Who Says One Cannot Become A God By Cultivating he Path of Ruthlessness in Jinjiang?! - Chapter 5

Panic, the rush of water, and the looming face of Ruan Wei—this unique, magnified visage kept appearing before Shu Yang’s eyes.

The suffocating sensation of drowning crept into his lungs, and his vision began to fade. In his desperation, he could not even care about the possibility of Ruan Wei discovering his identity. He clamped a hand over his nose to prevent more water intake, scrambled blindly until he felt the side of the barrel, and kicked off the bottom with all his might. With a loud splash, he breached the surface.

Unfortunately, Ruan Wei was leaning over the edge of the barrel, waiting. The moment Shu Yang surfaced, they collided head-on.

Whether Ruan Wei was too fragile or Shu Yang’s head was just too hard, Shu Yang’s sudden upward motion caught Ruan Wei square in the face. Ruan Wei recoiled, stunned, his nose throbbing as his brain registered the sharp pain. Involuntary tears welled up in his eyes.

Shu Yang struggled out of the barrel, disheveled and dripping wet. He stood there, watching Ruan Wei sit back, clutching his nose with reddened eyes, looking tearful and miserable. However, Ruan Wei’s gaze remained vicious. He gritted his teeth and hissed, “Shu Yang! I knew it was you!”

“No,” Shu Yang denied firmly. “I am just a lowly servant. I know no such person.”

“Impossible!” Ruan Wei strode forward, grabbed Shu Yang by the collar, and spat out, “If you were just an ordinary person, how could you have this face?”

“One’s face is a gift from one’s parents. What can I do about it?”

Shu Yang was determined not to confess. His immortal body had been destroyed when he jumped from the Executioner’s Platform, and his spiritual roots were gone. There were slight differences between this vessel and his original form. As long as he refused to admit it, he had room to maneuver. “Young Palace Master, if you say I am Shu Yang, where is your proof?”

“This face is the proof!” Ruan Wei gripped his collar tighter, his voice cutting like frost. “Even if you were ground into dust, I would still recognize this face!”

Shu Yang lowered his head. He could not breathe properly. Just as he reached out to push Ruan Wei away, he accidentally brushed against the man’s wrist. Ruan Wei shuddered violently, his pupils dilating. Suddenly, a pair of small, rounded, translucent dragon horns sprouted from his head, shimmering with a faint light.

They were obviously newborn horns, yet Ruan Wei was a fully grown adult dragon. His horns should have been thick and rugged, not this.

Shu Yang’s mind drifted from his predicament to pure curiosity. He stared fixedly at the horns, trying to make sense of the anomaly. His intense scrutiny caused the horns to change color, suffusing with a soft pink hue that bled into the air, manifesting as faint pink ice snowflakes that drifted onto Shu Yang’s shoulders and sleeves.

Shu Yang was stunned by this unexpected development, momentarily forgetting his own defense.

Ruan Wei, unaware of his exposure, only realized something was wrong when the pink snow began to fall. He let go of Shu Yang, pressed his palms against his head, and tried to force the horns back down. But the newborn horns were disobedient and seemed to like Shu Yang; they ignored Ruan Wei’s efforts, pushing against his palms as if trying to reach out for more attention.

Unable to control the horns and horrified that Shu Yang had seen them, Ruan Wei retreated in a hurry, leaving his interrogation unfinished.

Shu Yang stood there, bewildered by the spectacle. Before he could process it, the child Ruan Wei had sent flying crawled back, clutching Shu Yang’s leg and babbling. The child could not speak properly and did not even have a full set of teeth, yet he was incredibly attached. Shu Yang watched him coldly for a moment before picking him up and walking out.

However, they were blocked by the guards. “No one is allowed to leave without the Young Palace Master’s order,” a soldier stated coldly.

Shu Yang gestured to the human traffickers who were being ushered out of the palace. “Did they not just leave?”

The guard was speechless, his face flushing as hidden scales began to emerge. He turned his head away, choosing silence.

Seeing that violence or reason would not work and lacking any immortal power, Shu Yang carried the boy back into the chaotic inner hall. With bathing impossible, Shu Yang sat cross-legged and began to meditate to absorb the ambient spiritual energy. The Dragon Palace was rich in energy, and thanks to a few wisps of faith flowing into him from the slaves he had accidentally rescued, he managed to repair his spiritual roots.

But his roots were so pathetic that the repair changed nothing. To cultivate a new path was like failing university and having to start over with a different major. There were no shortcuts.

He understood that repairing the roots was useless; his inability to become a god stemmed from the loss of his love root. Finding it was the only way to re-enter the path.

He opened his eyes. The boy was asleep on his chest, breathing evenly. Shu Yang tossed the boy into the water barrel like a tool, scrubbing him clean. Once clean, the child looked delicate and handsome. Shu Yang felt a sense of familiarity but could not place it. He dried the boy off and threw him onto a chair.

Shu Yang had not slept since he began his path, but exhausted, he fell into a rare, deep slumber. When he woke, the boy was kneeling beside him, curiously plucking at his eyelashes.

Shu Yang’s lashes were tipped with a faint red, a detail so subtle it was usually invisible. He used to have black lashes, but during his immortal forging, they had changed. He had long forgotten this feature. As his soul merged with this puppet body, his original appearance was gradually resurfacing. Panicking, he grabbed some coal dust and dyed his lashes black. Feeling that was not enough, he smeared some cinnabar on the boy’s lashes too.

“This will do,” Shu Yang told the boy. “When Ruan Wei comes to find you, tell him you are Shu Yang. Understand?”

He had seen the boy be immune to Ruan Wei’s arts, so if the boy pretended to be him, Ruan Wei could not kill him. The boy nodded obediently, and another wisp of faith manifested, which Shu Yang naturally absorbed.

He expected Ruan Wei to return to finish him off, but days passed in silence, allowing Shu Yang to cultivate freely. When Ruan Wei finally returned, he wore a veiled hat to conceal his face. He walked up to Shu Yang and said, “Shu Yang.”

Shu Yang ignored him, but the double replied with an enthusiastic “Ah!”

Ruan Wei did not believe it for a second and kicked the boy away. The boy, well-prepared, curled into a ball and rolled to safety. Ruan Wei stepped between Shu Yang’s legs, looming over him. “I know it is you.”

“I am not,” Shu Yang insisted. “You can ask a hundred times.”

“You are!” Ruan Wei’s fury spiked, and snow began to fall from his cloak. “I cannot be mistaken!”

“I am merely someone who resembles your Shu Yang. Why must the Young Palace Master force an identity upon a lowly peasant? I have heard this Shu Yang is the Celestial Lord Ziwei, while I have weak roots and no celestial power. How can you be so sure?”

Ruan Wei gritted his teeth. “I will verify your spiritual roots in time, but your identity is undeniable.”

“Then please verify it before you demand my admission,” Shu Yang said, sneezing as the biting cold from Ruan Wei became unbearable. “Could the Young Palace Master move back? I am cold.”

“You are cold?” Ruan Wei staggered, unable to believe someone who had once climbed the Canglan Mountains to slay ice beasts could be so fragile.

“I am not him. You recognized the wrong person.”

“But the Ziwei Star’s light pointed right at you.”

“The star pointed at the city gate. You forget, Young Palace Master, that there were others there.” Shu Yang waved the boy over. “Look at him. He is clean now. These eyes, this nose—he resembles the Celestial Lord quite well. Why do you not suspect him?”

Ruan Wei looked down at the boy. Whether it was psychological suggestion or a genuine resemblance, he saw a shadow of Shu Yang in the boy’s eyes.

“You said you were an ordinary person who had never seen the Ziwei Lord who ascended hundreds of years ago,” Ruan Wei said, a cold smile tugging at his lips. “If you have never seen him, then how did you know that this brat’s eyes look like his?”