Chapter Fifteen: Sowing the Seed

“Your Majesty, there has never been a free lunch in this world; everything you gain has long been assigned a price in the unseen depths,” Lu Chun said with profound meaning.

When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes back at you.

Lu Chun possessed a power beyond ordinary reach, but the price of obtaining such power was dying amidst excruciating agony. Even after his resurrection, he continued to battle those chaotic wills on a spiritual level.

Yet chaos cannot be eradicated; it only manifests in different forms. Lu Chun had long noticed that through this prolonged struggle, his personality and values were severely shifting.

But there was no alternative; this was the cost of power—the ascent completed through an endless baptism of chaos and madness.

As a naturally superior being, the Fighting Spirit Emperor found it difficult to perceive such an omnipresent rule called balance. When Lu Chun avoided his questions once again, he pressed further.

“Replacing the statue of the Sea God and stopping sacrifices to him—are you truly not afraid of incurring divine wrath?” The Fighting Spirit Emperor’s eyes glinted sharply, watching Lu Chun’s every subtle expression as if afraid to miss anything.

Though he did not believe in gods, the Emperor believed in the power they wielded; he knew that once a god was angered, as a mortal, he would have no means to resist.

He could not understand Lu Chun’s motives. Did the god behind Lu Chun possess the power to oppose the Sea God?

The Emperor’s thoughts wandered; unconsciously, he had come to believe that a deity stood behind Lu Chun. His evasiveness only confirmed this belief.

In his mind, only a god could grant mortals immortality, explaining all the inexplicable aspects of Lu Chun.

Despite this, the Fighting Spirit Emperor maintained a composed expression, revealing no emotion, quietly waiting for Lu Chun’s explanation.

Across from him, Lu Chun shrugged upon hearing the question and replied helplessly, “Your Majesty, when did I ever say to stop sacrifices to the Sea God? I only said to transfer the position of the chief deity to the Goddess of Life.”

“And what is your purpose? Surely there must be a purpose behind such actions,” the Emperor pressed. “Tell me—what is your aim?”

“Purpose?” Lu Chun blinked, smiling. “I just can’t stand the Sea God. I simply want to pull him down from that position to feel better. Does that count as a purpose?”

He did not lie. The Emperor, sensing this, took a deep breath and said gravely, “Whatever your intentions, do not forget my request. Come with me; everything you need has been prepared.”

He turned and swept his sleeve, departing. Lu Chun followed closely behind. After walking for about ten minutes, they arrived at a remote palace.

Pushing open the door, a surge of vibrant life energy washed over them. Within, all decorations had been removed and replaced by countless rare treasures—precious materials and heavenly herbs beyond a century old—each alone worth a fortune outside, yet here they lay scattered on the floor as if trampled upon carelessly.

Among these mountains of treasures were a few conspicuous figures—the courageous ministers who had dared to remonstrate. They were not expelled from the palace but quietly brought here by guards.

Though lying amidst the treasures, their faces bore no joy—only immense fear. Upon seeing the Emperor and his retinue, they ran forward wildly but were stopped by a golden-armored Douluo’s sword.

Several ministers knelt on the ground, refusing to kowtow but shouting, “Your Majesty, have mercy! We dare not offend again! Spare us!”

They seemed to have realized something, casting aside their pride as officials and nobles, hoping the Emperor would spare them out of their bond as ruler and subjects.

The Fighting Spirit Emperor’s wrinkled face softened into a kindly smile as he said magnanimously, “What are you all doing? Rise quickly. You are the pillars of the nation, working day and night, worrying about the country and its people. It has always been my fault!”

“It is all my fault! I am old and senile, losing my wits, to have uttered such shocking words in court!” He thumped his chest in remorse, eyes glistening as if truly repentant. Yet the ministers pleading for mercy turned utterly pale.

As expected, the Emperor’s expression suddenly twisted into a grimace. “If so, for the sake of my path to immortality, for the future of the empire, I ask you to fulfill my wish!”

“Kill!”

A flash of golden light swept through. A few heads tumbled to the floor, blood gushing like waterfalls, staining the luminous treasures red. The bodies convulsed violently before collapsing lifelessly in pools of blood.

Blood flowed to the feet of the Emperor, who glanced at the corpses and calmly asked, “Golden Rider, have the families and servants of these officials been captured?”

“All have been dispatched to the Shadow Soul Guards and will arrive within a quarter of an hour.”

“And the prisoners in the death cells?”

“They are all here.”

The Golden Rider approached a wall, pressed a concealed switch after some searching. With a rumbling sound, the wall revealed a hidden chamber where dozens of prisoners in shackles lay, their soul power restricted by soul devices.

“Kill.”

With that indifferent word, the Golden Rider repeated the grim work. The once fragrant palace was soon overwhelmed by the thick stench of blood.

Not long after, the families and servants of those ministers were brought here through secret palace passages by ghostly figures cloaked in gray robes—several hundred souls, their desperate pleas and curses silenced by death.

Blood pooled into rivers, flesh piled into mountains.

The floor, once covered by priceless treasures, was now submerged beneath viscous blood and chunks of flesh. If the palace had windows, the unyielding stench would have been detectable a hundred meters away.

Witnessing it all, Lu Chun’s expression remained unchanged. Only when the last victim was beheaded did he speak.

“Your Majesty, please remove the immortal seed. I will plant it.”

Handing over the celestial seed, the Emperor fixed his gaze on Lu Chun’s every move. To him, this was the final hope for his quest for immortality—no mistakes could be allowed.

Wading through the thick blood, Lu Chun reached the palace’s center and buried the seed beneath the corpses, whispering softly.

“The heavens have five thieves; those who see them prosper... All transformations arise from the body... All things are thieves of man; man, the thief of all things...”

These were words the Emperor had never heard. Merely listening to them gave him a splitting headache, his eyes bloodshot, veins bulging on his forehead.

The Golden Rider beside him, helmet masking his expression, trembled uncontrollably, revealing his own dire state.