A Farmer's Journey To Immortality

What remained of Qishan Zham’s skeleton turned into fine white powder, as fragile as ash.

The moment the structure gave way, the swarm of gu insects scattered it further. Their frantic movements sent small clouds of white dust into the air.

Within moments, there was nothing left of the once-feared Gu Poison King.

No flesh. No bones.

Only a small pile of pale dust remained on the stone platform, mixed with the bodies of countless dying gu insects buried within it.

The insects that had tried to cling to him now lay still, half-buried in the remains. Others twitched weakly before going quiet one by one. The buzzing sound slowly faded, replaced by an eerie silence.

It was as if the old man had not died as a person, but as nourishment. The chamber that once held a Nascent Soul King now looked like a grave made of dust and dead insects.

Aksai stood still for a moment, his chest rising and falling slowly as he tried to steady his breath. A thin line of blood had escaped from the corner of his lips, and he raised his hand to wipe it away. The metallic taste lingered in his mouth, reminding him that what he had just done was far from easy.

’Damn! My first Nascent Soul kill. This world is surely full of surprises. Qishan Zaam. Poison Gu King. Isn’t that the last King in Dadangar Subcontinent’s history? He was still alive?’

Aksai’s eyes stayed on the remains for a few seconds. This was the first Nascent Soul King he had ever met. And also the first one he had killed.

On the surface, it had ended in a single move. A sudden strike. A quick collapse. But Aksai knew better than to fool himself. His internal state told the real story. His meridians felt strained, his spirit was slightly unstable, and there was a deep sense of exhaustion hidden beneath his calm face.

Using his druidic ability on someone in a higher realm had come with a heavy price.

’Five hundred years… just like that,’ he thought to himself quietly.

Even though the old man had barely a year of life left, the gap between their realms had forced Aksai to pay far more than what he took. The backlash had not shown fully yet, but he could already feel the loss deep within him, like something essential had been shaved off.

The gap between a Nascent Soul King and a Core Formation Lord was far greater than that of a Lord and an Expert. This was why it was bound to get increasingly difficult for Aksai to kill an enemy in a higher realm than him the more he progressed further in his Spirit cultivation.

Still, he did not regret it.

If Qishan had been in a better state, if he had even a few more years of life left, Aksai would not have dared to use that ability at all. He would have escaped without hesitation, even if it meant exposing his secrets. That was why he had taken his time earlier, talking, observing, and waiting for the right moment.

His plan had worked. Barely.

Aksai exhaled slowly and then shifted his gaze away from the pile of dust. His eyes moved toward the side, where another figure stood frozen in place.

Arkaal.

The old man who had once carried himself with pride and confidence now looked completely lost. His eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted, and his body stood stiff like he had forgotten how to move. The shock on his face was clear, and so was the disbelief.

It looked like he wanted to say something to his master. But the voice did not come out even when his lips had parted to say a few words.

Arkaal had seen everything happen right in front of him.

His master, someone who had survived for centuries, someone who had stepped into the Nascent Soul realm and stood above almost everyone in the subcontinent, had just died. And not in a grand battle. Not after a long struggle. But in a single, strange moment, at the hands of someone Arkaal had thought to be nothing more than a talented junior.

Aksai looked at him, and a faint, cold smile appeared on his face.

’Since I have already killed a King, there’s no point in sparing an old Lord of the same faction. I must finish what I started before burning this identity away,’ he thought.

He rolled his shoulders slightly, ignoring the dull ache spreading through his body. Despite the backlash, his eyes were clear and steady as he observed Arkaal’s reaction. There was no rush in his movements, no panic—only a firm determination to finish what he had started.

However, it did not look like Aksai was going to have an easier time with Arkaal even after dealing with the most pressing matter. This was because he could tell that Arkaal was not emotionally attached to his master. He was merely shocked because of Aksai’s druidic ability. But that wasn’t enough to make Arkaal fear Aksai.

For a few long seconds, Arkaal did not move.

His eyes stayed fixed on the pile of dust where his master had once been. The shock on his face slowly faded. His breathing, which had turned uneven for a moment, began to steady. The tension in his shoulders eased, and the confusion in his gaze cleared little by little.

Then something inside him settled. When he finally looked up at Aksai again, there was no panic left in his eyes. What remained was cold focus.

“Brat,” Arkaal said, his voice low and steady, “you really had me fooled.”

He took a slow step forward, his hands moving behind his back before coming to rest at his sides again. His gaze stayed locked on Aksai, sharp and heavy.

“I don’t know what kind of trickery you used,” he continued, “but don’t think you are going to walk away after killing my only chance to become a Nascent Soul King.”

There was no anger in his tone now. Only a quiet, dangerous intent.

“The old man already had one foot in the grave,” he added. “You must have pushed him over the edge with some method. That’s all.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“But can you do the same to me?”

Arkaal’s gaze dropped for a brief moment, landing on the faint trace of blood at the corner of Aksai’s mouth. A slow, wicked smile spread across his face.

“I may not know everything,” he said, “but I know this much… the stronger the method, the heavier the backlash.”

He looked back into Aksai’s eyes.

“If you cannot make me drop dead the same way you did to the Poison Gu King, then you might as well give up.”

He spread his arms slightly, as if showing the space around them.

“Do not forget where you are,” he said. “This is still my domain. The chamber is sealed. There is no way out.”

His voice turned colder.

“If you surrender now, we might still be able to work together. I will place a Slave Mark on you, and you will serve me. In return, I might spare your life. To be frank, I’m interested in that peculiar power of yours that you just used against my master. As long as you cooperate with me, my royal faction can still make some use of you.”

He paused for a moment.

“Otherwise…” his eyes darkened, “I will have to fulfil my duty as a disciple and send you to the netherworld to accompany my master.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Arkaal raised his hand.

A flash of light appeared beside him.

From his storage ring, a long, heavy dadao emerged. The blade was wide and slightly curved, its edge shining with a dull, dangerous glow. Faint traces of poison aura lingered around it, making the air near it feel sharp and cold.

Arkaal grabbed the weapon firmly. Without any warning, he swung it once. The motion looked casual, almost lazy. But the result was anything but.

A wave of sharp energy shot forward, cutting through the air with a low hiss. The force spread across the chamber, brushing against the walls and floor, leaving faint marks wherever it passed.

The pressure in the room rose at once.

Arkaal stood there with the blade resting on his shoulder, his eyes fixed on Aksai, waiting for his response.

Aksai did not react to Arkaal’s threat right away.

He stood still, his expression calm and unreadable. His eyes met Arkaal’s without fear, but there was no arrogance in them either. On the surface, he looked like he was simply measuring the situation.

Inside, however, his thoughts moved fast.

’Damn this old man. He’s right,’ Aksai admitted to himself. ’I can’t use Druid’s Curse again so soon.’

The faint ache inside his body reminded him of the price he had already paid.

’And fighting him head-on… that would be foolish.’