Chapter 9: Alterations at the Altar and the Unleashing of Ferocious Might

“The help is truly significant.”

Ye Chen felt a surge of power coursing through his body. At the same time, in the dreamscape he could control, wisps of blood mist began to rise, and the dream itself became even more stable.

“Although it’s called a false realm and doesn’t quite live up to its name, small as it may be, it’s not so fragile as to shatter at the slightest touch. It’s much more stable now.”

A thought stirred in Ye Chen’s heart, and he became increasingly resentful toward the shaman. “I really underestimated the weight of the Grand Sacrifice. Fortunately, I always assume the worst and never harbor any illusions. If Lingzhu had monopolized this boon and recovered her strength first, I might not have been able to handle her.”

Ye Chen hadn’t expected the effects of the Grand Sacrifice to be so pronounced. At this moment, he truly felt an urgent desire to eliminate the shaman.

“If only there were someone who treated me as the shaman treats Lingzhu. A person like the shaman is far too stubborn. If he were under my command, I would go to great lengths to protect him. But as an enemy, he must be removed as soon as possible.”

To be honest, Ye Chen already considered the Bamboo Tribe to be within his grasp, and he had been attentive to its development. Removing the shaman would certainly have some impact on the tribe, but it was a necessary step.

“In the end, my strength is simply too meager. If I were powerful enough, the shaman’s actions wouldn’t affect me at all. Then, I could afford to show magnanimity and act with grandiose confidence. Only with true strength can one be calm and generous in spirit. But I cannot afford to lose—even a single defeat would be catastrophic. To display such tolerance now would be utter folly.”

Ye Chen cast a careful glance at the shaman, then feigned nonchalance. Although he harbored murderous intent, he knew he needed to deliberate carefully about how to act, to minimize any negative repercussions.

In Ye Chen’s view, as long as the shaman lived, Lingzhu’s position within the Bamboo Tribe could never be easily supplanted. There would always be someone undermining him, which was intolerable.

Ye Chen had no real foundation in the Bamboo Tribe; his position as totem was achieved by subtly distorting the minds of the tribe’s people.

He noticed that Lingzhu, too, was shrouded in a faint veil of blood mist. In the glow of that blood light, she seemed to sway as if draped in flames of blood.

Lingzhu’s true form was already reduced to ash—only a shadow remained. The bamboo seed born of her nirvana was still in the shaman’s hands, not yet sprouted. Now, after absorbing this potent energy, her shadow grew far more substantial.

Ye Chen gazed at Lingzhu with some gravity, realizing she seemed to have gained even more benefit than he had.

“In the end, it’s Lingzhu whom the tribe truly venerates. As for me, I have received some incense and faith, but compared to Lingzhu, it’s a mere fraction.”

In the short term, the effects weren’t apparent, but if this continued—if Lingzhu kept consuming such potent nourishment—Ye Chen wasn’t sure he could withstand it.

“This can’t be delayed any longer. If I let things drag on, it’ll be like a frog in slowly boiling water—by the time I realize what’s happening, it might already be too late.”

Although Lingzhu couldn’t speak and didn’t seem particularly clever, Ye Chen didn’t know much about her. He had only interacted with her after she’d been severely wounded. If she ever fully recovered, who knew what she would be like?

The Grand Sacrifice continued, the entire altar bathed in golden incense and willpower.

The shaman gazed at the altar in a daze, deeply disappointed. “Lingzhu hasn’t responded.”

He found it hard to accept. “It seems the wounds are truly grievous—if not even the Grand Sacrifice can elicit a response, it must mean the Spirit Butterfly has the upper hand now.”

He muttered to himself, recalling how the image of the Spirit Butterfly had suddenly appeared on the bamboo plank earlier, which had deeply unsettled him. In his eyes, that was a warning from the Spirit Butterfly.

In this situation, the shaman could do nothing. Ultimately, it was Lingzhu and the Spirit Butterfly who would decide the outcome. The shaman could only try to influence matters indirectly—he was no leading force.

“This wild boar should now be offered to the totem as a sacrifice,” the chieftain said gravely, reminding the shaman. Though Lingzhu showed no reaction and it seemed the Spirit Butterfly was in control—after all, her manifestation on the bamboo plank had left some traces, while Lingzhu remained hidden—the chieftain felt no sense of triumph.

Without a word, the shaman approached the wild boar. Tied up and unable to flee, the beast squealed desperately as the shaman advanced with a bamboo knife.

“It’s rather intelligent,” Ye Chen thought in surprise, glancing at the boar. A thought flickered, and a wisp of incense and willpower transformed into a breeze, drifting over and landing on the boar. Instantly, the bark rope binding it snapped, and the boar broke free. Raising its hoof, it lashed out at the shaman.

With a crack, the shaman’s bones fractured, and he collapsed. The boar’s eyes blazed with fury, and it threw itself on top of the shaman.

“Shaman!” the tribe cried out in shock, never expecting such a turn. The ropes had surely been checked—how could this happen?

The shaman, familiar with totem powers, was only strong in his manipulation of them. Now that the totem was powerless, the shaman was nothing but outward bluster.

If the boar killed him right here, not only would the shaman be a laughingstock, but the Bamboo Tribe itself would be shamed for generations.

Outrageous! The chieftain rushed toward the shaman, but the event had happened too suddenly for anyone to react in time.

The pain was secondary to the shaman—the burning shame on his face was far worse.

It really was just a wild boar, a mere beast—he had been careless. He swung his bamboo knife to ward off the boar’s massive head, loath to make close contact with such a creature.

With its immense weight, the boar pressed down, and the shaman could hear his bones threatening to snap under the strain.

Against the boar, the shaman’s strength was utterly inadequate. The bamboo knife didn’t last long before the boar knocked it aside.

The boar’s head bore down, and terror flashed in the shaman’s eyes. Death itself meant little, especially at his advanced age—it was the natural end of life. But the manner of dying mattered to him.

Despair overwhelmed him. Just as he was about to become a laughingstock, a dazzling golden light appeared.

A brilliant rain of gold descended upon the shaman, bathing him completely and healing his wounds.

“Lingzhu has intervened,” Ye Chen thought regretfully. The shaman wouldn’t be so easily killed after all. The bamboo seed might be small, but its power was beyond what a wild boar could handle. The boar was flung aside—though it was largely unharmed, its fate was sealed.

Ye Chen hadn’t forced the issue and had never shown too much murderous intent toward the shaman. He only wondered if Lingzhu had noticed. If she continued to shield the shaman, it would be truly difficult to remove him.

But in the end, the shaman was only a minor obstacle. Ye Chen’s true goal was to resolve the problem at its source.

The chieftain rushed to the shaman’s side, alarmed. “Are you all right?”

“I’m not dead yet,” the shaman replied sullenly. With some effort, he actually stood, though supported by the chieftain. It was nothing short of a miracle.

The chieftain’s eyes flickered. Clearly, this was Lingzhu’s doing—she had intervened to restore the shaman’s injuries almost completely.