"Ah, I'm fine." He Lingchuan collected himself. "Even knowing the spear is an imitation, people are still buying it?"
Bids were already coming from the floor below.
"Where would anyone find the genuine article? Later generations have always had a habit of replicating divine artifacts. For instance, the Verdant Flask kept in Beijia's Azure Palace isn't the authentic piece either, but a copy." Seeing the pale, sickly tint to his complexion, Fang Canran asked, "Are you truly all right?"
"Never better." In secret, He Lingchuan took several deep breaths to suppress his emotions. "Just touched by the scene, reminded of things from the past."
He quietly loosened his left hand, the beads of blood welling in his palm bringing a sharp sting.
No hurry. He gazed coldly at the imitation Thunder Response Spear upon the stage.
Sooner or later, he would get to the bottom of this!
In that split second, a profound vigilance surged from the depths of his heart.
***
He Lingchuan did not sleep all night.
The next day was bright and sunny. Min Tianxi switched to a skiff and rowed He Lingchuan toward another island ten li northwest of Platinum Island: Tulun Island.
Barrier reefs of all sizes carved the waterways between the islands into even narrower corridors, like the alleys and hutongs on land, which the locals called "water lanes."
Min Tianxi took a shortcut, drifting through these water lanes.
The narrowest stretch was barely a zhang wide, just enough for a boat to pass. Unfamiliar chirps of insects and roars of beasts echoed from near and far, and looking up revealed towering branches and foliage—the jungle grew so dense that it completely blotted out the sky above the water lane.
Outside, the sun was already high, but here it remained secluded, dim, and cool.
He Lingchuan tilted his head and waited for quite a while before finally catching half a wisp of sunlight piercing through layer upon layer of obstacles to fall upon his face.
Light within the gloomy jungle was precious and scarce.
He closed his eyes, let out a soft breath, and allowed his mind to settle, recalling what he had seen and heard the day before.
Why had he crossed the vast ocean to come to Bailie?
Aside from wanting to reclaim his ancestral clan's territory, what mattered even more was its superb location, right at the deep rear of the Mou Kingdom.
It was good to enjoy the shade of a great tree; sheltering behind Beijia's sworn enemy, the militarily mighty Mou Kingdom, naturally gave him a greater sense of security.
Ever since raising havoc in the Heavenly Palace, his instinct had been to put as much distance between himself and Beijia as possible.
Yet this was Lingshan's domain, within Mou Kingdom's sphere of influence. According to his initial plan, so long as he gained a firm foothold locally and successfully connected with Lingshan, then by virtue of his feat of burning the Heavenly Palace, he ought to earn Lingshan's acceptance and support, becoming an allied force.
This had been intended as groundwork for the future: if he used strong-arm tactics to take Bailie, Mou Kingdom's response might well be unyielding. At that point, he would need Lingshan to step in and mediate, defusing the friction between both sides. Even if Mou Kingdom felt displeased, with Lingshan standing in between, how could it easily open fire on a teammate of the same camp?
After all, what was done would be done; after all, Mou Kingdom was still fighting its own war; after all, they would have to stand united against Beijia in the future.
Yet the Lesser Thunder Response Spear that appeared at the auction hall the previous night had dumped a bucket of ice water over He Lingchuan's head.
He shivered, jolted wide awake.
He had taken far too much for granted.
Zhong Shengguang commanded the iron-blooded Panlong City and the undefeated Gale Army, yet even he seemed unable to win Lingshan's unwavering devotion—though that might involve Mitian, the Dafang Pot, or other hidden circumstances—so what about He Lingchuan himself? Would Lingshan go all out to shield and escort him merely because he had set a fire in the Heavenly Palace and held a few spears under his command?
Who did he think he was?
Lingshan was a behemoth as well, and an individual before it was tiny and insignificant. Did it truly hold him in any regard?
Even if he threw himself into Lingshan's embrace right now, aside from knowing that Lingshan and Beijia were utterly incompatible, he knew nothing of its guiding ideology, its strategic direction, its personnel makeup, or its manner of conduct.
Heh. When even He Chunhua, the birth father of his original self, could not be trusted, why had he gullibly believed from the start that he and Lingshan shared common ideals and were natural allies?
Had he been influenced by Zhong Shengguang's attitude toward Lingshan?
No, that wasn't right.
Interrogating his own heart through the night, He Lingchuan was startled to realize that the root lay with Beijia, and the crux lay within himself.
The Beijia he had witnessed was merely the tip of the iceberg, yet it was already enough to chill the blood and make one tremble.
Standing alone against Beijia was simply too hard.
Maintaining complete independence was simply too hard.
When faced with perils and dire straits, a person instinctively sought aid, instinctively clutching at any life-saving straw without regard for whether it was reliable.
And within the scope of his vision, the most unshakeable mountain to lean on, the most potent backing, was solely Lingshan.
He had subconsciously trusted it and relied on it, longing to borrow its power to stand against Beijia.
Perhaps Zhong Shengguang had been the same back then.
Yet was Lingshan truly dependable?
As a power that had tangled with celestial gods for thousands of years, how complex must its interior be? As immortals who had originally stood high above, with what sort of gaze would they look upon mortal kingdoms and the human realm?
In essence, how different were they from their adversaries?
A single Lesser Thunder Response Spear had awakened He Lingchuan: it was time to adjust his strategy.
He had to focus on "himself" as the foundation and develop quietly.
On the premise of maintaining his independence, he would communicate amicably with Lingshan and Mou Kingdom to deepen mutual understanding. After all, in this vast, chaotic world, he still needed allies for coordination and support.
He still considered Bailie an object destined for his grasp, but as for when and how to take it, the timing would need to be more opportune, and the methods more refined, avoiding excessive provocation of the Mou Kingdom.
The boat moved soundlessly; still waters ran deep.
A large swath of spiderwebs appeared ahead. He Lingchuan brushed it aside with a casual sweep of his hand, thinking of Zhu Erniang.
That ancient demon immortal was capable of both combat and production. Even thousands of years of spiritual energy exhaustion had failed to wear her down to death, yet in the present world she was hounded into fleeing everywhere, homeless.
Because self-reliance was extraordinarily difficult, and she had never readily joined any faction out of a fear of hardship—until she encountered He Lingchuan.
Even though this fledgling group was still frail, she had found peace of mind and trust here.
Trust was the most precious foundation of all.
He Lingchuan had once believed that around the time he burned the Heavenly Palace, his dao heart had been forged firm, allowing him to advance boldly, fearlessly, and diligently from then on.
Only now did he realize: how could it ever be so simple? Fear and the dread of hardship had never truly been swept out of his heart.
They had merely concealed themselves deeper, becoming harder to detect.
This was an inner demon.
He needed constant self-reflection and regular vigilance.
And in his way of dealing with the world, in his attitude of carefully choosing partners and allies, he ought to learn from Zhu Erniang and cease blindly admiring the powerful.
This world was vast. There were still many people of noble aspiration who, when resisting Beijia and defying celestial gods, likewise required a trustworthy, mighty backing.
Could he, one day, become that backing for them?
***
Min Tianxi's respectful voice came from behind:
"My Lord, we've arrived!"
He Lingchuan slowly opened his eyes, bringing this journey of inner conviction to an end.
The archipelago covered a vast area, but Tulun Island lay closer to the coastline and possessed several thousand permanent residents, all local natives.
Putting his mask back on, He Lingchuan walked toward the interior of the island.
Min Tianxi did not follow. Instead, he found a small barbecue stall near the dock's pier, ordered some pickled sides and grilled meat, and waited while he ate.
The buildings along the road were scattered in irregular clusters, devoid of any overall planning.
After walking over a hundred zhang, He Lingchuan spotted a small temple ahead.
Chapter 958