Chapter 29: No One Is Indispensable (Please add my new book to your favorites and recommend it!)

If the relationships between the great families are meant to be a tangled web of love and hatred, then among the five aristocratic clans of Qin, the Yao and Zhao families are a rare exception. Between them, there is only enmity, no sentiment. Yet fate has placed their mansions directly opposite each other, divided only by a street.

Yao Zhilong has a peculiar habit—or perhaps a flaw. Whenever his mood sours, he likes to sit in the gatehouse, gazing through a small window at the bustling street outside. In such moments, his spirits gradually lift. Compared to other scions of noble houses, his method of soothing his heart is almost commendable.

Now, he was in the gatehouse, his expression dark. Behind him stood two maids, both beautiful and elegant, quietly straightening their posture, hoping to catch his eye. Unfortunately, Yao Zhilong paid them no heed, or perhaps he simply couldn't be bothered.

As usual, nothing changed. Suddenly, across the street at the Zhao residence, several streaks of light shot into the sky, vanishing in the blink of an eye. Since the two families viewed each other with mutual disdain, whenever misfortune befell one, the other would naturally be pleased.

One maid noticed the scene, her eyes brightening—this was a topic worth discussing. She smiled gently, saying, "Young master, it seems Zhao family is in trouble. They ignored the flight ban in Luoyang City."

Yao Zhilong replied with a cold grunt, watching as the figures from across the street soared away. His mood worsened, for these people were traversing the sky! Yes, soaring through the sky. Judging by their speed, Yao Zhilong estimated that each possessed at least the cultivation of the Core Formation stage. After all, if they were merely Foundation Establishment, not only would their speed be suspect, but it would also cast doubt on the intelligence of the Zhao family—would several Foundation stage cultivators recklessly defy the laws of Great Qin? Moreover, within the vast city of Luoyang, Foundation Establishment cultivators barely registered; the waters here ran deep.

"Heh, at the very least, those Core Formation fellows are likely to suffer," another maid, considering herself quite attractive, chimed in.

Yao Zhilong turned, glancing at her coldly. "Leave," he snapped. The two maids, baffled, were ushered out, leaving Yao Zhilong alone in the small gatehouse. He felt even more irritable, especially after hearing those three words—Core Formation stage.

Is the Core Formation stage so remarkable? Indeed, it is: three hundred years of lifespan, already separated from the mundane. Yao Zhilong muttered to himself, his tone tinged with envy, though his face remained sour. Yet the reason for his distress wasn't that he himself hadn't reached Core Formation; as a direct descendant of the Yao family, he would eventually achieve it, regardless of talent—it was simply a matter of heritage.

The main cause of Yao Zhilong's foul mood was the feeling that his worldview was collapsing. He had always believed in the futility of cultivation—why? After much reflection, he had reached this conclusion through a series of observations.

To begin with, consider the gradual ratios: countless cultivators populate the world, but how many can achieve Spirit Integration, how many can transcend the mundane through enlightenment? Very few.

Given his status, Core Formation was inevitable, and though Spirit Integration might not be within easy reach, it was far from unattainable. So, instead of spending endless years cultivating, why not enjoy life? Thus, he formed his theory: cultivation is pointless. Yao Zhilong believed this, and he acted accordingly. As for Core Formation, even if he neglected cultivation, his lineage guaranteed him three hundred years—almost within reach, it was simply a matter of sooner or later.

But!

That worldview had been shattered, mercilessly. In Mount Lishan, he hadn't even seen his assailant before being injured. Returning to Luoyang, he planned revenge, leveraging family connections to recruit two Core Formation cultivators supposedly capable of slaying Spirit Integration experts. Not only did they fail, but his father struck him—a first. Even when he neglected cultivation, he had received only mild scolding; this time, his father not only slapped him but berated him all night. Even his mother, usually doting, offered no support. All for two Core Formation cultivators capable of slaying Spirit Integration—was it necessary? Was it, or not?

The more Yao Zhilong brooded, the more agitated he became. He pushed the gatehouse door open and stepped onto the street, intent on watching those who struggled for survival—superiority was a balm for his wounded heart.

At that moment, another person arrived.

"My main consciousness, if you have something to say, say it," came the voice.

"Killing him now would bring too much trouble."

"But knowing that all this began with him, how can I rest without killing him? Let me help you, just this once—those who wish us dead must die."

"Us?"

"Us. I despise your ridiculous notions. So, I am me, you are you."

"I am human, this is the human world—not the void."

"Hahaha. Of course, I am human too. You don't think I've been assimilated by that monster, do you? It was merely food, and I needed it."

"What about the laws within the realm?"

"Those divine abilities are available to you, but the more you use them, the greater the rejection by the realm's laws. Think of the abilities as fire, flame, and the realm's laws as water, an ocean. We're in the ocean now—don't struggle yet. Soon the body will be yours again; just hope you survive."

Wu Yue strode down the avenue, smiling, but those around him regarded him as a madman. After all, he muttered incessantly to himself, sometimes laughing, sometimes contorted, sometimes cold—clearly not normal.

At that moment, several streaks of light flashed overhead, passing perilously close to their quarry. Sensing the familiar spiritual energy, Wu Yue smiled softly.

"I wonder who is helping me—shielding my divine sense, hiding my fate," he mused, words of gratitude but with no hint of thankfulness in his tone.

Yao Zhilong walked alone on the street, dismissing his attendants. Or perhaps he was slowly making a decision—a collapsed worldview inevitably heralds the birth of a new one.

He wandered aimlessly, observing those who struggled for survival. "Life in Luoyang is not easy," Yao Zhilong sighed, a smile beginning to bloom—only to freeze in place.

Someone was watching him, smiling.

"How dare you appear here?! Don’t you know you’ve been listed on the Ghostly Souls Index? Across all the heavens and earth, you cannot escape; death is inevitable!" Yao Zhilong barked, fierce in voice but trembling within.

"I know. Thank you for telling me." Wu Yue frowned; he hadn't intended to say that—the main consciousness was running out of time.

Wu Yue raised his hand. A gray light shot from his fingertip.

Yao Zhilong—dead! His face twisted with anger and unwillingness. If only… If only I had cultivated properly, would things have turned out like this? With this doubt, Yao Zhilong felt his consciousness slowly fading—Father, Mother, I’m sorry.

Within Yao Mansion, several figures soared into the sky.

Wu Yue gazed at the fallen Yao Zhilong. A strange aura emerged from Zhilong’s body, drifting toward Wu Yue. He used spiritual energy, divine sense, even void power, but nothing could destroy the aura—it came inexorably, relentless.

"Indeed, the scions of great families should not be slain lightly."

But just as the aura was about to entangle Wu Yue, it abruptly dissipated, vanishing like smoke.

"Clearly, someone is helping me," Wu Yue sneered, then swallowed Yao Zhilong’s soul in a single gulp.

"Pity there’s no time to refine it further."

Only then did the crowd notice a man collapsed on the ground. A few bold souls approached, discovering he was dead. The onlookers quickly dispersed, and Wu Yue melted into the crowd, as if nothing had happened.