Chapter Eighty-Five: Reconciliation Between the Two

“Seems you at least know your own limits. However, from now on, you don’t need to avoid him. Since Yang Jian has agreed to let bygones be bygones, he naturally won’t hold any grudges against you,” Jiang Yuan said calmly.

“Oh, okay,” Nezha replied, though he didn’t mean it in his heart and certainly wouldn’t act that way in the future. Until his cultivation surpassed Yang Jian’s—or at least equaled it—he resolved to keep at least eight feet between them at all times, even for the most trivial things.

“Why are you even more nervous about Yang Jian’s ascension to Golden Immortal than he is?” Jiang Yuan joked.

Nezha rolled his eyes. How could he not be nervous? If he and Yang Jian were to follow Jiang Yuan together, and Yang Jian broke his word, who knew how many beatings he might endure?

“Yang Jian, come here to me. I’ll assist you in your ascension to Golden Immortal right now,” Jiang Yuan beckoned Yang Jian over.

“My lord, is this wise?” Zhang Kui interjected with concern.

The distance was far too close; if Yang Jian suddenly turned on Nezha, there might not even be time to react.

Jiang Yuan raised a hand to halt him. “It’s fine. I trust Yang Jian.”

But Yang Jian did not trust Jiang Yuan so easily and looked at him, puzzled.

“Don’t worry. If I had any ill intentions toward you, I would have had Zhang Kui end you just now,” Jiang Yuan explained patiently.

In truth, he did have his ambitions—after all, this was the future Erlang True Lord. Bringing him under Shang’s banner would secure a top-tier asset for the future.

Half-convinced, Yang Jian stepped before Jiang Yuan.

Jiang Yuan began his usual theatrics, shrouding himself in the golden dragon of fortune, exuding the awe of the Human Emperor and the menace of a tyrant. He closed his eyes slowly, his lips moving as if in incantation.

In reality, Jiang Yuan was merely playing a part while summoning his system.

“Damn system, get out here now!” Jiang Yuan called inwardly.

“To advance Yang Jian to Golden Immortal will cost 180,” the system replied flatly.

When did this damn system learn to steal his lines? If the system said everything first, how was he supposed to respond? Couldn’t it wait for him to ask? How much time would that waste?

After a moment’s frustration, Jiang Yuan managed to blurt out, “How much Tyrant Value do I have left?”

“346 points,” came the system’s concise answer.

The system seemed to think its host was playing games too—after all, Jiang Yuan could check his Tyrant Value himself.

So there was now this interesting phenomenon: both Jiang Yuan and the system thought the other was an idiot. Neither would concede.

He’d once had over four hundred points, but spent more than a hundred on that Lamborghini.

What’s more, his Tyrant Value now grew on its own—he no longer needed to run around scheming for it. Every so often, his points would increase a little.

This was likely because Jiang Yuan had been causing quite a stir lately—wiping out clans at the drop of a hat. Surely there were plenty cursing him as a tyrant behind his back.

Jiang Yuan was perfectly happy to be cursed—the harsher the curses, the faster his Tyrant Value grew.

“Oh, that’s good,” Jiang Yuan decided to get under the system’s skin.

If he didn’t ask, the system shouldn’t volunteer information, got it? Who was the master here? Damn virtual parasite!

The system seemed to sense his thoughts.

“If the host has nothing to trade, the system will go offline.”

This damn system really knew how to get its way. It knew he couldn’t back down now, not when Yang Jian’s ascension was at stake.

“You win, damn system. Let’s trade,” Jiang Yuan sighed. If he didn’t need the system’s help right now, he’d have given it a good scolding first.

“Ding! Transaction successful. 180 Tyrant Value deducted. Host may now allow Yang Jian to ascend to Golden Immortal at any time. Current Tyrant Value: 164.”

Damn it, after all this, he was poor again.

He’d made a full circuit of Shang, working for others the whole way—working for the system and getting played, working for Zhang Kui and Huang Feihu, for Wen Zhong, and now for Yang Jian.

He must be the most overworked emperor in history!

Jiang Yuan felt a touch of bitterness inside.

Having completed the transaction, Jiang Yuan’s eyes snapped open, his aura surging forth like a tidal wave.

“In the name of Heaven and as Human Emperor, I confer upon Yang Jian the rank of Golden Immortal!”

He gave a low shout, extending a finger shining with golden light, and tapped Yang Jian on the forehead.

Instantly, Yang Jian felt a warm current pouring through his limbs and bones.

Boom!

He felt his cultivation and bottleneck shatter like glass.

A vast, surging power erupted within him again and again.

After a while, as Yang Jian carefully examined his own realm, he realized that the Golden Immortal bottleneck that had trapped him for so long had finally been broken!

He had truly reached Golden Immortal in the span of mere moments!

“Well? Did I deceive you?” Jiang Yuan asked with a smile.

Yang Jian looked deeply at Jiang Yuan, then finally said, “A true man’s word is worth a thousand pieces of gold. I said I would let go of the past, so I shall.”

“And what else?” Jiang Yuan pressed.

A decisive look flashed in Yang Jian’s eyes. He knelt and cupped his hands. “Your servant Yang Jian, pays respect to Your Majesty!”

Jiang Yuan suddenly laughed, loud and heartily.

“Good! Of all my travels, the greatest reward is gaining a warrior like you!” he said, clapping Yang Jian on the shoulder.

“From now on, there’s no need for such formality between us. The fortunes of Shang rest on heroes like you turning the tide.”

Seeing the king’s continued trust, all the knots in Yang Jian’s heart dissolved. Perhaps the lord he’d heard of before was not the true king at all.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything as flowery as “With your trust, I will live and die with Shang.” He simply nodded, keeping his loyalty in his heart.

At that moment, Jiang Yuan felt truly gratified.

To win over such a mighty figure as Yang Jian—what a stroke of fortune!

Glancing over, he saw Nezha still keeping his distance. Jiang Yuan beckoned him over with a smile. “Why are you standing there? Come and greet General Yang.”

Nezha really was his lucky star; he’d only just set his sights on Yang Jian, and Nezha had run into him. Though the beginning hadn’t been pleasant, the outcome was highly satisfactory.

Nezha, still shrinking back, said with aggrieved caution, “I won’t go. If he really wants to hit me, none of you could stop him.”

Jiang Yuan looked helplessly at Yang Jian, who smiled knowingly—so this kid could get scared after all.

Seeing Nezha refuse to approach, Yang Jian decided to go to him.

Watching Yang Jian fly toward him, Nezha’s feet instantly sprouted two spinning wind-and-fire wheels, ready to flee at any sign of trouble.

“What are you afraid of, brat? Since I’ve promised the king to let it go, I won’t cause you any trouble,” Yang Jian said, amused.

Hearing this, Nezha straightened up and said stiffly, “Which eye of yours sees me scared? I’m just always ready for battle!”

“Let’s make a proper introduction. I’m Yang Jian. And you, little one?”

“I… I’m Nezha,” Nezha replied, a bit shy.

Outside of fighting, Nezha wasn’t very good at dealing with people—this was his way of making peace, in his own fashion.