Don’t Mess with that Turtle
Chapter 214 - 214 053 Dao Foundation_3

214: Chapter 053: Dao Foundation_3 214: Chapter 053: Dao Foundation_3 Divine God Power: Snow Concealment!

I am still here, but you cannot see, cannot hear, cannot listen to me, like an illusionary flying snow, hidden in the accumulations, hard to find amidst the vast white, merging into the flowing waters, indistinguishable from the dust and light, even less perceptible.

It is not a technique of invisibility, but stronger than invisibility.

This Divine Skill integrated into my body, unlike the Mountain Divine God and Water Phase, slowly adapting, I suddenly grasped the true meaning within.

Su He gently closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, he seemed to have merged with the world, all methods failing to detect him.

What a pity that I have Divine Skills, useless in this realm.

He could not be found in this world in the first place.

With the Divine Skill withdrawn, Su He shook his body and dove down into the river again, only to see a Ji Clan child nearby, staring at him with wide eyes, unblinkingly.

Child and turtle eyed each other for a long moment, then the child let out a shriek and scrambled away.

Su He turned and plunged into the water.

Fish in the water were startled and quickly dispersed.

He…

had merged with this world, yet was detectable!

Ji Clan people came to the riverbank, topsy-turvy with long spears, searching everywhere without seeing Su He’s figure, but finding huge paw prints on the ground.

They prostrated themselves on the ground, worshipping devoutly.

They started to wail.

Su He operated Snow Concealment, hiding in the water and watching quietly.

In just three days, the Ji Clan’s flag changed, the once ugly big tree was pulled down, replaced by an even uglier turtle.

Probably a turtle!

Too abstract for Su He to recognize.

That child who had seen him, young as he was, was taken by the tribe’s witch to learn how to pray to heaven and earth, leading him to feel the wind, watch the rain, predict the heat of summer, the cold of gloomy weather.

By the time the nymph crawled out of the earth and shed its cicada coat on the tree branch to become a singing insect, the child had grown past fifteen and became the new witch.

But he did not stay with the tribe, instead, he wandered along the Big Swamp, seeking the figure of Gu Luo.

Climbing high mountains, crossing rivers, as stars wheeled and time passed, the youth became an old man.

But he wandered ceaselessly, initially in search of Su He, only to find himself, twenty years later, captivated by the great mountains and rivers, the vast swamps and lakes.

Atop mountains, he watched thunder split trees; submerged in the abyss, he saw the ripples of flowing water.

One after another, his companions died, diseases, fierce beasts, poisonous insects…

A moment’s carelessness in this world meant death.

Thirty years later, the witch, over forty with white hair and an aged, dragon-like appearance, made his way back to the tribe, leaning on a walking stick.

What greeted him was an unrecognizable flag.

The turtle remained, but now it had grown wings on its back.

It had taken on the posture of soaring through the sky—the Ji Clan had been defeated and merged with another tribe.

Without a witch to predict the weather, the tribe with their slash-and-burn agriculture lacked forecasts and, despite burning more mountains, could not save themselves.

The new tribe welcomed him back with the rites of a witch.

But the witch stood stupefied and at a loss, not daring to face the eyes of the former tribe’s young and old.

Even though they didn’t blame him—the witch’s departure was a sacred and solemn quest to find the Divine Spirits.

They had failed simply because they hadn’t found the spirits, but the witch had tried his best.

In one night, the witch aged considerably, hiding on the mountain, never to come down again.

He lived in a hut, eating raw meat and drinking blood.

He kept silent, until the former Ji Clan leader came to seek weather predictions.

Then, the witch prophesied.

He never erred!

After wandering for thirty years, having witnessed the elements, he had become more familiar with the language of the world, able to predict the onset of wind and rain with a single word.

The new tribe revered him as a Divine Spirit.

But the witch grew even more reticent.

If only he had never left, or had returned earlier.

The tribe’s totem would not have grown wings.

He kept silent, accompanied only by the stars and the mountains.

Observing the stars by night, the mountains by day.

The mountain ground in front of his hut served as his canvas, a branch as his brush, drawing the heavens and the earth…

Su He watched him quietly, smelling the “Pill” scent on him.

It was a strange sensation, as if the world was telling him, the witch was the Pill!

But the witch was dead…

He drew the stars and the moon, the mountains and rivers.

Yet, he destroyed them all again and then sat motionless in front of the hut, suddenly bursting into tears, suddenly dancing, appearing mad.

He wanted to draw this world, but could only manage a single “-” and another “–” on the stone before he couldn’t continue.

He lay on the stone, wailing uncontrollably, then stopped and danced with abandon.

The witch had gone mad.

The leader of the new tribe came to see him.

Pointing to the symbols on the stone, the witch couldn’t speak anymore, and just like that, he collapsed, buried at the side of the stone, turned to bare bones.

The Pill’s scent settled on the stones.

These were yin and yang lines.

Su He watched quietly, never showing himself.

He didn’t understand resurrection, nor extending life.

And he dared not show himself.

This realm had no Divine Skills, and each time he appeared it felt as if the world was expelling him.

The New King came by often to see the two symbols left by the witch, but to no avail.

He wanted to discern from them how the witch predicted the weather, but he never understood.

Later on, the New King stopped coming.

He was to conquer the world.

He was to take back the land, women, strong men, and children from other tribes…

He wanted his tribe to survive better.

The King domesticated deer, rode away, leading the tribe’s warriors to distant places, witnessing more mountains and rivers, experiencing more wind and rain, until his hair turned white, and he too returned, settling on the mountaintop where the witch had once lived, looking at the symbols left by the witch.

He gazed at them all day long.

He had learned to predict the weather, having seen so much over time.

He sat in front of the witch’s grave, staring at the two lines left on the stone by the witch.

It encapsulated the experience, accumulation, and regrets of the witch’s lifetime.

Day after day, he looked at the symbols, began to laugh, and as he laughed, he also started to cry, wailing loudly.

Only after crying to his heart’s content did he pick up a rock and move to draw on the stone.

But as he lifted his hand, he never made a mark, simply sitting in silence, spending the days besides eating and sleeping, looking at the stone, posturing as if painting.