Chapter 59: Time Changes All Things
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
“Could it be… that Cui family?” whispered the maid, her voice tinged with shock.
She knew her mistress had once lived for four years in a renowned city, during which time she had formed connections with several remarkable figures. Nearby, two men clad in gleaming gold armor turned their heads sharply at the mention of the Cui family. Their expressions shifted subtly, their gazes now focused intently on the shadowed outline of Golden Rooster Ridge under the night sky.
“It’s not confirmed yet,” the young mistress replied calmly, though her tone betrayed a hint of hesitation. “It’s been over two years since we last met. He rode past on a Purple Lightning Beast, and though his face was obscured beneath armor, I glimpsed his eyes and the lower half of his face. They looked familiar. Even his habitual gestures—the way he grips the beast’s mane with one hand while wielding his blade like a whip—matched.”
“Miss, your eyesight is incredible!” the maid chirped, her lively voice breaking the tension. “In this darkness, I could barely make out a figure, but you saw so much detail! Is this one of those special abilities that people beyond the boundaries have?” She leaned closer, her curiosity bubbling over. “Tell me, was that Cui Chong He? Is he someone you knew well? A close friend? Maybe even—oh! Are you going to meet him?”
The young mistress, dressed in a flowing feathered robe, her black hair cascading like a waterfall, and eyes sparkling with a mysterious brilliance, spoke softly. “If it is him… why would he be here? Time has passed, and it’s not appropriate to meet him again. Let’s remain hidden in the forest. I only want to confirm if it’s truly him.”
“Not appropriate? Is there… something wrong with him?” The maid’s mouth fell open, her surprise evident.
One of the armored men stepped forward. “Miss, we should move farther away. Lord Meng has ventured deep into the mountains to retrieve the remnants of the ancient Black-and-White Tree for you. If negotiations fail—”
Meanwhile, at the back of Golden Rooster Ridge, Qin Ming sat atop his Purple Lightning Beast, surveying the scene before him. A grove of tall phoenix trees sprawled ahead, their towering trunks leading his gaze to a massive nest nestled at the base of the grove. In it lay a peculiar bird. It wasn’t enormous—barely over three meters long—and its thin, frail frame and sparse patches of golden feathers gave it the appearance of old age. The rest of its body was bald and scaly, its vitality seeming to ebb with each labored breath.
“Tell me,” Qin Ming muttered, using the butt of his spear to tap the Purple Lightning Beast’s head. “Could this be a creature that’s mutated five times?”
The beast, known for its keen sensitivity to aberrations, hesitated. It shuffled its feet, clearly reluctant to respond. But finally, it gave a slow, begrudging nod.
“So this is the famed foundation of Golden Rooster Ridge,” Qin Ming mused, his voice tinged with surprise. “A five-time mutated Golden Rooster. No wonder the ridge bears its name.”
The bird’s condition, however, caught his attention. Its feathers were almost gone, and its frame was pitifully scrawny. It hardly seemed like the fearsome creature of legend.
Nearby, four bandits who had earlier fled to the phoenix grove stood trembling near the massive nest. Their unease was palpable, their gazes darting nervously toward the elderly aberration.
One of them, the surviving leader of the group, stepped closer to the nest, addressing the creature with strained politeness. “Elder, you warned us never to disturb you, and we have always honored that. But Golden Rooster Ridge faces annihilation. We had no choice but to come here for aid.”
His body was tense, every muscle coiled, as if ready to bolt. Even so, he dared not move hastily. The bird, long unresponsive to the bandits, had grown increasingly volatile in its twilight years. Even offerings of tribute failed to appease it.
The truth was, the creature had only one goal now: to emulate the legendary Phoenix Blood Bird and achieve rebirth. This was its final gambit—to attempt a sixth mutation. Success would transform it into an unparalleled entity; failure would mean certain death.
The bandit leader knew it would fail. The Golden Rooster lacked the knowledge and bloodline strength to complete such a process. But desperation had driven him here, and now the aged aberration glared at him with feral intensity.
The bird’s sparse feathers bristled, standing on end as it shifted its wrathful gaze from the bandit leader to Qin Ming and his mount. Its eyes burned with hostility. Whoever dared to interrupt its so-called “rebirth” would face its unrestrained fury.
“You laying eggs in there?” Qin Ming quipped, his voice gravelly with disdain.
Then, leaning closer to his beast, he muttered, “If I can’t take it down, you’d better outrun it.”
The Golden Rooster, its temper already frayed, let out a thunderous cry. Its cry, piercing and shrill, resonated through the grove, setting the air itself to trembling.
“Watch your mouth!” one of the remaining bandits hissed, attempting to curry favor with the creature. “Elder is a male Phoenix! How dare you insult—”
The words were cut off as the aberration launched itself from the nest, feathers flaring like golden blades. It moved with shocking speed, delivering a devastating kick with one of its talons. The four bandits were thrown like ragdolls, their bodies torn by its savage claws. Blood sprayed across the snow as the nest’s base became a gruesome tableau of carnage. One bandit’s chest caved in, while another’s stomach was shredded, his innards spilling onto the frosted ground.
Even the leader, who had tried to retreat, wasn’t spared. The Golden Rooster’s next strike shattered his armor and left a gaping wound across his torso. Blood poured from the jagged tear as he collapsed, gasping in agony.
Qin Ming watched in stunned silence, his spear gripped tightly in his hands. He couldn’t help but think that the aged bird fought like a seasoned warrior, its movements sharp and deliberate. It wasn’t mindless savagery—it was calculated precision.
The Golden Rooster didn’t stop. Its long legs churned up snow and stone as it closed the distance to Qin Ming. The sheer force of its charge sent a spray of frost into the air.
“Here we go,” Qin Ming muttered, thrusting his spear forward. The weapon blurred into dozens of shadowy strikes, each one aimed to pierce the creature’s vital points.
The aberration countered with terrifying agility. Its beak snapped down, shattering the spear’s tip with a single bite. Then, without hesitation, its wing, bald but gleaming with energy, swept downward like a butcher’s cleaver.
The Purple Lightning Beast panicked. Instead of dodging, it lunged upward, trying to shield itself by using Qin Ming as a buffer. Furious, Qin Ming smacked the beast’s back, sending it stumbling. He raised his free hand to meet the incoming strike.
The air was thick with tension as Qin Ming’s hand collided with the Old Golden Rooster’s fleshy wing, both glowing faintly with celestial light. The moment their forces met, it was as though two titans had clashed. A deafening roar echoed through the forest, shaking the ground beneath them.
Nearby, the Purple Lightning Beast stumbled under the shockwave, crashing into an ancient tree with a resounding thud. The creature staggered, its body swaying unsteadily. Qin Ming leapt from its back, landing gracefully. He turned to the beast, his voice firm yet edged with amusement. “See that?” he asked, lifting his battered spear. “This rusty thing is for you. Try to run, and I’ll make sure it hits you right between the eyes.”
Turning his gaze to the Old Golden Rooster, Qin Ming spotted a thin, bloody streak along the creature’s wing where his force had landed. A faint smile tugged at his lips. He had tested its strength, and now he knew: he could take it on.
Rare aberrations aside, Qin Ming thought, a five-time-mutated creature’s strength was roughly on par with that of a five-time-awakened human. The Old Golden Rooster’s power was immense, capable of exerting over three thousand pounds of force, matching Qin Ming blow for blow.
The bandits lying sprawled on the ground watched in disbelief, their eyes wide with terror. The mysterious young man, seemingly in his prime, was standing toe-to-toe with the legendary beast of Golden Rooster Ridge. How could this be?
The Old Golden Rooster screeched in fury, its bald, bloodied wing trembling with anger. It took a mighty step forward on its long, spindly legs, raising its fleshy wings high like twin blades poised to strike. With a burst of speed, it charged toward Qin Ming, a deadly glint in its eye.
“So, you have been trained,” Qin Ming remarked, his tone edged with intrigue.
The chief bandit, sprawled nearby, grimaced in understanding. The Old Golden Rooster had indeed been taught combat techniques by a Golden Bandit master. Its fighting skills were formidable.
The air hummed as the Old Golden Rooster swung its wings with deadly precision, slicing through the air with bursts of celestial light that cracked like thunder. But Qin Ming remained calm, his Celestial Light Force radiating from him as he met the creature’s strikes head-on.
Though both stood on two legs and wielded their upper limbs in combat, the Old Golden Rooster’s techniques showcased the full extent of its training. It was a formidable opponent. Yet, it was still an aberration, and its inherent strength could not rival Qin Ming’s mastery of fused celestial forces.
With a sharp cry, Qin Ming struck with his Nail Force, a piercing blow that tore through the Rooster’s wing, leaving a gaping, bloody hole. The creature let out a shrill scream, the wound dripping crimson.
But it wasn’t over. The Rooster lunged, its massive claw aiming for Qin Ming in a desperate attempt to catch him off guard. Qin Ming reacted swiftly, unleashing his Intercepting Force. His hand, sharp as a blade, sliced cleanly through the oncoming claw, severing it mid-strike.
The creature screeched in agony, its head bobbing wildly in a frenzied display of combat technique. It lunged again, its golden beak aiming directly for Qin Ming’s forehead. Such a blow would have shattered the skull of any ordinary person.
Though Qin Ming’s body was protected by Celestial Light Force, he had no desire to test its limits against the Rooster’s relentless attack. His right hand moved like lightning, intercepting the beak. His fingers gleamed as his fused forces of Sharp and Nail Force erupted. A metallic clang echoed as his grip sank into the creature’s beak, leaving five puncture marks. With a twist and a sharp snap, Qin Ming tore away half of the beak, tossing it aside.
The bandits’ hope turned to despair. Even their strongest ally, a five-time-mutated beast, had fallen before this enigmatic warrior. They were doomed.
The chief bandit sighed heavily, resignation in his eyes. The Old Golden Rooster, for all its training and raw power, was still a “mortal breed.” It lacked the innate explosiveness of a higher-class aberration. Despite its deep reservoir of celestial energy, it was no match for Qin Ming’s skill.
The Old Golden Rooster seemed to realize this too. It let out a defiant cry, leaping high into the air and retreating to its Phoenix Tree Nest. Once there, its body radiated a blinding golden light as it let out one last piercing crow. Its blood boiled, its remaining golden feathers igniting in a desperate bid for a sixth mutation. But the attempt failed. Its body cracked, blood pouring from every fissure. With a final, mournful cry, the creature collapsed, lifeless in its nest.
Qin Ming watched from below, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “Not human, not beast,” he muttered. “Even a rooster can be this tenacious.”
Climbing up to the nest, Qin Ming’s brief admiration faded. Inside the Rooster’s massive iron feeding tray lay a partially eaten human arm. Any sympathy he might have felt vanished.
“I was going to honor its spirit with a ‘stomach burial,’” he said dryly, referring to his plan to eat the rare five-time-mutated creature. “But now, no thanks.”
He whistled sharply, calling the Purple Lightning Beast. “It’s yours. Consider it a reward. Not a spiritual beast, but it’ll do you some good.”
The beast lifted its head proudly, sniffing the carcass before turning away with disdain. Its expression was almost human in its disgust.
“Suit yourself,” Qin Ming said with a shrug. He turned back to the bandits, dispatching them swiftly and methodically, ignoring their final, desperate cries.
“Who are you?” the chief bandit rasped as Qin Ming approached. “A protector sent by the new City Lord? Or one of the Beyond-the-Boundaries folk?”
Qin Ming didn’t answer. He swung his spear, ending the man’s life before moving to scour the camp for valuables. Despite his thorough search, he found little of worth beyond some scattered weapons and armor.
“What a waste,” he muttered, pocketing the forty-seven daylight gold pieces and a handful of night silver coins he’d managed to collect. It was a decent haul, but for a bandit stronghold like Golden Rooster Ridge, it was underwhelming.
Still, his spirits lifted when he uncovered three books, one of which contained intricate, long-lost techniques. The emotional resonance emanating from the pages told him it was priceless.
Qin Ming’s grin widened. “Now this is worth the trouble.”
As he prepared to leave, two bandits who had been out drinking in Green Pine Town returned. Hearing the echoes of the earlier battle, they grew pale with terror. They stumbled into a hidden wooden cabin meant for monitoring the mountain paths, now abandoned due to a lack of manpower.
“We have to send word to the Golden Bandits,” one said, trembling. “No, that’s too far! Let’s call the Three-Eye Sect for help.”
Twenty miles away, in Green Pine Town, the Three-Eye Sect leaders received the plea. Their faces darkened. Someone had attacked Golden Rooster Ridge.
“Prepare immediately,” one barked. “Something big is happening.”
But by the time Qin Ming reached the sect’s base, it was empty. The leaders had fled, taking their followers deep into the forest. From afar, he could hear their grumbling.
“We thought we’d be aiding Golden Rooster Ridge,” one said bitterly. “But the higher-ups ordered a retreat instead.”
Disappointed, Qin Ming left the town, riding his Purple Lightning Beast toward the horizon. At the town’s edge, four figures appeared: two men in golden armor and two women, one draped in a feathered cloak.
“Miss!” a maid called out.
The feathered woman gazed at Qin Ming. “It seems it truly is him,” she murmured.