Chapter 42: Bowing Low, Becoming Dust

Beneath the dry well, the space was not large, but Ye Chen’s destructive power was formidable—clods of earth flew, revealing beneath them glistening white bones. Startled, Ye Chen wondered what was going on. Was this dry well a burial ground? This was highly unusual.

“Do these bones have some great significance?”

Ye Chen noticed the bone token in the illusory realm begin to tremble, as if it desperately wished to escape—clearly, it had been provoked. Was the allure of these bones truly that great? This was no simple matter. The bone token was tied to the Bone Demon; could these bones be fragments that had once fallen from that very being?

But Ye Chen was in no mood to care about such things. Even if a connection existed, he could hardly allow the two to meet so easily. He dared not take out the bone token, and the idea of letting it act on its own was out of the question. The power of the illusory realm surged forth, as if a colossal mountain bore down; the bone token shuddered under the onslaught, emitting a thunderous roar, its radiance flaring brilliantly before it gradually faded and tranquility returned.

It seems that discipline must be enforced for obedience to follow; without a taste of the rod, lessons would not be learned.

“Are these bones truly linked to the bone token?”

Ye Chen’s thoughts wandered far. The dry well clearly had a storied past, and the Bone Demon had once been a figure of fearsome repute. Under such circumstances, the ancestors of the Bamboo Tribe must have been either remarkably bold or blindly reckless to choose this particular spot—did they wish for their people to meet an early end?

If the land occupied by the Bamboo Tribe was indeed so significant, then their being targeted was not so far-fetched. To stand in the way here was to court death. In fact, it was a wonder the tribe had survived this long at all. If they were truly marked, as weak as they were, their days should have been numbered. Perhaps those who wished the tribe erased dared not act openly or with overwhelming force, for fear of consequences; otherwise, a mere breath might have been enough to sweep them away.

“It seems no one can act with complete impunity, though there’s no need for constant dread.”

Ye Chen encouraged himself, forcing a calm upon his heart. He peered closely at the gleaming bones: they were lustrous as jade, shimmering with radiant light, possessing not the slightest hint of malevolent energy—rather, they seemed carved from flawless jade.

There was, in fact, a sense of sanctity about them. Though Ye Chen was not one to judge by appearances, he felt somewhat reassured. After all, things that looked righteous were not always good, but those bearing an evil air were almost always malicious.

“Why are there bones here?” Wu murmured, perplexed. “That’s impossible. The dry well isn’t large; if bones were here, we would have found them long ago.”

Ye Chen pressed the bone with all his strength. It was as firm as divine iron, unyielding; even with divine power swirling in his fingers, he could not leave so much as a mark.

From this, it seemed most likely that some recent change in the well had brought the bones to light.

Ye Chen’s eyes flickered as he spoke in a low voice: “If we rule out the well itself as the cause, then any changes must be connected to the tribe.”

“No one in the tribe has tampered with the dry well,” Wu replied, shaking his head. “Not long ago, the spiritual energy here was nearly exhausted. It was of little use, and no one considered relying on it for breakthroughs. In fact, this place has been forgotten for a long time.”

Had Wu not been searching tirelessly for special places within the tribe, he likely would never have considered the dry well at all.

Though the well was inside the bamboo dwelling, it sat in a corner—unremarkable and easily overlooked under normal circumstances.

“Can you be sure no one in the tribe has meddled with the well?” Ye Chen pressed. “With the life-and-death struggle against the Vulture Tribe, any slight chance at victory is precious. If someone tried to draw out the well’s hidden energy for a breakthrough, wouldn’t that make sense?”

Wu fell silent, pondering for a moment before replying, “It’s possible. But the well has existed for ages, and its secrets have never been uncovered, let alone used for a last-minute breakthrough. That’s nearly impossible. Even when the spirit bamboo transformed into a totem, it took ages—some things can’t be rushed.”

Wu sighed. In his view, Ye Chen’s spirit butterfly had managed its breakthrough only because the well had once bestowed its bounty, and that had taken a very long accumulation. To expect more now was futile.

Despite Wu’s words, Ye Chen was not fully convinced. Not that Wu was lying, but some matters might be beyond even his knowledge.

Wu’s status was high, yet Ye Chen realized he was more a figurehead, revered but not all-powerful. He lacked the authority to act alone.

It was simple—within the tribe, Wu was important, but his strength was not extraordinary. In the end, power was what truly mattered.

Only strength was real.

Ye Chen did not intend to probe too deeply—he was merely piecing together cause and effect. If Wu was unaware of certain things, that was entirely plausible.

There was nothing remarkable to be gleaned from the bones themselves, and taking out the bone token might trigger strange changes.

But Ye Chen was no fool; he would not risk it.

With a thunderous boom, earth scattered and a mysterious power struck the well wall, producing a metallic ring. But aside from this, nothing extraordinary occurred.

“The wall won’t break.”

Something was off. The wall appeared ordinary, but Ye Chen’s strength was not to be underestimated.

Clearly, the well was anything but ordinary beneath its humble exterior.

Ye Chen hesitated, scanning the area for a solution. To give up so easily was not in his nature, but even with divine power, he had found little.

Suddenly, Ye Chen’s heart stirred. The illusory realm roared to life, and an unimaginable torrent of energy surged toward the dry well.

If the mountain would not come to him, he would go to the mountain. The bone token could never be taken out—its influence was too great. Should its aura leak, survival would be nearly impossible.

Ye Chen had no wish to encounter some great enemy at the outset, to be crushed in a single blow without even the chance to struggle. Such a death would be far too pathetic, dying as a minor player, never having soared as a celestial dragon, never laughing in defiance beneath the heavens—how could he accept such an ignoble end?

The power of the illusory realm continued to spread, and the dry well became like two sides of a mirror with it—distinct, yet not truly separate. At this moment, incense-wrought wish force thundered forth.

Strands of wish force cascaded down like golden radiance, shining brilliantly, resplendent as divine sunlight, illuminating the entire well in dazzling light.

Such was the power of wish force: it changed at Ye Chen’s whim, manifestation following thought. With it as a bridge, the dry well seemed to merge with the illusory realm.

Reality and illusion blurred; truth and falsehood mingled. Ripples spread, turning into waves of brilliance that adorned the world with splendor.

Then, the bone token flew forth, touching the white bones. Thunder seemed to explode; cracks split the bones, which in an instant crumbled to dusty ash. A sudden gust swept the ashes away.

Though the bone token had been used, the surroundings were part of the illusory realm, so there was no danger of its aura leaking—safety was assured.