Chapter Ninety-Five: The Remains of the Ancestral God

Outside a nameless little city, Chen Ming came to a brief halt as he looked at the unknown settlement ahead.

Sensing that faint yet profound aura in front of him, Chen Ming understood. Though no ancestral god seemed to be stationed here, in truth the city was wrapped at every moment in wisps of deep, unfathomable power.

It was a condensed force of domain, a power unique to those who had ascended to the fifth rank, formidable and transcendent. If the standard for entering the fourth rank was to penetrate the essence of some particular power and evolve it into an illusory domain, then the fifth rank could transform that domain into a force that was real and undeniable. To a certain extent, it truly possessed the strength to contend with the suppression of an entire world. Existing within the domain, yet still within the world, it nevertheless stood faintly beyond it, using itself as the core to influence reality. That was the hallmark of a fifth-rank being.

The sliver of domain power shrouding the city before him was very weak, but in truth it was linked to its source as one body; stir a single thread and the whole fabric would move. If Chen Ming dared to go straight in like this, he would be discovered at once, and a great battle would be inevitable.

He turned to look around. Ahead, where the caravan was, a large crowd followed along. Among them, a thin, dark-skinned young man looked especially frail, as though he were a laborer hired on the road.

At the sight of him, Chen Ming’s thoughts stirred, and he vanished into a point of divine light.

In the next instant, the young man froze. Within those originally dark pupils, a speck of gold slowly surfaced, only to vanish in a flash, strange and uncanny.

“What’s wrong with you? Hurry up and move!” During that brief daze, a tall middle-aged man behind him spoke with some impatience.

At the sound of his voice, Chen Ming turned back and looked at him.

At once, the middle-aged man was shocked. A chill of dread surged from the depths of his heart, carrying wave after wave of coldness, faintly mixed with a thread of real fear that made him want to flee.

But the next moment, as if it had all been an illusion, the feeling disappeared.

“Was that just an illusion?” The thought flashed through the man’s mind, and instinctively he lowered his head, too afraid to look Chen Ming in the face.

Seeing this, Chen Ming turned back and quietly walked forward.

When he reached the city gate, soldiers specially assigned to guard it were stationed there, overseeing the caravans passing in and out. Yet there was no sign of bribes or entry fees being extorted. Each of them looked valiant and upright, their armor neat and immaculate, carrying a stern aura of killing intent. A glance was enough to tell they were elite troops.

Seeing these people, Chen Ming was somewhat surprised, and looked twice.

The caravan owner came forward smiling to make arrangements. After a while, the entire caravan was allowed through.

The moment he passed the city gate, the power of divinity within Chen Ming’s body suddenly contracted, gradually concealing itself beneath the origin aura of this mortal body, slowly masking his own presence as well. At the same time, all fluctuations of power within his frame ceased completely, and he appeared like an utterly ordinary mortal, unremarkable in the extreme.

With these measures in place, the aura enveloping the city trembled slightly, but in the end returned to calm. It failed to capture that trace of strange presence, and Chen Ming successfully slipped past it.

However, if he wanted to ensure that he would not be discovered, then he could not use divine power, but only those forces that would not draw attention.

Sensing that pervasive and ever-present aura around him, Chen Ming thought this to himself, his mind rippling with quiet calculation.

Still, this body was truly weak.

He frowned slightly, rather helpless.

A little later, after the caravan had proceeded to a certain point and the exchange was completed, he slowly walked away.

Once inside the city, scene after scene unfolded before him.

Unlike the elite defenses, the city’s public order and livelihood were surprisingly poor. The streets were crowded with pedestrians hurrying along, while in the shadows thieves ran rampant. In the dark corners, traces of blood and faint groans and screams echoed intermittently, enough to make one’s hair stand on end.

Seeing all this, Chen Ming shook his head, and his understanding of Barret, the king of Englandley, deepened further.

The man was essentially brutal and bloodthirsty, obsessed with battle and the army, while looking down on everything else.

Such a person might appear wise and martial, but in truth he was nothing more than a warmonger. In ordinary circumstances, so long as one could endure his unending offensives, there would naturally be countless other means to deal with him—wearing him down gradually, chipping away day by day until his mandate was completely exhausted and erased.

But within this world calamity, soaked in slaughter and hidden dangers, a man like this held the advantage and could even win the favor of the world’s will.

Chen Ming walked silently to a street. On the ground there were traces of blood that had not yet dried, along with fragments that had not been cleared away. It was impossible to know what battle had left them here.

Around the street, there were also several remaining stalls with merchants interwoven among them.

“Guest, why not come take a look at my collection here?” A rough voice came from ahead.

It was a burly giant of a man, calling out loudly when he saw Chen Ming approach.

Chen Ming raised his head and looked forward. “What do you have for sale?”

A large table stood before the man, densely covered with odds and ends: shattered shields, intact spears, and more, all piled in chaotic disorder.

Hearing Chen Ming speak thus, the man smiled, his laugh rumbling around like thunder.

“Come, guest, take a look at this.”

He said warmly to Chen Ming, “Spears and shields gathered from the battlefield. If you’re a lone adventurer, or a young fellow hoping to join the army, then you’ll surely need these!”

“And look at this too: the hand bone of Demps Gale, the iron crown of Gulaoslin. All of them are items of great commemorative value! Buying them back as collectibles would certainly be the right choice!”

Chen Ming looked down at the wooden table before him and gave a slight shake of his head.

From the perspective of his divinity, he could naturally tell that nearly ninety percent of the things on the table were forgeries, or else flawed in quality; only the remaining tenth could be considered intact.

However, when his eyes fell upon an ancient, dark wooden token, he paused slightly, sensing something unusual from it.

It carried an aura somewhat akin to that of an ancestral god, suffused with thick traces of blood and secrecy, faintly steeped in ominousness.

Seeing Chen Ming look toward the token, the burly man was overjoyed and said, “Guest, you really have excellent taste!”

“This token was said to be the remnant left behind after the ancestral god’s priest of some city-state was ordered destroyed. Though broken, legend says it still holds a certain power of the ancestral gods and can protect its bearer. It’s also a highly collectible item!”

At this explanation, Chen Ming smiled faintly, though inwardly he could not help but mock it.

Protective? This looks more like a curse to me.

From the wooden token he clearly sensed the lingering residue of the ancestral gods’ unique blood-soaked power, carrying a certain resentment. If an ordinary person carried it on their person for long enough, sooner or later they would be contaminated by its force and eventually discover a whole series of misfortunes.

“How much?”

He could not be bothered to answer and asked directly, without concealing his intent at all.

After paying, Chen Ming picked up the wooden token and walked toward another corner. As for the currency used to settle the bill, it had been kindly contributed by some of the city’s thieves.

In the unseen depths, as faint ripples arose, a little of the crimson power on the wooden token was slowly drawn out and absorbed into Chen Ming’s body.