Chapter 15: The Alteration of the Divine Rankings

The chill from the mountain's cold pool was originally the source of spiritual energy. Though the spiritual energy was gone, the pool itself was still far superior to ordinary things, possessing a foundation of spiritual essence, and thus its effects were extraordinary. Under the assault of the cold, his inner strength grew more solid, and his physical constitution was also tempered and strengthened to some extent.

For Zhang Kai, whose cultivation had long stagnated, this was exhilarating. He became all the more determined to resist the cold.

Time slipped by.

At last, Zhang Kai opened his eyes, stood up full of vigor, exhaled forcefully as if firing an arrow, his spirit radiant. This round of tempering, though a small step forward, was of critical importance—it shattered the shackles of the mortal body, marking a tiny stride toward the extraordinary.

Gazing at the cold pool, Zhang Kai sighed with regret. What a pity for such a place, a true treasure of heaven and earth—if only the spiritual energy remained, it would have been a sacred site for cultivation.

Looking outside the cave, dawn was breaking.

Unknowingly, several hours had passed in cultivation… Oh no, there was still a child in the woods. Absorbed in training, he had forgotten her—hopefully nothing had happened.

He hurried outside, returning to the big tree where the child had been left. The little girl was still lying there, her breathing calm and even. Zhang Kai had infused her with a protective strand of inner strength, so she was safe from the cold of the night.

Seeing the girl unharmed, Zhang Kai decisively picked her up and raced away.

Back at the temple, he laid her down to rest, then began tidying up, intending to reside there for some time. Beyond the great merit of supporting education, the cold pool alone was worth exploiting further to strengthen his own foundation.

Opening his backpack, Zhang Kai saw the Investiture of the Gods scroll at the very top. Its appearance, like an imperial decree, was simply rolled up and stuffed inside—not because Zhang Kai didn’t care, but because even if it were stolen, who would believe it was genuine?

Yet this genuine article had so far revealed no way to be activated… Hm?

He reached for the scroll, and suddenly, Zhang Kai’s eyes widened as if witnessing something miraculous.

He saw the remnants of cold energy on his clothes suddenly converging upon the Investiture of the Gods, seeping into it and vanishing.

Was it being absorbed?

Zhang Kai thought he must be seeing things. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, but the scroll appeared unchanged. Yet that scene—of cold energy being devoured—could not have been mistaken.

He stared fixedly at the scroll, and after a long moment, an idea began to take shape in his mind.

Glancing at the sleeping child, Zhang Kai resolutely grabbed the scroll and rushed out of the temple, soaring once more into the mountains.

Moments later, Zhang Kai was back in the valley, his eyes glowing as he gazed at the cave, heart pounding with excitement.

If he was not mistaken, he might have inadvertently discovered the true secret behind the Investiture of the Gods’ inability to confer divinity.

At the cave entrance, Zhang Kai raised the scroll—and sure enough, he saw it again.

Strands of cold vapor drifted from the cave, gathering and being devoured by the Investiture of the Gods.

He hurried into the cave, the cold growing ever more intense as he went, yet all of it was drawn inexorably toward the scroll, like a vortex consuming everything in its path.

Reaching the edge of the cold pool, the scroll suddenly trembled, broke free from Zhang Kai’s grasp, and hovered above the water. Endless chill surged upward from the pool, coalescing into a faint black mist that was continuously swallowed by the scroll.

Zhang Kai watched, trembling with excitement, eyes brimming with tears.

This trip had not been in vain; at last, the artifact showed a reaction.

Soon enough, though cold still lingered in the pool, the scroll flashed with golden light, ceased its devouring, and dropped down.

Zhang Kai caught it in a swift motion.

Now, the scroll felt different in his hands—a wondrous sensation, as if he were ready to begin bestowing divinity.

He unfurled the Investiture of the Gods and saw a line of golden characters appear:

Mountain God of Ox-Head Mountain

What?

Could it be that what the scroll absorbed was the divine position of the Mountain God of Ox-Head Mountain?

Did this mean he could appoint a mountain god?

Even as he muttered to himself, the words faded, leaving the space blank once more.

But Zhang Kai was not anxious; the feeling that he could confer divinity remained, and an indescribable sensation welled up, twisting his expression.

It seemed the scroll had changed—it no longer acknowledged the gods of old.

In other words, if he wanted to bestow divinity, he would have to create new positions himself?

But what sort of god could he create?

Drift King of Akina Mountain? God of Gamblers with their own theme music? Or perhaps the God of Wild Driving Anecdotes?

Absurd—all of these would be useless.

Despite his grumbling, he could hardly hide his joy.

At the very least, the Investiture of the Gods was now usable; the process of conferring divinity could begin, spiritual energy could be revived, and at last he could embark on the path of cultivation.

What Zhang Kai did not know was that, at this moment, in countless hidden places across the world, the former gods’ positions abruptly collapsed. The weak ones dissipated entirely, while even the strong became feeble shadows of their former selves. In an instant, more than half of those barely clinging to existence vanished altogether.

“No matter—it’s for the best. It proves my judgment was right: the severed spiritual energy of this world can indeed be restored.”

Staring intently at the scroll, Zhang Kai was just about to stow it away when something miraculous happened.

The Investiture of the Gods simply vanished from his hand.

Yet its presence was unmistakable, as if it lingered at his side, merged with heaven and earth.

He paused, focused his thoughts, and in the next instant, the scroll reappeared in his hand.

Zhang Kai’s eyes sparkled.

Now, not only could he confer divinity, but the Investiture of the Gods seemed to have bonded with him.

Did this mean that, going forward, all the deities of this world would be named by him alone?

What a delight.

He played with the scroll for a while, then with a wave of his hand, it disappeared again, blending into the world around him.

Grinning, Zhang Kai strolled away.

Back at the temple, the little girl was still fast asleep, but now the sun had risen—morning had arrived.

Though he hadn’t slept all night, Zhang Kai felt full of energy. He took out his phone and, as an experiment, pulled up another TV adaptation of the Investiture of the Gods, extracting the scroll from within.

But the new scroll was utterly ordinary—none of the dazzling golden light from before.

He tugged at it, and to his surprise, it tore in two.

Gazing at the two halves, Zhang Kai pondered and suddenly understood: though he could infinitely acquire resources from films and television, certain things were unique. Once one was recognized by heaven and earth, the rest became mere copies, entirely useless.

But having just one was enough—he had no wish to juggle a dozen different Investiture scrolls and play at making gods.

He casually returned the damaged scroll to the TV show and exited the streaming app.

After tidying up, he glanced at the still sleeping little girl and realized leaving things as they were was not ideal.

The child was likely drugged—otherwise she wouldn’t have been unconscious for so long.

But he had no antidote.

After some thought, Zhang Kai changed into a Daoist robe—one provided for his stay at Wudang Mountain, convenient for moving about in the mountains. Now, to present himself as a cultivator, he naturally had to wear it.

He picked up the little girl and quietly entered the village, setting her down at a crossroads where she would easily be found.

After all, he had no way to explain how he had encountered her; it was better to leave her quietly, let others discover her, and take her to the hospital, freeing himself from involvement.

Zhang Kai, who was dedicated to cultivation, had no desire to get entangled in worldly affairs—the quieter, the better.

Hiding in the shadows, he soon saw an old woman discover the girl. The woman hurried over to check on her, then called out loudly, drawing more people over.

Only then did Zhang Kai quietly withdraw.

Now that the Investiture of the Gods was usable, he simply had to wait for the teacher’s ashes to be brought back. If he could confer divinity, all would be well; if not, he would have to pursue technological immortality instead.