Chapter 226: Re: Everyone Loves Little Immortal Mushroom

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Chapter 226: Re: Everyone Loves Little Immortal Mushroom

【I am willing to form a life-and-death contract with you, so that even after hundreds or thousands of reincarnations, we can still meet again. So, Yan Lu—for me, remain on the righteous path. One day, I will stand openly beside you beneath the sunlight, and together we will receive the respect of the world…】】

The words still echoed in his ears, yet his beloved Little Mushroom was gone.

What meaning was there in being respected by the world if he alone was left behind? He had slain demons, defended the Dao, and upheld righteousness—and what had it ultimately brought him?

The heavenly tribulation descended, and a Divine Lord was born. Yet as Yan Lu stood bathed in golden light, demonic killing intent churned within his eyes.

Looking down at the cultivators gazing up at him, Yan Lu stood in the divine realm while his heart remained trapped in a demonic abyss. The desire to slaughter boiled in his blood. Golden light covered the sky, immense power flooded the earth, and razor-sharp killing intent swept in every direction. Wails and screams rose one after another as blood blossomed like fireworks.

Little Mushroom had exhausted every possible means to guide him onto the righteous path and help him survive his tribulation to become a Divine Lord. What he had not understood was that as long as a demonic barrier remained in the heart, the entire world could become hell.

Blood-red light filled Yan Lu’s eyes. The divine realm he had only just attained collapsed amid his frenzied slaughter, dragging him back into the mortal world.

The cultivators were slaughtered almost to the last, and powerful experts fell one after another. The cultivation world suffered such devastating losses in that battle that it would likely take a century to recover. Yet this was only the beginning of the nightmare. Although Yan Lu’s cultivation realm had fallen drastically, his strength remained—and had even become more terrifying than before. He began slaughtering his way across the cultivation world. The first to fall was the sect directly responsible for Little Mushroom’s death, followed by hundreds of sects large and small.

The entire cultivation world entered a bloody age in which everyone feared for their own survival. Even the combined strength of countless experts could not contend with Yan Lu, who still possessed the power of a Divine Lord. Then, just as despair overtook them all, Yan Lu—the man known as the “god of slaughter”—suddenly vanished without a trace…

Before anyone realized it, fifty silent years had slipped away.

In a small city buried beneath heavy snow, a man lay motionless beside the road. His body was nearly covered by the drifts, with only a few strands of tangled hair and one filthy arm still visible.

The door of a nearby shop opened and the owner stepped outside. The moment he spotted the figure on the ground, he muttered a curse. “What rotten luck.”

He walked over and kicked the man several times to see whether he was dead. The figure curled in on himself slightly, then went still again.

“If you’re not dead, then get out of the way! Don’t interfere with my business!” The shopkeeper kicked harder and roughly sent him tumbling off the steps.

The man shifted on the ground a few times before slowly climbing to his feet. Sheets of snow slid from his body. Tangled hair hid half his face, while ragged clothing hung loosely from his frame, exposing a powerful, muscular body beneath. His bare feet sank into the snow, leaving deep footprints behind.

The shopkeeper had not expected the “beggar” to be so imposing. Once upright, the man stood a full head taller than him, enough to make the shopkeeper instinctively uneasy. Yet the beggar caused no trouble and simply walked away in silence.

Only after he had gone some distance did the shopkeeper click his tongue in contempt.

A group of children ran past the roadside, pelting one another with snowballs. When they passed the “beggar,” they began hurling snow at him as well. A few even picked up stones and threw them without restraint.

The stones struck the “beggar” with sharp thuds, yet he seemed unable to feel pain. He allowed the children to chase him, beat him, and shout insults until he finally left the city behind and escaped the noise.

He wandered aimlessly through the endless white snow like a lost ghost, feeling neither fatigue nor hunger nor the passing of time.

No one would ever have guessed that this was Yan Lu—the god of slaughter who had once bathed the cultivation world in blood and whose very name had inspired terror. Fifty years earlier, excessive slaughter had allowed his inner demon to take deep root, triggering a backlash from his own power. Since then, his mind had remained clouded, sometimes briefly lucid and sometimes completely confused. Alone, he wandered across mountains and rivers, enduring ridicule and humiliation wherever he went.

“That bastard! Who does Lu Qin think he is? Just because Master favors him, he orders us around like servants. Does he really think he’s something special?” Three men in green robes came down the mountain path, one of them carrying a longsword on his back and cursing angrily.

“Master is biased. When it comes to talent, which one of us is any worse than him?” the short man beside him agreed.

The third man, who wore a thin mustache, sneered. “What good does complaining here do? Finding a way to increase our strength is what actually matters.”

At that moment, the short man abruptly stopped and looked toward the nearby woods, where a raggedly dressed man sat beneath the trees.

“What’s so interesting about a beggar?” the swordsman asked in confusion.

The short man gestured toward him. “Isn’t that a storage ring on his finger?”

The other two turned to look. Sure enough, an exquisitely made storage ring sat on the beggar’s hand.

“Ha! Since when did storage rings become so cheap that even beggars can own one?” The swordsman strode over, seized the man’s wrist, and tried to pull off the ring.

Yan Lu stirred awake. He clenched his fist tightly and desperately resisted the attempt to take his ring.

“If you know what’s good for you, hand over the ring!” The swordsman planted a foot on Yan Lu’s chest and tried to wrench the ring free by force. To cultivators of poor character, ordinary mortals were little more than ants—much less a lowly beggar like the man before them.

“Hahaha, can’t even manage that?” the short man mocked from the side.

“Need some help?” the mustached man asked leisurely.

The swordsman had already been looking for somewhere to vent his anger. Seeing this beggar refuse to cooperate, his expression turned vicious. He abruptly summoned the sword from his back. Silver light flashed as the blade slashed straight toward Yan Lu’s arm.

Clang! The sharp sword was knocked away, while Yan Lu’s arm did not bear so much as a scratch.

The three men stared in shock, uncertainty and alarm spreading across their faces.

“What’s going on?” The short man involuntarily stepped back, watching Yan Lu warily.

The mustached man considered it for a moment before guessing, “Either he once took some extraordinary elixir, or someone refined his body into a cultivation cauldron. Whatever the case, judging by his condition now, he’s no different from a cripple.”

Hearing that, the swordsman sneered. “Then let’s send him on his way and spare him the misery of continuing to live like this.”

As he spoke, he summoned his flying sword again and poured spiritual power into it before viciously driving it through Yan Lu’s heart. Blood sprayed outward, and Yan Lu collapsed to the ground.

The swordsman grabbed his wrist and tried to remove the ring, only to discover that Yan Lu’s fist remained locked tight, without the slightest intention of loosening.

“Damn, still stubborn?” The swordsman swung a third time, mercilessly severing Yan Lu’s arm. Only after considerable effort did he finally pry the ring free.

Yan Lu curled in a pool of blood. With his remaining arm, he clutched desperately at the swordsman’s trouser leg, trying to take the ring back. A hoarse voice scraped from his throat. “Mine… Give… it… back…”

“Get lost!” The swordsman kicked him away and spat in disgust.

“See if there’s anything valuable inside,” the short man urged. “We agreed—everyone gets a share.”

“Fine.” The swordsman broke the restriction on the ring and swept his spiritual sense through its contents. A moment later, his face took on an expression that clearly said, What the fuck?

“What is it?” The other two hurried closer.

“See for yourselves!” The swordsman irritably tossed them the ring.

The two examined it with their spiritual senses and froze. The enormous storage space contained no heavenly treasures, rare spirit herbs, or spiritual artifacts. Instead, it was filled with an endless number of… mushrooms.

While the three stood there dumbfounded, a dense wave of killing intent suddenly erupted behind them. A chill swept across their necks. Three heads flew into the air, and in the blink of an eye, only three headless corpses remained standing where they had been.

Covered in blood, Yan Lu slowly walked over and expressionlessly reclaimed his ring. Crimson blood continued pouring from the wound in his chest and the stump of his severed arm. He was about to heal himself when the brief lucidity in his eyes faded once more.

Yan Lu looked down at his wounds, then at the ring in his hand. Afterward, he staggered deeper into the forest, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

Fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, two hours, four hours… Yan Lu walked for an entire day and night, bleeding the entire way. At last, his strength gave out and he collapsed to the ground.

Through the haze of fading consciousness, he seemed to glimpse a white figure. Trembling, he stretched out his hand and desperately tried to touch it, only for his arm to fall weakly back to the ground.

Just beyond his fingertips stood a small white mushroom, silent and still.

He had slaughtered countless people and stained his hands with blood, only to realize in the end that all he had ever wanted was a single little mushroom…

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