Chapter Nine: Leaves

Chen Ming watched as the other person took the token and nodded slightly. After waiting a moment, he stirred his divine essence within his true spirit, lifting the seal that had been placed there. Then, with a wave of his hand, the spirits he had previously gathered were released, appearing above the village.

Because they had been sealed within his divine essence, these souls retained the memories of their redemption. Now, confronted with the sudden change of scenery, they immediately knelt and worshipped him fervently.

Chen Ming paid them no mind, instead instructing Largos beside him, “Largos, see to these people.” Then, in the divine realm, a portal of light appeared, and Chen Ming vanished instantly.

Upon leaving the divine realm, Chen Ming surveyed the outside world. The altar was now linked with the tribe’s barrier, appearing more solid than before. Moreover, the altar was mystically connected to the divine essence. The souls of all worshippers gathered around the altar would be drawn into the divine domain.

As the tribe’s population gradually grew, so too would the number of worshippers, and the power of the altar and the divine realm would expand, driving away more darkness.

Chen Ming nodded approvingly, then made his way toward his true body. It had been a long time since he last returned to his corporeal form; although his connection to his divine essence remained unchanged, he was not well informed about the tribe’s recent affairs.

As his divine soul and physical body reunited, a sense of power gradually coalesced within him. Should he face the wolf king again, he was confident he could easily overcome his adversary.

After all, for him now, the difference between having a body or not was immense.

“Unfortunately, my true body still cannot move,” he sighed inwardly, a touch of helplessness in his heart.

Reborn as a tree, there were advantages—had he not become a tree, he would not have become the tribe’s totem nor received their worship. Without the long ages of slumber as a tree, he could not have consolidated the position of a god of nature.

Yet now, this had become a source of trouble, rendering his true body immobile and forever rooted.

“But on the whole, the good outweighs the bad,” he mused quietly.

Through the unseen threads of faith, he sensed all that had transpired over the past few days.

In these days, many devout worshippers had gradually comprehended divine arts. Among them, the golden-fated Kuruba had succeeded in grasping divine arts a few days prior.

Yet Kuruba’s divine art was unlike the others—it was not of the natural domain, but specialized in combat, which surprised Chen Ming.

It is said that god and worshipper are one, and this is not mere rhetoric. For worshippers, through resonance and insight, they may gain the divine arts of the god. For the god, every action and realization of the worshippers can be shared, though this sharing is greatly diluted.

This is the source of a god’s power; the reputation of gods as omnipotent is not unwarranted. A god with many worshippers, even if he does nothing, will, over time and as his followers grow, receive continuous feedback of their insights, eventually making the god appear all-knowing and masterful in every field.

Still, such feedback is weak and cannot fully convey the worshippers’ insights. Besides, to the lofty gods, mortal comprehension is often insignificant.

Chen Ming quietly closed his eyes, and scenes of hundreds of ghostly soldiers in fierce combat unfolded in his mind.

Clashing, defending, commanding, fighting for life and death—various battle insights flowed into his mind with these images, forming his unique understanding. Though not powerful, it was enough to grant him several new divine arts.

Thus, these divine arts were sensed and comprehended by Kuruba days ago. Clearly, this man was a born warrior, for all his divine arts leaned toward the domain of combat.

Chen Ming nodded, recognizing this as a boon. Kuruba was the most gifted of all he had seen since awakening; his golden fate marked him among the elite of this world. Judging by current circumstances, with time and cultivation, he would surely become a formidable champion.

With this thought, Chen Ming pondered briefly, then sent out a message with a flicker of his divine will.

Elsewhere, Kuruba was training before a wooden pillar, sweat streaming down his body, exuding an intense aura of blood and violence. The spear formed from divine art in his hand thrust forward forcefully.

Since gaining the divine art, he had trained here daily. With the advent of divine arts, most tribal weapons had been abandoned, replaced by weapons forged of divine power.

Such weapons, formed by imprints of divine arts and world elements summoned by divine power according to unseen laws, far surpassed crude handmade implements—even outshining metal arms.

Suddenly, a voice sounded in his mind, making him pause. He quickly ended his training and looked toward the ancient tree.

He responded inwardly, then walked toward the tree.

The ancient tree was not far; with his stride, it took only minutes before the towering, majestic tree—hundreds of meters tall—came into sight.

Without hesitation, he bowed his head, prayed for a time, and then spoke with reverence, “O my god, what is your command?”

Across from him, Chen Ming gazed at the bowed Kuruba with approval.

From his viewpoint, Kuruba’s vitality was exceptionally strong, with a fierce aura far surpassing what he possessed days ago—a transformation akin to rebirth. Though not quite a qualitative change, he was now truly formidable; even facing a demon wolf in combat, he could prevail, no longer suffering as before.

Chen Ming nodded inwardly, then moved his will. At the top of the tree, a leaf descended, shining with clear light, landing before Kuruba.

Kuruba caught the leaf. From his perspective, it gleamed like crystal, radiant, suffused with a divine glow that stirred his blood.

Yet he dared not act, bowing even lower and praying silently.

Seeing this, Chen Ming nodded in satisfaction.

That leaf was no ordinary thing. It had taken him thousands of years to accumulate such leaves through constant growth. In his current state, it would take ten years to produce another.

His true body had only a limited number of leaves, each containing a fragment of divine essence—a peerless treasure. A mortal who consumed it would instantly become a supreme talent, even gaining a faint trace of divine blood. Through this, he could connect with the powers of heaven and earth, embarking on the path of cultivation.

Chen Ming acted thus out of necessity.

Under the divine system, worshippers advanced quickly but remained bound by the god. Unless their faith was as pure as a saint, no worshipper could ascend before he himself achieved a higher rank.

Currently, Chen Ming was only at the first level, meaning that regardless of their brilliance or devotion, none of his worshippers could advance unless they reached saintly purity.

For an exceptional talent like Kuruba, remaining within the priestly system would be a waste, restricting his growth.

That divine leaf symbolized the opening of a path to transcending oneself. Once awakened to the divine bloodline, one could communicate with the world’s powers and grow stronger through personal effort.

Chen Ming looked calmly at Kuruba, instructing him to consume the leaf.

Upon hearing the command, Kuruba did not hesitate. Following his instincts, he swallowed the leaf whole.

At once, he felt an intense surge of vitality erupt from deep within, as though his body might burst apart. A wave of severe pain followed—he gritted his teeth, enduring with sheer will to keep his mind clear.

Finally, as the pain faded, a warm current spread within him, and he could not help but relax, falling swiftly into sleep.