Bio-engineered Dinosaur in the immortal world-Chapter 107: Accusations

Even the Patriarch, who had only come to check on the disciples, had been stunned into silence.

He had no real interest in these small skirmishes, no real reason to observe a mere competition meant to test the potential of new disciples.

Yet, despite his initial disinterest, something about the battle had drawn his attention, something unnatural, something unprecedented.

At first, he had simply wanted to confirm the aftermath—to ensure that the disciples had not been seriously harmed, to see whether the competition had gone as expected.

However, what he had just witnessed was beyond anything he had imagined.

A beast… defeating not just one but two counters?

That alone was already alarming.

But this wasn't just a single elemental counter.

No, this was a dual counter.

And that changed everything.

His expression, which had remained calm, indifferent, even slightly bored when he first arrived, suddenly darkened. His brows furrowed, his gaze sharpened, and his very presence seemed to shift. Before, he had simply been a spectator, watching from afar with mild curiosity.

Now—

He was paying attention.

He was serious.

'Just what kind of Bashawk is that?'

This thought burned into his mind. The scene replayed over and over, his sharp mind analyzing every detail, every movement, every exchange. A Bashawk was not a weak beast, but it was not a powerhouse either. It had its limits, its strengths, and weaknesses, but this—this was beyond those limits.

And it was then that a voice broke the silence.

At first, it was just one disciple.

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A hesitant, uncertain voice that wavered but still dared to speak the unthinkable.

"D-Don't tell me… he's a demonic path cultivator?"

The words hung in the air like an unshakable curse.

Like a stone cast into a still pond, it sent ripples through the crowd.

A sudden, sharp inhale.

A few startled murmurs.

And then—

The whispers began.

At first, low.

Soft.

Hushed.

But growing.

Spreading.

Escalating until the entire arena was filled with muttering, speculation, and creeping fear.

"A demonic path cultivator…?"

"Impossible… but…"

"Then how else do you explain it?!"

"It doesn't make sense! A Bashawk, even a rare one, shouldn't be able to do that!"

"It killed the Thunder Baboon. Killed it. And it was far below the Baboon's level!"

"Zou Fang… he must have done something. Something unnatural. Something forbidden."

"A normal beast can't just ignore counter advantages!"

"And not just one counter! Two!"

"And both beasts didn't just lose. They… they froze. They… died in a way that wasn't normal."

The murmuring only grew.

And the more the disciples spoke, the more convinced they became.

What else could explain it?

What else could justify what had just happened?

There was no other explanation.

A beast tamer's strength came from their bond with their beasts. Even the strongest tamer needed a beast that was suited for battle. A beast that could logically match or overcome its opponents. Type advantages existed for a reason.

Elemental counters existed for a reason.

But this?

This was defying the laws of nature itself.

A mere Bashawk should not—could not—do what it had just done.

Unless—

Unless something unnatural was at play.

Unless Zou Fang had delved into forbidden arts.

Unless he had embraced the demonic path.

The whispers turned into voices.

The voices turned into accusations.

And soon—

A wave of unease, a creeping suspicion, a collective doubt spread through the new disciples like wildfire.

They looked at Zou Fang—

Not as a victor.

Not as the strongest among them.

But as something else entirely.

Something dangerous.

Something unpredictable.

Something they could not understand.

A threat.

Their fear festered.

And then—

Their gazes, as one, shifted.

Away from Zou Fang.

Away from the Bashawk.

And towards—

The Patriarch.

And the elders.

As if seeking answers.

As if demanding judgment.

As if waiting—

To see what would happen next.

Elder Fu let out a long, weary sigh, the kind that came from a man who had seen far too much, from a man who had lived through eras of bloodshed, conflict, and the endless struggle between righteousness and corruption.

He turned toward the Patriarch, his face unreadable, but there was something heavy in his gaze—an understanding, an unspoken agreement that had been forged through years of fighting on the frontlines of the sect's most difficult battles.

The Patriarch, arms folded, exhaled through his nose before finally speaking.

His voice was calm but carried a weight that made the crowd hold their breath.

"Are you going to take care of it?"

A simple question.

A question that meant far more than the words it contained.

Elder Fu nodded. Slowly. Purposefully. There was no hesitation, no doubt. It was a task he had taken upon himself for decades. A duty he had sworn to uphold.

And so, he stepped forward.

The disciples instinctively parted, making way for the elder as he advanced toward the center of the battlefield.

His presence alone was suffocating, his footsteps steady and deliberate, each one carrying the weight of his years, his experience, his authority.

Then, finally, he stopped.

He gazed at Zou Fang, but before addressing him directly, he turned his focus to the crowd. And then—he began to speak.

A speech unlike any other.

A speech that came from a lifetime of war, a lifetime of hunting, a lifetime of standing on the edge between righteousness and corruption.

"How old am I?" Elder Fu's voice rang out, clear and powerful, a voice that had commanded thousands, a voice that had judged the lives of those who walked the wrong path.

"Too old."

A simple statement, but one that carried weight.

"Long before any of you were born—long before even some of your fathers were born—I was already fighting against the scourge of the demonic path.

"You see me as an elder now, an old man who watches from above, who teaches, who judges. But before I was an elder, I was a warrior. I was a hunter. I was the blade that severed corruption from this world."

The disciples listened in complete silence, their previous murmurs forgotten.

"I have fought against the demonic path cultivators in countless battles. I have stood on the frontlines when they tried to corrupt this very sect. I have seen what their arts can do, what their power can bring.

"I have seen righteous men turned into monsters, seen disciples just like you lose their way, tempted by forbidden power. And I have been the one to cut them down."

His gaze was sharp as he scanned the crowd, and some disciples instinctively took a step back.

"Do you think I do not know the tricks of the demonic path?" His tone was firm, unyielding.

"Do you think I do not recognize its signs?"

A heavy silence followed.

"I am Elder Fu, the one in charge of hunting those who would dare practice the demonic arts within this sect. I have brought justice to more demonic cultivators than you can count.

"I am the one who ensures that corruption does not spread within these walls. If there is one man who can tell whether someone walks the demonic path—it is me."

His words carried absolute conviction.

His presence left no room for doubt.

And then—he turned his full attention to Zou Fang.

For a moment, he simply stared.

His eyes, aged by countless battles, studied the young disciple before him. And then—he spoke.

"He is not a demonic path cultivator."

The new disciples would be shocked. But how come his Bashawk was so strong?

And then, Elder Fu continued. "You claim this is the result of hard work."

His voice was skeptical.

"You claim that your Bashawk achieved this power through training alone."

A pause.

"If I were younger, if I were a naive disciple such as those around you, perhaps I would believe it. But I do not."

His tone was unwavering.

"Even so, the truth remains that your Bashawk is… different. A variant."

The moment he said those words, the murmurs began again.

"A variant?"

"Could that be it?"

Elder Fu raised a hand, silencing the growing chatter before continuing.

"It is true that the Thunder Beasts and the Thunder Baboon were elemental counters to your Bashawk. However, a counter does not mean invulnerability. They had the elemental advantage, but it does not mean they had impenetrable defenses. Perhaps—just perhaps—your Bashawk's ability was something unique, something that simply allowed it to defeat thunder-type beasts."

His words caused a shift in the atmosphere.

It was a logical explanation.

One that, while still suspicious, made more sense than the demonic path.

Elder Fu looked at the other elders, as if daring them to disagree.

None of them spoke.

Instead, they simply nodded in acknowledgment.

Zou Fang clenched his fists but said nothing. His face betrayed nothing. But deep inside—inside his **Spiritual Sea of Consciousness—**Wei Long was watching.

And he was not amused.

Wei Long's brow furrowed as he observed the conversation unfolding. He had been expecting outrage, suspicion, accusations. But instead?

They were trying to rationalize it.

"Why aren't they acknowledging Zou Fang?" Wei Long muttered, his expression darkening.

"Why are they forcing logic where there is none? Are they trying to justify it in their own minds? Are they refusing to accept what is right in front of them?"

For the first time, something strange stirred in his mind.

A bizarre thought.

A ridiculous, impossible thought.

"Is he… a protagonist?"

It was an absurd notion, but the way everything seemed to bend around Zou Fang's existence, the way people refused to see the truth, the way the world itself seemed to protect him from true scrutiny— it was too unnatural.

Too convenient.

Too ridiculous.

But he quickly shook his head.

"No. That's impossible."

Ridiculous ideas. He must have been influenced by too many strange things lately.

Beside him, Red'Ribbon—who had been watching the entire thing unfold—let out a long sigh, shaking his rooster-like head in defeat.

"I don't even know why you're surprised anymore."

And with that, the scene continued.