Chapter 37: Editing Memories

In the depths of Ebony’s memory, a spirit butterfly began to dance gracefully.

Those memories unfurled like a painted scroll. A sheer cliff rose tall and forbidding, with several great trees rooted stubbornly in the crevices between the rocks. Ebony’s entire body was seen plummeting from the cliff, about to be dashed to pieces below, when suddenly a strange wind swept in.

The eerie wind howled, spreading wide, and Ebony’s fall abruptly slowed.

“Ebony escaped danger by this, and even gained some benefit from it.”

Ye Chen gave a cold snort in his heart. He saw another force act upon Ebony; the fleeting look of relief on Ebony’s face froze in an instant, followed by a scream as he plummeted once more with unstoppable momentum.

“This isn’t right.”

A profound sense of crisis welled up within Ebony, and he was horrified by Ye Chen’s methods. The scenes in his memory were like a pebble cast into water, sending ripples across the surface, a bizarre and illusory dream on the verge of shattering.

“Distorting consciousness is truly no easy task—trouble arises just as I begin.”

Ye Chen stared hard at Ebony, then struck at him with a powerful blow.

Ebony’s legs kicked out sharply, his eyes shot open with murderous intent, but in the next instant, a divine power pressed him down.

Ebony let out a muffled groan, his face ashen, struggling with all his might, but it was as futile as pouring a cup of water on a burning cart—utterly useless.

Ye Chen’s expression remained indifferent; he was not at all surprised by Ebony’s resistance. Since Ebony still had strength, how could he be expected to submit so easily? Who knew when Ebony had actually regained consciousness, merely feigning ignorance to appear weak before his enemy. But Ye Chen was in no way careless. Ebony had no chance of turning the tables.

Ye Chen’s heavy blow landed on the back of Ebony’s neck. Ebony’s body convulsed and he slumped down, unconscious.

How wretched. Fortunately, Ye Chen had held back slightly; otherwise, this strike might have sent Ebony straight to the underworld.

Ye Chen’s mood was little improved—he was frustrated. If he couldn’t twist Ebony’s consciousness and edit his memories, he’d have no choice but to kill him, which would be a pity.

In Ye Chen’s estimation, if he could plant Ebony within the Cuckoo Tribe as a spy, it would make any future counterattack far easier. Though he could not yet move against the Cuckoo Tribe, some preparations needed to be made in advance.

“I’ll try again. If it fails, then Ebony’s fate is simply unfortunate.”

Ye Chen resorted to force, attempting to warp Ebony’s consciousness so that the reason for his escape from the cliff was attributed to the spirit butterfly—that it was the butterfly who saved his life, bestowing upon Ebony an unearned debt of survival.

But a force of resistance rendered Ye Chen’s efforts futile.

“There is no miracle.”

Ye Chen muttered inwardly, “Then there’s nothing more to be done.”

Ebony’s mind was extremely difficult to manipulate. Ye Chen had expected this failure, so he was not surprised, though it seemed Ebony’s luck had run out—he would have to die.

Suddenly, Ye Chen looked down into the Realm of Illusion, where the chieftain and others had faced the monstrous boar countless times and failed.

Death stalked them like a shadow, their hearts all but shattered. Yet when the situation became irreversible and all hope was lost, the great world fell to ruin and was reborn anew, everything replayed—a cycle, as if of reincarnation.

Through this process, the great world drew power from the surging mists, expanding and growing stronger.

The tribespeople, after enduring blood and fire, confronting death head-on, finally transformed. After a heavy price was paid, the monstrous boar was eventually slain.

There was nothing strange in this. The boar was powerful, but the tribespeople could not truly die and had all the time they needed. In Ye Chen’s eyes, though this took but a moment, an instant could span a thousand years. In dream’s illusion, time was but a plaything in his palm.

Thus, the final result was inevitable, though the process remained beyond his control.

But unexpectedly, after the boar’s death, a golden radiance suffused the entire illusory world, casting it in a divine glow.

During this process, Dream Butterfly was bathed in flowing light, as if sublimating within an endless blaze, breaking through some threshold and undergoing a miraculous transformation.

Of course—the Realm of Illusion itself had reaped great benefit, so Ye Chen’s own strength would naturally advance as well.

“Still a ninth-rank deity—no breakthrough yet.”

Ye Chen, somewhat greedy, thought, “A deity’s advancement requires the power of incense and prayer. My current improvement is thanks to Dream Butterfly’s own bloodline and the evolution of her divine arts.”

A humming arose.

The spirit butterfly danced, transformed to the utmost within the endless flames.

Ye Chen calmed his heart, quietly sensing the changes, and soon felt a warm current surging through him, refining every inch of flesh and blood.

This process did not last long. When the boiling blood had settled, Ye Chen saw the world renewed, transformed utterly.

In his vision, wisps of white energy flowed through heaven and earth, gathering and dispersing, cut apart by streams of black mist.

“Qi-gazing technique.”

Ye Chen was astonished. “This transformation has brought me a new divine art—the ability to gaze upon qi.”

“Ordinary dream butterflies would likely never develop such a power. It must be the interplay with my own Dream God authority that has granted me this ability.”

The art of qi-gazing was certainly useful. Every living being possessed fortune, and its quality often foretold good or ill.

Of course, there were limits—fortune was related to strength but not wholly determined by it. To rely too much on the art of qi-gazing could easily lead to delusion and disastrous consequences.

All the same, it was a most valuable power.

“What a coincidence.”

Ye Chen looked closely at Ebony, not because he suspected anything amiss, but rather with some amazement—for he had been about to kill Ebony, only for fortune to deliver him from death at the last moment.

With his own power now advanced, Ye Chen could again attempt to manipulate Ebony’s mind.

“Truly extraordinary fortune.”

He saw that Ebony’s luck was pure gold—a sign of great promise.

Fortune, in its various forms, could be black, white, red, yellow, blue, and other rare hues. Purple, for example, was the most exalted, far beyond the reach of ordinary people.

There was also gray, lying between black and white, representing a baleful fate; if shrouded in gray, disaster was likely.

Ebony’s memories continued to be twisted, his golden fortune striving desperately to resist the changes. Ye Chen snorted, a surge of divine power smashing through the torrent of golden luck. In an instant, the spirit butterfly occupied a prominent place in Ebony’s memory.

Once the first barrier was breached, Ebony could resist no longer. From then on, Ye Chen’s manipulations proceeded smoothly, editing Ebony’s memories at will—though he took care to minimize changes, to avoid contradictions.

“By distorting Ebony’s memories, I not only gain a new pawn, but can also observe how much this method may leak flaws. Should Ebony ever awaken to the truth, I will need to be much more cautious when dealing with the shamans.”

Indeed, Ye Chen intended to repeat on the shamans what he had done to Ebony, so as to be well prepared.

Even so, he had to consider the consequences of Ebony’s possible betrayal.

A wisp of divine power, nearly undetectable, was planted deep within Ebony’s spirit palace, merging seamlessly with his soul.

Should Ebony harbor any evil intent, that divine power would detonate with a bang, blasting his very soul to pieces.