The Elysium Across Deep Space

Chapter 181: Of Course Old Chen Takes The Blame

Chapter 181: Of Course Old Chen Takes The Blame

Wang Xuan found himself lost amidst a sea of fog, a perplexing situation he had never encountered before in the Land of the Departed. Directionless, he relied solely on instinct, navigating through the misty enigma.

The pain of his body tearing apart, the blood oozing from every pore, and the vague, haunting shadows of demons trailing behind him were all too familiar for Wang Xuan, and he paid them no heed.

Soon, a faint glimmer of golden light beckoned him through the murky darkness, like a lighthouse piercing the night's veil. He approached the source and, as expected, found himself before the colossal lump of gold that towered over five meters tall, cast entirely in solar gold and radiating a splendid luminosity.

Eager to see if his ranking had changed, Wang Xuan scanned the golden mass for his position. Suddenly, a spurt of blood erupted from his mouth - had he consumed too many demonic fruits this time? Despite feeling as if his body might shatter into pieces, his will remained unyielding, his concern not for himself but for Old Chen's safety in this treacherous land.

Attempting to divert his focus from the pain, Wang Xuan's gaze settled on the gold monolith. His name was not among the last; he was no longer at the bottom of the list. His previous advancement, having mastered the first true form diagram on the golden bamboo raft, seemed to have propelled him upwards in the ranks.

From the bottom up, he located his name: fourteenth from the last, surpassing thirteen others. Satisfaction filled him at this considerable leap, his respect for his own resilience growing. Yet, something seemed amiss. Beside his name was an inscription that seemed to mock him: "A mortal who has entered The Departed Land four times, defying the Fisher."

"Does this not reflect pure strength in ranking?" Wang Xuan mused, awakening to a realization. Throughout history, those who ventured into the eight realms of Death's Pass were few in each era, but collectively, they were numerous, the crème de la crème of transcendental beings. This list, beginning at the transcendent level, was a testament to their exceptional might.

Wang Xuan knew his limits. While he could hold his own against an ordinary transcendent, compared to those immortalized on this list, he was still lacking.

"My rise in the ranks... is it because I defied the Fisher?" he pondered, lost in thought. "What value does this ranking hold?"

……

Battered and bloodied, Old Chen found himself adrift in the misty expanse of the Departed Lands, his body undergoing a grotesque transformation. Horns sprouted on his head, a multitude of tails emerged behind him, and even his internal organs bore the mark of change. Yet, he persevered, driven by a resolute heart.

Despite the harrowing pain that ravaged his being, Old Chen's indomitable spirit persevered, leaving behind a haunting trail of blood as he journeyed towards a serene, azure lake that mirrored the tranquility of the skies above. The sight of the vast sea, once a mere lake, lined with elevated platforms occupied by beings of myth and legend, stirred within him a fleeting desire. Yet, Old Chen's resolve was unwavering; his destiny was his to forge, not to be swayed by the beckoning call of ancient, flawed paths.

"True forms and demonic ways are not my doctrine. Future generations will know me as Patriarch Chen, the architect of my own fate. Ancient methods, marred by their imperfections, demand correction. The path to transcendence will be redefined, for the most resplendent era awaits our pen to inscribe its glory. You, remnants of bygone myths, disperse from my sight," Old Chen declared, his voice resonating with a clarity that pierced through the foggy veil, using the platforms as crucibles to purge the demonic afflictions from his body.

As his proclamation echoed across the seascape, the occupants of the high platforms opened their eyes, casting cold, scrutinizing gazes upon him. Old Chen's heart pounded with uncertainty – these beings deviated from Wang Xuan's descriptions, focusing their ancient, knowing eyes upon him. Yet, as quickly as they stirred, they returned to their meditative states, their forms dissolving into the mists of time.

Upon the golden bamboo raft that sailed across the expanse, the ferryman remained aloof, his back turned in silent disregard. Old Chen's heart sank in silent protest – had he not avoided transgressing the sacred angler's domain? Yet, the indifference weighed heavily upon him.

“Ah, someone’s here,” said the Ferryman.Suddenly, the ferryman's voice broke the silence, only to halt abruptly. With a swift, unexpected turn, he faced Old Chen, his gaze piercing the veil of fog that separated them.

He was a being of his word, a ferryman who bridled his powers of mind-reading and clairvoyance while in service, committed to transporting souls across the spectral lake. Distraction had clouded his vigilance, the resolution of an irksome matter leaving him disengaged. The fact that his unexpected visitor was not Wang Xuan was something that he did not expect.

Approaching the shimmering sea, he respectfully greeted the ferryman, a figure shrouded in mystery, standing by the spectral shores. "I have seen much in my time," the ferryman mused, "but never before have two souls succeeded in these paths so close together."

Old Chen, boarding the radiant bamboo vessel, was immediately taken aback by its opulence. The teapot and cups, forged from sun gold, sparkled brilliantly, while the lanterns of the same precious material added to the vessel's grandeur.

Engaging in conversation, the ferryman inquired about Old Chen's origins. "I hail from the Old World," Old Chen replied earnestly, sensing a shift in the ferryman's demeanor, a flicker of connection.

Sensing an opening, Old Chen probed further, "Do you, venerable one, yearn for unfulfilled desires in the mortal realm?" The ferryman, composed yet touched, spoke of his longing for his descendants, a tender bridge to his past life.

The revelation that the ferryman occasionally visited the mortal realm in spirit form intrigued Old Chen. He leaned forward, "Have you, perchance, encountered anyone I might know?"

The ferryman, with a gentle smile, responded, "Old Zhong, Zhong Yong - does the name ring familiar?"

Old Chen's mind reeled at the implications. Had the ferryman, in his celestial wanderings, guided Old Chen to his transcendent state on New World? The mere thought reshaped Old Chen's understanding of the pathways to supernatural realms, intertwining destiny with the mysterious will of the Departed Lands' enigmatic steward.

Old Chen, maintaining a composed demeanor, solemnly informed, "My ties with Old Zhong run deep, akin to an eight-lifetimes bond. Not long ago, we stood shoulder to shoulder in battle, facing life and death together. He is on the path of the Golden Elixir, currently accumulating the energy of the five-colored golden elixir..."

However, the outcome vastly exceeded his expectations. In an instant, his world spun wildly; the moon seemed to touch the ground, and the sea appeared to hang in the sky. Old Chen found himself upside down, dangled by the Ferryman's rod made of Ascension Divine Bamboo, alarmingly close to the water's surface. Then, he saw the waters part, revealing a skeletal dragon lunging at him, its bony jaws wide open.

"What's happening, Elder?" cried Old Chen in distress.

"Old Zhong! He's dug up my grave, stolen my bones! What do you think?" roared the Ferryman, unable to contain his fury. Breaking his usual restraint, he used his fishing rod to repeatedly lash Old Chen, causing him excruciating pain as he swung perilously above the skeletal dragon, like a fish on a line.

This was a grave injustice for Old Chen. Merely by expressing his close relationship with Old Zhong, his life had turned into a tragic comedy. "Damned Old Zhong," he thought bitterly, "bringing disaster upon others!"

In desperation, Old Chen blurted out, "Elder, Old Zhong is right outside, just beneath your gaze, in the realm of Death's Pass!"

He had no intention of bearing the brunt of Old Zhong's misdeeds. If possible, he would gladly drag Old Zhong onto this boat himself, letting him carry his own burdens.

"Old Zhong is outside? And that young Wang Xuan never told me... fearing I might drain all of Old Zhong's secrets beforehand," murmured the Ferryman to himself, followed by a sigh. "But I can't leave... Could you, perhaps, bring Old Zhong here for me?"

Old Chen's mind raced as he spoke, "Old Zhong is over a hundred years old and of very poor aptitude. What if he explodes upon entering Death's Pass? Perhaps, Elder, you might bestow a treasure upon him first?"

With a splash, another skeletal figure emerged from the depths - a ferocious bird, hundreds of meters long, which promptly swallowed Old Chen whole. The giant avian skeleton hovered in the air, tossing Old Chen in its beak before finally dropping him back onto the bamboo boat, leaving him utterly baffled and unjustly battered.

"Stay still, don't move!" the Ferryman called out in an urgent tone, eventually sighing in resignation.

Regaining his senses, Old Chen rose from the boat's deck, his hands bracing against something cold behind him. It was a spear, dark gold in color, its tip honed to lethal sharpness as if a cleaver had been finely ground. The weapon seemed to be a blend of solar gold among other materials. It wasn't as dazzling as pure solar gold, but upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a fearsome tool of destruction.

A realization dawned on Old Chen - something wasn't quite right. A ball of light from within the spear had entered his body. Astonished, he wondered, had this divine weapon chosen him as its master?

Feeling somewhat guilty, he explained, "Elder, I assure you, I had no covetous intentions towards this divine weapon."

The Ferryman, pointing at him, struggled for words before eventually letting out a sigh.

Meanwhile, Wang Xuan arrived, waving enthusiastically towards the sea, his face beaming with a familiar smile, as if he were returning to his own home.

The golden bamboo boat swiftly approached, and Wang Xuan leaped aboard, relieved to see Old Chen unharmed. "Good to see you're okay," he said.

"I feel... not so good. Something seems to have happened to me," Old Chen replied, hinting at an underlying issue.

Wang Xuan, surprised, noticed the additional set of solar gold tea utensils on the small table of the bamboo boat. Even the lantern's frame and a mat in the cabin were crafted from solar gold.

"Elder, did you split part of my solar gold divine spear to make these household items?" he inquired.

The Ferryman glanced at him and responded, "Why are you shouting? Which ancient immortal weapon is made purely of solar gold? They must be blended with other materials to be more durable. Besides, taking a pure solar gold divine spear into battle would make you the target of everyone. So bright and precious, who wouldn't covet it?"

Wang Xuan argued, "Isn't it a bit wasteful to melt down solar gold to make tea sets, lanterns, and mats? I was planning to trade them with the immortals beyond the curtain for some rare treasures."

"The Old Zhong is right outside the Departed Lands. Bring him to me, and I'll help you fish beyond the curtain. You can then trade these items as you please," the Ferryman proposed.