be fine.
His gaze finally fixed on Chen Xingcai's tear-streaked little face.
His little Xingcai—what kind of peerless beauty would she grow into? Surely many young heroes would pursue her.
At that thought, his heart suddenly tightened.
No! Absolutely not!
What if his daughter were tricked away by some smooth-talking yellow-haired punk? Chen Xingcai was so innocent—someone could bribe her with a string of candied hawthorns and make her beam…
The sword about to fall suddenly trembled.
I don't want to die!
If I die, who will take care of the yellow-haired punks for me!
A fierce will to live burst once more from Chen Chang'an's eyes.
And then—
Something was wrong…
He suddenly realized.
That Hong Chenji had been ranting all this time, and he had thought his cultivation was about to be completely drained.
Yet nothing had happened?
He probed his dantian again.
Yes, he truly felt his cultivation retreating, but that "retreat" had stopped abruptly, as though it had reached some bottomless boundary.
Like a person standing at the sea's edge, watching the tide recede, only to find that beyond the retreating water was not dry sand, but…
Another, deeper ocean…
…
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