The Lord God Descends into League of Legends - Chapter 20

Yingdu, capital of Chu — inside a luxurious mansion.

Ji Han, too rushed to change into fresh clothes, shoved aside several pretty young maidservants who tried to block him and strode directly toward a study.

He pushed the door open. The study was elegantly furnished, lined with rows of bookshelves filled with bamboo slips and silk manuscripts. Each shelf was carefully labeled — “Chu,” “Qin,” and the names of other states.

A handsome young man was kneeling in front of one of the shelves, carefully examining a bamboo slip. His expression was grave.

When Ji Han burst in, the young man frowned and lifted his head. Everyone in the household knew — when he was in the study, no one was to disturb him, unless it was a matter of the utmost urgency.

“Ji Han greets Leader Yi.” Ji Han bowed respectfully to Ji Yi.

Seeing Ji Han covered in dust from the road, Ji Yi set down the bamboo slip, his face turning serious. Ji Han had always been steady and composed. For him to appear like this, clearly something extraordinary had happened. Ji Yi’s thoughts turned quickly, but his voice was calm:

“Has something happened? Why are you in such haste?”

“Master, something major has occurred. I dared not decide on my own. I rode three horses day and night to reach Yingdu and report to you in person.” Ji Han recalled Mo Chen’s ghostlike movements and could not help but give a bitter smile. His tone was grave.

The invention of papermaking was too important. He hadn’t dared send word through subordinates, fearing some mishap.

Ji Yi’s brows furrowed. What could have unsettled Ji Han so deeply?

Without hesitation, Ji Han drew a sheet from his br3ast — the very record of papermaking — and placed it reverently before Ji Yi.

Ji Yi gave him a strange look, then picked it up and began reading. After a long silence, his expression grew heavier still. He turned his gaze directly upon Ji Han and asked sternly:

“What is the meaning of this?”

With a wry smile, Ji Han recounted everything that had transpired that night. At the end, he concluded:

“That man’s cultivation is unfathomable. His movement was like that of a phantom. Never in my life have I witnessed such terrifying speed.”

“A youth… barely twenty, yet with immeasurable cultivation…” Ji Yi’s fingers tapped the table with a crisp rhythm, his expression gradually turning strange.

Putting the pieces together, he realized there was indeed someone who fit the description. With such power, it was no surprise he might have reached Yingdu even earlier than Ji Han. Ji Yi thought of what he himself had seen in broad daylight, and a tremor stirred in his heart.

Never before had he imagined that a single person’s power could be so overwhelming as to make heaven and earth change color.

He stroked a bamboo scroll resting on the desk. Ancient, steeped in the aura of history, its carved title read: The Secret Realm of Loulan, the Relic of Chiyou.

“This matter, I will handle. Go and rest.” Ji Yi looked up at travel-worn Ji Han and spoke gently.

Ji Han bowed low, then turned and left the study.

“Papermaking… such a wondrous craft, truly not of the mortal world,” Ji Yi murmured, gazing at the sheet upon the desk. “It seems the debt I owe you grows ever harder to repay. Tomorrow, I must prepare a most generous gift.”

At dawn the next day.

A grand, ornate carriage departed Ji Yi’s mansion, bound for the temple beside the royal palace. The Yi family’s intelligence network had already located Mo Chen’s lodging overnight.

Inside Mo Chen’s guest room, half an hour later.

The two sat facing each other across a short table. Mo Chen glanced at the sheet of paper laid out before him, his face betraying a hint of surprise. He had not expected that the libertine noble he had met yesterday would turn out to be of the Yi family — and seemingly of high standing.

“Ji Yi of the Zhou royal clan, pays respect to the gentleman,” Ji Yi said solemnly. Not a trace remained of yesterday’s careless demeanor. His eyes fixed steadily upon Mo Chen, betraying no emotion from their earlier encounter.

Mo Chen narrowed his eyes. Zhou royal clan? So, this young lord before him was no ordinary figure. He smiled warmly and replied:

“Mo Chen — a wandering practitioner of qi cultivation.”

At those words, Ji Yi felt a strange stirring in his heart. A cultivator? Then could the bamboo slip’s tales of the Loulan Secret Realm and the gods and demons of antiquity be true?

“I wonder, what sort of trade does Master Mo wish to make with my family?” Ji Yi’s face remained composed, his tone grave.

“The profits from papermaking — I want thirty percent. In addition, your family must spread this story across the world, word for word.” Mo Chen turned his palm, and a book appeared from nowhere, which he tossed casually toward Ji Yi.

Startled, Ji Yi caught the book, his eyes still fixed on Mo Chen’s hands. He was certain: a moment ago, they had been empty. The book had appeared from thin air.

“A trivial trick of storing vast things within the small — nothing worth fussing over,” Mo Chen said offhandedly, his expression inscrutable.

“Sumeru within a mustard seed…” Ji Yi drew a sharp breath, staring at him with awe and unease. Was this man mortal or divine? With a single sword, he could make heaven and earth darken. With a turn of the palm, he could conjure items from nothing. Walking on air was as natural to him as breathing. Such a being — was this not godhood?

Lowering his eyes, Ji Yi examined the book in his hands. Its script was in Chu characters. The title read: Rivers and Lakes.

Curious, he opened it. Before long, he was absorbed. The tale within spoke of a young noble whose country was destroyed, who wandered foreign lands, and who by chance learned the path of cultivation. Within were accounts of the “Five Great Masters,” strange people, and wondrous events.

What shocked Ji Yi most was the detailed methods of cultivation and martial practice it described — almost like an instructional manual.

Recalling Mo Chen’s command — to spread it verbatim across the world — a terrifying realization struck him. These teachings are real.

His hands trembled as he raised his eyes.

“That’s right,” Mo Chen said calmly, pouring himself tea. “Every method of cultivation and martial skill recorded therein is genuine.”

His tone was so casual, as though speaking of worthless scraps, not secrets that could shake the world.

Ji Yi’s face shifted through emotions. In the end, he sighed. He had intended to refuse, but he quickly understood: the choice was not his to make. If Mo Chen wished this knowledge spread, there would always be someone willing to cooperate.

To refuse would be to make a mortal enemy of a godlike being — and gain nothing.

“This bargain… the Yi family has no grounds to refuse. Within half a year, this book shall be known across the realm,” Ji Yi said solemnly.

Even with papermaking, copying so many characters would take time. Besides, he wished to delay, to build up his own faction of loyal followers first.

But Mo Chen turned his palm again. A sheet of paper appeared, describing the art of printing. With a flick of his finger, it shot through the air like a blade and pinned itself to the desk before Ji Yi. His voice was cold:

“In three months, I want Rivers and Lakes spread across the world. Otherwise, I will find another partner.”

Ji Yi’s private schemes — Mo Chen saw through them all. But Mo Chen had no patience to indulge him. Three months was his limit. For the sake of the points of Samsara, he could not delay.

Ji Yi glanced over the printing method, his face shifting, then finally let out a bitter smile. “Do you realize what a storm your actions will unleash?”

“Even if the waves reach the heavens,” Mo Chen’s eyes gleamed with chilling light, “what is there to fear?”