Chapter 147 – Great Questions (II)

Chapter 147

Great Questions (II)

Long Tao once again thought back at the tome his strange Master showed him. He’d never seen an art quite like it before in his life. Then again, he hadn’t really seen arts like his Master’s in general.

Aegis of Infinity…

It was a bold name, and yet, it still somehow felt understated. If it had been auctioned off by the Golden Dragon, it would have likely fetched the worth of a Tower. Not that he ever knew anyone who could have actually practiced the art.

While ‘Demonic Vessel Physique’ wasn’t anything extraordinary–all Vessel Physiques, ultimately, rang from the same original bell of it all–the other requirement was… different.

So different that he nearly screamed in shock once he recognized it.

Dreadline.

The word itself sent shockwaves throughout his mind, rattling it in ways that it hadn’t been in a long, long time.

Dreadline.

Such an ancient word that it took even him a few moments to recognize it. Per the legends, it came from one of the first 100 Emperors of Mankind, as they were called–Emperor of Dread. It wasn’t a title given out of affection, as his very existence inspired that feeling in not just lesser cultivators but other Emperors and Empresses, too.

That was why his entire bloodline was hunted into extinction–eerily, seldom the only example of such a thing in the early days of Martial Gods, but certainly one of the first.

Though he’d heard whispers before that the bloodline survived, he had never encountered it.

Well, in fairness, to say that it ‘existed’ even now was a stretch–technically, Wan Lan did have it, but she may as well not have. It was locked and dormant, and there wasn’t a soul alive or dead besides perhaps the original Emperor of Dread himself that could help her manifest it.

… no.

There was one.

He stopped and glanced back through the trees, where he saw the ordinary-seeming middle-aged man stand up and dust off his robes, mumbling something under his breath–Long Tao felt his ears itch as he was certain the Master was cursing him out.

That inconspicuous-looking man that he would not have cast a second look toward was an anomaly that defied expectations.

Long Tao had confirmed it by now–his Master had an inordinate capacity to create arts that nobody else could. How, why, or where this gift came from… none of that mattered. The man could conjure up otherwise nonexistent arts from seemingly thin air.

Rather than a gift… it was more of a curse, Long Tao felt.

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Were he to ever be discovered by any of the Divine Powers, he would be hunted down and executed on the spot. Anything that defied Heavens to such a degree was intolerable in their eyes–including Long Tao himself as well.

Such a gift… it had to be protected.

It was hardly a new revelation for him–he’d already become conscious of the fact that he had grown fond of the man, but it was as though layers kept being added onto the already existing mountain.

Effortless kindness, anomalous existence, and now the gift of creation itself, something reserved for only one of the Seven… not to mention the shocking gaps in knowledge.

It was clear that his Master didn’t really have much common sense when it came to the world of martial arts. And yet, here and there, he’d showcase bits of knowledge that even Long Tao would consider one of the world’s secrets.

“A-ah, Senior Brother,” he was woken from his thoughts by the stuttering voice of a young woman. Turning over, he saw Wan Lan exit the tent, quickly bowing and looking away, her cheeks flushed faintly. “Hello.”

“Hm. How are your wounds?” he asked.

“Much better, thank you for asking. Uhm,” she fiddled in place for a moment before bowing yet again, this time to a full ninety degrees. “My deepest apologies, Senior Brother! I have doubted you and I–“