Text - Chapter 666: Shredding history’s falsehood

Chapter 666: Shredding history’s falsehood

Translator: Translation Nation Editor: Translation Nation

Counting up, Sheyan did expend a relatively long amount of time to hunt down a single raven. Fortunately, the staying fee of the outer reaches was merely 1,000 utility points per hour. Truthfully speaking, such a value still wasn’t considered cheap. Nevertheless, after experiencing a cleansing of 10,000 utility points per hour in the innermost reaches, the current valuation could be considered charity.

Upon accomplishing his milestone, Sheyan obtained a title known as ‘Marsh Cleanser’. The property of equipping the title creates a probability of inflicting 10 - 20 points of true damage to mutated creatures (includes demonized creatures, vampires etc). Obviously, such a title was exceedingly beneficial for gunmen with rapid attack speed, whereas for Sheyan, it was relatively puny. Moreover, advancing this title would be seemingly far in the indefinite future.

The entire raven hunting affair wasted 2 hours of time. Still, Sheyan originally wanted to wait till dusk. Hence, he didn’t mind squandering these hours.

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Back in the primitive jungle. As the sun slipped beneath the earth’s horizon, the night would soon descend swiftly and sharply.

Although Sheyan had been waiting, he wasn’t idling as well. Not only did he clear up a basketball sized plot of land in the jungle, he had started chopping down trees and piling up timber. If not for him being a contestant, accomplishing these task within such a short span would be impossible.

The evening sky projected an incandescent blazing cloud of fog. Sheyan proceeded to ignite a massive bonfire with the dried wood and leaves he gathered. A fiery blaze combusted to over 10 meters tall, clamorously raging as its heatwave threatened the surroundings.

Due to the majority of timber used being fresh, the blaze discharged exceedingly dense black fumes, churning up towards the fiery red sky. With the stale air, the pillar of smoke failed to disperse even after rising into the air. Probably, individuals from hundreds of li away could behold this sight.

Sheyan sat by the bonfire and shut his eyes; seemingly peacefully awaiting something, as he willfully allowed time to trickle away.

"Ah, truly invigorating….I shall soon shred apart the falsehood of history."

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The sky gradually darkened as rick darkness enveloped the corners of this primitive jungle. In areas where the fiery irradiation failed to illuminate, famished wild beast seemed to be lurking and prying around.

Still, the bonfire raged on. Its scorching heat roasting the bottommost layer of firewood dry, while emitting crackling sounds; wood changed from brown to charred black.

Allured by the fiery brilliance, gigantic regiments of mosquitoes and bugs successively lunged forward. The choruses of myriad insects exuberated an abundance of life within the place.

From afar, a sudden clear rustling echoed from a shrub. That was the sound of someone approaching while shoving aside vegetation.

Sheyan turned to gaze into the darkness.

A few minutes later, a wrinkled old face that resembled crisscrossed ravines appeared before Sheyan’s eyes.

Indeed, this was the chief of Port Qom – Old Aram.

His face was still painted with greasy colors, and his head adorned with multicolored ornaments. In his hands, was still that bizarre serpent staff. He looked exactly the same as when Sheyan first saw him.

However, Old Aram’s face was radiating brightly in contrast to the darkness; giving off an illusion of a combusting flame, filled with added dignity.

Sheyan quietly stood before him. Like an archaic stone statue, his silhouette resembled a sharp hatchet.

"How did you know about this contacting method?? Where’s Mbenga?" Old Aram suspiciously scanned around before asking with a raspy voice.

Sheyan observed the old head and replied indifferently.

"He’s dead. That thorn in the flesh will never appear before you ever again."

In this precise instant, Sheyan suddenly felt a gale assailing his face! Right in this incomparably sweltering jungle, the air had started surging rapidly causing Sheyan to feel suffocated! Yet clearly, the surrounding tree leaves remained stagnant. Where exactly was the wind coming from?

Sheyan soon discovered, it wasn’t that the air was surging in his face but that he was the object of motion!

The truth of this suffocating sensation was this – the eyes of that crooked old head abruptly flickered with an enraged blaze and barreled towards Sheyan in an instant. Then, he gripped Sheyan’s neck, and single-handedly lifting him up before pinning him against a massive, sturdy tree!

Such was the vast disparity between their strength, so much so that Sheyan could even distinctly feel the faint vibrations of the tree and the choking sensation of his neck.

Old Aram’s hands trembled excessively, unknown if it was because of Mbenga’s death or Sheyan’s provoking statement. Although Sheyan’s life was in his hands, he scoffed nonchalantly.

"I know you’re strong…...without hidden trumps, how would you’ve escaped from that ghastly nightmare-like place? Aren’t I right? That deep down your heart, Mbenga had died years ago! In your heart, you’ve always regarded the inheritor of the Coiled Serpent tribe as your living nightmare! Not willing to even glance at his face, else the painful memories would surface from the depths of your heart!"

"Therefore, you excluded and shunned him. Your entire tribe marginalized him. Until the day he left the tribe..only when he finally disappeared from your life forever, do you understand…..both your fates have long been deeply engraved within each other!!"

"AHHHHHH!!!" Old Aram’s eyes turned red as he ferociously flung Sheyan to the ground. The 180 cm and 86 kg Sheyan was flung a dozen meter like he was a tiny pebble, before crashing and rolling several rounds.

After a brief while, he finally crawled back up while panting with an agonized expression. Even with his 49 points of strength, he couldn’t retaliate even one bit!!

Yet when Old Aram’s despondent self filled Sheyan’s sight, it prompted his lips to curl into a cold smirk.

"Let me pause to calculate. In this era of food scarcity, rampant viruses and ferocious wild beasts roaming covetously around, the lifespan of an African male wouldn’t be much. Probably 40 plus years? Perhaps your father was the chief and prolonged his life with certain special methods, only contracting a terminal illness at the age of 50. Hence, your true age should be roughly 35 now, but…..just take a look at yourself, wrinkled with age, worse than your father before he died! It must’ve been tough, to carry the burdens and anguish alone in your heart, to deteriorate swifter than an old man."

As Old Aram listened to Sheyan’s words, he quietly gazed into the massive bonfire; seemingly appreciating the dancing flickers of the flame. Then, he answered with an astringent tone.

"Tell me, how did he die?"

Instead, Sheyan returned an irrelevant answer.

"He has some final words for you, but before that, there remains one last doubt in my heart."

Old Aram replied hoarsely.

"Speak."

Sheyan earnestly gazed at him and started.

"Though you possess outstanding strength, it is still insufficient against the legions of elite guardians of the Coiled Serpent subtribe and the Sun subtribe. Therefore, prior to setting off, what is the reason for being so confident in acquiring the ‘Stairway of the Sun’ and making a full retreat? Please don’t say it was just a gamble. If it was that, you would’ve gone alone and not bring the lives of your tribesmen to perish with you. Your goal in bringing a hundred plus tribesmen is absolutely not simply relying on their fighting capabilities!"

Old Aram shut his eyes and sighed before replying.

"I never would’ve foreseen the one who wishes to understand the truth of old, is actually a foreigner....fine, I shall reveal this. That year, it wasn’t I who volunteered to infiltrate the dwelling of traitorous scums in search of the divine flower, but my father…...the old chief forced me to raise this skirmish, and if I didn’t, I would perish together with him!"

"Actually, long long time ago, we were similarly Ndipayans. However, our ancestors were deemed inadequate in spirit and bodily essence, and were exiled from there. Therefore, our tribe retained the history of the ancient world, and knew of certain mysteries about the Kijuju Marshland. For example, I recognize the mild scent of that herbal balm you smeared on yourself, the one that masks one’s scent. Or perhaps, secret unknowable pathways and even knowledge of certain things, that even the generations of Ndipaya high priest had lost!"

"So that’s the case." Sheyan was moved. If it was truly the case, many things could now be explained.

"Then why did you bring a strength of over hundred tribesmen?"

Old Aram then abruptly reminisced with a strange yet rhythmic chant.

"To reach the holy flame plaza, pass the trial of the sun god. To accept the trial of the sun god, pass the treacherous ruins of ancient past! The reason I brought my tribesmen, is for them to open the way ahead to pass through that terrifying ruinous labyrinth."

"And Mbenga?" Sheyan hesitated slightly. "Was he also just a mere sacrificial scapegoat?"

"No!" Old Aram shook his head gently. "Even though our ancestors failed to acquire the divine blessings and got banished, special talented offsprings would still surface occasionally. LIke me, like Mbenga, and like Kuria...."

Sheyan noticed that when Old Aram pronounced the name ‘Kuria’, his tone became gentler. Evidently, he was involved in an affair and subconsciously reminisced about it.

Thus, Sheyan refrained from being nosy and continued.

"In my homeland, such a phenomenon is hailed as an atavism. Although uncommon, it isn’t exceptionally rare as well.....thus speaking in this perspective, could it be that you, Mbenga and even Kuria, are actually tribal offsprings banished from the Coiled Serpent subtribe?"