After the Lantern Festival night tour that day, Jing Feirong never saw Chu Yanchuan again. He passed by the Underworld on his way to the Northern Region every day, but never met Dijun. He was too embarrassed to ask Yu Cang, so he could only give a few hints in front of Bai Wuchang.
“Ah… There’s no war in the Underworld recently? Then Mingwang Daren and Dijun should have a lot more free time.”
Bai Wuchang glanced at Jing Feirong with ill intent while flipping through the booklet: “Yes, ever since His Highness the Fifth Prince took over the Northern Region, Daren and Dijun have indeed been much more relaxed~”
So much so that he saw the Third Prince, Jing Feiyun, coming out of the Lord of the Underworld’s bedroom in disheveled clothes and cursing for five consecutive mornings.
“Oh…” Jing Feirong’s fingertips gently scratched the cover of the book back and forth and then asked again, “What do they usually do in their free time?”
“Make love kind of thing.”
Jing Feirong had no control over what the Lord of the Underworld liked to do, so he asked, “What does Dijun like to do normally?”
“Dijun likes quietness. Now that the Withered Swamp has been handed over to you, Your Highness, Dijun will naturally go and meditate in peace and quiet.”
Jing Feirong looked bewildered. “Where did he go to meditate? I’ve been to Yunzi Mountain, but I didn’t see him.”
“The six realms are so vast, and there are so many holy places. As subordinates, it is not convenient for us to ask which one Dijun prefers.”
“How long will the meditation last then?”
“It may be a few months, or it may be a few years. If Dijun thinks that place is good, it may also be hundreds or thousands of years.”
Jing Feirong remained silent for a long time. Finally, he said “Oh” in a sullen voice and left the Underworld Palace.
Bai Wuchang looked at his back with a smile and asked, “Where is Your Highness going?”
“Find a friend!” Jing Feirong said this without turning his head.
Jing Feirong’s friend is a tree.
Suliang Mountain, the first of the six holy places, is covered with snow and ice for thousands of hectares. The mountaintops are connected with the clouds, and it is a vast ice field. The main peak is tall and steep, and the Suliang Mountain range passes through it. There is a tree growing in the mountain range with slender branches and green leaves. It stands in the vast snow but is not covered with snow, like a touch of spring in the endless winter.
Chu Yanchuan had already forgotten how long he had stayed in this tree—perhaps hundreds of years, or maybe thousands of years.
His soul was still shaky, and Yu Cang was watching over the barrier of the Withered Swamp, so it’s barely enough to save him from having to worry too much. Chu Yanchuan had been fighting for tens of thousands of years and was tired, so he hid in his original body with a lazy mentality and cultivated himself.
All the deities knew that Chu Yanchuan was the first god to come into the world, but no one knew that his original body was a tree.
A beautiful and slender tree without a name.
The Suliang Mountain was covered in snow for thousands of miles, but only the grasses under the shade of this tree are green, and mountain flowers are blooming, shielding the area from the frost and strong winds, creating a unique piece of heaven and earth.
The main peak is the most precipitous, and no one has been able to set foot on it for millions of years. So Chu Yanchuan slept here day after day, year after year.
Until one day, he smelled a scent of blood mixed with the biting cold wind and could faintly hear a slight sob. Chu Yanchuan opened his eyes and saw a boy walking in the snow, not far away. He was thin and stumbling, as if he was about to be knocked down by the biting wind and snow.
The boy looked only eleven or twelve years old, dressed in black, with a sword on his back. There was blood on his neck and face, which had already solidified under the cold weather, and he looked extremely tragic. There was a pair of black dragon horns on his forehead, and his beautiful face could not be concealed by the blood. The boy covered his left shoulder, trembling and stumbling, and fell to the grass under the tree, as if he had instantly fallen into the warmth of spring, and sighed for a long time, “It’s so warm…”
The voice sounds extremely childish, what a poor little dragon!
Chu Yanchuan closed his eyes and continued to meditate. The young boy climbed a few steps to the tree trunk, panting and sitting up. After a moment, he suddenly cried out, “Where’s my sword?!”
“The sword is gone!” The young boy cried loudly with a broken heart. “That was a holy sword! I lost it! Father is going to burn me in the furnace… “
The holy sword on his back probably couldn’t stand its master being so stupid, and it shook impatiently twice. The young boy shuddered all over, and then he realized that the sword had been on his back all along. He stopped crying immediately, hugged the sword in his arms, and hiccuped with lingering fear.
Chu Yanchuan opened his eyes when he heard him called “father.” He took a closer look and saw that the sword was the Eclipse Holy Sword, a sacred object from heaven, unique in the world. This little dragon might be…
“My name is Jing Feirong.” The young boy sensed the presence of a spirit in the sacred tree, so he knocked on the trunk and asked in a low voice, sobbing, “Can you come out for a moment and help me remove the poison from my shoulder?”
It’s the Fifth Prince of the Heavenly Dragon Clan, Jing Feirong.
Chu Yanchuan stared at him. Dragons under a thousand years old would not hide their dragon horns. Since Jing Feirong was less than a thousand years old, it seemed that he had been in this original body for less than a thousand years—Chu Yanchuan finally managed to calculate the approximate time he had been in meditation until now.
Jing Feirong waited for a long time, but the sacred tree ignored him. He wiped his tears and asked, “Can’t you transform into a physical body yet? But you have flourished in this Suliang Mountain, so your cultivation should be very strong…”
“I’m in so much pain…” Jing Feirong used his hands and feet to hug the slightly warm tree trunk and put his face on the rough bark, begging and acting like a spoiled child, “Please, help me pull it out, it hurts to pull it out by myself.”
Chu Yanchuan did not move. After the battle with the Demon Seal, he no longer wanted to have anything to do with the Heavenly Dragon Clan.
Seeing that the sacred tree really ignored him, Jing Feirong had no choice but to give up. He pursed his lips and touched his dragon horn, then, as if he had made up his mind, he opened his collar and exposed his left shoulder.
The poisonous ditch was almost completely embedded in the tender shoulder, leaving only a short tail exposed. There was a black circle around the wound, and faint black devilish energy was emitting. The tip must have pierced into the bone, and one could imagine how painful it would be.
“I’ll pull it out ah.” Even though no one was paying attention, Jing Feirong kept talking to himself as if to build up his courage: “If I really pulled it out, blood would splatter and make a sizzling sound, which might stain Suliang Mountain. But there’s nothing I can do. It hurts so much, and I fell here halfway through flying…”
He was invaded by the evil spirit, and the pain from the wound made him somewhat confused. He kept mumbling to himself for a long time, but suddenly he grabbed the end of the poison ditch and pulled it up violently. Thick, dirty blood gushed out, and the evil spirit collided with the spiritual energy of Suliang Mountain, hissing violently. Jing Feirong held his head high without saying a word, but clear black dragon scales had already burst out from under the skin of his neck—that was the sign of extreme pain and the collapse of his soul.
Chu Yanchuan looked at him for a long while, then moved his fingertips, and a branch slowly dropped down. The leaves stroked Jing Feirong’s wound, and spiritual power flowed out and was injected into Jing Feirong’s left shoulder.
Jing Feirong was sweating profusely, his lips were white from the pain, and tears were falling from the corners of his eyes. He took a deep breath for a long time before his eyes gradually became clear. He stared blankly at the lush shade of the trees above him and said in a hoarse voice, “Sacred tree, your spiritual power is so powerful. I will give you the holy sword. Can you help me cultivate quickly?”
At such a young age, he was already thinking of taking shortcuts. The branches and leaves of the sacred tree moved slightly, and it lightly slapped Jing Feirong on the face.
The Holy Sword simply left in anger, flew into the snow, and circled around the peaks of Suliang Mountain.
Jing Feirong stayed by the tree until dark, his little mouth chattering non-stop. One moment he said that he followed his third brother to fight in the Demon Realm, and he was injured, so he had to run away. He didn’t know if his third brother would spank him. The next moment, he said that he wanted to eat roast chicken and steamed dumplings, preferably with a bowl of meat soup…
His wounds healed extremely quickly, his spirit became more and more excited, and he talked more and more. Chu Yanchuan began to regret transferring spiritual power to him.
“I’m leaving now.” Jing Feirong got up, brushed off the broken grass on his body, looked at the sacred tree, and said seriously, “I am very grateful for today. I will come to see you again soon.”
The Sacred Tree: No need.
The Holy Sword, having had enough fun, came through the snow and wind and stopped in front of Jing Feirong. Jing Feirong waved his hand and said, “I won’t carry you anymore. You can fly by yourself.”
“Besides, I don’t know the way. You have to lead me in front.”
The Holy Sword: Speechless.
The young man flew away with the sword in the wind. Chu Yanchuan rubbed his aching forehead, closed his eyes, and meditated quietly.
The Author has something to say: His Highness the Fifth Prince: It turns out my wife watched me grow up (bitter smile and tears)