Chapter 41: Dense Spiritual Energy and the Emergence of an Ancient Treasure

Spiritual energy surged violently. From the depths of the dried well, white mist billowed, resembling clouds of vapor that rose and burst forth, condensing into pale cascades that adorned the scene with breathtaking beauty. It was like a celestial realm, shrouded in mist, where human figures appeared and vanished in the haze.

Ye Chen stood amidst this torrent of spiritual energy, lowering his eyes to survey his surroundings, yet the doubts in his heart remained unresolved.

Wu was no fool; he, too, sensed something was amiss.

“Strange. The spiritual energy seems to have grown denser.”

Wu hesitated, then said, “Before this, the spirit vein here seemed sealed; the effect was barely noticeable.”

“But now, it’s different. If the spirit energy had been this abundant from the start, breaking through would have been far simpler.”

There was regret in Wu’s tone. Even without proper cultivation methods, without understanding the essentials of further progress, one might still have broken through simply by stumbling forward. Living long-term in a place rich with spiritual energy, the body would naturally undergo transformation. If that were truly the case, the entire Bamboo Tribe would have advanced to a higher level.

After all, the Bamboo Tribe was once mediocre. Why, then, did it eventually nurture a totem and grow stronger step by step? The spirit vein played a critical role in that. Otherwise, with so many striving diligently, why did none of the others replicate this path? Did people truly believe that with enough effort and persistence, the so-called Spirit Bamboo could spontaneously transform into a totem?

Some shackles are not so easily broken. Clearly, there was once a master in the tribe—someone who had received guidance and, with the spirit vein’s power, enabled the Spirit Bamboo’s transformation.

This defied ordinary logic. Though Ye Chen gleaned some secrets from the memories of Wu and the other tribespeople, they all seemed to overlook these anomalies. It wasn’t that Ye Chen himself failed to perceive the significance; more likely, some special technique had subtly caused everyone to ignore it.

The suspicion in Ye Chen’s heart would not fade. The more he thought, the more uneasy he became. For such a small tribe to harbor so many irregularities was unnatural. A humble temple more easily draws demons. Thankfully, Ye Chen had always been meticulous; a moment’s carelessness might have kept these mysteries forever hidden. In that case, to die here in ignorance would have been a truly bitter fate.

Yet perhaps ignorance was a blessing. The more one knows, the greater the despair; sometimes, not knowing is good fortune.

Ye Chen’s thoughts were not baseless conjecture. He himself possessed such abilities; as a local deity, even with limited power, he was beyond the mortal realm. If he wished mortals to remain untouched by a god’s radiance, he could, in but a thought, erase all impressions of himself. This was not difficult.

How could mortals gaze directly upon a deity’s face? Forgetting the divine was only natural.

“Did the Bamboo Tribe, long ago, come into contact with some unfathomable existence?” Ye Chen mused. “I can sever memories of myself because I am a deity—this is not a measure of my strength, but of my nature. For others to achieve the same is no simple matter.”

“Perhaps it’s precisely because the Bamboo Tribe is so unusual that Ning Peach Blossom singled it out and dragged me into this muddy quagmire.”

As a crucial node of fate, the Bamboo Tribe would surely play a major role in the future; it was no insignificant pebble. When cast into the lake of destiny, it would inevitably stir great waves, the ripples shaping the path ahead. There could be no carelessness.

Ye Chen felt weary in spirit, but there was little he could do; he lacked the strength to openly confront Ning Peach Blossom. Though the oppression felt intense, for now, it was only pressure—he did not yet despair or feel his legs go weak.

While spiritual energy washed over him, Ye Chen’s aged body was bathed and renewed, his flesh suffused with power as if undergoing an extraordinary metamorphosis.

Yet Ye Chen paid this little mind; it was Wu who truly benefited. The surge of spirit energy greatly enhanced Wu’s strength. His body had long been riddled with wounds and barely held together; though he could still endure for now, it was uncertain when he would finally collapse.

Now, with his body refined by spiritual energy, Wu had bought himself a little more time. If he could break through and transcend the limits of mortality, he would enter a whole new realm—everything would change.

This was not impossible. At his peak, Wu had been but a step away from passing Heaven’s Gate and attaining the extraordinary. But lacking advanced cultivation methods, and with no stroke of fortune to enlighten him and force a breakthrough, he had gradually declined with age. That dream became ever more remote, nearly impossible to realize.

By this measure, Fang was truly fortunate. He shattered his shackles with ease, stepping into the extraordinary. While his strength had yet to soar, his prospects were bright and his potential vast. Such fortune could not be envied.

Now, Wu, riding this windfall, felt new vitality fill his aged body, as if reborn. How could his heart not be moved?

A thunderous crash resounded.

Ye Chen, wielding divine power, struck a deep pit within the dried well, searching for the source of the spirit vein.

Soil flew, while spiritual energy pooled like mist, gathering and condensing into liquid that flowed.

With so much spirit energy in this well, could it eventually become a true spirit spring?

But something was wrong—the energy could not escape the well.

Not that none of it seeped out; Wu, standing outside, also reaped great benefit. But the majority remained trapped in the well, which was highly unusual.

By rights, the energy should have diffused rapidly outward. Realizing this, Ye Chen looked around, deep in thought.

“Could it be that there’s more to this dried well than meets the eye?”

Wu shook his head. “I don’t know. This well has existed since the tribe’s founding—it wasn’t dug later.”

“If there’s a secret, it makes sense. The spirit energy’s containment is likely because the well itself forms a damaged formation.”

Ye Chen’s heart stirred. “It appears this dried well is a relic from ages past, steeped in ancient aura—an old artifact with a storied history. Perhaps it was once unremarkable, but as the world decayed, it survived, which is rare enough.”

The older such things are, the deeper their foundation.

Ye Chen did not believe the well was truly extraordinary, but since it pertained to the spirit vein, caution was necessary.

He remained vigilant, not daring to be careless. But to simply flee was impossible; he had taken root in the Bamboo Tribe, and fleeing would cost him dearly.

He had to uncover the hidden dangers here—if he waited and faltered at a critical moment, it could be fatal.