Chapter 33: An Ancient Text from Last Week

“Why does that sound a little familiar?”

“Hunted over a hundred thousand beasts? Hybrid spirit beasts with fragmented souls? Refining a Ten Thousand Beast Banner?”

Lu Yan froze for a moment before a sudden thought emerged in his mind.

“Could this beast-slaughtering maniac the vendor mentioned… actually be me?”

Over the course of three months in the Post-Apocalyptic Version, Lu Yan had killed more than a hundred thousand zombies, refining the wandering spirits of those undead into the Hundred Soul Banner now lying in his storage pouch.

The updates between world versions brought endless changes to reality—sometimes spontaneously creating or erasing things. But in most cases, elements from different versions still left behind some traceable links.

The information that Lu Yan had refined over a hundred thousand zombie souls, even contributing to a 0.2% change in the version itself, had likely been translated by the system into the Immortal Cultivation Version. And so, it became: him rampaging through Wushan, slaughtering beasts with faint traces of spirit beast bloodlines.

Of course, this didn’t mean zombies and those beasts were directly equivalent. After all, in the Post-Apocalyptic Version, zombies roamed the entire world, including powerful Zombie Kings comparable to the Foundation Establishment Stage. They were a completely different class from the beasts in Wushan.

Versions might be interconnected—but they were never one-to-one. That was the true nature of the world’s version updates.

Realizing this, Lu Yan let out a silent breath of relief.

Back in the Post-Apocalyptic Version, he’d worried whether the zombies he’d slaughtered would, once the world updated, map over to him massacring regular humans in some new world.

He had been wary, but not so much that he held himself back. Instead, he had taken advantage of the post-apocalyptic chaos to rapidly increase his strength and accumulate trump cards.

Looking at it now, being branded a beast-slaughtering maniac—while not a great title—was still far better than being called a human-slaying demon and public enemy of the righteous path. It was within an acceptable range.

Having listened to the vendor’s tale, Lu Yan put on a suitably shocked expression.

“I didn’t expect something like that to have happened in Wushan!”

The vendor clearly enjoyed this reaction. He had a habit of dropping little tidbits of obscure information to make himself seem knowledgeable and establish rapport, increasing the chance of return customers.

“But come to think of it,” Lu Yan asked casually, “how did you hear about this beast maniac and the Ten Thousand Beast Banner? Did someone actually see him in Wushan?”

The vendor waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t bother asking me. I only heard it secondhand, just idle chatter.

“But after the rumors spread, I did hear that Wanling Mountain is planning to send a Foundation Establishment cultivator to investigate Wushan. But again, that’s all speculation.

“After all, it’s just a hundred thousand beasts—those big shots don’t really care.”

While he spoke, another cultivator came by to buy a talisman manual. The vendor immediately greeted him and, with a few quick exchanges, sold it for two spirit stones.

After storing the spirit stones in his pouch, the vendor returned to Lu Yan, explaining cheerfully:

“Honestly, I think this whole story is just hype. Think about it: killing a hundred thousand beasts in three months? That’s over 3,000 a day! Even if the beasts lined up to be slaughtered, no ordinary Qi Refining cultivator could manage that.

“And that Ten Thousand Beast Banner derived from the Ten Thousand Soul Banner? Total nonsense. If you could substitute other creatures’ souls to refine a soul banner, the demonic path would’ve dominated the cultivation world ages ago.”

He snorted disdainfully.

“The war between the righteous and demonic paths may have ended in a heavenly punishment striking down the demons, but even before that, they were already in decline.

“The reason’s simple: they lost control. The demonic path was so crazed for refining Ten Thousand Soul Banners that they slaughtered too many mortals, ignoring sustainability. By the later stages of the war, there weren’t even enough mortals left to extract souls from.

“They tried using other creatures—wild beasts, spirit beasts, even ancient beasts—but none could replace human souls.

“Shapeshifted beast clans could be used in banners, sure. But their power rivals Golden Core cultivators, and they’re rare. Better to kill righteous Golden Core cultivators instead!”

“Only humans are the favored children of heaven, blessed by the Dao. Only human souls can produce resentful spirits and ghosts with potential for growth.

“Use beast souls instead? Even if you managed to refine a soul banner, it would be hollow and useless.

“Especially those hybrid spirit beasts in Wushan—born from failed bloodline experiments and rejected by the world itself. Their souls are broken and fragmented. They’re completely worthless.

“Unless the heavens themselves bestow divine favor, refining a soul banner from those creatures is absolutely impossible!”

The vendor’s confident speech left Lu Yan inwardly shaken.

While others may dismiss this as nonsense, Lu Yan—who had personally experienced multiple version updates—knew full well this wasn’t some absurd tale.

The zombie souls he’d slaughtered lacked two of the three heavenly souls. Tracing back their origins, they had indeed evolved from the mutated beasts in Wushan.

The version update had restructured those incomplete beast souls into the seven human souls, endowing them with properties closer to human souls—and thus enabling Lu Yan to refine a functional soul banner.

So then… were the effects of version updates not just random, but possibly a form of heavenly blessing in and of themselves?

Lu Yan’s gaze turned subtly curious as he looked at the vendor again.

This man was only at the Sixth Layer of Qi Refining, but his knowledge and perspective were clearly far beyond that level.

Just as Lu Yan was about to speak, the vendor suddenly pulled out a book from the messy pile of old texts.

“Fate must have brought us together. This copy of On the Dao of Heaven—I’ll give it to you for just ten spirit stones.

“It’s a genuine ancient text that discusses the Dao of Heaven and the foundations of all existence. They say it contains secrets that could lead to ascension!”

“Pfft!”

Before Lu Yan could react, the vendor selling medicinal herbs nearby couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“That pile of speculative nonsense with no actual content, and you dare call it an ancient text? Heh, He Dongsheng, you must be broke.”

Exposed on the spot, He Dongsheng only smiled sheepishly.

“Well, On the Dao of Heaven isn’t exactly about cultivation. It’s more of a philosophical treatise on the workings of the universe. But it is an authentic ancient text.

“Just look at the aged pages, the worn cover, and those fragments of ancient Daoist script—it’s definitely a rare treasure.

“They don’t buy it because they don’t know better. But maybe your destiny has arrived. Who knows, you might comprehend the Dao of Heaven from this and ascend to immortality!”

Lu Yan glanced at the book in He Dongsheng’s hands. There was a faint scent of tea rising from its pages, and his expression changed immediately.

Tea-stained aging treatment.

It was a classic technique for making modern books look old—common in the Urban Version. Even someone like Lu Yan, who wasn’t particularly savvy in this area, had heard of it.

This “On the Dao of Heaven” didn’t look like an ancient text.

It looked like it came from last week.

(End of Chapter)