The Investiture: Unlimited Blade Works Nezha

After spending so long in the Primordial world, if Nezha's skin wasn't as thick as a City Wall, it was at least as thick as a Golden Brick. He grabbed the old man's harp, strummed it casually, and started singing: "Boundless horizons are my love, beneath the endless green hills flowers are in bloom, what kind of rhythm is the most swingin', what kind of melody evokes the greatest joy…"

The old man was stunned speechless on the spot.

"You're the most beautiful cloud on my horizon, let me capture you with all my heart, hehehe…"

Nezha even sang the DJ remix version!

The old man clearly couldn't accept such avant-garde artistry. His blood felt like it was flowing in reverse, his brain vessels were on the verge of bursting, and his eyeballs were veined with red. He felt his lifelong dedication to the pursuit of music had been insulted and trampled!

His whole body trembled as he reached out a finger at Nezha.

"You, you, you... you-you-you…"

Nezha looked at the old man, who seemed to be swaying to the beat unknowingly, and couldn't help sighing. Turns out the guy really was a musical maestro—he could keep up with the rhythm just like that?

He even stretched his hand out to interact with me!

Art truly transcends time and borders!

Nezha balanced the harp with his leg, mimicking the old man's posture as he nodded to the beat and pointed his finger back at him.

"Always sing the flashiest ethnic tune, the most gorgeous style under the whole sky! Hehehehe!"

The old man, seeing this provocative scene, suddenly sprang up and screamed sharply, "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Then, he lunged straight toward Nezha, smashing his head into the harp, brains splattering out, and covering Nezha in blood as he used his life to make his grand artistic exit.

At first, Nezha thought the old man had fully embraced this revolutionary form of art, but he didn't expect him to turn around and die for it. What was that? Relishing the vibe too much?

Nezha's cutting-edge artistry and the old man's sharp scream attracted other people. As they entered the scene, they immediately witnessed Linus's artistic demise, and they too let out piercing shrieks.

"Aaaaaaaaah, Sarilang, Sarilang, Hercules Sarilang!"

…

The Hercules murder case garnered significant attention among the nation's citizens. Hercules was a young prodigy known by everyone, and an incident this atrocious demanded swift investigation and clarification.

There were clearly Death Gods in this era, but there weren't any detective Death God kids around. With no forensic tools available, the case was handed over to the divine for judgment.

In the kingdom's tribunal, the citizens gathered all around. Nezha stood on the trial platform next to the Judicial Officer, and above him loomed a shadow of Themis, the goddess, blindfolded with bands, holding a balance in one hand and a sword in the other.

First, other eyewitnesses recounted the events of the scene, before Hercules started defending himself.

Nezha looked up at the goddess's shadow, then glanced at the serene sky, and spoke calmly: "I have nothing to justify. Mr. Linus was overly enthusiastic in our exchange about musical arts and, in his excitement, accidentally collided with the harp. I did not kill him. If Mr. Linus knew that you were accusing his most outstanding student of killing him, his spirit would never rest peacefully."

The citizens murmured among themselves. After all, Hercules's reputation as a prodigy was renowned, destined to become a great hero in the future. There was indeed no reason for him to kill his music teacher.

Once the whispers subsided, the cold voice of Themis, holding the balance, resonated: "The trial begins."

Soon, the scales in her hand swayed back and forth. Finally, under the witness of all gods and citizens, they stopped. The voice of Themis sounded again.

"Hercules, not guilty."

The gods on Mount Olympus collectively sighed in relief. Watching Hercules, who had grown from an adorable baby into a handsome young man, stirred complicated emotions within them, and their inner jealousy surged wildly.

Just wait and see!

…

Nezha was ultimately exiled to a remote area to herd sheep—not because his adoptive parents feared him, but because the deceased was one of the Twelve Main Gods, Apollo's illegitimate son. It was reasonable to send him somewhere quiet to let the storm blow over.

He accepted this outcome with composure. He did need some time to grow, and as for the method, he chose the most ancient and straightforward approach: eating.

Yuan Feng always liked to try a bite of everything, because the primordial cultivation methods were exactly that way. During the earliest days of the Witch Clan, they loved to devour, which in turn forced other beings to band together, eventually forming the Demon Clan.

On this hillside, his adoptive father had given him more than a thousand sheep. That was a considerable wealth— even if Nezha ultimately achieved nothing, relying on these sheep alone would allow him to live a prosperous life.

These sheep were ordinary mountain goats, which offered very little help to Nezha's cultivation. So, Nezha used the gemstones he'd collected to construct a simple Spirit Gathering Array, enriching the land with spirituality. That way, the mutton would provide the optimal aid for his cultivation.

One day, Nezha noticed a sheep suffering from heatstroke and decided to make it his dinner. Because the wool had been nurtured by the spiritually infused land, it was remarkably soft, and the mutton itself was exceptionally tender and energy-rich.

As Nezha cooked the mutton by his tent and was about to dig in, he heard the clip-clop of hooves. He turned toward the darkness and saw a Centaur emerging.

Nezha had seen plenty of horse-headed humanoids, but this half-man-half-horse form was entirely new to him. The human part looked like a steady and mature middle-aged man.

"Hey, brother, want some mutton?"

The Centaur approached, his expression showing mild surprise at Nezha's casual greeting.

"What a handsome young man you are. My name is Chiron. I was drawn here by the spiritual richness of your land. If you're willing, I could temporarily serve as your mentor. In return, I'd like to partake in your Spirit Grass."

Nezha nodded in agreement with Chiron's insight—it was true his greatest asset was his looks.

"My name is Hercules. I don't need a mentor, but we can become friends."

Chiron quite liked the boy. He wasn't too concerned about a mentor-student dynamic; he simply enjoyed the joy of teaching.

"Alright, from now on, we're friends."

"So, do you eat mutton?"

Chiron naturally nodded.

Nezha was never stingy—he tore off a large chunk of lamb leg and handed it to Chiron.

Chiron took the leg of lamb and, while eating leisurely, asked, "You seem quite interested in me?"

Nezha didn't deny it; he was indeed curious about Centaurs.

"Aren't horses supposed to be herbivores? Why can you eat meat?"

"Because I am neither man nor horse. I am a god."

"If you were to marry, would you choose a mare, a woman, or a goddess?"

Hearing this question, Chiron couldn't help but put down the lamb leg and ponder deeply. Mare, woman, or goddess—which would align better with his aesthetics?

But as he thought and thought, he suddenly smacked his forehead, realizing his train of thought had been completely derailed by this boy with the wild imagination—he wasn't even considering finding a partner right now.