Chapter 105: Crushing Ants

Jiang Pingchuan gazed intently at the high priest standing before him, who claimed to be the emissary of the Three Realms. His mind churned with endless thoughts. Hongwu had once told him that the path to ascension was becoming increasingly arduous.

The barriers between the Three Realms had grown ever more stringent. Those who reached a certain level of power could no longer withstand the oppressive weight of these barriers to enter other realms. Yet, the high priest before him asserted he was the emissary of all three realms.

This meant, plainly, that nothing within the Three Realms could impede his progress. Jiang Pingchuan looked at the old man before him—this man could seemingly traverse the Three Realms at will, disregarding their barriers entirely.

Was he not, then, an existence beyond the oppressive force of the barriers, one who openly scorned all constraints? But Jiang Pingchuan could not understand. Even the mighty beings in the Heavenly Realm could not escape the binding pressure of these barriers. How had this man arrived on Changfeng Continent, in the mortal world? Could it be simply because he was the emissary?

“If you can’t figure it out, then don’t bother. I’m tired of seeing the thoughts swirling in your mind all the time,” the high priest said, watching Jiang Pingchuan furrow his brow deeply.

Jiang Pingchuan heard the words without much surprise, a faint smile curling his lips.

“You’re afraid. You’re scared,” Jiang Pingchuan said calmly.

The high priest chuckled, a smile tinged with constant mockery directed at Jiang Pingchuan.

“Afraid? There’s no one in the Three Realms I’ve ever feared,” he said firmly, as if to tell Jiang Pingchuan he was the greatest there was, with no reason to fear anyone. But Jiang Pingchuan did not believe the old man was without fear.

He could feel it—this old man was afraid. Whatever it was that terrified him, his behavior betrayed it unmistakably.

“If you weren’t afraid, why would you constantly want to know what I’m thinking?” Jiang Pingchuan said.

The moment he finished speaking, the high priest fell silent. Just as Jiang Pingchuan thought he had struck a chord, the old man moved. He walked to a tree and pressed his fingers into the soil.

Turning back, he beckoned Jiang Pingchuan over with a wave. Jiang Pingchuan stepped forward and watched as the high priest dug into the earth, creating a hole in the surface.

From within the hole, a swarm of black ants rushed out wildly, circling their nest as if searching for the culprit who had disturbed them. The ants were about the size of fingernails, jet-black, agile, and swift.

One ant crawled onto the high priest’s finger, wriggling its antennae as if probing. The high priest paid it no heed.

He took a few steps back slowly. Jiang Pingchuan watched suspiciously as the ant on the old man’s finger spun rapidly. The ants surrounding the nest stopped circling and lined up neatly, crawling furiously in the direction the high priest was retreating. The high priest chuckled.

“You see, some weak creatures believe that by uniting, they can overcome the invincible,” he said gravely, looking at Jiang Pingchuan.

With that, he pinched the ant on his finger, slowly crushing it into a black lump of flesh before tossing it aside. The ants had gathered at his feet, circling continuously as if sizing up the strength of their opponent.

“Look at them. How utterly presumptuous,” the high priest said as he lifted his foot and stomped several times on the ground.

The organized circling instantly dissolved into chaos as the ants scattered in all directions. Some were crushed under his foot, turning into blackened patties.

“You know, unity is often just an illusion. When danger strikes, they only care about preserving their own lives, disregarding the fate of their comrades,” the high priest said as he methodically crushed one ant with each step.

Jiang Pingchuan could almost hear the agonized cries of the ants. The high priest appeared utterly at ease, unconcerned as he eliminated the vast swarm beneath him. To him, these ants were nothing more than ants.

“To me, humans are like these ants. When under attack, they cry out for unity, but when faced with overwhelming foes, they scatter in fear. This is the weakness of a species—a weak species has no chance to survive in this world, for they are nothing but refuse,” the high priest continued, stepping deliberately through the ants.

“You’re far too arrogant,” Jiang Pingchuan said sternly, looking at the high priest.

He knew that, to the old man, he was as insignificant and fragile as an ant.

Yet even the weakest can overcome all difficulties if their numbers are vast enough and their resolve unbreakable.

“Arrogant? Only the incompetent are arrogant. I am merely stating facts,” the high priest replied.

He had reached the ant nest. Jiang Pingchuan wished desperately that one ant would leap up and bite the high priest fiercely, to show him that even the smallest creatures have spirit, and their fury is not so easily extinguished.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, there’s some interest here,” Jiang Pingchuan murmured as an ant indeed jumped onto the high priest’s hand and bit hard.

The high priest tutted and smacked the ant on the back of his hand. The ant did not die but fell to the ground, quickly dragged back into the battered nest by its comrades.

As the high priest approached the nest, Jiang Pingchuan noticed that all the ants who had scattered earlier were now gathering again, forming a dense, black mass that sealed the broken entrance tightly, determined to protect their home and kin. Jiang Pingchuan watched this scene as though witnessing a war.

A war utterly devoid of meaning. The opponent’s strength was beyond the ants’ comprehension. In that moment, Jiang Pingchuan truly felt no different from these ants—insignificant before the old man.

“Sometimes, you must strike without hesitation, or you will invite endless trouble,” the high priest said, stomping down on the ants with a foot wreathed in blazing fire.

The ants beneath hissed and crackled as they were scorched. The ground around the nest blazed bright red, filling the air with the acrid scent of burning.

Jiang Pingchuan frowned, staring at the scene before him. His heart suddenly felt heavy, as if something grave had occurred. He felt a deep anguish, like countless voices calling out to him, yet he was powerless, forced to watch them perish.

“These ants are innocent,” Jiang Pingchuan said, his face pale as he looked at the high priest.

The high priest pursed his lips in thought, then nodded slowly as if conceding the point.

“They are innocent, yes, but what they symbolize must be destroyed.”

The high priest withdrew his foot and looked at Jiang Pingchuan with a leisurely expression. Jiang Pingchuan’s mind went blank at the words.

The high priest compared the people living in the world to ants. Though he acknowledged the ants’ innocence, he claimed that what they symbolized was something to be exterminated.

“What have you done?” Jiang Pingchuan suddenly rushed to the high priest’s side, grabbing his shoulder with urgency and anger.

The high priest lightly shook off Jiang Pingchuan’s hand and smiled.

“The Barbarian King wishes to become emperor of Changfeng Continent. As his strategist, on our eastward campaign, I am to eliminate the eastern city’s defenses.”

His smile was hollow and grim, the kind that made Jiang Pingchuan want to tear the old man apart.

Jiang Pingchuan turned to leave, but the high priest suddenly pressed his hand firmly on his shoulder. The old man tutted and shook his head. Jiang Pingchuan grasped the hand trying to remove it, but no matter what, he couldn’t budge the grip.

“Don’t be anxious. The entire Eastern City is already lost. In three days, we will meet in Yin-Yang City. Then you’ll see if it’s exactly as you dreamed,” the high priest said.

He released Jiang Pingchuan’s shoulder, and a thick fog enveloped him, obscuring his form. When the mist cleared, the high priest had vanished.

Jiang Pingchuan looked down at the burnt ant nest scorched by the old man’s fire. He had witnessed the ruthless slaughter of the entire colony.

He refused to believe the high priest’s words. If what the old man said was true, then he was truly a transcendent being.

Jiang Pingchuan did not return to Yin-Yang City. Instead, he stood in the forest and unleashed a burst of true energy into the sky. Soon, the sound of urgent galloping approached.

When he saw the Tianyun horse stop beside him, Jiang Pingchuan noticed an arrow had pierced one of its front hooves, leaving a bleeding wound.

He placed his hand on the wound, continuously channeling true energy. The horse whinnied softly. When the injury had fully healed, Jiang Pingchuan smiled and touched his own cheek.

The burning pain there was a wound he could not mend. He patted Tianyun’s mane. The horse lifted its front hoof, stomped fiercely on the ground, let out a long cry, and galloped toward Eastern City.

When Tianyun collapsed from exhaustion about a mile from Eastern City, Jiang Pingchuan stood motionless, his eyes vacant.

The city looked as if it had been consumed by flames, with countless holes blasted in its walls.

Step by step, Jiang Pingchuan approached the city gates, speechless. No cries, no survivors—only pools of blood and charred corpses.

He stood there, stunned, unable to comprehend such a horrific scene. It was inconceivable that a mere ant nest had led to the obliteration of Eastern City.

He had watched helplessly as the city was wiped out, powerless to intervene. He hated himself, and he hated the high priest.

Clenching his fists tightly, he steadied his breathing and stepped resolutely into the blazing inferno of Eastern City.