Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 144: Two Sides of the Story

What followed felt all too familiar.

The mountain was angry.

Once again, the villagers at the foot of the mountain were slaughtered. Mortal karma, which should have withered like autumn leaves, was violently severed yet again.

But this time, the victims weren’t “contaminated” into trees. Instead, a vast forest rose from beneath the mud. The dead became withered trunks. The soldiers didn’t manage to retreat in time and were swept up in the same “harvest” as before, their corpses swaying from the branches.

Rumbling echoed from the mountains near the village, and countless boulders tumbled down. Shadows moved across the slopes. Fang Xiu stared intently. In the end, all was revealed—

The phantom pouring from the mountain was very familiar. It looked identical to Bai Shuangying’s true form.

But larger. More terrifying. It glided effortlessly between rock and tree, sometimes vanishing underground. At a glance, it resembled a dragon, though its forms constantly shifted. Even a brief look made the brain buzz and ring.

Yet Fang Xiu only found it beautiful.

His ghost was never some “divine emissary” or “detached witness”. Bai Shuangying truly was the “Great God of Calamity” spoken of in whispers.

But what kind of “Great God of Calamity” was this?

Bai Shuangying was still the same gullible Bai Shuangying. There had never been a grand conspiracy. The “Spirit of the Mountains” simply possessed the most unfiltered disposition—descending to the mortal world for trivial matters, shutting himself away over trivial matters, getting angry over trivial matters.

Then letting time smooth everything out.

But people don’t like intentions that simple. So long as suffering and human hearts exist, everything can be packaged into tales of justice and evil.

…Even he hadn’t realized this at first.

It was just as people say: man proposes, Heaven disposes*.

*(人算不如天算) It’s a saying meaning that sometimes, despite your best efforts, things will not go as plan and it’s out of your control (AKA let nature run its course).

Fang Xiu moved the hand on his chest to his lips, pressing a kiss that sealed off the flesh and blood. Every cell in his body tingled and melted, his limbs so numb he could barely stand.

“So it was you all along.”

He murmured, “After walking so far, it turns out you’re my destination.”

“That’s wonderful.”

…His destination?

A’Shou looked at Fang Xiu in confusion. She didn’t understand what he meant. But judging by the red flush on his cheeks and ears, maybe there was still hope.

To be honest, A’Shou’s ghost body nearly cracked in two—no matter how you looked at it, the Spirit of the Mountains was exactly like the out-of-control Bai Shuangying!

A’Shou couldn’t remember “who” was sealed under the Disaster Relief Tower, but she certainly understood the weight of something tied to “a corner of Heaven’s Will”.

She also understood how deeply Fang Xiu favored his seductive ghost—no, favored this corner of Heaven’s Will. There was once a story of an emperor lighting war beacons to amuse a beauty*. With how absurd Fang Xiu was, she fully believed he’d mess with the Underworld just for Bai Shuangying.

*Clarity: She’s referring to King You of Zhou.

It was unbelievable. In all her years of being dead, A’Shou had never seen anything so absurd. Yet, as a general who once galloped through battlefields, she forced herself to remain calm.

From the look of things, the seal on the Disaster Relief Tower loosening had to be connected to the increased activities of the Guishan Sect.

That was a separate matter. For now, she had to see it through to the end.

Not far away, Zhuang Feng was still smiling.

He gazed affectionately toward the mountains beneath the night sky. A breeze lifted the edge of his robes, revealing countless talismans hidden underneath.

Zhuang Feng relied on those to barely stave off the corruption, but even so, his legs wouldn’t stop walking toward the forest. He raised a hand and released a signal flare.

The cultivators and soldiers at the foot of the mountain surged forward again, swallowed up like heads bobbing in a flood.

There was only one difference from the previous story: this time, they didn’t even pretend to rescue the disaster victims. They simply shouted “Return” charging headlong into death without looking back.

As hundreds of cultivators attacked, the mountain finally caught fire. The blaze spread through the cursed trees made from the villagers, then into the dry grass covering the mountainside.

The “Spirit of the Mountains” was momentarily distracted. The corruption weakened slightly. With waves of cannon fodder ahead, Zhuang Feng was able to move upstream with dignity.

At the edge of the darkness, he turned and looked deeply at the raging mountains behind him.

The land was once again scorched to ash, with nothing left but death and wildfire.

Only a ruined shrine still stood, fused with the remains of the village.

“I’m going to report that bastard!”

Beside Fang Xiu, the black Taoist was furious. “I already know exactly what he’s going to say once he gets back. That bastard Zhuang Guiqu has always—”

“He’ll say Zhuang Guiqu personally led the rescue; that the fire was lit at the victims’ request, to punish the God of Calamity,” Fang Xiu said softly. “Then the God of Calamity grew enraged and attacked the innocent. Zhuang Guiqu cast spells to suppress it, and Zhuang Feng led the people in fierce resistance. Cultivators and soldiers fought valiantly. Countless elite forces gathered to help, all just to stop an enraged god.”

“In the end, the mortals prevailed. The God of Calamity didn’t rampage across the world. But thousands of brave souls died, leaving only the Guishan Sect behind…”

“…This could be regarded as a tragic victory. The Sect suppressed the God of Calamity.”

Just like the first “script” they experienced.

The objective result existed. The flaws in the process were glaring, but few would dig into the details.

Fang Xiu extended a hand, feeling the damp air.

Black characters swirled in the wind. Strange scraping sounds followed. He was beginning to form a guess about the nature of the Immortal Encounter E.

The black Taoist hugged the surviving child, still angry. “And to think I believed all that nonsense about slaying demons across the land. Not one of those bastards saved a single soul!”

“Who knows what they’re really planning, seeking a corner of Heaven’s Will…”

“I have to go,” Fang Xiu interrupted.

The Taoist looked at him in confusion.

“I must reach the final story,” Fang Xiu said solemnly. “He showed me his truth. Of course I must give him a proper answer.”

He took out two pastries and handed them to the bewildered Taoist.

The Taoist took them automatically, biting one out of habit. His eyes flew open, the confusion in them only deepening. He stuffed the other into the terrified child’s hands, then looked back at Fang Xiu. “Master…”

Fang Xiu met his gaze and wavered for a moment. He saw the Taoist lying at the bottom of a muddy pit, straining to hold the crying child above the sludge before being buried.

If he hadn’t intervened, that probably would’ve been the “real” version of the story.

Some people distort stories for selfish gain. Others rewrite them to avoid regret. But in the end, a story is still just a story.

He was simply saying goodbye to someone’s regret.

“I met your father. He was eating pastries while telling us your story. He was…”

[He was waiting in the forbidden place, ready to avenge you…]

Fang Xiu opened his mouth, spitting out strings of black characters. He caught them as they fell, rough scraping sounds following each word.

…It was like flipping pages in a book.

The world lit up in an instant.

The Taoist holding the pastries transformed into an old man with a beard. He stood in the Guishan Sect’s camp, one hand holding sweet soup, the other clutching pastries, his voice full of righteous anger.

“…Ever since that disaster, I haven’t seen my son again! It’s thanks to Master Zhuang who brought back word, or I’d still be in the dark!”

His cloudy eyes fixed on Fang Xiu, as if Fang Xiu had never left.

After ranting, the old man paused. “Hey, where’s that pretty boy in white?”

“That’s the ghost I raised. I absorbed him into my body,” Fang Xiu said with a perfect smile.

“Not bad,” the old man chuckled, mollified by the pastry. “Well, it’s getting late. Let’s head back and rest up. Tomorrow we’re sealing that damn God of Calamity!”

Fang Xiu patted Bai Shuangying, curled up in his belly, and hummed softly.

……

This can’t go on.

I can’t just follow this story. I need to take control again.

“Bai Shuangying” should be the same as me. So why does he reject me?

I simply sensed my own aura, tried to reclaim my scattered power. Why was I trapped?

I am the Great God of Calamity. Everyone calls me the Great God of Calamity.

That power is clearly mine. Everyone says it is.

I don’t understand. Why? Why?

…This doesn’t match the records.

Bai Shuangying, curled up in Fang Xiu’s flesh, watched the thrashing thoughts with cold detachment.

This entity affected him most, so he decided to seal it within himself in exchange. At least for now, it couldn’t lash out at Fang Xiu freely.

He was now certain this thing was a product of the Immortal Encounter E—it was good at sensing others’ desires, but it wasn’t very smart. Like the “programs” Fang Xiu once described.

Faced with it, Bai Shuangying couldn’t help but feel intellectually superior.

And it turned out that even under limited options, his choice had been right.

Fang Xiu wasn’t afraid. His body burned hotter, heart thudding louder, rapid breaths compressing Bai Shuangying’s form.

Fang Xiu reacted just like when they kissed; Bai Shuangying could feel his excitement and joy from within.

Trusting Fang Xiu felt even better than feeding on kisses. How strange.

He had given his truth to Fang Xiu. What surprise would Fang Xiu give in return?

…Bai Shuangying stroked the warm, smooth organs around him, quietly listening to the sounds outside.

He heard the old man’s voice. Fang Xiu had returned to the forbidden place. He heard the rustling of tent fabric. Fang Xiu and A’Shou had gone back to rest.

Then he heard A’Shou’s raspy voice. “Do you know what a corner of Heaven’s Will represents?”

“No idea. Sounds impressive,” Fang Xiu replied, his voice rumbling through flowing blood.

“Every time I tried to look into what the Disaster Relief Tower was suppressing, every time I read the old records, I couldn’t focus. A thousand years later, I thought maybe I was just getting old.”

A’Shou laughed bitterly. “If it’s the pollution from a corner of Heaven’s Will, I guess that makes sense… To be honest, even now, I still can’t recall the God of Calamity’s true name.”

Fang Xiu didn’t answer. He instinctively rubbed his stomach. Bai Shuangying felt the vibration and leaned in through the flesh.

His human’s movements were soft and comforting. That tender caress cleared his mind, while the frustrated thoughts of the “Immortal Encounter E” grew ever weaker.

A’Shou pressed on persistently. “Do you understand the nature of Heaven’s Will?”

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>