Never one to miss an opportunity to indulge in fleshly pleasures, Yanglong enjoyed the sensual company of two goddesses.
”Sure? Who said anything about being ‘sure?’ I’m not sure, and neither is Yongye. We are betting, gambling on factors and pawns that could, in one ill twist of fate, slip out of our grasp,” Yanglong said, nibbling on the fingers of the goddess that fed him a three-colored peach.
”With that said, in this particular case, I do have some guarantees. Hengye Zhen is not just Yongye’s son. His mother might be willing to reduce him into a tool or war puppet for her rapacious ambitions, but his father…will never stand for it.”
”The Heavenly Emperor?” The Solar Dragon’s glowing eyes narrowed at Yanglong’s words. Shenzhuo had already been played, harvested and enthralled by Yongye so completely that he was no longer in control of the Highest Heaven Palace. What role could he still play in this conflict?
”Yes. In the past, if Yongye had always been stronger than me, then Shenzhuo was by himself more than all the other Primevals combined could handle. He was our leader, Heaven’s first emissary, and the closest thing to ‘them.’ From time immemorial, he remains the first and last man that Yongye looked up to. For Yongye to look up to you, you have to possess a lot more than power. Believe me, I’ve tried.” Here, Yanglong paused, rage, regret and sorrow flashing through his golden eyes as his mind drifted to past memories.
”The One-Thousand Incarnations of the Supreme One that Yongye comprehended might have helped her evolve into a higher lifeform and bridge the gap, but I refuse to believe that she grew to the point of being able to rob all of Shenzhuo’s cultivation and free will.” When he mentioned the self-made cultivation method that turned Yongye into the Thousand-Faced God, for the split of a second, Yanglong’s face twisted into a grimace of terror.
”Unlike me, who only cared for lust, Shenzhuo wanted it all. Joy and sorrow. Kinship and hatred. Trust and betrayal. Life and death. He incarnated himself in myriad worlds and lives, at times leading countless civilizations to golden ages or apocalypses, while on other occasions, enjoying unremarkable existences. I suspect that in his quest for completeness, Shenzhuo lost himself. That the only reason why Yongye could ensnare and enslave him…is that he allowed her to.” Here, Yanglong drank from a glass of immortal wine offered by the other goddess, and his lips curled up.
”However, that allowance will never extend to his son. No matter how weakened, Shenzhuo will not stand by and watch Yongye ruin his flesh and blood. I’m sure that he set up some safeguards to help Hengye Zhen in his rebellion.
Now, all we have to do is to give the boy the tools to break free of his mother and join the opposition—preferably in a way that severely damages Yongye’s cultivation. Afterward, with Heaven on our side, it won’t be long before we bring Yongye down.
As for Hengye Zhen’s future potential, that’s irrelevant. Unlike Yongye and Shenzhuo, he was unfortunate enough to incorporate the Supreme and Unfeeling Grand Dao. Till the end of time, Heaven will never leave him. And no matter how powerful he gets, he will never be able to deviate from its will.” Yanglong arched his head back, his Divine Sense spreading through countless worlds and sweeping galaxies.
”The cultivation world only has this one inalienable truth. Yongye, Shenzhuo, Sheitan, try as they might, they will never be able to alter this one truth:
Heaven’s will…is supreme,” Yanglong said, his voice carrying a strange blend of confidence and melancholy.
’That is, of course, unless the Primordial Source returns.’
…
Meanwhile, Xinzi did what he did best: milk-pumping. Across three days of hardcore dual cultivation, Xinzi made Tusha experience all there was to about the Yang Rapture, cramming the Infernal Nun with gallons upon gallons of baby batter. She now lay on an oval mattress, lost in a mix of confusion and bliss.
Xinzi sat in an armchair, holding his chin as he stared at Tusha.
Tusha didn’t have a Greater Soul and didn’t rank high enough in the Infernal Paradise to know about the Supreme and Unfeeling Grand Dao. Even in the Hengye clan, this wasn’t a piece of information that every immortal had access to. Baxian did only due to the forces that he allied with.
But Tusha now had a Bloodsoul, a rather troubling gift that could enable her to spot things that Xinzi didn’t want her to see. So, just like Zi Feng, he had to find a way to distract her. In Tusha’s case, a balance of pampering and crucial assignments would do the trick.
”On this trip back home, although I’ve yet to fully digest them, I’ve gotten certain benefits that make the Spirit and Divine Tomes expendable. This will come in handy since…Qiu Meng is back. Once alerted, your fellow Infernal Nuns are likely to flock to his banner and provide him with the Divine, Spirit and Sacred Tomes—an unfortunate loss, but one we can shoulder for the sake of greater plans,” Xinzi said and stretched his hand out, pulling Tusha onto his lap.
”Oh…Abbot, I’m becoming delirious. So much so that I just heard you say that Qiu Meng was back.” Still in a groggy state, Tusha failed to process Xinzi’s words.
”He is.” Xinzi smiled at his nun, reiterating the statement.
”Oh, ok…wait, what?”
”Tusha dearest, Qiu Meng is back. In fact, he deceived us all. Qiu Meng was never dead, to begin with. He is the last Ancient Spirit. Due to dormant primordial forces, so long as his bloodline doesn’t pass down, Qiu Meng cannot be killed. Across the last 10,000 years, he hid beside the River of Time, studying the Dao of Time and achieving impressive levels of mastery. He is also very skilled in Space control, and given enough time, will become one of the strongest experts of this era. I need you to help me bring him to our side. Would you do that for me? I know that I’ve already given you a lot to handle, so if you want to decline, I understand.” Xinzi lowered his lips, kissing Tusha’s forehead, and cradling her on his lap.