Chapter 43: Seizing Your Head

Ye Chen noticed that Ebony’s fate was a blaze of golden light—truly extraordinary. Fate, as it is said, comes in five colors: black, white, red, yellow, and blue. Of course, there are other rare hues as well, such as purple—a color reserved for the most exalted, far beyond the reach of ordinary folk.

There is also gray, caught between black and white, signifying calamity. If shrouded by gray, one is almost certain to face grave danger.

Ebony’s memories continued to twist under Ye Chen’s manipulation, but his vibrant fate surged, striving desperately to resist the changes. With a cold snort, Ye Chen unleashed a burst of divine power, piercing through the golden torrent of fate. In that instant, the image of Spirit Butterfly occupied a prominent place in Ebony’s memories.

Once the initial barrier was crossed, Ebony could no longer resist. Ye Chen’s subsequent manipulations became smooth and precise as he edited Ebony’s recollections. Still, he took care to minimize alterations and avoid any contradictions.

“Ebony’s memories have been distorted—I’ve gained a pawn for my game,” Ye Chen mused. Yet he remained wary of the consequences should Ebony betray him, for nothing is ever certain.

A nearly imperceptible strand of divine power was planted deep within Ebony’s mind, merging completely with his soul—inseparable as flesh and blood. Should Ebony ever harbor sinister thoughts, that divine power would detonate in a flash, obliterating his soul.

Ye Chen gathered his divine power, shrouding Ebony, preparing to cast him outside the tribe’s borders so that, once awake, Ebony could simply crawl away.

But at that moment, a wave of unease welled up within Ye Chen.

“What have I overlooked?” he pondered, eyes fixed intently on Ebony, a cold gleam flickering in his gaze.

“What’s wrong?” the Shaman asked, turning his attention to Ebony.

“I’ve tampered with Ebony’s memories, intending to send him back to the Cuckoo Tribe as a sleeper agent. If he proves useful, all the better,” Ye Chen replied. “But there's this sense of unease, as if I fear he might somehow escape my control.”

He found it odd—after all, he had taken precautions within Ebony’s very soul. Why, then, this lingering anxiety?

“Is it because his fate is so auspicious? I may not believe in the so-called ‘Chosen One,’ but I can’t help but be wary.”

If Ebony’s fate were unremarkable, Ye Chen wouldn’t hesitate at all. It was clear that he meant to use Ebony as a pawn, to strike at the very heart of the Cuckoo Tribe—a move they would hardly anticipate.

Ye Chen’s methods were too subtle; unless one had prior experience, they’d never imagine such a thing.

“Ebony holds a place of importance in the Cuckoo Tribe. Should he turn on them, the effect would be significant,” the Shaman said with a light chuckle. “Since the Cuckoo Tribe plotted against us, why not repay them in kind? If the timing weren’t wrong, I’d have us strike them now—they wouldn’t hold out for long.”

Ye Chen shot the Shaman a curious glance. “So, you also think Ebony should return alive?”

Having tampered with Ebony's memories, Ye Chen felt confident in his control. But why was the Shaman so certain as well? He had not explained his methods to him.

Was the Shaman acting out of blind hatred? That didn’t seem likely.

A chill crept through Ye Chen’s heart. “The Bamboo Tribe’s leadership lost their heads and rashly attacked the Cuckoo Tribe—a decision made so hastily and foolishly that it suggests the Shaman has acted rashly before.”

“Could it be that he is losing his senses again? Is it truly as the saying goes: ‘When fortune turns, the world aids you; when it fails, even heroes are powerless’? As a pivotal node in fate, the Bamboo Tribe surely has its own destiny—it cannot merely be a stepping stone to disaster, destined for destruction.”

Yet the Shaman seemed shrewd, smiling lightly. “And what if Ebony returns? Even if he survives with one arm lost, he’s a cripple. What harm can he bring us?”

“You’re rather confident,” Ye Chen said, gazing at Ebony, his heart growing cold.

Even with one arm severed, what gave the Shaman such faith? Was it because the tribe’s people had grown rapidly through their trials in the Void Realm? Was that truly enough?

No matter the reason, the Shaman should have some doubts.

Ye Chen had planned to rebuild the tribe slowly after the crisis, to restore their strength and deepen their foundation. With the Void Realm, the passage of time could be manipulated—though the experiences were illusory, they would still forge the people into something greater. It was a tremendous advantage.

But he had miscalculated—the crisis was not over. A hidden current still lurked within the tribe, unseen beneath the surface, chilling to contemplate.

“No, I must not panic. That power lurking in the dark cannot be so formidable; otherwise, it would have shattered the tribe already. Such a force can only scheme from the shadows, perhaps clouding minds. But if one is forewarned, how much effect could it truly have?”

Ye Chen cast another glance at the Shaman, making no rash moves.

“What makes Ebony special? Is it his overwhelming fate, or something else that renders him so crucial?”

“That shadowy presence bears no goodwill toward the Cuckoo Tribe. When the Bamboo Tribe’s elders all lost their senses, the Cuckoo Tribe fared no better. In the end, both sides were left wounded—a mutual destruction.”

“It seems their aim is to see both tribes destroyed. If so, why spare Ebony?”

“Or is it that such formidable fate is truly incomprehensible? That even enemies are subtly protected by it?”

A cold smile curled Ye Chen’s lips as a ruthless resolve took hold.

“No matter your schemes, if you’re so dangerous, I’ll just take your head and see if you can cause trouble then.”

Ye Chen had thought it a shame to kill Ebony outright—such a rare pawn, placed within the Cuckoo Tribe, would be invaluable. But beautiful plans invite disaster. He could not predict what form the unforeseen might take, nor did he need to.

With divine power, Ye Chen swung his bamboo blade. In one motion, Ebony’s head was struck from his shoulders, blood spraying, the head rolling across the ground, tendrils of black mist coiling around it.

Suddenly, Ebony’s eyes snapped open, blood tears streaming down his cheeks, a cold, murderous glare fixed on Ye Chen, freezing the very air.

The change was so abrupt that the Shaman was stunned. What just happened? Why had Ye Chen suddenly severed Ebony’s head?

A strange anger rose within the Shaman, inexplicable and soon fading away.

Puzzled, the Shaman wondered, “Why am I angry? It’s only one more dead brat from the Cuckoo Tribe. I wish they’d all die.”

He reflected, “Something’s wrong. What’s come over me?”

Recalling his earlier words to Ye Chen, he felt as though he had become someone else, unlike his usual self. The Shaman stood there, dazed, lost in thought.