Chapter 311 – Surging Spirit Art (II)

Chapter 311

Surging Spirit Art (II)

Okay.

Fine.

The very first shaman to have ever lived is still alive. How? I… I can’t even begin to understand it. Though cultivators can live for a long time, technically speaking, I don’t think even Emperors are literally immortal. In that, they can still die of old age, specifically.

Now, that old age might run in the millions, but if even a quarter of what I read of this world is to be remotely trusted with, we’re talking records that span hundreds of millions of years. And that’s just supposed records.

So, if I’m being extremely conservative, there’s a guy running around that’s hundreds of millions of years old. The one conclusion is that he’s a literal God–though the system didn’t mention anything like that. It simply said that the first shaman is still alive and that literally nobody in the world knows that.

… except for me, I suppose.

Haah.

Rather, him being alive is actually secondary, stupid though that may sound; what worried me far more was why the system told me this specific bit of information. I’ve never gotten a straight-up lore dump as a reward before, so it concerns me that not only did I get one at last, but it’s so world-shattering that it makes literal zero sense.

There’s only one association that I can kind of vaguely connect it to–the thing that required me a billion points to view the info of. I don’t think that’s actually the first shaman or anything of the sort, as, on a cosmic scale and even compared to some of the options I have within the system even as of now, one billion points wasn’t… a lot… Ugh, even the thought hurt, goddamn.

But it’s entirely possible that the thing has some connection to the first shaman, which is why the system revealed it to me. I also don’t really think making a relatively ‘simple’ healing art is anywhere near worth that level of info, but maybe the system’s approach to it is different?

Haah.

One headache after another, rolling down the hill.

I need some fresh air.

It was a crack of dawn, with the golden hue of the sun slowly peeling the darkness back. The air was fresh, perfumed with an herbal scent; altogether pleasant.

I was just about to look through my understanding of the Surging Spirit Art and see precisely what it can actually do when a voice called out before the body appeared.

“Hm. Why do you smell familiar?” As the last note of the voice faded, a figure appeared in front of me; he wore rather luxurious and ornate emerald robes, bejeweled with gemmed adornments hanging on golden threads. He looked to be an old man, somewhere in his sixties appearance-wise, with a well-kept beard and a goatee and lustrous silver hair combed to the side.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him.

“I don’t know. Why do you have the habit of smelling random strangers?” I was already in a foul mood, so I didn’t put on any pretense, though I quickly pulled back; this was a den of monsters, after all. One fewer enemy made is a good boon.

“Hm,” he stopped about four yards from me, looking down as he was good three heads taller. His eyes were stark silver, exuding ever-increasing killing intent. “You should have run to the ends of this world and hid.”