Chapter Forty-eight: Devoid of Virtue in All Five Elements!

“Brother…” Little Fatty panicked and hurried to help Tang Fei.

“I’m fine.” Tang Fei reached out to stop him, saying, “Let me rest for a moment.”

I am Tang Fei—wherever I fall, that’s where I lie.

Such a trite pun!

“What a useless hammer, we might as well not keep it.” Little Fatty picked up the Skull Hammer, ready to throw it away.

“Wait…” Tang Fei called out.

Little Fatty held the Skull Hammer aloft and asked, “Brother, what’s wrong?”

Tang Fei didn’t answer, but instead gave Little Fatty a strange look, scrutinizing him from head to toe, left and right, as though trying to see right through him.

“Brother, what’s wrong?” Little Fatty was nervous, worried as he asked, “Are my eyes red? Have I become some terrible monster…”

He had been frightened by Tang Fei’s reactions holding the Skull Hammer earlier, thinking perhaps he’d been possessed by some fierce spirit.

Now, as he held the hammer himself, was he going to turn out like his big brother?

“Try swinging it,” said Tang Fei.

Little Fatty swung the hammer, and with a thunderous crash, a protruding turtle-back stone nearby was smashed to powder, scattering like dust.

“Hit again,” Tang Fei said.

Though unsure, Little Fatty swung again.

Bang!

A stalactite hanging upside down overhead was sent flying.

Tang Fei’s eyes lit up as he looked at Little Fatty, asking, “Do you feel a surge of energy and a murderous urge?”

“No,” Little Fatty shook his head.

“Do you feel overheated, as if you’re being roasted over a fire?”

“No,” Little Fatty shook his head again.

“Any discomfort?”

Little Fatty felt his stomach and said, “Just a bit hungry, maybe because I’ve exercised too much today… Brother, we haven’t had dinner yet.”

Tang Fei stared at Little Fatty, then eyed the Skull Hammer in his hand, gradually confirming his suspicion.

Earlier, when the fierce god’s spiritual thought locked onto him at the entrance, Tang Fei had struggled violently, only to be counterattacked by divine power. Meanwhile, Little Fatty, simple and oblivious, was unaffected, suffering no harm at all.

It had struck Tang Fei as odd—he was a cultivator, an adept at Qi control. How could his resistance be worse than an ordinary Little Fatty?

When the fierce god wielded the Skull Hammer to kill them, Tang Fei was gravely wounded, yet Little Fatty, knocked aside, rolled on the ground and sprang up unfazed…

This hammer was truly uncanny.

Tang Fei looked at Little Fatty and said, “Little Fatty, from now on, this hammer is yours.”

Heavenly treasures belong to the virtuous.

The same hammer, when Tang Fei lifted it, was agony; but in Little Fatty’s hand, nothing happened, and it could unleash tremendous power…

Tang Fei felt wounded inside.

The artifact’s discrimination was a blatant declaration that Tang Fei lacked virtue.

Of course, he wouldn’t voice his suspicion.

A brother’s dignity must be upheld.

“Brother, I don’t want this hammer. It looks like a skull—it’s too frightening,” Little Fatty refused.

He was just smashing stones; any hammer would do.

If he used such a hammer, what if he scared his friends?

Little Fatty was different from Tang Fei; he was well-liked in the village…

Besides, what if he turned into a ‘freak’ like his big brother?

The scene of Tang Fei holding the hammer had left him uneasy, fearing he might face the same fate someday.

“It’s not the same,” Tang Fei said. “Listen to me—use this hammer from now on.”

Tang Fei had figured it out: since this hammer belonged to the fierce god, it must be an object of great evil.

The fierce god had smashed countless skulls with it—if not ten thousand, then at least nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine…

Tang Fei’s mind was too complex, full of distracting thoughts, which made him susceptible to the Skull Hammer’s influence and temptation.

For example, a single ounce of malice could be magnified tenfold under its sway.

That one degree of hostility in his heart could become ten, a hundred.

The more he killed, the deeper his rage, the stronger his bloodlust.

Would he remain human or become a ghost?

He feared ending up neither human nor ghost.

Little Fatty was different; the boy was simple, always amicable to everyone. No distractions, no ill intent…

Rarely looking up from his path, always focused on his work.

He was a craftsman, a stoneworker, someone to be praised and celebrated.

Indeed, no one had ever spoken ill of him.

For if you did, people would think poorly of you.

Someone so pure that even fierce gods and Skull Hammers couldn’t affect him.

If there’s no hostility in my heart, how can you inflame it?

If there’s no desire in my heart, how can you seduce me into depravity?

This hammer and Little Fatty were a match made in heaven—though, perhaps, a mismatched pair.

The Skull Hammer couldn’t sway Little Fatty’s mind, so he could wield it freely.

Yet, Little Fatty’s character didn’t fit the hammer’s standards… perhaps only scoundrels and murderers could win its favor.

Well, let them make do for now.

After all, even newlyweds need a period of adjustment, let alone mortals and divine artifacts.

“Should I use it for stones too?”

“Use it for stones,” Tang Fei said.

Sorry, fierce god, I know this Skull Hammer is an artifact… but surely it can smash stones?

If it can’t, how dare it call itself a divine weapon? How can it qualify for the artifact rankings?

“Alright then,” Little Fatty nodded reluctantly.

Since it was his brother’s instruction, he would obey. His brother had never harmed him.

Seeing Little Fatty accept with such resignation, Tang Fei felt another pang of sadness.

He actually liked the hammer, knowing full well that an artifact’s blessing for a cultivator was incomparable, but…

All his affection had gone to waste.

Tang Fei looked at Little Fatty and said, “Help me up.”

“Okay.” Little Fatty tossed the hammer aside, rushed over, and helped Tang Fei to his feet.

Tang Fei used the internal observation technique to check his body; the yin and yang energies had mostly replenished and balanced him, the restlessness and boiling blood had vanished, and the burning agony was gone.

He then went over to the fierce god’s corpse for a thorough search…

The infamous corpse-looter was at it again.

Tang Fei was a professional at looting bodies.

He found a beast skin scroll at the fierce god’s waist—not sheep, not cow, a kind of animal hide Tang Fei had never skinned before. Tough and resilient, it had survived the centuries.

It was densely covered in tiny writing. Tang Fei squinted at it in the red glow, but didn’t recognize a single character.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from stuffing it in his pocket.

He also found a jade bottle containing small red pills.

Tang Fei poured some into his palm and sniffed—there was a medicinal fragrance, so they probably hadn’t expired.

The color, however, was alarmingly red, as if dyed.

Tang Fei thought maybe the old man would want it, given his many female friends.

Other than that, there was nothing else.

Tang Fei was unconvinced—nothing could escape his skilled hands.

So he searched around the cave.

There really was nothing left.

“Is there any god as poor as you?” Tang Fei said with disdain. “You shouldn’t be called the fierce god—you’re the god of poverty.”

“Eh…” Tang Fei discovered something new.

He realized the god of poverty…

The fierce god’s clothes had decayed, but the black cloak draped over his shoulders remained intact.

Tang Fei touched it; the fabric was soft, neither silk nor satin—he had no idea what material it was.

So he tore the cloak off.

He tried to tie it around Little Fatty’s neck, but Little Fatty refused, his face pale with fright. “Brother, it’s a dead man’s clothing… I don’t dare wear it.”

Just thinking of the giant skull he’d seen earlier, and the aura of death it had exuded, made him afraid of nightmares.

If he took the cloak, what if the fierce god came looking for him at night?

“Coward,” Tang Fei said gruffly. “Such a good thing… never mind, forget it.”

He draped the cloak over himself. There was no mirror, but he could already picture his own dashing, heroic looks in his mind.

Yes, this fierce god’s cloak was truly excellent…

Tang Fei said to Little Fatty, “Little Fatty, hit me with the hammer.”

“Brother…” Little Fatty was horrified, staring wide-eyed at Tang Fei. “What’s wrong with you?”

He saw that every time his brother touched something belonging to the fierce god, he became a bit abnormal.

“Never mind, I was just saying,” Tang Fei waved his hand. “I wanted to test if this cloak had any magical effects… Better take it off first. If it doesn’t, you’d kill me.”

“Yes,” Little Fatty nodded repeatedly, “You’d be killed.”

The thought of possibly smashing his brother to death made Little Fatty feel terrible.

Tang Fei was delighted, while the fierce god was stripped entirely.

A mighty fierce god, fallen so low—his prized weapon taken, even his only piece of clothing stolen…

A tale to move hearts and bring tears.

Tang Fei felt there was nothing more to gain, so he said to Little Fatty, “Let’s go home.”

He turned back, bowed three times to the fierce god, and said with sincere reverence, “Thank you, Lord Fierce God, for the clothes and medicine. I can never repay your great kindness. Next life, I’ll be your ox or horse.”

“Brother, why did you use godfather’s name?” Little Fatty asked in confusion.

Slap!

Tang Fei smacked Little Fatty’s head, angry, “Keep your voice down—don’t let the fierce god hear.”

Tang Fei and Little Fatty left fully loaded, courteously closing the door behind them.

The red glow in the cave began to gather overhead, forming a pair of blood-red eyes.

A gigantic skull loomed indistinctly, those eyes rippling like pools of blood, gazing at the naked body lying on the stone platform…

“Roar…”

A cry of grief and fury, shaking heaven and earth.