In the wake of war, ruins lay scattered across the Wu domain, a desolate landscape scarred by devastation.
A tall, bald Shaman wearing battle garments and a cloak walked into a small town. He made his way down the central street, glancing from side to side as he went.
The town appeared rather bleak. While not nine out of ten houses were deserted, at least three or four in ten stood abandoned, their owners nowhere to be found.
Most of the Shamans in town were dressed in rags. Many wore clothes even worse than those of vagrants, leaving most of their bodies exposed and relying on scales and thick hide to withstand the harsh environment.
From the moment this Shaman entered the town, many Shamans poked their heads out, curiously sizing up the newcomer.
Some young Shaman children were both curious and terrified, hiding behind their elders and sneaking peeks at this unfamiliar Shaman.
When a bold, meddlesome child tried to edge closer, their parents yanked them back, delivered a sound thrashing, and scolded them: "That is a great Shaman Scholar lord! If you accidentally soil his clothes, they'll sever your hands and feet and turn you into meat dumplings to feed the war beasts!"
Though the Shaman who had entered the town was travel-stained and ugly, his demeanor and attire clearly signified his status as a Shaman Scholar.
The vast majority in this small town were lowborn commoners and slaves. Simply appearing in the sight of a Shaman Scholar lord was considered tainting the lord's eyes—a rather grave offense. If the lord was displeased, beating one half to death was only natural, and if beaten to death, he would only have to pay a paltry sum of compensation. And that was only for commoners with connections; if an ordinary commoner died, their death was of no consequence whatsoever.
Thus, throughout Shaman lands, failing to please important figures put one's life in constant peril.
The newly arrived Shaman walked to the town's center, having already caught every scrap of conversation around him. There was an inn in the town—currently the only one still open. The town was said to have had several restaurants originally, but all had shuttered by now.
The Shaman walked into the inn and picked a table to sit at. The hall had high ceilings, with tables and chairs of varying sizes. There was also a large, smoothed stone platform upon which food and wine were laid out; a Shaman over a hundred feet long was coiled on this rock, eating.
The moment the newcomer stepped inside, the coiled Shaman reacted as if meeting a natural predator—whoosh!—and bolted out of the inn, disappearing in an instant and abandoning the food and wine he had barely begun.
The Shaman walked straight to the table at the very center and sat down with dignified poise.
Soon after, a burly Great Shaman whose arms were covered in scales approached his table. This Shaman was the best-dressed in the entire town, with a silk brocade scarf wrapped around his neck. It was just that the scarf was a vivid red, paired with his dark-green body, giving him a festive look.
The burly Great Shaman set a cask of wine onto the table and said in a deep voice, "This is the best wine in town, shipped from the human side. A gift for the noble Shaman Scholar lord—I hope we can become friends! I am Langxiong, the mayor of this town."
The Shaman pressed his palms together, pulled back his hood to reveal a bald head, and said, "I am Peacock, a Spirit Shaman."
The words "Spirit Shaman" were spoken so that only Langxiong could hear them clearly.
The one bearing the name Peacock was naturally not a real Spirit Shaman; it was merely a Spirit Shaman shell worn by Wei Yuan inside.
Looking at Wei Yuan's bald head, Langxiong grew solemn. "You are from the Pure Land Sect?"
Wei Yuan nodded. "The City of Heaven sits high above, and not one Shaman in ten thousand can enter. But our Peacock Garan Pure Land Lapis Lazuli Realm is different. Any Shaman who faithfully believes in my Lord will be reborn in the Lapis Lazuli Realm in the next life, enjoying eternal life and remaining far removed from all resentment, hatred, sorrow, and suffering."
Langxiong said, "The Pure Land Sect was long ago designated an evil cult by Lord Hongye. This is the Land of Rain. Aren't you afraid Lord Hongye will find out and drag you off to be sacrificed to the heavens?"
Wei Yuan smiled slightly. "In any other place, perhaps I would be afraid. But this is the Land of Rain, and I am a Spirit Shaman."
Wei Yuan emphasized "Spirit Shaman" once more, and Langxiong's expression finally changed. Though both were Great Shamans, terror and awe mingled on Langxiong's face, and his demeanor became far more deferential.
All the Shamans around them were filled with shock and dread; many who were eating quietly crawled outside.
At this time, the Land of Rain had just fought a major battle against an army of Spirit Shamans, suffered a crushing defeat, and seen two key Nether Shamans gravely wounded. It was rumored that both sides were currently preparing peace talks, and the upper echelons had strictly forbidden any action that might disrupt the negotiations.
In the understanding of ordinary Shamans, the meaning of this order was simple: whenever a conflict arose with a Spirit Shaman, regardless of reason, it was always their own fault, and the Spirit Shaman lords were always in the right.
Therefore, the Shaman commoners of the Land of Rain currently harbored deep hatred and fear toward Spirit Shamans—eighty percent fear, ten percent hatred, and the remaining ten percent wondering if they could cling to the hind claws of some Spirit Shaman lord.
"What, don't believe me? Think I'm too ugly?" Wei Yuan's face chilled. Raising both arms, another pair emerged from beneath his underarms, all four arms moving with equal dexterity.
Langxiong's face changed again. Stepping back two paces, his massive body dropped to his knees.
Spirit Shamans were famous for Shamanic arts that fell like tempestuous squalls—kaleidoscopic and unpredictable—unlike the Nether Shaman lineage descended from blood shamans, whose specialty was various great blood hexes and little else of merit.
Shaman spellcasting differed from that of humans. When casting Daoist arts, humans mostly emphasized an immortal demeanor and transcendental grace; whether the art was powerful or not was secondary, but the posture had to be as ethereal and elegant as a dancing immortal.
Shamans, on the other hand, were accustomed to mobilizing every part of their bodies to cast arts. Every additional moving part made their spellcasting a fraction faster, and the more contorted and deformed they became, the more it resembled an ethereal, immortal dance in Shaman eyes. Consequently, the visual display when Shamans—especially Spirit Shamans—cast spells was quite abstract and difficult to describe.
Now that Wei Yuan possessed an extra pair of arms, his strength was clearly far superior to four-limbed ones, marking him as someone of notable standing even among Spirit Shamans. Furthermore, Wei Yuan was a Shaman Scholar, naturally ranking a tier above the nobility—a rule established by the City of Heaven and recognized throughout the Wu domain.
With both factors combined, the rough-hewn Langxiong dropped to his knees at once, decisively and with practiced smoothness.
Wei Yuan retracted the two arms. This display of freely altering his form broadened the horizons of all the Shamans present once more.
Wei Yuan was thoroughly satisfied with the surrounding Shamans' gazes. Just as he was about to speak, he suddenly froze.
At that moment, an anomaly occurred within the Smoke and Fire of the Mortal World: several wisps of light-green karmic luck drifted down! It was actually Shaman karmic luck!
However, these wisps hovered without settling, seemingly unable to find an anchor.
Wei Yuan was the type to forget all principles the moment he saw karmic luck. Feeling immense urgency, he was racking his brain for what to do when a statue suddenly appeared in a remote corner near the sea. The statue depicted a bald being with three faces and four arms, its features bearing a faint resemblance to Wei Yuan.
The few mortals nearby did not bother asking where the statue had come from. Their bloodline instinct to prostrate before otherworldly objects was immediately triggered, and they dropped to their knees before the statue, chanting, "Most Holy Peacock of Great Joy of the Lapis Lazuli Heaven!"
Hearing this title, Wei Yuan felt every single one of his hearts ache with discomfort, leaving him somewhat breathless.
Yet the worship proved exceedingly effective; the faint wisps of Shaman karmic luck now had a target and descended into the statue.
Suppressing a belly full of fury and bafflement, Wei Yuan returned to reality and addressed Langxiong, whose jaw was practically touching the floor: "Let me ask you: does a single woman with a child live around here?"
Chapter 581