Chapter 951 — Insight Beyond the Three Enclosures
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 3 of 4
But I must subdue this brat, make him my slave, make him serve me with all his loyalty! " After a long while, skin had grown all over the surface of Shujun's head, and he meant to rebuild his brain. Just then, the supply of blood-essence and spirit-consciousness stopped dead. Shujun kept trying to absorb, but could absorb nothing, and flew into a rage: "You stinking brat, my head is not yet restored! Keep supplying me with blood-essence and spirit-consciousness! " Shen Mu said, astonished: "Senior, your head is plainly restored.
Our agreement is fulfilled; I owe you nothing. Why should I keep supplying you with blood-essence and spirit-consciousness?
I am not the Heavenly River — my blood-essence and spirit-consciousness were won through bitter toil. " Shujun flared: "My brain is not restored!
Nor my ears, nor my teeth and tongue, nor my nose! There is no hair on the crown of my head! " Shen Mu shook his head: "We agreed just now only to restore your head, not your brain.
Senior, be patient — have you any other, better treasures? For instance, how to wield the power of the Great Emperor's Seal?
Teach me that, and I will help you restore your brain. . .
" Shujun was beside himself with fury, cursing without cease.
Shen Mu looked troubled: "Senior, how about this — I will take the loss, and give you a little more spirit-consciousness and blood-essence, so that you can grow some hair? " "I'll kill you!
" The great head on the altar glared with both eyes, shrieked, and soared skyward, rushing in fury out of the Primordial Stone.
At that very moment, in the space of the Primordial Stone, the phantom images of those three hundred twenty-eight star deities all struck at once, pressing down upon him! Shujun was startled, and was at once pinned by those star deities and beaten back onto the altar. "Bastard brat!
" The great head's two eyeballs bulged from their sockets; spirit-consciousness burst forth to fend off the encircling star deities, and it cried in a shrill voice: "You think you can refine me to death?
Dream on!
I lived through the Blood Rust War, survived the kalpa. . .
" His spirit-consciousness was exquisite: whatever he thought of came into being. His spirit-consciousness turned into all manner of weapons, divine beasts, gods and demons, even formations and divine powers, to fend off Shen Mu's attacks.
But he had no brain, and his spirit-consciousness was now far inferior to Shen Mu's. Soon the phantom images of the star deities pressed onto the altar.
Shujun was greatly alarmed: "Truly, teaching the apprentice kills the master!
This brat learns too fast! " His position grew desperate. Hastily he sent out a ripple of spirit-consciousness and cried loudly: "Stop! I am the last of the Creator race. Kill me, and you may as well have exterminated us all!
The immortal consciousness our race has left in the void of the cosmos since ancient times will curse you for my death.
Kill me, and you will be cursed; misfortune will follow not only you, but your sons and your sons' sons!
" Shen Mu was startled, and stopped his attack.
He probed: "Isn't there still a Creator in the Heavenly Court? " Shujun caught his breath, and sneered: "I only guessed that one might be a Creator. It is not certain.
" Shen Mu laughed: "You still have kinsmen who made another world — they live on there!
" Shujun drew back his two eyes and said coldly: "They are not in this world. In this world I alone remain.
When I die, you may look forward to bearing the curse of my race's countless billions of dead!
" Shen Mu's face shifted, bright and dark by turns.
He was doubtful of Shujun's words, unsure whether they were true or false. Could it be that the prehistoric Creators truly could preserve their consciousness after death, and curse the one who had exterminated their race? That was surely too incredible?
Yet from the Crimson Emperor's experience, such a thing did seem possible.