511: Chapter 511 The Demon Court Forges a Sword - A Plot to Slaughter Witches

Rustle... Rustle...

Just as he reached out to pluck a green-and-red spirit fruit, the branch bent down on its own, delivering it straight to his palm! Jiang Chen was slightly taken aback. His fingertips brushed against the tree bark, and in an instant, he understood—this tree had already developed a spiritual consciousness, though it could not yet speak. It was not rare for ordinary flora to become spirits, but to proactively show goodwill toward a strange, powerful being—this kind of courage and intuition was truly rare. The world often says that good and evil are hard to distinguish, but in truth, closeness and distance sometimes reveal the heart earlier than words.

"Little one, you've got quite a bit of courage." He laughed and patted the trunk. In response, he received a few crisp, rustling sounds.

Very well, since we have met by fate, why demand the ability to speak? A speck of golden light flashed from his fingertip and quietly entered the heart of the tree.

"Little one, you have quite a mind of your own."

"Daoist, you carry no killing intent, only warmth. I... I couldn't help but want to draw near. Please forgive me."

"Oh? Is it instinct?" Jiang Chen nodded. "That makes sense. Never mind that—how many years have you lived?"

"I can't remember clearly... I only know the sun has risen and the moon has set at least a hundred thousand times. Back then, the scent of blood filled the sky, and cries of agony were everywhere; my kind fell in droves. If I hadn't secluded myself in this corner, I fear I would have long since turned to dust."

One hundred thousand years? Jiang Chen's heart sank slightly. It was not a long time, but one hundred thousand years in chaotic times was more grueling than a million years in times of peace. He paused and asked, "Now, the Great Wilderness is on the verge of a storm, with weapons clashing everywhere. A single misstep could mean having one's soul scattered. Do you wish to go out and see the world? But I must warn you, the outside is filled with danger at every turn."

"For now... I don't want to leave. And I cannot leave. I will wait until the winds die down before going out."

Jiang Chen nodded. That was indeed prudent. The war between the Demon Court and the Wu tribe was about to begin; if such a naive tree spirit were to rashly leave the mountains, it would hardly even count as cannon fodder before being annihilated in an instant.

"Very well." He raised his hand, and a scroll of cultivation techniques formed from green light slowly sank into the tree trunk. "This is the 'Ling Tian Demon Art,' written specifically for wood-attribute spirits. How you walk your path from here on is entirely up to you. Remember, to gain a foothold in the Great Wilderness, fists are harder than logic, and strength is truer than compassion—without this, even breathing is difficult."

The tree spirit trembled all over, its branches and leaves rustling as if bowing. "Yes! Rest assured, Daoist, this little demon will certainly not disappoint you. I will become... a proper, upright demon!"

A proper demon? That was not so easy. Jiang Chen said nothing more. If it truly fell into evil ways, he would personally take everything back and make it suffer the cold flames of hell and the torture of the mountain of blades and the cauldron of oil.

He plucked the fruit and turned to leave. His figure gradually drifted away; he did not ask for its name, nor did he demand any karmic return, acknowledging only the word "fate."

The little tree spirit watched as Jiang Chen's figure disappeared into the distant mountains, its taut branches only then slowly relaxing. The cold sweat seeping from its back almost soaked through the bark—it had truly been breathing on the edge of a blade just moments ago. A single mistake would have seen it refined into a wooden comb or a medicine pestle, never again able to speak. It thought of its kin who had been stripped of their spiritual consciousness; some became house-guarding bronze bells, others were made into altar incense burners, their soul-fires frozen until they turned blue... But now things were different! Holding that scroll of the "Green Vine Breathing Technique," it felt as if it had grasped the rope to break free from the chopping block. A scorching heat surged in its heart, and it immediately coiled its roots and sat in meditation. With every breath, it inhaled the morning dew, and even its leaf veins began to glow faintly—it secretly swore to itself: In this life, I must become a demon who stands tall and upright!

To Jiang Chen, this was merely a breeze passing by the roadside. He stood on the mountain peak, overlooking the Great Wilderness. The mountains were cracked like tortoise shells, the rivers flowed backward like tear stains, and the entire continent was emitting a dull groan. His fingertips unconsciously rubbed the worn edge of his sleeve, while his thoughts drifted far away—mythology said the human race rose by the mandate of heaven, and history books recorded their arduous struggle, but the ant-like figures crawling on the scorched earth before him, what kind of "mandate of heaven" was that? Between reality and legend, there lay a chasm deeper than the Nether Sea.

Unknowingly, he had stepped into the valley where the human race had taken shelter after the catastrophe. The newly cultivated fields in their ancestral land were still charred, and half the tribe members were still huddled in caves protected by the Wu tribe. He quietly extended his divine sense and was suddenly startled: beneath the ashes of the catastrophe, there was a trend of sparks starting a prairie fire! In the past, only one or two out of a hundred would awaken their spiritual consciousness, but now, three out of ten had opened their eyes, and the brute force dormant deep within their bloodlines was crackling and popping—the day the human race rekindled their fire would likely arrive faster than morning dew could condense. When that time came, the demons and the Wu would wither away, just like autumn leaves falling from branches, and heaven and earth would have their own justice.

"Master!" Hearing the sound, Mei Lingzi turned around and trotted over to greet him. There were mud spots on his forehead, but his voice was as clear as a spring. "This great catastrophe for the human race is becoming more vicious each time; it makes my heart ache to see it... It is entirely thanks to your mercy, Master, that this little spark was not extinguished!"

Jiang Chen raised his hand and pressed it on his shoulder, his palm warm and thick. "Not bad. You have already severed your Good and Evil corpses, and your muscles and bones reveal a tenacity." He paused, his gaze calm as an ancient well. "Only the Self corpse is the hardest to sever—it does not hide or conceal itself; it dwells in your most familiar thoughts. If there is no great opportunity, being trapped for billions of eons is no empty talk."

"This disciple understands!" Mei Lingzi laughed loudly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "To have reached this step is already a stroke of immense good fortune. Now, if an ordinary quasi-saint comes, even if I can't beat them, I can still run. If I truly encounter a saint... hehe, isn't Master still standing behind me?"

"You..." Jiang Chen shook his head and laughed, then suddenly glanced at the empty eaves. "Where is Qing Zhuzi?"

"Junior Brother is on the west slope helping to build houses!" Mei Lingzi pointed into the distance. "Since the catastrophe, we brothers have all put away our magical powers, relying only on our hands to carry wood and ram earth walls. Can you guess what happened? My whole body feels as light as if I had shed a thousand-pound shackle, and my mind is even three parts clearer!"

"Good! Very good!" A flash of understanding crossed Jiang Chen's eyes. "It won't be long before you understand the meaning of this. Once the human race truly gains a firm foothold, I will take you back to the mountains—from then on, life, death, glory, and shame will all be borne by them alone. Do you understand?"

Mei Lingzi lowered his head and replied, "Yes, this disciple will keep it in mind."

"Let's go!" Jiang Chen flicked his robes and strode forward. "What is the point of standing around? Let's go build houses!"

As the two turned the mountain bend, they saw Qing Zhuzi standing on the unfinished beams, hemp rope digging into his palms, sweat dripping from his chin into the freshly planed wood shavings. "Master! Senior Brother!" He waved excitedly, slipping slightly and almost stumbling.

"Don't come down!" Jiang Chen called out, grabbing a pine log as thick as a bowl. "Let's lift it together!"

Before the words had faded, four or five young humans who were moving tiles turned their heads abruptly. Seeing who it was, they immediately knelt down with a thud, their foreheads striking the muddy ground heavily: "Welcome, Saint Master!"

"Get up! Quickly get up!" Jiang Chen hurried forward in a few steps to help them up, bustling about to brush the messy hair from their foreheads. "In this catastrophe, I, this poor Daoist, have contributed nothing, yet I receive your offerings; I am truly ashamed!"

"Saint Master, do not humble us so!" The leading elder choked with sobs, his twig-like hands tightly gripping the hem of Jiang Chen's robe. "If not for the techniques of farming, weaving, and identifying poisons you passed down back then, we would have long since starved to death! This house today was meant for you from the start!"

"Alright, alright, alright, this poor Daoist accepts it!" Jiang Chen cut off the conversation decisively and grabbed a slab of blue stone. "Come! Let's build this wall first—treat me as just a man selling his strength; no one is allowed to kneel again!"

Everyone was stunned, then burst into uproarious laughter, their movements suddenly three times faster: those carrying wood switched shoulders without stopping, those mixing mud swung their arms wide, and even the smallest children stood on tiptoe to hand over thatch. The laughter shook the new swallows from the eaves, sending them fluttering into the air, their wingtips dusted with sunlight like scattered gold.

The six ancestors heard the news and came running frantically. From afar, they saw Jiang Chen with his arms bare, driving a round oak log into the foundation of the wall, sweat drops hitting the mud and rising in tiny puffs of white smoke. The ancestors felt a lump in their throats and forgot to salute, only clenching their fists so tightly that their nails dug deep into their palms—so the supreme Saint Master would also bow his spine for mortals; so the backbone that held up the firmament grew on such a pair of calloused hands.

Without a word of nonsense, the six of them threw off their cloaks, grabbed shovels, and jumped into the mud pit. Who cared about dignity at a moment like this? When it was time to swing a hoe, they would never put on airs.

As the night deepened, a hundred wooden houses had already risen from the ground, their mortise-and-tenon joints locked, beams and pillars standing tall, with a speed that was astonishing. The homeless human race finally had a place to shelter from the wind and rain, no longer needing to shiver in rock crevices. Every person who moved in felt their eyes grow hot and their palms sweat—they knew that this warm house was built under the leadership of the Saint Master, built by everyone's axe and chisel, shoulder and burden, and more importantly, it was the hope that everyone had been clutching in their hearts, finally brought to life.

"Saint Master, please taste this humble craft of mine." An old human with white hair held up a stone platter with both hands, on which lay roasted beast meat, fragrant and glistening with oil. He bowed and offered it, his back bent into a humble arc.

Jiang Chen accepted it readily and laughed aloud: "Thank you for your trouble."

Upon hearing this, the wrinkles on the old man's face smoothed out like old tree bark brushed by a spring breeze, his heart burning with warmth: to be able to offer his best work to the Saint Master, this honor was sweeter than drinking ten bowls of honey water.

As the meat entered his mouth, the crispy crust wrapped around the fatty fragrance, and the chewy texture revealed a wildness; it was truly the most authentic taste of the Great Wilderness—later generations, with all their thousand seasonings and ten thousand cooking fires, could never stew such a fresh and intense flavor. He ate a few pieces and nodded in praise without hesitation. When the surrounding people saw this, their hearts felt as if they had been lit up by the fire, warm and glowing: the Saint Master eating with relish was the greatest affirmation for everyone.

The bonfire crackled and popped, and the night banquet gradually reached its peak. People danced around the fire, clapping and singing; the tune was rough but bright, singing of the relief of having survived the catastrophe, dancing in gratitude for the Saint Master's grace. The laughter echoed against the cliffs, and the joy spread over the treetops, as if even the moon had quietly moved closer, shining upon this group of people who had regained their vitality.

Jiang Chen sat quietly by the fire, his gaze sweeping over the flushed faces, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief in his heart. He only hoped that these smiles would last, hoped that they would live solidly, live with backbone, and live with something to look forward to—only when people live with spirit and vitality can the future truly bloom.

The human race had just caught its breath, but the Demon Court and the Wu tribe were already sharpening their blades. The deadline of one kalpa was imminent, the days were approaching day by day, and the air was taut like a stretched string.

"Big Brother, can this sword... truly break the bodies of the Ancestral Wu?" Taiyi stared at the long sword with flickering dark light in Dijun's palm, his brows slightly furrowed.

Dijun's fingertips slowly stroked the spine of the sword, where dark patterns formed from the bloodlines of countless humans seemed to be pulsating slightly. A burning heat surged in his chest. Hearing Taiyi's question, he took a short breath, his voice low and firm: "Naturally, it can break them. This sword was created specifically to counter the Wu; it is the wedge driven into the life-gates of the Ancestral Wu. When the day of battle comes, they will surely be shocked—humph!" He paused, then asked, "How is the demon army prepared? Has the Great Array of the Heavenly Stars been refined properly?"

"Rest assured, Big Brother! The entire army is ready, the star charts have been redrawn, and the array eyes have been reinforced three times; its power is even greater than before. This time, the Wu tribe will not be able to escape even with wings—the master of the Great Wilderness should change names!" Taiyi answered decisively; he had personally surveyed every camp and the position of every star, repeatedly deducing and simulating until he was certain there would be no mistakes before he was willing to stop.

"Good!" Dijun raised his arm, and the long sword in his hand hummed as it slid out of its scabbard by half an inch, its cold light like lightning. "When the time comes, it will be the time to bathe Mount Buzhou in blood! Let's see how many more times they can jump around!" Before his words had faded, his eyes were already burning with fighting spirit that he could not suppress.