Chapter Sixty: The Young Acolyte

Soon after, a dazzling golden light radiated from the center of Shen Yu’s brow, accompanied by a casual, rolling sound that echoed through the mountains and forests.

It was as if a divine thunder had descended from the heavens.

An invisible ripple quietly emanated from Shen Yu, spreading outward in all directions. In the once lifeless depths of the mountains, countless cries of ghosts and wolves rang out, as if they had encountered the most terrifying thing in the world, leaving only shrill, miserable screams behind.

Those weak, insubstantial spirits vanished instantly.

Some formidable specters with centuries of cultivation had already condensed part of their bodies, but now they trembled violently, nearly dissipating entirely. A few lucky ghosts who escaped annihilation fled madly into the distance.

The mists gradually dispersed outward from Shen Yu as the center, restoring the mountain to its former brightness.

The youth stood in the clearing, hands behind his back, his robes billowing like an immortal descending to earth.

This scene, though wordless, exuded an indescribable aura of dominance.

If mortals are naturally able to restrain spirits and monsters, then as a Daoist cultivator—one of the Three Schools—the true meaning of the Dao he carried was even more powerful and absolute.

More importantly, the Daoist intent on Shen Yu was unlike anything possessed by ordinary people.

Three thousand years ago.

He had ascended to the highest heavens and descended to the depths of the underworld, observing the cycles of life and death.

He had ridden his sword eastward to the Isle of the Eastern King, evaluating true immortals of this world.

He had traveled alone to Mount Fangzhang in the west, discussing the meaning of bodhi and Zen.

In that era where immortals, demons, and buddhas all lived together, just the ghostly experts who had reached the immortal realm and died by his hand could be counted on one hand.

Three thousand years ago, he was confident that his Daoist arts were unrivaled; now, too, he held the same conviction.

It was not a matter of cultivation or realm, but of the indomitable spirit that declares, “Who else but me?”

Shen Yu’s expression remained calm as he continued forward.

Ahead lay a vast cave, from whose depths powerful demonic energy continuously surged forth.

When he reached the mouth of the cave, he finally saw what lay within.

Shen Yu raised his eyes, and on the cave floor were scattered countless treasures—gold, silver, gleaming jewels, jade, emeralds, pearls… Layer upon layer, the treasures piled high, filling the entire cavern.

At the sound of his approach, an enormous head, as large as a small mountain, emerged from the sparkling pile. The black head was covered in hard scales, so dark they seemed to absorb all light. Even the exposed part was so massive it inspired fear.

It was a huge black serpent, likely cultivated for nearly a thousand years, its tongue flickering as its triangular eyes stared at Shen Yu, wary and fierce.

Shen Yu’s gaze shifted downward; on the writhing body, a pair of small claws had grown—not very noticeable, but their shape was distinct.

He said, “Interesting. I didn’t expect to find a black serpent on the verge of transforming into a flood dragon here, and one so attached to its wealth.”

“Hiss…”

The black serpent, seeing Shen Yu’s unruffled demeanor, twisted its body, letting out a harsh, piercing hiss.

Shen Yu ignored it, walking toward the mountain of gold and jewels.

This action seemed to trigger the serpent’s fury; it suddenly raised its head and lunged aggressively at the unwelcome intruder.

The demonic energy in the cave surged, its gigantic head, seven or eight yards wide, whipping up violent gusts.

Shen Yu remained indifferent, making no defensive move, merely uttering a single syllable.

The sound was strange, seemingly unrelated to any known language, resembling something like the chanting of Buddhist monks.

A bizarre scene unfolded.

The serpent, charging fiercely, suddenly turned aside and crashed heavily into the cave wall, letting out a mournful cry.

Moments later, the black serpent, still unwilling to yield, coiled its entire body and charged at Shen Yu again.

Shen Yu’s lips moved slightly.

And once more, the same scene occurred.

---

This time, the serpent suffered a heavy blow, smashing into the rocky wall, sending stones flying and causing the entire mountain to tremble.

Now, the serpent had fallen into complete madness, its emerald eyes turning blood-red as it roared thunderously.

Shen Yu walked into the treasure pile, squatted down, paying no mind to the terrifying creature behind him, and casually uttered another syllable.

Boom!

Boom!

After more than ten rounds of this, the once stable cave had been battered by the giant serpent until it was nearly collapsing, rocks falling everywhere.

In the end, the black serpent lost its earlier arrogance, cautiously coiling itself to one side, its gaze full of fear and an unmistakable hint of…curiosity.

As though confronted with something incomprehensible, its eyes seemed almost human.

Shen Yu sifted through the mound of gold and jewels, picking up a shining object and tossing it aside like trash. As the treasures before him dwindled, a streak of jade-green light emerged from amongst the sparkling hoard.

He finally stopped searching, waved his hand, and a jade-green sword, three inches long, appeared in his palm.

Shen Yu flicked the blade with his finger, producing a crisp sword ring, and a look of satisfaction appeared in his eyes.

Though the mountain was saturated with ghostly and demonic energy, in Shen Yu’s spiritual perception, the sword’s aura shone brightly—like a lantern in the night.

As he had expected, the jade sword was indeed a congenital spiritual treasure. Judging by the residual energy on the blade, its previous owner was likely an immortal-level expert from a few centuries ago.

This, however, mattered little to Shen Yu.

What mattered was the precious material of the sword—perfect for killing, quickly and efficiently.

The sword he had obtained years ago at Treasure Cliff was too overwhelmingly powerful, too ostentatious for duels, which did not suit Shen Yu’s temperament.

He stood up slowly, slid the short sword into his sleeve to refine it further, then turned, his expression suddenly odd.

He saw that everything he had tossed aside was carefully gathered by the black serpent, coiled into a new treasure pile nearby. Its eyes, full of humanlike pleading and grievance, stared at Shen Yu, as if begging him not to throw anything else away—there was so little left.

Such intelligence was rare; Shen Yu considered this, then said seriously, “Would you like to come with me?”

The serpent was stunned. Those who had seen its true form usually either fled in terror or were knocked unconscious. In hundreds of years, this was the first time someone had made a request of it.

It cast a reluctant glance at the treasures behind Shen Yu, then shook its giant head furiously, its gaze tinged with disdain.

No way—I won’t let you trick me out, only to steal all the treasures I’ve worked so hard to gather. Dream on! I’m not that foolish.

Shen Yu couldn’t read its thoughts, but he sensed its intentions from its eyes, and so spoke another sentence.

Upon hearing this, the serpent’s massive body convulsed as if struck by lightning, crashing into the cave wall and sending fragments flying.

Shen Yu’s expression remained calm. “If you stay here, no matter how many centuries you cultivate, you’ll never find the opportunity to transform into a flood dragon.”

The serpent’s ink-black eyes showed hesitation.

All snakes in this world, to become flood dragons, must journey through the rivers, then enter the sea to become true dragons—a legacy written into their blood.

A faint black mist appeared around the serpent’s body, and then its form began to change. When the mist cleared, a young boy in dark clothing, military-style, stood before Shen Yu.

His pupils were jet-black, his nose high, his skin smooth and pale as an infant’s—clearly a child.

Shen Yu showed no surprise; it was common for demons to take human form. By demon standards, this black serpent was about the size of a human child—still in its infancy.

The boy spoke in a childish voice, “If I go with you, will I really be able to journey the rivers and become a flood dragon?”

Shen Yu shook his head, “Not necessarily.”

The boy asked, “Then what good is it?”

Shen Yu glanced at the treasures so dear to the boy, and replied seriously, “Perhaps you’ll see even more treasures.”

The child’s eyes brightened, probing, “What if I refuse?”

Shen Yu answered coolly, “I have a green luan bird in the mountains—it loves snake gall above all else.”

---

The boy shrank back, terrified—this man was truly not someone to provoke, even the green luan bird followed him. He looked longingly at his hard-earned treasures, unable to make up his mind.

“Take them all with you,” Shen Yu said, waving his sleeve. All the gold and jewels amassed over the serpent’s near thousand-year life vanished.

A heart-rending cry erupted from the boy, and he lunged at Shen Yu, frantically searching around him and shouting, “Where are my treasures? Where did you hide them? You’re too cruel, you’re a thief, I’ll… I’ll…”

Shen Yu casually tossed an ancient-looking ring into the boy’s hands as he walked forward, saying, “Follow me.”

The boy instinctively caught the ring, still muttering, “Don’t trick a child, this broken ring is useless, not as good as my treasures…”

He suddenly stopped, staring at the ring, his eyes sparkling with awe.

After a moment, he bounced after Shen Yu, curious, “What is this ring? How can it hold so many things?”

Shen Yu asked, “You’ve never left here?”

The little demon sighed, “I’ve stayed here since I was born, wanted to see the outside, but every time I reached the edge of the mountain, a deep fear kept me from going.”

Shen Yu nodded, “Seems your flood dragon bloodline is very pure.”

“What do you mean?” the boy asked, confused.

“Nothing.”

A brief silence.

“Sir, are there more rings like this?” the boy asked carefully, looking at Shen Yu. “If you have more, please give me a few. I lost so many treasures before—they lost their spiritual energy. If I had more rings, I could save them all.”

Thinking about filling each ring with gold and jewels made him grin from ear to ear.

“No,” Shen Yu replied. “There will be more in the future.”

The boy’s dim eyes instantly lit up, and he patted his chest, declaring, “Sir, don’t worry—now that we’re leaving, I’ll protect you, make sure we live well, for when we walk the world, it’s all about adventure and loyalty, life and death together.”

He seemed to have completely forgotten his earlier humiliation.

Shen Yu glanced at him, “Who taught you all this?”

The boy replied earnestly, “Some people who came into the mountain said it. I listened secretly, but they were too timid—once they saw me, they all ran away.”

As he spoke, the boy seemed to remember something else, and said mysteriously, “Sir, there’s something I don’t understand. Those people said the women outside the mountain are fierce, and that once you share a bed with them, even several cultivators aren’t a match for an ordinary woman. Are they really that formidable?”

Shen Yu looked into the boy’s clear eyes, nodded seriously, “In some ways, they weren’t wrong.”

“Tsk, tsk, terrifying. The female ghosts in the mountain look so frail, they don’t dare come within ten feet of me.”

The boy said solemnly, “Sir, in the future we should keep our distance from women outside, or I might not be able to protect you.”

Shen Yu pondered and nodded slowly.

Two figures, one large and one small, descended the mountain together.

“You’ll be called Fortune from now on,” Shen Yu said.

“Sir, only dogs are called that, and I have a name,” the boy replied.

“What is it?”

“Li Wealth.”

“Oh.”