The Butterfly Of Chaos - Chapter 66 Whats The Difference?

Looking outside from within his courtyard, Jun Meng Chen didn’t exactly remember how they had fled from the Ghost King’s Domain. His memories only retained their clarity until the instance where he had heard the initial stages of the domain cracking and collapsing on itself.

Only fragments remained following that.

Brewing himself a pot of fragrant tea, Jun Meng Chen sat in a chair just outside of the main residence, immersing himself into the courtyard before him. Between sips, he would allow his mind to drift into his memories, trying to piece them together, one shard at a time.

Awash with a gray, lackluster haze, Jun Meng Chen found himself dashing towards the plaza, ignoring all of the demolished houses and the immortal constructs strewn on the ground. Stepping into the center of the plaza, Jun Meng Chen spotted the figure of the supervising elder swaying before him.

Although the elder’s mouth moved, Jun Meng Chen couldn’t hear or understand what he spoke about. The gray haze increased in density, and when it had cleared, Jun Meng Chen could spot a tattered Balthazar rushing towards the mysteriously intact gate of the Ghost King’s Domain. Moments later, he found himself diving towards it as well, followed by the elder.

Just as soon as they had crossed the gate, the last remnants of divine essence had expired, and the domain began to accelerate its collapse. When turning around, Jun Meng Chen could observe the foundations of the monochrome, scarlet world wither before his eyes, a process that would originally have taken millions of years.

Still mired in the gray mental haze, Jun Meng Chen saw the inscriptions in the Divine Script forming the foundations, slowly disintegrate into golden flashes of light, penetrating through the thin shroud covering Jun Meng Chen. The center of the plaza swelled in volume, the ground shuddering with a shrill cry as countless cracks ran along its surface.

Without a further delay, the domain compressed itself into a single particle of divine essence with a solid crunch, merging with the void. The sheer release of force from the collapse was enough to propel Jun Meng Chen backwards, and the last recollection was of the door disintegrating into scarlet glows of divine essence.

Lightly trembling, Jun Meng Chen arose from his stupor, finding himself back at his courtyard. Gazing at the teacup on a nearby table, he found that the tea in both the pot and cup had cooled. Standing, he lightly stretched before walking inside with the teapot to boil a fresh set.

However, just before he could open the door to his residence, the array monitoring the entrance of the courtyard gently vibrated, thin fluctuations of divine essence flowing throughout the entire courtyard. With a faint sigh, Jun Meng Chen set down the teapot, setting out to greet his guest. As he departed however, a sudden thought blazed in his mind, that something critical was missing in his memories.

–

In a secluded dimension within the deep recesses of the Immortal Realm, Li Xiang faced a great dilemma.

Seated in an uncomfortable, wooden chair, she sat before a wooden plaque, an ink grindstone, and a brush. The elder was fondling his beard besides her, carefully monitoring her progress and allowing for no slacking. Gritting her teeth, Li Xiang picked up the brush, dipping it into the ink.

The brush was of smoothly carved ivory, the bristles transparent, soft to the touch. When Li Xiang dipped it in ink, the white brush seemed to emit a gentle pulse of divine essence, easing her strained mind. Staring at the tiny ink droplets splattering over an edge of the plaque, Li Xiang sat with her mind muddled, frozen in place.

“Write,” rang the elder’s voice behind her, causing her to break from her suspension with a tremble. Hearing the placid yet somewhat dangerous word, Li Xiang shivered before placing the brush tip onto the plaque’s grainy surface. Under the elder’s gentle yet forceful coaxing, she moved the brush to form a vertical line.

Only, the brush didn’t move.

The moment she attempted to move the brush, her hand and wrist were immediately halted by a mysterious force, as if she had slammed her wrist onto a hardened, invisible wall. An intense pulse of pain blazed through her arm, and she released a tender cry as the brush slipped from her fingers falling onto the plaque with a light ring.

The wooden plaque suddenly was engulfed by blue flames, and before Li Xiang’s eyes, it disintegrated into thin, distorted streams of divine essence.

Bang!

Suddenly, black chains breached the spatial boundaries constructing the room, rushing directly towards Li Xiang. Alerted by the sudden sound, Li Xiang raised her head to find thin, black chains headed towards her from above.

Startled, she attempted to leap out of the chair and dodge, but found her body rooted to the spot, despair and horror striking her heart. Her pupils constricted as she detected a faint but increasing malicious intent sealed within the chains, the azure irises slowly giving way to a violet-gold glow.

Within Li Xiang, the black sword gently quivered, extending a barely perceptible thread of divine essence.

“Hmph! This elder did not permit you to strike. Return!”

With a cold snort, the elder yanked the chair backwards with great strength, nimbly catching the hurtling Li Xiang with his right arm. Gently clasping the terrified girl, the elder stepped forward, his left palm surging towards the incoming black chains.

With a dull sound, the palm and chains intersected, and a terrifying shockwave caused the entire room to tremble, the furniture, pots, and flowers all resonating from the fierce blast.

Surprisingly, Li Xiang saw the black chains violently shake from the elder’s palm strike, gradually vanishing as the room returned to tranquility. Gradually, the violet-golden radiance submerged within her irises returned to their original dull azure color. The thread of divine essence retracted, and the sword returned to its slumber.

Shaking his head, the old man released a short sigh before placing the chair into its original position. Seating Li Xiang who had yet to recover from her shock, the elder coughed, lightly tapping the crown of her head.

Observing the girl quiver for a few moments before returning to clarity, the elder couldn’t help but reveal a secret expression of worry. Mentally berating himself and steeling his countenance with an indifferent expression, the elder leaned forward over the chair to point at the table.

With a light tap, another wooden plaque identical to the one that had just disintegrated formed above the table’s surface. Lightly clattering, it fell onto the table, and Li Xiang faintly smell a unique fragrance, somewhat pleasant and simultaneously rustic, causing her to become slightly agitated. Retaining her focus with another tap to the center of her head, the elder pointed to the plaque.

“Watch how I write,” he spoke with a refined tone. “Consign it to memory, and attempt to repeat.”

Li Xiang nodded, her dull eyes tracking the elder’s every movement.

The elder grasped the ivory brush, before dipping it once in the diminished pool of ink. Resting the brush tip against the surface of the wooden plaque, the old man flicked his wrist.

The brush flashed across in a vertical line, and the elder reversed his movement, drawing another line at a diagonal angle. The brush continued to draw on the wooden plaque with the elder’s guidance through his wrist, and soon, a simple yet complex symbol was painted before Li Xiang.

“What do you see?” questioned the elder, setting the brush on the table and moving back to his original position. The symbol had only taken moments to write, yet Li Xiang felt that an eternity had spanned.

“[Light]” replied Li Xiang, her soft voice as quiet as a mosquito’s breathing.

Gazing at the symbol of [Light], Li Xiang couldn’t help but marvel at the elder’s ability. From her light tenure at the Golden Residence’s library, the only knowledge she had manage to scrounge up was that the Divine Script could never interact with objects.

However, the kind-looking elder had just written the character of [Light] in the Divine Script onto a simple, ordinary wooden plaque. Even Li Xiang’s inexperienced self could instantly determine that the plaque was from a mortal world, though she had no inkling on what the plaque was made of.

“The Divine Script can be vocalized by an immortal to enact a phenomenon in his surroundings. Be it to defend, offend, or commit an inconsequential task, the Divine Script cannot be impeded or fail.”

The elder’s voice could be heard once more, and he reached to pick up the plaque with his left hand, pointing with his right.

“However, vocalizing the Divine Script can only enact a temporary change. Writing onto a physical medium, allows for the Divine Script’s effects to remain permanently, or until use if the medium is an object meant for consumption or any arbitrary utility.”

Tapping at the center of the symbol, the elder continued, his sonorous voice stirring Li Xiang’s tired heart into activity. When the elder’s finger contacted with the symbol, Li Xiang could see tiny sparks of divine essence explode from the symbol, flickering into nonexistence in the room.

“Writing in the Divine Script constitutes an insane difficulty compared to vocalizing it. Any immortal can vocalize the Divine Script, for it is spoken similar to the common tongue, only with implementation of the immortal’s divine essence as the primer of the words. Writingthe characters are vastly different from the ones presented before your perception, and to even begin the brushstroke, one must first resonate with the Immortal Realm’s core foundations.”

“Now,” the elder spoke, striding past the desk to tend to the merrily chirping fire in the middle of the room. “Until you are able to write the character [Light], there shall be no dinner.”

Li Xiang could feel her heart shake at the old man’s stern words. With a muted protest of her stomach, Li Xiang gripped the brush with her thin, delicate fingers, reaching for the ink grindstone with a bleeding heart.

Delicious seafood soup, ah!

–

In the middle regions of Wan Shou, Li Mo Shang and the rest of the doctors had established a series of tents in the abandoned city. Each day, they would conduct both individual and group experiments on the mutant distributed by the Western Holy Nation.

Muscular or sensory reflexes, genetic or blood tests, extraction and analysis of the mutant’s neurological processes and structures, they had conducted a vast array of experiments for the past week.

Holding a tray crowded with vials of medicinal extracts and surgical implements, Li Mo Shang accompanied a group of young doctors as they approached the steel cage. Imprisoned in shackles, the mutant was dressed in a clean robe, having been freshened up after a frightening and gory experiment by a senior practitioner.

The young man gazed at the floor of the steel cage in a daze, mumbling incoherently as the gaggle of doctors approached for another round of torture.

Scrutinizing the mutant’s wings, Li Mo Shang just couldn’t understand how the wings were successfully operated by the mutant. Countless times, they had examined the grafted joints fusing the wings to the youth’s back, and the genetic structure of the additional joint and veins had been matched with the youth’s genetic structure without a single deviation. Just what was the difference that allowed the mutant before him to even live, then?
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