Chapter 9 Return to the Present World
“This surprise had truly exceeded her expectations!” she whispered.
The woman wearing the Rice God of Wealth mask closed her long, slender legs slightly, feeling even more delighted.
She had witnessed the entire process, and Jiang Yan had used his wisdom and decisiveness to successfully trap and kill ten Vajravārāhī cavalry.
For an ordinary person, achieving this would already be considered genius!
But Jiang Yan had not stopped after merely completing the survival mission—he chose to use force against force, helping Commander Lu slay the Large Rat Guards and eliminate future threats.
In the end, he even reverse‑engineered information from the historical mission, and through the tidal effect of the historical flow, he made stable progress, severed Commander Lu’s arm at the peak of mid-level Transcendent, and successfully seized the Dragon Banner with Deer Antlers.
He had maximized his gains!
Especially Commander Lu—this guy had been selected and cultivated by the Corpse‑Dissolution Court, and his strength and wisdom were not to be underestimated.
Yet he was bested by Jiang Yan.
If she hadn’t witnessed it herself, who would believe that just an hour ago, Jiang Yan was still an ordinary man with no knowledge of any Transcendent arts?
If word got out, it would probably leave many so-called “geniuses” agape.
Even she herself, under the same circumstances, wouldn’t necessarily have executed it so flawlessly.
“But what exactly was his Historical Gift?” she wondered.
The woman gazed curiously at Jiang Yan and the Spirit of the Burial Coffin behind him.
Although in terms of strength, this coffin spirit was far inferior to the Large Rat Guards she casually summoned, let alone higher-tier troops like the Copper‑Flesh and Silver‑Flesh Envoys.
But its intelligence surpassed that of commonly transformed diseased creatures, and she had a vague sense that the blood filaments and bone spines were not all that this coffin contained.
It seemed to conceal abilities related to wealth and destiny.
Moreover, although spirit pets were born together with their masters, they were essentially independent individuals.
But the coffin spirit and Jiang Yan’s aura were almost identical, linked by a mysterious bond, forming a single complete entity.
It was like countless tendrils sprouting from a great tree, rooting in the earth and drawing nutrients to sustain the trunk.
This was... return of all things to one?
And she had seen that after Jiang Yan obtained the Historical Gift, he clearly lost a large amount of qi and blood, yet he still managed to seize and apply the Vajravārāhī Seal.
She had seen many methods of acquiring enemies’ abilities, even similar arts existed within the Rice God of Wealth Church, but all required significant sacrifice, and the stolen abilities were far from the originals—relying entirely on brute force.
There was no one like Jiang Yan who could take and use it immediately, even more proficiently.
If everyone did that, wouldn’t the world have descended into chaos long ago?
As for the dark tendrils spreading from the Dark God Embryo, she had not seen them.
“Could it be a sacrificial priest’s path, directly communicating with the gods and receiving a blessing from Vajravārāhī? But she didn’t feel any aura of celestial blessing... Or was it the Path of the Nether Battlefield Commander—growing stronger through killing and enslaving the slain for one’s use... It couldn’t possibly be that his comprehension was heaven‑defying...”
She murmured, very much wanting to grab Jiang Yan’s shoulder and ask him properly—she hadn’t seen someone so interesting in a long time.
But sadly...
There was no time.
“The disturbances here are too great, and have already alerted the folks from the Bureau of Historical Revision.”
She lifted her head, and through the Rice God of Wealth mask, her gilded‑gold eyes pierced the sky of this fracturing Borderland of Desolation and saw further away.
Figures were hurrying from every corner of Jiangnan Province toward them—among them were several individuals even she would have to handle with care.
She could extract herself safely, but bringing Jiang Yan back with her wasn’t a sure thing.
Furthermore, she had more important matters to attend to.
A low hum was heard!
The woman opened her palm, and a large number of rice grains emitting faint glow floated above it—but looking closely, each was a proportional miniature Large Rat Guard wielding Jade Ruyi and Rice Meat, numbering in the hundreds or thousands, standing like minions.
Inside more mysterious and terrifying Rice Lifeforms manifested, surrounding a dark‑yellow glowing orb—like a living being struggling continuously, battering against its cage.
But despite its efforts, it could not break the seal, and was quickly suppressed.
This time, through a ritual, the woman had summoned the reconnaissance cavalry of the Corpse‑Dissolution Court from the historical flow, successfully intercepting this key clue.
Leaving Jiang Yan behind could also help divert the attention of the Bureau of Historical Revision.
“Rice ears also require long years of growth and the absorption of numerous nutrients to yield delicious spirit rice.”
The woman smiled as she gazed at the man surrounded by the raging winds—not only did she not retreat to the side to wait for the Borderland to collapse, but she even closed her eyes, facing the storm head-on and savoring the afterglow of victory.
That kind of spirit was quite admirable.
She hoped that when she returned to harvest him later, he would be laden with fruitful gains!
“Jiang Yan, I look forward to our next meeting.”
…………
…………
“How long is this wind going to blow? I can’t even open my eyes!”
At the center of the wind vortex, Jiang Yan complained inwardly—not that he didn’t want to speak, but the moment he opened his mouth it was filled with pebbles and dust, choking him uncomfortably.
But he was afraid that if he moved too far, he wouldn’t be able to return to the present world, so he could only remain frozen in place.
Why didn’t he use the Vajravārāhī Seal to block the wind and sand?
What a joke—using skills costs qi, blood, and energy!
He had already sacrificed most of his blood to create the Spirit of the Burial Coffin, and then fought the Vajravārāhī cavalry and resisted the sword aura hidden in the Dragon Banner—he was completely drained.
Even though the offspring skill saved him a lot of effort, now he was starting to feel dizzy and light-headed.
His calves were trembling as he walked.
If he didn’t control himself, becoming a weak-blooded young master was the least of his problems—passing out would be a real issue.
The Burial Coffin beside him could hardly wait for him to lie down in it—Jiang Yan wasn’t that dramatic, nor did he superstitiously believe the coffin to be inauspicious.
Mainly…
There was still a half-digested Vajravārāhī cavalry corpse inside—it would definitely stink!
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Perhaps the river of history had heard Jiang Yan’s complaints, as the sound of wind in his ears suddenly faded, replaced by the fragmented voices of people chatting, drawing closer and closer.
Soon, a breeze brushed across his face. When Jiang Yan opened his eyes again, he had returned to the Old Street.
People bustled around, laughing and playing, and shopkeepers were busy calling out to attract business.
Yet when he looked at the buildings once destroyed during the battle between Commander Lu and the Large Rat Guards, they were now perfectly intact, giving him the illusion that everything he had experienced had been nothing but a dream.
For a moment, he couldn’t distinguish reality…
But his connection to the Burial Coffin and the Vajravārāhī Seal quickly helped him shake off the confusion.
The Burial Coffin, composed of blood and white bone, could stretch and shrink at will—it could become as small as a palm. Jiang Yan had warned it in advance not to be seen by ordinary people, so when the Borderland collapsed, Coffin Grandpa immediately shrank and hid in his backpack.
“Even though the scene is exactly the same, do the buildings destroyed in the diseased world’s history not affect reality?”
Jiang Yan didn’t dwell on the issue, because from the moment he returned, he had been alertly scanning his surroundings out of the corner of his eye.
After waiting a few minutes and confirming that he saw no sign of the mysterious woman from the Rice God of Wealth Church, he finally let out a breath of relief and slowly lowered his left hand, which had been pinching the Vajravārāhī Seal.
The doll that woman casually gave him could fight Commander Lu to a standstill.
She was definitely no ordinary figure.
Since it was unclear whether she was friend or foe, avoiding her was probably for the best.
That was also why he hadn’t turned Commander Lu’s arm and the Dragon Banner into offspring—he didn’t want to expose his ability.
“If only the Burial Coffin had a storage space.”
Jiang Yan was a little disappointed—why wasn’t his first offspring spatial-type?
He rested the banner pole on his right shoulder, feeling its weight, and guessed, “This has to be over a hundred pounds at least.”
Fortunately, it was made of deer antlers and not iron or copper—otherwise, the weight would be measured in tons.
Even without exhausting his qi and blood, he was just a mortal with a few skills and no habit of doing heavy labor. Carrying such a heavy item for any distance would absolutely wreck his back the next day.
So he focused his mind, and countless blood threads silently crawled out from his backpack and onto the pole—making them look like clothing patterns—and then pushed his suitcase toward the exit of the Old Street.
Naturally, many pedestrians noticed Jiang Yan’s unusual getup and gave him curious looks, but no one was afraid.
After all…
What human had arms that large?
Plus, Jiang Yan was very handsome.
In their eyes, he must be a cosplayer attending a comic con, portraying some manga or anime character.
As for the bloody, mangled stump and the torn muscle tendons…
Isn’t hyper-realism what young people aim for nowadays?
After Jiang Yan left, the Old Street remained lively with a constant stream of people.
It was hard to say when it started, but every tourist area now had shops selling sizzling grilled squid, Changsha stinky tofu, spiked potatoes, and other identical foods—with shockingly…
Terrible taste!
They even squeezed out the truly local specialty restaurants. So slightly more discerning tourists would instead eat at rural-style local eateries.
Still, no one could deny that they did make tourist areas more lively.
“What’s that sound?”
One of the grilled squid vendors was busy showering a squid—clearly from the Great Qing era—with spices, preparing to shout for customers, when suddenly he heard creaking noises from overhead. Instinctively, he looked up—and in the next second, several roof tiles fell, smashing onto the iron plate and covering it completely.
“Damn…”
The vendor was startled, glanced at the ceiling, and found that the area where the tiles had fallen formed a clean, straight cut—like a knife had sliced through.
“That damn renovation company definitely cut corners!”
He cursed and muttered, then confirmed that the remaining tiles were stable and wouldn’t fall.
Only then did he relax, clean up the debris, and pull out a fresh batch of frozen squid to resume grilling and shouting.
However, neither he nor any of the tourists noticed that swarms of ants, bugs, and rats had begun to migrate outward en masse.