paranoianovel Chapter 613 - 483: Blood-Stained World
Chapter 613 - 483: Blood-Stained World
Vast Great Void, chaotic air currents roar like waves.
Before a mottled barrier of the Small Thousand World, Chen Sheng’s figure suddenly halted, his gaze vacuous, as if portraying the cycle of life and death.
Celestial Abyss Realm!
The barrier of the Small Thousand World was filled with the cracks of time, the thin world’s essence flickering like a dying candle, exuding an air of decrepit decay.
Chen Sheng stood with his hands behind his back, his dark yellow Daoist Robe fluttering loudly in the chaotic currents, his gaze pierced through the barrier, looking at the world both familiar and alien, the nostalgia surging in his heart like an uncontrollable tide.
In several past lives, he turned and took root in this world.
Struggling to survive among mortals, braving thorns among cultivators, ultimately founding an imperial court and ruling over myriad spirits.
In terms of time, his years in this realm were but a fleeting moment on the path of cultivation, yet they engraved his most vibrant past, leaving numerous irreplaceable memories.
"Time is merciless, old friends scatter, I don’t know what look my homeland still bears."
Chen Sheng murmured in his heart, his voice indifferent yet tinged with an imperceptible melancholy.
With a thought, billions of Dao Principles quietly flowed around him, like stars vanishing into the night, instantly shielding all his aura and Dao Rhyme.
His figure flickered, transforming into an invisible stream of light, silently blending into the barrier of the Celestial Abyss Realm.
The already weakened world’s essence remained oblivious, still arduously maintaining the existence of the domain.
...
Celestial Abyss Realm, State Mansion of Jin.
The banks of the Wusu River meander for hundreds of miles, the willows on both shores have already sprouted branches and buds, the tender yellow willow strands like a maiden’s hair, hanging onto the water’s surface, swaying gently with the ripples.
The early spring breeze carries a hint of warmth, brushing against the embankment, stirring patches of hidden red amidst the green — those are the early-blooming peach blossoms, dotted among the verdant green.
Further away, vast fields stretch out, with occasional figures of farmers working on the dikes, their shouts drifting with the wind, carrying a bit of the earthly life.
The fisherman’s song wafts faintly through the air, the humming tune carrying the gentleness of the waterways, mixed with the rushing sound of the river, and the creaks of the fishing boats’ oars, composing a simple pastoral symphony.
The song drifts from downstream, gradually nearing, then gradually fading, eventually dissipating in the spring breeze, leaving behind a heart full of leisure.
A small, black-roofed boat is floating downstream, its light body carving out a gentle ripple on the water’s surface.
Inside the elegant cabin, Chen Sheng had already changed into a blue garment, his black hair was elegantly tied up with a simple Jade Hairpin, his features handsome and gentle as if he were a young master from a painting walking amidst the world.
He sat by a small table, on it was a pot of clear wine, a few plates of exquisite snacks, and fresh fruits, holding a cup in hand, lightly swirling the wine within, his gaze through the cabin’s lattice window quietly appreciating the scenery along the banks.
The old boatman was a half grey-haired elder also sitting at the table, accompanying him holding a cup of coarse tea, smiling,
"Young master is from out of town, isn’t it? In a few days, the peach blossoms and apricot blossoms on the shore will fully bloom, now they haven’t yet fully opened, missing a bit of the hustle."
"If you wait more than a month, when both shores are blooming like a brocade, with green willows and red flowers, that is the real beauty! By that time, young masters and ladies coming to the riverbank will form a long queue!"
The old man talked about the beauty of his hometown proudly, his voice also became slightly louder.
On the deck, a fifteen or sixteen-year-old boat maid was squatting by a small stove boiling fish soup, the fire crackled, lighting up her youthful face.
She wore a shallow blue dress, her hands skillfully flipping the pot on the stove, occasionally lifting her head, secretly glancing at the blue-clad young master inside the cabin with the corner of her eye, her cheeks instantaneously turning a shade of crimson, hurriedly lowering her head, her heart pounding like a drum.
No help for it, he was simply too handsome!
In the stories, it always says, "A person like jade, unmatched in the world," she used to think it was an exaggeration by the literati, but today upon seeing Young Master Chen, she realized there really are such exceptional people.
That demeanor, that charm, as if he were an exiled immortal!
This scene, naturally couldn’t escape the eyes of the old boatman, he sighed gently in his heart, wrinkles filled with helplessness.
Such a demeanor, certainly is not an ordinary person, compared to the noble young masters he had seen from afar outside the Prefecture City, even more poised, as if inherently destined to stand among the clouds.
His own daughter, though considered pretty, compared with this young master, was simply worlds apart, even to serve as a slave or concubine, she might not even be eligible to reach.
Chen Sheng took a sip of clear wine, the liquid crisp and carried a hint of sweetness:
"It indeed has a unique flavor!"
The old fisherman chuckled:
"As long as the young master likes it, my daughter’s culinary skill is quite good, the fish soup she makes, none who have tasted it ever spoke ill."
Chen Sheng chuckled lightly, "Then I must try it!"
Speaking, his gaze subtly shifted, looking towards the direction a few miles upstream.
There lay a green mountain, at the foot of the mountain, a crowd bustling, colorful banners fluttering, the red and yellow flags flapping noisily in the spring breeze, quite lively.
At the mountain’s peak, a temporary ritual platform had been erected, surrounded by Peach Wood Swords and covered with Yellow Talismans.
A yellow-robed, yellow-faced Daoist was standing at the center of the platform, holding a Bronze Magical Sword, the sword densely pasted with layers of yellow papers.
The Daoist’s eyes were wide open, chanting continuously, his obscure spells buzzing like mosquitoes, and with each incantation, he exaggeratedly swung the Bronze Magical Sword in his hand.
Each time he swung the sword, a thin yellow light burst from the sword’s body, falling onto the surrounding Yellow Talismans.