pjbooks Chapter 119 The Demon Ancestor is Dead
Chapter 119 The Demon Ancestor is Dead
Jiang Chen stood on the boulder in the middle of the ancient riverbed, his left hand wiping away the last trace of dark red liquid remaining on the blade from his sleeve. The blade of the Primordial Sword had returned to a clear, pale gold, and the seven stars on the hilt were spinning faster than before—it had just drunk the blood of the fragments of the Demon Ancestor's primordial spirit, and its sword intent, dormant for 30,000 years, was now fully awakening.
Ye Wuhen was the first to reach the ancient riverbed. He stood on a broken pebble on the bank, watching the last drop of dark red liquid evaporate from Jiang Chen's sword, and looked at the dusty boy in his school uniform. He remained silent for a long time before speaking.
"The Demon Ancestor is dead?"
"It's not considered dead." Jiang Chen sheathed the Primordial Sword, its blade transforming into a golden stream of light that merged with the sword mark on his right palm. He looked down at the golden line on his palm, which was now a few inches deeper than before, and said calmly, "I shattered most of its primordial spirit fragments, and the remaining few escaped back to the bottom of the abyss. Nourished by the abyss's origin, it will re-form, but that will be thousands of years from now."
Jiang Chen jumped down from the boulder and landed on the sandy ground of the ancient riverbed. Dust was still falling from the hem of his school uniform—it was dust from the shattered stone tablet. He patted the hem off, but after a couple of tries, he couldn't get it clean, so he gave up.
Accompanied by Qi Hongyu, Chen Beiyuan arrived at the ancient riverbed. The old man was slightly out of breath, but his steps remained steady. Looking at the slowly dissipating dark red aura in the dried-up ancient riverbed, at the tears torn by sword intent on Jiang Chen's school uniform, at the deeper golden sword mark on his palm, he unscrewed the lid of his thermos, took a sip, and then said, "The gods of the immortal realm, the ancestors of the demon realm—were slain by you, a high school student, underground on your own planet."
Jiang Chen's lips curled up slightly. "In the cultivation world, this is called settling old scores with one's sect. The founding patriarch of the Qingyun Sect has guarded this place for 30,000 years. It is only right and proper for me, as the seventh-generation disciple, to settle a karmic debt for him."
Chen Beiyuan nodded and didn't ask any more questions. He tightened the lid of the thermos and handed it to Qi Hongyu beside him, then turned and walked towards the temporary camp. After a few steps, he stopped again. "What are you going to do about the abyss rift beneath that seal?"
"Same as the one in Liangzhou." Jiang Chen put his hands back in his school uniform pockets and followed. "Leave a wisp of sword intent at the edge of the rift for automatic filtering. High-level demon gods can't get through, but low-level demon beasts can be let through for awakened ones to practice on."
"And then what? Humans won't be content with 'practicing with low-level magical beasts' for long. You've already given them the path of cultivation; they cultivate within sects, and when they encounter bottlenecks, they need to fight to break through. There aren't enough magical beasts to kill, and not enough awakened beings to fight. Who are you going to let them practice with then?"
Jiang Chen glanced at him, the curve of his lips even more pronounced than before. "The Apostle Hall. Ten seats remaining."
Chen Beiyuan paused for a moment. Then he continued walking forward, his voice coming from ahead, carrying a sense of relief that had been suppressed for a long time: "Let the General Headquarters arrange it. When, and which one to attack first?"
A few days later, Jiang Chen returned to Jiangzhou.
The leaves of the crooked locust tree in the flower bed had mostly fallen, its bare branches casting dappled shadows under the streetlights. An elderly woman, wrapped in a thick cotton-padded coat, sat on a bench walking her dog, her Teddy dozing at her feet. Seeing Jiang Chen enter the residential area, the old woman stood up with renewed vigor and called out from afar, "Young man, you're on TV again! Is it cold in Kunlun?" Jiang Chen nodded to her and continued walking. The old woman added, "My grandson asked me to tell you that he wants to apply to your Qingyun Academy, but he's in a peacekeeping force in Africa and won't be back for two months! Could you save a spot for him?"
Jiang Chen paused. African peacekeeping forces—soldiers who carry out the most dangerous missions on the borders of the human world. He turned to face the old woman.
"What's your name?"
The old lady was surprised that Jiang Chen would stop and ask this. She paused for a moment before answering, "His name is Fang Yun. Fang as in square and round, and Yun as in clouds."
"I'll remember that. Tell him to come directly to the factory to see me when he gets back."
The old lady nodded repeatedly, her wrinkled face beaming with smiles. She bent down and said to Teddy at her feet, "DouDou, did you hear that? YunYun can cultivate immortality now." Teddy yawned and wagged his tail.
Jiang Chen continued walking home. The familiar smells in the stairwell were still there—Grandma Wang on the first floor was simmering chicken soup tonight, the smell of cooking oil on the third floor was mixed with the aroma of braised fish, and Aunt Li's sandalwood incense on the fifth floor was stronger than usual, probably praying for him again. He climbed to the fourth floor, stopped at his own door, took a deep breath, and then raised his hand to knock.
The footsteps from inside the door were faster than usual. When Jiang Xueqin opened the door, soup was still dripping from the spatula, and flour was stuck to her apron. She didn't touch Jiang Chen from head to toe to ask if he was injured, as she usually did. She just stared at him for three seconds before her attention was drawn to the tears in her son's school uniform caused by the sword intent.
"I'm not injured at all. My clothes are just torn."
"Torn? What made this cut? Wasn't it a sword? Don't you have that True Essence protecting you? How could you tear your clothes?"
Jiang Chen looked down at the tears in his school uniform, recalling the clash of divine senses with the fragments of the Demon Ancestor's primordial spirit before the seal was sealed. Those chaotic forces, transformed into spiritual blades, had indeed momentarily breached the gaps in his protective true essence—his clothes were torn, but his Dao heart had indeed been tempered even harder at that crucial instant. He didn't say this aloud, only describing it in a simple way.
Jiang Tianyi came out of the living room and placed the empty cigarette pack, which she had crumpled several times and then picked up and put on the corner of the table, on the coffee table. He walked around to his son's side to look at the tear in his school uniform, then reached out and patted Jiang Chen on the shoulder. The pat was hard, so hard that Jiang Chen slumped down.
"Good lad. You've made your old man proud."
Jiang Chen looked at his father, noticing something gleaming in the eyes of this man whose hair was mostly white. He couldn't hide the smile on his face any longer. He took off his torn school uniform and handed it to Jiang Xueqin. Jiang Xueqin took the uniform, examined it, and then turned to take a sewing kit from her drawer. The thread was dark blue, the same color as her school uniform.
Moonlight streamed in through the window, falling on the rose bush that had sprouted its third new leaf. The tender green leaf swayed gently in the evening breeze. In the distance, the lights of countless homes in Jiangzhou City flickered on and off.
Under the same moonlight, on the circular throne of the Void Temple in the Apostle Realm, the huge light screen in front of the First Apostle, Kahn, was repeatedly playing the same scene—not battle records, not energy monitoring, but the dining table where Jiang Chen and his parents were sitting together eating.