CHAPTER 401: CHAPTER 395: YOUR BLOND HAIR IS SOMEWHAT GREEN_2

Artemis said with an indifferent expression, "Whether it’s him or not isn’t something we can decide. He’s so powerful that building a good relationship with him will ensure we siblings won’t end up at a disadvantage."

Apollo, still unconvinced, responded, "But... but you didn’t have to seduce him to curry favor!"

Artemis gave Apollo a sideways glance and suddenly remarked, "No wonder the goddess you liked ended up becoming a laurel tree."

Saying that, she turned and walked away.

A flustered Apollo hurried after her: ...

"That was a personal attack, okay."

...

Elsewhere, Hercules, riding his high-speed majestic deer, had returned to the Mycenaean Palace. He casually tossed the bundle onto Oulistros’s desk.

Oulistros gazed at Hercules’s handsome new mount and, though he claimed not to envy it, it was clear he did—but envy was all he could muster.

Nezha descended and asked, "So does that mean I’ve passed the third trial?"

"You’ve passed."

Oulistros nodded affirmatively. Nezha once again felt the spirituality of the heavens converge upon him and, patting the deer’s head, said, "You can go now."

The deer appeared incredulous.

It backed away a few steps, glanced at Nezha for a reaction, then backed away further. Seeing Nezha remain unmoved, it swiftly transformed into a beam of crimson light and vanished within the palace.

Oulistros was somewhat perplexed. Why would Hercules reject such an aesthetically pleasing, impressively striking mount?

"You... You don’t like it?"

Nezha answered nonchalantly, "It’s just a slightly faster burden."

He wasn’t of this world—minimizing ties to it was in his best interest. Too many attachments would only weigh him down.

Nezha opened the bundle to reveal five exquisitely crafted mooncakes.

"You lucked out, kid. These mooncakes were personally made by the Moon God. Eat them, and I guarantee you’ll preserve your youthful looks forever. Now tell me, what’s the next trial?"

Oulistros was speechless. "I don’t exactly have the looks to make eternal youth useful for me, you know?" But he still issued Hera’s next task: capturing the Erymanthos Boar alive.

It seemed Hera held significant animosity toward the Artemis-Apollo duo, as this giant boar was a sacred offering to the Moon God. The setup was clearly an intent to pit Nezha against the Moon God siblings.

Unfortunately for Hera, Artemis wasn’t someone who’d advanced from illegitimacy to her current stature through simplicity or naivety. After witnessing a fraction of Nezha’s strength, she swiftly assumed dialogue dominance over Apollo. Surprisingly, the groups now shared a relatively amicable rapport with no conflicts to speak of.

One might say the idea that marriage dumbs women down wasn’t entirely unfounded. Hera, dignified Divine Queen that she was, had absolutely no grasp of the survival dynamics of those below her. The art of adapting to circumstances, ingratiating oneself with the strong, and showcasing one’s value was fundamental to the existence of the weak.

Hera acknowledged Hercules’s might, but she never considered him comparable to Zeus. In her heart, not a single god matched even one finger of Zeus, including Hercules.

After casually saying, "Don’t forget to come back for roast pork," Nezha departed to track down the legendary monstrous boar atop Mount Erymanthos. On his search, however, he stumbled upon a group of centaurs.

This bunch, despite having the same centaur physique as his culinary companion Chiron, were fundamentally different—these centaurs were outright mountain bandits.

Still, there was an exception among them, such as the one hosting him now: Pholos.

"You’re nothing like the other centaurs out there."

"I’m simply a bit more rational. Truth be told, there’s no significant difference between me and the others. The real point of distinction is the Centaur Sage, Chiron."

Nezha wasn’t surprised to hear Chiron’s name and casually replied while enjoying the food Pholos had prepared, "He’s a close friend of mine, and his cooking far surpasses yours."

Pholos replied with slight exasperation, "We centaurs usually eat raw meat directly. If you don’t mind, you’re welcome to try."

"I think I’ll pass."

Evidently, Pholos was a centaur deeply intrigued by the outside world. Unfortunately, losing the protection of his tribe would make survival exceedingly difficult for him, so he constantly sought information about the external world.

Though Nezha hadn’t traveled extensively, his adventures were thrilling—and he could embellish them quite well.

Listening to these heart-pounding stories, Pholos grew visibly excited and suddenly slapped his forehead, saying, "Ah, my memory! I have a bottle of Divine Wine gifted by Dionysus, meant for Hercules. I’ll fetch it for you now. However, the wine belongs to the centaur tribes collectively—opening it will earn their ire."

Nezha wasn’t remotely intimidated by any centaur tribe’s ire. But if it was meant for him, he wasn’t about to let others have it.

"Then please bring out the wine."

By now, Pholos was utterly starstruck by Nezha and didn’t hesitate at all to retrieve the wine. Soon, he returned from a cellar with a hefty jar of it.

Nezha reached out, directly opening the jar. A potent, aromatic fragrance of wine wafted forth. For someone who’d tasted countless exquisite Jade Brews, alcohol meant little to Nezha. This frenzy-inducing divine power mixed within the wine didn’t affect him in the slightest.

Pouring out two cups, Nezha took one, drained it in a single swig, then commented, "Not bad for passing the time."

Pholos lifted his cup, inhaled the aroma deeply, and then glanced anxiously outside. The wine’s scent was spreading—hoofbeats of approaching centaurs were now audible in the distance.

"Hercules... Maybe you should leave now, while there’s still time."

"What’s there to fear? Cheers."

Beyond the tent, a massive crowd of centaurs drawn by the divine wine was prepared to storm inside, but suddenly a voice calmly called out from within, "Stand down!"

Though the voice wasn’t loud, seemingly a casual whisper beside their ears, it struck the thousands of centaurs like an undeniable command, knocking them unconscious on the spot.

From a hillside far away, Chiron gazed at the tent that had subdued thousands of centaurs with a single command and murmured in amazement, "Hercules, your growth far exceeds anything I imagined."

After watching silently for a while, he refrained from approaching. As a son of the Second Generation Divine King, Chiron had his own pride. Hercules’s path would undoubtedly be fraught with thorns; he couldn’t provide further help without becoming a burden on Hercules’s journey to greater heights.

The next morning.

Having spent the night drinking, Pholos opened the tent and found his fellow tribesmen sprawled across the ground, clutching various weapons, sound asleep. Until then, he’d heard Hercules’s tales of adventure and believed them—but seeing this first-hand drove home the man’s terrifying strength.

Pholos could scarcely believe all this was achieved by the humorous, amiable drinking buddy he’d spent yesterday bonding with.

After a night of hard drinking, Nezha experienced zero physical fatigue. Stepping out of the tent, he yawned casually and remarked, "Your tribesmen sure have strong, youthful bodies—fell asleep right away."

Pholos laughed awkwardly, "We centaurs have always been physically robust."

Nezha burst into laughter; this old centaur sure was entertaining.

After bidding Pholos farewell, Nezha continued his journey to track down the colossal wild boar. The task truly posed no challenge for him; how could a boar’s strength possibly surpass his own?

Three more days passed as he located the boar, subdued it, and finally stashed it away in his sleeve in three steps. It was as routine as putting an elephant into a refrigerator.

Returning to Mycenae that evening, Nezha and Oulistros promptly feasted on roast pork. Oulistros hesitated as he stared at the large heap of pig intestines before him.

"Hey, Hercules... Is this really edible?"

Nezha munched on a pork bone and nodded affirmatively.

"Then why aren’t you eating it?"

"Because I don’t like it."

Seeing Oulistros still hesitate, Nezha reassured him, "Relax—surely your servants wouldn’t dare serve you pig poop, right?"

Oulistros was aware his servants wouldn’t dare, but the thought still made him uneasy. After hesitating for ages, he finally took a bite, realizing it wasn’t nearly as disgusting as expected—surprisingly decent, in fact.