amaotonovel Chapter 596
Chapter 596
Three months after the Battle of Kunlun Mountain, on the shore of West Lake in Hangzhou.
Zhang Hao's teahouse, "Wuxingju," opened quietly.
The storefront is small, with white walls and gray tiles, and a string of bronze wind chimes hanging from the eaves—they are made from the remnants of the five elements, and when a breeze blows, they emit a soft sound with five different timbres.
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the carved wooden windows, casting dappled shadows on the bluestone pavement.
The fat man carried a tea tray, moving between several tables, his round face bearing his signature smile.
"Sir, your Longjing tea is hot, please be careful!"
Xie Xiaohua sat behind the counter checking the accounts, occasionally glancing up at the chubby man who was busy running around, and the corners of her mouth unconsciously turned up.
Zhang Qilin sat quietly in the innermost corner of the teahouse, a cup of tea in front of him, wiping the black gold ancient sword in his hand—although the ancient god had been destroyed, his long-standing habit was hard to break.
Wu Tianzhen was helping Zhang Hao organize the newly arrived tea leaves in the backyard when he suddenly heard a series of urgent wind chimes coming from the front hall.
It wasn't the crisp sound of a gentle breeze, but rather a rapid, chaotic tremor, as if being forcefully shaken by an invisible hand.
Zhang Hao paused in his movements.
The two exchanged a glance and quickly walked towards the front hall.
An uninvited guest arrived at the teahouse at some unknown time—a middle-aged man in a gray Zhongshan suit, pale-faced, with fine beads of sweat on his forehead.
He sat by the window, his hands gripping the teacup tightly, his knuckles turning white.
What's most striking is his neck:
Below the collar, a strange dark red pattern could be vaguely seen, slowly wriggling under the skin like a living thing.
"Sir, are you feeling unwell?"
The fat man tentatively stepped forward.
The middle-aged man suddenly looked up, a strange crimson glint flashing in his eyes, but it vanished in an instant.
He took a deep breath, his voice hoarse:
"I'm looking for... Mr. Zhang Hao."
Zhang Hao stepped forward:
"I am."
The man pulled an object wrapped in oilcloth from his pocket and placed it on the table with trembling hands.
The oilcloth was unfolded, revealing a piece of black bone fragment, covered with dense, tiny runes—exactly the same as those on the altar of Kunlun Mountain.
"This was unearthed three days ago from a newly discovered Han Dynasty tomb in Gansu."
The man lowered his voice:
"Six of us went into the tomb together, and I was the only one who came out alive. The other five..."
He loosened his collar.
The dark red lines on his neck were fully revealed—they weren't tattoos, but some kind of living substance, spreading towards his collarbone at a visible speed.
At the center of the pattern, a distorted symbol is faintly visible.
Zhang Qilin had somehow appeared beside Zhang Hao, and his pupils contracted sharply the moment he saw the symbol.
"This is 'God's Erosion'."
He said in a deep voice:
"Residual pollution from the power of the ancient gods."
Xie Xiaohua quickly closed the teahouse door and hung up a "Temporarily Closed" sign.
Wu Tianzhen drew all the curtains.
"Elaborate."
Zhang Hao sat down opposite the man and lightly touched the piece of broken bone with his fingers.
The instant the bone was touched, countless shattered images exploded in his mind:
—In the dark tomb, the murals depict stars falling, the earth cracking open, and countless twisted figures crawling out of the cracks.
Five archaeologists surrounded a coffin. The moment the coffin lid was opened, black mist billowed out.
—From within the black mist, something whispered in an ancient, incomprehensible language, but a few syllables repeated repeatedly…
“B...G...Shas…”
Zhang Hao unconsciously uttered those syllables.
The temperature inside the teahouse plummeted.
The wind chimes vibrated wildly, their five tones shrieking simultaneously.
Spiderweb-like cracks appeared on the teaware on the counter, and fine water droplets seeped from the bluestone floor—a natural reaction of the spirit of water.
“You said its name.”
A strange expression, a mixture of fear and relief, appeared on the middle-aged man's face.
“It is awakening…no, it was never truly asleep.”
He suddenly grabbed Zhang Hao's hand with an unusually strong grip:
"What Kunlun Mountain sealed was only the 'form' of the ancient god; its 'consciousness'... had long since dispersed and parasitized in countless ancient relics."
Every time we excavate, touch, and study these relics, we are feeding it…
Before he finished speaking, the lines on the man's neck suddenly spread, instantly covering half of his face.
He let out a horrific scream, his body began to twist and swell, and something was wriggling beneath his skin.
"Back off!"
Zhang Qilin had already drawn his black gold ancient sword, but Zhang Hao raised his hand to stop him.
Zhang Hao stared at the man's gradually mutating body, a faint golden light appearing in his eyes—the bloodline of the Primordial Qilin was sensing something.
He could "see" that the man's body was being forcibly invaded by some kind of external consciousness, like a virus taking over the cells.
"This is not ordinary pollution."
Zhang Hao said slowly:
This is 'consciousness seeding'.
The ancient gods are searching for a vessel.
He formed a hand seal, and the power of the five elements flowed within his body, eventually condensing in his palms.
She gently pressed her palm against the man's forehead.
The golden light and the black energy clashed fiercely.
Inside the teahouse, everyone felt the clash of two vast forces—one was the righteous energy of heaven and earth, generated by the five elements, and the other was an ancient, chaotic, and thirsty malice.
Yi Sa and Huo Xiuxiu rushed over from the backyard upon hearing the noise, and were stunned by what they saw.
Ding Yudie subconsciously reached for the dagger at her waist.
"Zhang Hao, we can't force the purification!"
Yi Sa suddenly shouted:
“I’ve read fragments of the family’s secret scrolls. This ‘divine erosion’ is deeply bound to the host’s consciousness, and forcibly removing it will…”
She didn't finish her sentence, "What will happen?"
But Zhang Hao already understood—the man's body began to disintegrate, his skin cracked, revealing the writhing black substance beneath.
His eyes turned completely bloodshot, and his mouth twisted into an inhuman arc, emitting a grotesque chuckle.
“Zhang… Hao… the son of Qilin… we… know each other…”
It was written in classical Chinese, but everyone present understood it.
Zhang Hao gritted his teeth and increased his power output.
The phantom of the First Qilin flashed and disappeared behind him.
However, just as the purification was about to be completed, the man roared with his last shred of consciousness:
"Gansu...west of Dunhuang...the third beacon tower...underground...it is calling..."
The words stopped abruptly.
The man's body turned into a pool of black viscous liquid, dissolving along with his clothes and bone fragments. In the end, even the viscous liquid evaporated completely, leaving only a few corrosive marks on the table and chairs.
The teahouse was deathly silent.
The wind chimes stopped vibrating. The teaware stopped cracking. Water droplets on the ground slowly seeped back into the stone slabs.
But everyone knows in their hearts—
Something has returned.
Or rather, it never left.
Zhang Hao slowly withdrew his hand, a charred mark on his palm that throbbed faintly.
"Pack your things."
His voice was calm, but every word was as heavy as iron:
"Fatty, contact all the guys who can still move."
Little Flower, prepare the highest-spec equipment.
Naive. Examine all archaeological records and folk tales west of Dunhuang in Gansu.
He looked at Zhang Qilin:
"Brother, I need all the records from the Zhang family regarding 'split consciousness parasitism'."
Finally, his gaze swept over everyone:
"The Kunlun Mountains are not the end."
"It's a beginning."
Outside the window, the West Lake was calm, but in the distance, a strange dark red cloud had gathered in the sky, like congealed blood.
Under the eaves of the teahouse, the bronze wind chimes moved automatically without any wind, emitting a low, ominous hum.
Five timbres, for the first time, were completely synchronized, playing the same key.
A warning tone.