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 || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

Chapter 143: A Corner of Heaven’s Will

They seemed to have returned to the previous story the mudslide was still a mudslide, Zhuang Feng was still Zhuang Feng, and the elites were still the same elites.

Only this time, there was no tent belonging to Zhuang Guiqu, and no so-called “Heaven-Breaking Divine Art”.

The villagers were still fumbling about in the aftermath of the disaster, trying to save themselves. No one even considered blaming the “Great God of Calamity” for what had happened.

Makes sense, Fang Xiu thought to himself.

This village had experienced floods over the past century. The consequences of a few foolish wishes here and there were well-known to the locals. Would they really buy into the idea that this disaster was caused by the “Great God of Calamity”?

…Looking deeper, could just a few hundred cultivators cursing and setting fires really be enough to summon the “Great God of Calamity”?

…Could the “Great God of Calamity”, simply throwing a tantrum in one corner of Xushan, really have forced the immortals to hand over the “Heaven-Breaking Divine Art” to Zhuang Guiqu?

…With the borders in turmoil, would the imperial court really station troops near this desolate mountain village, ready to assist at a moment’s notice?

Something was off. Thinking it through in reverse, there were countless details in that “script” that didn’t add up.

Fang Xiu appeared without hesitation and strode up to the black Taoist. “What are you doing?”

With a flick of his sleeve, a crimson robe blocked between them.

The sudden appearance of a stranger dressed in red with heterochromatic eyes caused the soldier tugging at the Taoist to instinctively take a half-step back.

The Taoist reacted quickly, darting behind Fang Xiu without hesitation.

“Master, save me! Please!”

“What’s going on?” Fang Xiu asked bluntly, standing between them.

Clutching the still-wailing child, the Taoist immediately launched into his accusation.

“They all say this place was destroyed by the Great God of Calamity. I’ve been running around for years. Don’t I know better than anyone? This was a natural disaster! But that bastard surnamed Zhuang tricked us into coming here!”

“I just dug out this child’s parents. Surname Zhuang’s lackeys said it was a hassle and killed them on the spot! They even sealed off the road down the mountain during the night. They’re clearly up to no good!”

He cursed loudly, spittle flying onto Fang Xiu’s neck.

Fang Xiu turned to look at the soldier—or rather, one of Zhuang Feng’s “personal guards”. The man remained expressionless, but seeing Fang Xiu quietly listening to the Taoist’s complaint, his eyes took on a mocking gleam.

“Just some useless scum, now suddenly bold. The God of Calamity should be purged. To die here is to return one’s soul to the mountains and earn merit for eternity.”

He widened his eyes and bared his teeth in a grin. “I carry a talisman personally bestowed by Master Zhuang. Your pathetic magic— Ow!”

Fang Xiu, still dressed as a proper “cultivator” in red robes and with heterochromatic eyes, calmly pulled out a can of Wangzai and hurled it at the soldier’s nose.

The whole action was incredibly plain, with no magic involved at all. There was only just a crisp crack.

The Taoist: “…”

It was clear he had to regulate his breathing to keep from laughing aloud.

Before the soldier could react, Fang Xiu grabbed the Taoist’s robes again and dragged him toward the shadows. A’Shou moved to cover them. Using the concealment ring Bai Shuangying had gifted him, the group quickly escaped the scene.

Just like last time, they hid beside the shrine.

The shrine had been destroyed by the mudslide. The white porcelain statue was exposed, splashed with mud. A boulder had cracked its head, leaving a large, visible fissure.

But unlike the last time, when fervor filled the air, this time no one paid the statue any mind.

Fang Xiu glanced over the broken idol and suddenly felt a deep unease. If Zhuang Feng and his soldiers hadn’t come, the villagers probably wouldn’t have rebuilt this “ominous” shrine after the mudslide.

After the floods a century ago, people should have parted ways peacefully.

This mudslide was meant to be a natural farewell.

However…

The Taoist carefully covered the child’s mouth to keep him quiet. The soldier, unconcerned with the three who escaped, quickly redirected his attention to nearby survivors.

He dragged those still able to move from the mud and hauled them toward the firelight—

There lay a massive earthen pit, already filled with many survivors. The mudslide had left the soil soft and wet; those who fell into the pit sank like they were in a swamp and had little chance of climbing out.

Beside the pit stood an eerie altar and incense burner, thick with burning incense.

Zhuang Feng approached with sword in hand. This time, instead of raising the flaming blade to the sky, he stabbed it into the mud.

The Taoist cursed softly under his breath. “What if we hand the kid to that girl, and we go cause a scene? Save who we can!”

Fang Xiu looked at the flames in the distance and shook his head. These were Bai Shuangying’s stories. He couldn’t save the dead from a thousand years ago.

Still, he softened his words slightly.

“My strength is limited. I have the will, but not the means.”

The Taoist didn’t understand. “But you still saved me.”

Hearing that, even A’Shou turned her head toward Fang Xiu. But he continued staring into the distance, ignoring their gazes.

“…Maybe I just like doing unnecessary things before the end arrives.”

He exhaled softly, waiting for some strange intrusive thought to appear.

Strangely enough, this time everything was quiet. Those tempting thoughts had been swallowed along with Bai Shuangying’s transformation.

No narration. No interference.

Fang Xiu watched as the soldiers controlled the survivors and cultivators, throwing them into the muddy pit.

From dusk till dawn, Zhuang Feng’s men worked tirelessly, filling the pit until it overflowed.

The Taoist’s righteous fury was thoroughly extinguished. He was now trembling with fear.

“Master, once they finish, you should take the child and get down the mountain.”

“What about you?” Fang Xiu asked.

The Taoist gave a bitter smile.

“I want to see this through, record these vile deeds, and get the word out. Otherwise, when that bastard Zhuang Feng returns to the capital, who knows what lies he’ll spread?”

At the end, he nearly lost his voice.

Fang Xiu silently looked at him.

“I want to see the end too,” he finally said. “You could try to escape early, but Zhuang Feng has sealed the way. He’ll be prepared.”

He had already seen this tragedy unfold once before, a century ago.

The Taoist paused, showing a trace of hesitation. In the end, he clutched the child tightly and nodded at Fang Xiu.

“I understand. Thank you, Master.”

He didn’t flee. Instead, he crouched quietly beside Fang Xiu, this “heaven-sent master”, racking his brain for a way to preserve the memory of a life already ended.

And over at the pit, the slaughter continued.

As Zhuang Feng chanted his incantations, thick muddy water slowly filled the giant pit. Survivors thrashed as they were submerged, becoming like stones at the riverbed.

Fang Xiu watched as the magic commanded the mud to flood the pit, burying hundreds alive. The whole process was seamless and fluid.

As soon as the pit was filled, Zhuang Feng used his sword like a pen to etch lines atop the mud. The flames hardened the sludge, making every stroke razor-sharp.

Seeing the array take shape, A’Shou couldn’t help but curse aloud.

“Completely evil!”

“What kind of spell is that?” Fang Xiu asked, unfamiliar with it.

“A distorted version of the Four Symbols Spirit-Viewing Array. The original is an immortal technique used to observe mortal fate. These bastards modified it—using humans related by karma as living sacrifices to measure the strength of the ‘Great God of Calamity’!”

A’Shou’s face was full of anger.

“What do they think mortals are?”

The Taoist gasped, shrinking back with the child.

Fang Xiu gave a short reply but said little more.

By now, it was clear that the “Great God of Calamity” was closely linked to Bai Shuangying.

Over the century, mountain gods and spirits had received mixed reputations.

But the strength of this “Great God of Calamity” still lacked a clear benchmark. All Fang Xiu knew was that his ghost lived in Xushan and had been sealed away.

The elderly immortal who came to warn Bai Shuangying had shown particular respect, but that was only circumstantial evidence.

Other possibilities existed, of course. Maybe his ghost was only the God of Calamity’s emissary. Maybe just a witness.

But these odd theories could not override the facts pressing closer.

…Only one last piece of the puzzle was missing.

Fang Xiu’s mouth was dry, his body drenched in sweat, his heart pounding against his ribs.

Ever since entering the Immortal Encounter Ritual, his mind had been running nonstop. Now, it was on the verge of shutting down.

All those tightrope-like schemes and surprise gifts he had planned for Bai Shuangying were now jumbled together, exploding into a ridiculous mess of fireworks.

The plan he had spent more than ten years crafting had turned into scattered playing cards, shuffled by fate and now about to land.

He subconsciously placed his hands on his chest and abdomen. Bai Shuangying had grown quiet inside him, as if waiting for something as well.

In the damp night air, the magical patterns on the mud began glowing red, shining with piercing light.

That light twisted across the ruins, converging on the center of the former pit.

When the light faded, a warped word appeared in the middle.

It blended the characters for “god” and “evil”, its strokes tangled and shifting constantly, making the viewer dizzy. Zhuang Feng stared at the giant symbol, larger than a human head, and his smile deepened.

The Taoist had never seen such advanced magic. He let out a confused “huh.”

A’Shou, however, turned pale and froze in place.

Fang Xiu whipped his head toward her. For the first time, he saw despair on her face.

“How can this be?” A’Shou clutched her head and muttered. “No, no, wait. If it’s like this… it actually explains everything. That’s why the immortals acted. That’s why they built the Tower…”

“Underneath the Disaster Relief Tower—what it’s been suppressing all along…”

“Master, I finally found it! It really is a corner of Heaven’s Will, a corner of Heaven’s Will!”

“They say Heaven and Earth have divine order. No god or ghost can see it. Yet this spirit of the ten thousand mountains has entered the world!”

His voice brimmed with manic joy, as if he had just passed the imperial exam.

“A Corner of Heaven’s Will has entered the mortal realm. Dragging down immortals may not be far behind!”

“This is destiny. This is fate. The Guishan Sect… has succeeded!”

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

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

Chapter 142: Unpredictable

In ancient times, when the heavens were high and the land vast, information always arrived a beat too late.

The news of the shrine creating miracles reached the county magistrate and continued to travel upward. The emperor, making a rare inspection, happened to arrive during a flood.

The accompanying officials instantly broke out in cold sweat. They immediately blamed the chaotic villagers, claiming their offense had provoked divine punishment. After all, the area had seen more than a decade of favorable weather, and all the wishes made had come true. This was no mere rumor.

The emperor looked like a strong man and didn’t seem too concerned. He personally offered incense at the shrine and then ordered his several hundred attendants down to the mountain’s base.

These hundreds had been transported by wooden carts—robust men, each wearing shackles, with features noticeably different from the villagers’. They knelt in rows at the foot of the mountain, hatred burning in their eyes.

A’Shou was the first to react. “These are barbarians from the borderlands. They are going to perform a human sacrifice.”

After a brief calculation, she added, “This man must be the fourth-to-last emperor of the Kui Dynasty. At that time, a small border kingdom rebelled, and he decided to send troops to suppress them.”

But the later years of the Kui Dynasty were chaotic. That single campaign dragged on for more than a hundred years. Even by the fall of the dynasty, the conflict hadn’t ended. The borders continued to be gradually eroded.

Fang Xiu wasn’t surprised. This shrine had been performing miracles for years, and the emperor only now showed up. Clearly, something had gone wrong elsewhere, forcing him to seek an “auspicious sign”.

The weather that day was remarkably fine with not a cloud in the sky.

At the foot of the mountains, the executioners raised their blades and beheaded one after another. Blood flowed in torrents. The herbal scent on the wind was overwhelmed by the stench of iron. Hot blood seeped into the soil as the bodies toppled in neat rows.

Elderly Daoists in special robes came and went, sticking burning incense into the bloodied earth.

What had started as crude porcelain figurines had become golden statues. Now the sacrifices were living humans.

Amid this carnage, the emperor personally recited the prayer, asking god to bless the Kui Dynasty with prosperity and military victory. When the ceremony ended, there were cheers coming from all sides.

Even Fang Xiu, accustomed to bloodshed and horror, couldn’t help but frown at this crude ritual. In his head, Bai Shuangying was clearly just as displeased.

[So many dead. It’s filthy and noisy.]

[This request is even more troublesome than the last. Why dirty my land and still expect favors in return?]

But at this point, his thinking remained simple.

[Humans demand too much. This time I will reject them directly. That should save trouble.]

The corpses on the ground began to twitch and rise. They broke the incense sticks before them, then spread their limbs and crawled like insects. Severed heads still dripping blood were stuck to their backs. 

In the pool of blood, their limbs grew thin and sharp, and with heads firmly affixed, they resembled spiders missing their legs. Hundreds of grotesque corpses began crawling away from the altar along the path they came.

The cheers fell silent in an instant. Cultivators rushed to shield the emperor, and commoners fled in panic. The emperor, to his credit, remained relatively calm. He drew his sword, pointed at Xushan, and shouted, “Monster!”

What followed was chaos. The cultivators nearly fought each other on the spot. Some claimed this was an ominous sign and urged the emperor to kill all witnesses to prevent leaks. Others insisted it was merely a demonic disturbance and that the emperor, being Heaven’s chosen, had not been harmed.

Some even praised it loudly, calling it an auspicious omen—the heavens had judged the barbarians harshly, transforming them into vermin unworthy of peace, even in death.

Amid the confusion, a plump woman quietly picked up a toddler who couldn’t yet speak. Her back basket was filled to the brim as she crept toward the mountain mist.

Clumsily, she crossed jagged rocks and rushing streams, stumbling into the deep mountains. But more than ten years had passed. People were now used to worshipping at the mountain’s base. No matter how hard she searched, she couldn’t find the old stone used for sacrifice.

So she found a clearing and placed her offerings there—sweet fruit, sugar cakes, and a familiar small porcelain figure. The village had become much wealthier; this time, the offerings were richer.

She carefully brushed grass clippings from her clothes, then solemnly knelt. The child beside her knelt clumsily as well.

“This is my fourth child. If not for Your help years ago, I wouldn’t be alive today.”

The girl from before, now a grown woman, bowed her head and prayed, murmuring, “Swapping a porcelain figurine for a life was never fair. If God had truly grown tired of humans, it wouldn’t have helped me in the first place.”

[……]

“For over ten years, You have brought us peace. Now everyone has meat to eat and clothes to wear. The recent flood was just a natural disaster, but people blame You instead of the Thunder God and Mother Lightning. That’s unfair.”

“I don’t know whether You are angry or meditating. I just hope You are safe and well. Whether we meet again or part ways, thank you for all you’ve done over the years. Thank you.”

She kept talking softly, palms pressed together in sincere prayer. When she opened her eyes occasionally, there was no hatred in them, only resignation and quiet sadness.

It felt like saying goodbye to an old friend.

At last, a beautiful hand emerged from the earth and took the porcelain figurine.

As it passed the child, it hesitated, then took a sugar cake and gave it to the curious child.

The child, unafraid, laughed and happily took a bite.

“You really are a God.”

The woman smiled, eyes glistening.

She watched the hand vanish, then stood with a sigh of relief, holding the child’s hand as they walked down the mountain.

…This should have been a proper farewell, Fang Xiu thought.

But when the woman reached the village, the emperor’s cultivators had made their decision.

The world was unstable, war was on the horizon, and this omen was bad. The rumor could hurt the court. Since the village had already suffered, it was best to eliminate it entirely.

The woman died before the child finished his sugar cake. He clutched the treat in confusion, watching as the soldier’s blade descended.

In the bloodied blade’s reflection, he saw Xushan.

The emperor’s elite troops were brutally efficient. From the elderly to infants, the entire village was wiped out in less than a day.

The villagers’ bodies were buried in a remote area at the mountain’s base. A once-thriving village became desolate overnight.

Newly made tools were still in their courtyards. A coffin-in-progress lay in the carpenter’s home.

They hadn’t even finished burying the flood victims before they, too, perished.

Officials gave a polished statement to the public—the emperor had prayed in person, and the Immortal had responded with a divine omen. The villagers had all become immortals, preparing to join the war effort.

[Now it’s quiet. Even if people come again, I can simply ignore them.]

[…]

[But I took the figurine. I didn’t give that child a proper farewell.]

…After that, the wishes made in the shrine have changed.

The tale of the divine omen spread quickly, drawing people to the now-empty village. They still prayed at the shrine, and, shockingly, “god” answered again.

Pray for healing, and you might get better—only to fall fatally ill later. Pray to never be separated, and the next day, both lovers would turn into hairless bird-creatures, cuddling until they froze to death in the winter.

Those who prayed for wealth tripped and cracked their skulls on expensive jade. Those seeking longevity drowned in ice-cold water, frozen for eternity beneath blocks that would never melt.

The wishes were either ignored or granted in twisted ways, with the wisher’s life as the price.

Fewer and fewer dared to pray. The shrine decayed and became increasingly ominous. But since it still “worked”, no one dared tear it down.

Strangely, though the visitors dwindled, there were always a few desperate enough to try their luck.

So the village, once called a place blessed by the gods, became known as a land of unpredictability*.

*This is the title of the chapter (神鬼莫测). It is an idiom referring to being so unpredictable that even the ghosts and gods can’t foresee it, which application is quite apt in the literal sense, since these wishes are, ironically, granted by a “god” and “ghost”.

…People say a mountain god lived there, kindhearted and wise.

…People say a mountain god lived there, granting good harvests and longevity.

…People say a mountain god lived there, and He turns the villagers into immortals, led to victories on the border, and those in the village had ascended to heaven.

…People say a mountain ghost lived there, full of wicked schemes.

…People say a mountain ghost lived there, taking lives without mercy after fulfilling their wish.

…People say a mountain ghost lived there, watching the world, waiting for disaster to descend upon the Dynasty, bringing about chaos and suffering.

Whether god or ghost, it depended on if the years were prosperous or hard. People wrote what they wanted to believe.

But atop the highest peak of Xushan, rings of porcelain figures remained clean and white, gleaming in the sunlight.

Fang Xiu couldn’t help rubbing his forehead.

With what he knew of Bai Shuangying, his ghost was simply sulking. It was just, ghosts have a lifespan much too long, and their tantrums lasted just as long.

Bai Shuangying probably didn’t care about the woman’s death, but he couldn’t forget the final figurine he received, the one for which he had failed to keep his promise.

He didn’t want a forced parting by death. He wanted a “good ending” where both sides knew and agreed it was time to part.

……

A hundred years passed in the blink of an eye. Constant warfare pushed the Kui Dynasty to the brink.

The borders were crumbling. Rebellions broke out across the land. Monsters and ghosts appeared more frequently. The emperor was young and powerless to control anything.

By comparison, Xushan’s surroundings remained relatively calm. But as the world descended into chaos, even fewer people came to make wishes.

People struggled to survive, let alone hope for blessings. No one would risk a journey to a cursed village.

[At last, I will have peace. It took a little longer than expected.]

[A century of chaos begins. I can finally sleep again. Life and death are just like this. I’ve seen enough.]

[From now on, I don’t want to deal with humans again.]

However—

A sharp cry pierced Fang Xiu’s ears. His feet were soaked in mud, the air reeking of corpses. In the distance, the sound of a funeral horn drifted, eerie and broken, enough to raise goosebumps.

…Huh?

The scene before him felt familiar, but something was subtly different.

“Why did they kill my parents!”

At Fang Xiu’s feet, a half-buried child screamed, “We escaped already… wuwu…”

Two arms lifted the crying child.

The black Taoist who should have died reappeared. This time, he didn’t help the soldiers with disaster relief but stood squarely in their way.

“This is a sin,” he said, eyes fixed on them. “This is not what we agreed upon.”

“There is no Great God of Calamity here!”

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

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

Chapter 141: A Ripple

The hand ignored her completely and focused on pointing the way.

When the little girl approached, it immediately backed away a few steps, continuing to gesture in a specific direction. The girl reacted quickly, sniffled, hurriedly packed the items in her basket, and jogged to follow.

Fang Xiu and A’Shou followed distantly behind. They crossed dense forests and streams, tracking the girl’s footprints through thick mountain mist. After half a day, they finally saw a village.

The little girl wept and laughed at once. But when she turned to look for the hand, it had vanished without a trace, as if it had never existed.

So she finished the final stretch alone, running toward the familiar village.

By all accounts, it seemed like a trivial supernatural tale.

[Unfortunately, this was not the end.]

Just as Fang Xiu was about to look for another breakthrough, a wave of dizziness hit him.

The little girl running toward the village disappeared, replaced by a middle-aged man. He carried wild fruits and mushrooms in his left hand, a bundle in his right, walking up the mountain path the girl had used to descend.

He passed through mountain fog, crossed the same stream and forest, and arrived at the stone where the girl had offered her tribute. He placed the offerings neatly, then positioned a small porcelain figurine in the center.

It was exactly like the one the girl had left.

“Thank you, immortal, for saving my daughter.”

The man bowed again and again, his voice sincere. “Our chicken ran off into the mountain and got lost. My daughter was sick and had no eggs to eat. I figured she wouldn’t make it… Please, have mercy and help me find those chickens… Please, save her life.”

“Please, I beg you—”

[That little object from last time was quite fun. I’ve placed it on the highest mountaintop.]

[This human makes interesting things and brought new ones too. There’s no harm in helping him out.]

These pure thoughts drifted through Fang Xiu’s mind.

A’Shou seemed unaware, but when she saw the hand reappear, she took a worried breath.

The hand now looked more human. Its skin gave off a soft white glow, and its fingers were long and elegant.

It cheerfully grabbed the little figurine, then pointed in a direction just as it had done before. The villager nearly fell over when he saw the hand but managed to remain standing.

He didn’t even dare pick up the fruit and mushrooms, stiffly following behind. Within half an hour, he found the chickens wandering in the woods.

Just like before, the hand held the figurine tightly, then vanished like smoke. The man stared in shock at the returned chickens, a blush slowly spreading across his face.

“There really is a god!” he shouted with joy, completely elated.

“This is going to be a problem.” A’Shou pinched her brow.

Sure enough, more and more villagers began climbing the mountain.

At the time, the Kui Dynasty was enjoying peace, and the people lived relatively stable lives. The villagers began making wishes one after another. Wild fruits, mushrooms, and porcelain figurines became the standard offerings. Some even decorated the figurines to show sincerity.

But the wishes were humble—mostly trivial things like lost livestock, untreated illnesses, or misplaced belongings. Even the bolder villagers simply offered nice figurines and asked if the mountain held any jade they could sell.

The thoughts behind the hand’s actions remained simple.

It happened to be bored, and the tasks were easy.

Some lost livestock? Just point the way. No medicine? Offer useful herbs. Something misplaced? Provide a clue. These were minute threads of karma, barely worth mentioning. The figurines were becoming dull, but compared to a hundred years of dreamless slumber, this kind of interaction was entertaining.

When their wishes came true, the villagers grew excited.

People from five or six surrounding villages gathered and decided to build a shrine at the mountain’s base to “invite God”. The family of the girl who first got lost was believed to have “divine fate” and was given the honor of sculpting the statue.

But the villagers were simple folk. They couldn’t imagine anything lavish. They merely enlarged the original figurine and copied it as best they could.

The “shrine” resembled an ordinary house without even a name plaque. Inside, porcelain statues of all sizes were arranged, with incense burning constantly on the offering table.

Fang Xiu quietly observed all of this, lightly stroking his stomach where Bai Shuangying stirred within him.

“It’s about time.” Seeing more villagers making wishes, A’Shou sighed softly. “They’ve gotten too close. Mortal ties are forming. A fake shrine like Weishan is one thing, but if a real spirit enters the shrine, cultivators will come to investigate.”

But instead of cultivators, a true immortal arrived.

Late at night, a beam of golden light fell from the sky. An immortal elder descended, with kind eyes, long white beard, and flowing robes that fluttered without wind.

He landed atop the highest peak of the Xushan range. Snow blanketed the ground, and before him were neatly arranged porcelain figurines.

Each figurine had been carefully cleaned of snow, glowing with soft, radiant white. They stood silently in the night, overlooking the entire mountain range.

The elder looked at them for a long time, his expression subtly sorrowful.

He bowed deeply toward the mountaintop.

“I implore you to reconsider. Please do not respond to the shrine anymore,” he said, voice dry and hoarse.

No answer came, only the wind brushing over the porcelain.

“We immortals are mortals who ascended to immortality. We know human nature. But you, born of heaven and earth, are above it all. If you insist on meddling in the mundane, suffering will follow…”

Still there was no reply. The elder sighed again and bowed once more.

“Human affairs are complex, and hearts are fickle. Mortals may seem powerless, but we depend on their devotion. If you sever ties with them, both Heaven and the Underworld will struggle.”

Even after those final words, only the cold wind answered him. Not even a fingertip emerged in reply.

A’Shou was stunned.

To ghost immortals like her, immortals were supposed to be a tier above. She had never seen one act so politely, offering only verbal persuasion to an evil spirit. The treatment was absurdly respectful. She couldn’t think of anything to compare it to.

But Bai Shuangying was clearly summoned by the Underworld. He had to be an evil spirit—like fishing by the sea, one might catch small fish, shrimp, even deep-sea creatures, but catching a bird would be absurd.

She couldn’t understand why a righteous immortal would speak so gently to an evil spirit.

No matter how she strained her memory, she couldn’t recall any notorious evil spirit residing in Xushan. Her mind felt shrouded in mist, like a veil had been drawn over it.

At the same time, Fang Xiu listened to the cold wind—

[Those humans were crying so bitterly, it was hard to ignore. It’s just helping find things, nothing serious.]

The thoughts murmured on, never acknowledging the immortal as anything important, as if he were just an old deer passing by.

[Now that they’re praying at the base of the mountain, I have to go to them. The figurines are pretty, but there are too many. It’s getting dull.]

[…Still, humans don’t live long. A few more years won’t hurt.]

The thought moved smoothly and lightly, like a beast rolling lazily before returning to sleep. Fang Xiu understood easily—

Human affairs were too petty, and the offerings no longer exciting. But the shrine was new, and people were still thrilled. The owner of these thoughts… Bai Shuangying…had no desire to cut off contact just yet.

Mortals died quickly. Once this generation passed, there’d be no more interference from the heavens. Having decided that, Bai Shuangying saw no need to respond further.

Unfortunately, things didn’t go as he’d hoped.

……

In the blink of an eye, time shifted. More than a decade passed. The generation hadn’t yet died out, but the shrine had already changed.

Seeing how effective the shrine was, people stopped asking for small things. They began to request bountiful harvests and long lives.

The shrine brought prosperity, and the porcelain offerings were replaced by golden statues. The villagers believed this was the sincerest way to worship.

[My Xushan has never lacked gold.]

[Porcelain is born of clay and far more precious than gold. Mortals truly lack discernment.] 

The thoughts muttered in Fang Xiu’s mind. [I really don’t like those golden statues.]

Despite the complaints, Bai Shuangying still responded to the people.

But “bountiful harvests” required him to manipulate wind and rain, and “long life” meant interfering with life and death.

Such things involved meddling with heavenly karma. Much harder than finding a lost item. And in return, all he got was cheap gold. Bai Shuangying found it dull—like paying a copper coin to have someone labor for a day. Who would agree to that?

So he began to slack off. If the task was too much trouble, he simply lay around in the mountains, ignoring the golden offerings altogether.

If he didn’t accept them, he had no obligation to fulfill the prayers. A fair trade, nothing more.

He never expected mortals to get angry.

One day, after sleeping in the mountains for a week, he woke to torrential rain. The fields were flooded, and seven or eight people had drowned.

After more than a decade of perfect weather, the villagers erupted with rage. Those who lost crops cursed at the fields. Those who lost loved ones wailed at graves. Others stormed the shrine and smashed the porcelain statues, loudly accusing him of neglect.

This made Bai Shuangying even more uninterested. He stopped responding to anything, not even the simple “find this” requests, just silently watching the humans with growing disinterest.

When they realized their prayers no longer worked, the villagers were shocked and angry.

Some demanded the shrine be torn down. Others, afraid, offered compensation. They argued for days.

While Bai Shuangying was still weighing whether to abandon the whole thing, an unusual human arrived.

He was a man in his prime, armed and armored, clearly of high status. He led hundreds of people into the small village at the mountain’s foot.

At his arrival, the villagers immediately dropped their arguments and knelt to the ground.

“Long live the Emperor—!”

The author has something to say:

Cat Den Biography (……

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

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

Chapter 140: Immortal’s Guidance

Riiiip.

The darkness vanished from the world. Screams and fire disappeared. Sunlight poured down, bathing the lush green grass. The wind carried an unusually fresh scent, and the whole atmosphere felt like a return from the Underworld to the human world.

Fang Xiu held Bai Shuangying around the waist as the two tumbled onto the soft grass. A’Shou followed close behind, barely managing to stay on her feet without falling.

She kept her balance, but her heart was in turmoil.

It was a simple comparison.

The Immortal Encounter E was powerful enough to reproduce the “Heaven-Breaking Divine Art”, suppressing her, a genuine ghost immortal, but it could not suppress Bai Shuangying.

A’Shou had thought Fang Xiu’s origins were unclear and that he warranted caution. But now, looking again, the seductive ghost that had always clung to Fang Xiu was terrifying. Even more frightening was that this ghost had survived six sacrificial rituals without revealing his true strength until now.

The “new script” they had entered was a story provided by Bai Shuangying. Even A’Shou wasn’t sure when or where this took place.

The only good news was that this place looked peaceful.

Fang Xiu lowered his head and shook his ghost. “Bai Shuangying?”

…Then he was shocked to find that his hand passed right through Bai Shuangying’s shoulder.

Bai Shuangying’s white robes were still tinged with gray, and his body had become even more translucent. That strange mouth was gone, and his facial features had returned to blankness.

They had escaped that twisted story, yet Bai Shuangying’s condition hadn’t improved at all. It had worsened.

Bai Shuangying lay calmly on the ground, his body slowly sinking, as if being absorbed into the land. Fang Xiu broke into a sweat, trying every way he could to hold him up, but Bai Shuangying raised a hand in a halting gesture and shook his head.

A’Shou grabbed Fang Xiu by the back of his collar and dragged him back two steps. “His power is unstable. Don’t touch him carelessly.”

Fang Xiu: “But—”

“He’s been polluted by the Immortal Encounter E. This isn’t something you can interfere with,” A’Shou warned plainly. “You were affected by that thing too. You should know—he has to wake up on his own.”

Fang Xiu knelt beside Bai Shuangying, watching as his ghost’s body gradually sank into the earth.

His ghost had never been the silent type. Bai Shuangying liked to hover around him, poking here and there, occasionally grunting in disapproval or whispering in his ear.

Fang Xiu knew Bai Shuangying had hidden many things from him. He knew Bai Shuangying was a powerful evil spirit trying to escape the Disaster Relief Tower. He also knew Bai Shuangying had a special fondness for him. But he had assumed Bai Shuangying would prioritize self-preservation.

Maybe he shouldn’t have changed their plans halfway through.

If they had just separated as planned, Bai Shuangying could’ve stayed safe until the end… Was he too greedy for wanting to free Bai Shuangying?

Yes.

You cannot help him. Ghost immortal A’Shou cannot help him either. Make a wish to me. Wish now, it’s not too late.

You can stay together forever. This is your last chance to fix everything.

There it was again.

…No. I won’t make a wish to you.

Fang Xiu dug his fingers into the grass, forcibly shaking the thought out of his head.

This was a story Bai Shuangying had entrusted to him. A story that belonged solely to Bai Shuangying. To give up now would be laughable.

Regret was the most useless emotion in the world. He had known that long ago.

“I don’t know much about metaphysics,” Fang Xiu said, doing his best to keep a steady tone. “A’Shou Jie, what else can I do? I can’t just leave him here.”

A’Shou crouched down to examine Bai Shuangying, who lay on the grass.

He barely maintained a human shape, his skin no longer having a solid texture but turning into some strange fluid. The Immortal Encounter E had affected him with inexplicable strength, leaving him unable to respond to the outside world.

“This is like a human falling gravely ill. There really isn’t anything we can do,” A’Shou said quietly. “If there were a magic weapon to soothe evil spirits, maybe it could help a little. Something like a place where a sick person could rest. It’s the difference between ‘sleeping in a soft bed’ and ‘lying in the open air’. Either way, it’s up to fate.”

“I never carry those tools. I still think the best option is to leave him here and finish the ritual as soon as possible… What are you doing?!”

Fang Xiu pressed his grass-covered hand lightly to Bai Shuangying’s chest and activated the Underworld version of the Heaven-Breaking Divine Art. The rate at which Bai Shuangying was sinking slowed slightly, and Fang Xiu could feel the faint substance of his ghost’s true form.

He couldn’t fully stop the corruption, but this was enough.

Without hesitation, Fang Xiu bent down and began to swallow that piece of true form.

The moment it touched the warmth of his mouth, that piece suddenly seemed to awaken and surged frantically into his throat. Fang Xiu choked, his eyes reddening, throat spasming violently, but he made no move to resist.

The portion that entered his body immediately spread, merging into his flesh and blood. A tidal wave of bloated heat rushed in, his internal organs feeling like they were burning.

…Possession.

Bai Shuangying had once used this to help Fang Xiu when he was at his weakest. Now, of course, Fang Xiu could do the same to protect a weakened Bai Shuangying.

A’Shou stared, dumbfounded. “You…”

“I guess I count as a vessel now. How long can I hold out like this?”

Fang Xiu wiped his lips and stood up shakily. Bai Shuangying had completely disappeared from in front of him. His left eye had turned white, and a blood-red mole bloomed below it.

A’Shou: “……”

Even she, slow as she could be, could tell Bai Shuangying wasn’t simple. And now Fang Xiu, able to withstand that kind of possession… Just what had she gotten herself involved with?

Even so, she sighed deeply, slit her own wrist with her soft sword, and after a moment, a trickle of crimson flowed from the wound. She dabbed it with her fingertip and drew a strange blood sigil on Fang Xiu’s forehead.

“I’ll help you suppress it,” she said bitterly. “But if Bai Shuangying’s condition worsens…”

“This is enough.” Fang Xiu smiled, lightly placing his hand over his stomach. “Thank you, A’Shou Jie.”

At that moment, Fang Xiu wore red, his long hair tied back. With the blood sigil on his forehead and one black, one white eye, he looked distinctly inhuman.

He looked up at the sun glowing brightly in the sky.

The weather was clear, and sunlight warmed his exposed skin.

……

Inside the warmth of living flesh, Bai Shuangying stretched out his true form. The chaos in his mind began to clear.

The corruption of that thing was stronger than he had expected. He now felt sure that it had used a portion of his own power—power still sealed within him.

Fortunately, he had broken tens of thousands of seal chains ahead of time and could resist somewhat. If he had remained fully bound, that intense corruption might have overwhelmed him completely.

Even now, the thing still buzzed in his mind. Sometimes, Bai Shuangying found it difficult to tell whether those thoughts were his own.

You must kill A’Shou.

I am your power. We can eliminate her together. If she learns your identity, you and I will never escape.

You must control Fang Xiu.

I know you want him. I can create a story where Fang Xiu defeats the Immortal Encounter E and give you a role to stay by his side forever.

You must destroy everything.

I understand your thirst for revenge. Humanity provoked you first. Now that they’ve lived comfortably for so long, they must pay the price. I am you. I am you. I am…

So noisy.

Unfortunately, most of his power remained sealed, and the unsealed portion struggled to hold back the invasion. Bai Shuangying couldn’t silence the voices. He could only endure the erosion of karma. In theory, he shouldn’t have to resist it.

But he didn’t like the future those voices painted.

He was curious about Fang Xiu’s plans. Curious about Fang Xiu’s background. Curious about why Fang Xiu chose this ritual… Curious about their true ending.

Bai Shuangying nestled deeper into that familiar warmth, rubbing against Fang Xiu’s inner flesh.

He had begun to think. He had a better idea—if that thing was using his sealed power, then he would unseal more, and tilt the scales back in his favor.

To do that, he needed to understand Fang Xiu better.

To understand Fang Xiu better, he needed to give Fang Xiu a stronger stimulus.

His human was very clever. For now, the best course of action seemed to be—

Fang Xiu heard crying.

He steadied himself and walked toward the sound, still somewhat weak.

He saw a little girl with a woven grass basket on her back. The basket held wild fruit, mushrooms, and a few scattered odds and ends. She was crying loudly as she walked, utterly heartbroken.

“Daddy, Mommy… I want to go home…”

She wiped her tears, her red cheeks streaked with dirt and snot, looking both pitiful and a bit ridiculous.

A’Shou instinctively stepped forward, but Fang Xiu stopped her. Bai Shuangying’s possession left him weakened, but his thinking remained sharp.

“Not yet,” Fang Xiu said, his eyes fixed on the girl. “This is Bai Shuangying’s story. He wouldn’t casually ‘tell’ a child.”

A’Shou frowned. The child didn’t look too fragile, so she reluctantly agreed.

The girl cried and cried until she tired herself out. She found a rock and sat down, taking off her basket to count what she had—mostly food.

She sobbed as she popped wild fruits into her mouth, not forgetting to offer one up first with several solemn bows.

“Help me, please help me. I’m lost… These are all for you.”

The breeze swept across the grass, but no one answered. The sun moved west, the light taking on a reddish hue.

The little girl shivered and laid out a pile of mushrooms. “Merciful Bodhisattva… Ancestor spirits… Fox spirits… Please…”

She called upon every god and ghost she could think of, but the mountains remained silent. Her eyes grew redder.

Desperately, she rummaged through her basket and finally pulled out a small object. She placed it squarely among the offerings and knelt, bowing clumsily.

“This is a treasure my daddy made for me. You can have it. You can have all of it!”

She trembled as she spoke. “I just want to go home…”

Fang Xiu stared at the crude little object in silence.

It was a small white porcelain figurine.

Because of its tiny size, the craftsmanship was rough and lacked detailed features. But it was snow-white, coated in glossy glaze, and quite a rare piece.

More importantly, it was identical to every white porcelain figurine they had seen before.

It…

[That’s interesting. I’ve never seen something like that before.]

[Those annoying immortals told me not to get involved with humans, but this human came here herself and offered a gift. That should be fine, right?]

[That’s my soil she used. A human made something so amusing from my soil. She said she wanted to go home. If I take her home, then she’s mine.]

Fang Xiu shook his head, clearing the strange thoughts from his mind. He continued watching the girl, though he wasn’t sure why his eyes kept being drawn to that little porcelain figure.

Suddenly, a hand emerged in front of the figurine.

It didn’t quite look human. Its shape was odd, and the little girl screamed, scrambling backward into her now-empty basket.

The glowing “ghost hand” didn’t chase her. It gently picked up the white porcelain figure and pointed in a specific direction.

The girl hid for a while, then cautiously peeked through a gap in the basket at the offering pile. The strange hand was still there, holding the porcelain figure politely, still pointing.

She watched for a long time. Eventually, she crept out of the basket and crawled toward it, inching along on her belly. The hand was indeed strange, but it was smooth and pale, with a kind of subtle beauty.

“Are you a god?” she asked.

The author has something to say:

Xiao Bai used his brain to win this round. (Not really.)

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

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

Chapter 139: Sudden Turn

The practitioners immediately sensed something was wrong. A few of them stopped chanting curses, trying to help the soldiers, but were sternly stopped by Zhuang Feng.

“Hold your formation! If you break ranks now, all will be lost!”

Many of these cultivators were righteous folk, dressed in clean robes with dignified faces. At his command, they didn’t dare hesitate. They circled around the tent that was blowing out golden wind, forming layers of concentric battle arrays, as if surrounding the world’s only source of warmth. Their chanting grew more synchronized, beads of sweat forming on their brows.

The still-conscious victims huddled behind the cultivators, while the soldiers continued pushing forward. Now they had to save not just civilians, but their own deranged comrades.

But the trees kept spreading.

In the shadows, more and more blackened trees bearing “white fruits” multiplied. People were disappearing. The trees spread across the scorched ground, gradually forming a dark forest.

An invisible pressure grew heavier. The soldiers advanced, the practitioners attacked, but the air was thick with confusion and helplessness.

Only Zhuang Feng remained confident, commanding with unwavering calm. With the divine technique of Zhuang Guiqu backing him, everyone followed his lead without question.

The black Taoist didn’t join the spell-chanting. He stayed beside the orphaned child, staring dazedly at the mountainous shadow rising in the distance.

“This has never happened before,” he murmured. “The God of Calamity… has never appeared like this.”

Faced with such an absurd scene, his mind seemed to shut down. Black characters began to drip from the corners of his mouth again.

“This has never happened before?” Fang Xiu asked.

He was crouching beside the Taoist, hiding within the range of Zhuang Guiqu’s magic, not far from the ruined shrine. Fang Xiu had noticed something interesting—the Taoist’s memory of the God of Calamity wasn’t as confused as A’Shou’s. It was more like a preserved insect in amber, intact and unchanged.

The Taoist glanced at the shattered idol in the shrine.

“Yes. I used to think it was just some great evil spirit—watch out!”

He shouted and grabbed the child, who had stumbled forward.

Another thunderous crash echoed through the mountains. A torrent of murky water surged down from above. The great flood swept past Fang Xiu’s group, nearly dragging them away.

This time it didn’t carry debris. The river surged straight through the forest and hurtled toward Zhuang Guiqu tent.

Zhuang Feng didn’t move. He raised his sword toward the water. Hundreds of practitioners behind him stayed put and continued casting spells with full trust.

Then, in the next moment, Zhuang Feng sprang lightly into the air and leapt into the tent glowing with warm light.

His sword sliced the tent open—inside was empty. Only a scroll emitting golden light floated in the air. It flew into Zhuang Feng’s hand, and the golden wind instantly contracted, wrapping only around him.

Hundreds of practitioners were immediately washed away by the flood, utterly exposed to the God of Calamity’s corruption. Before they could even scream, their eyes and tongues bulged grotesquely, and their chanting stopped.

“Fish, fish.”

They let out faint, broken whispers. Their bodies rapidly shriveled and twisted. Limbs burst like soap bubbles and were swept away by the water. Only their bouncing heads remained.

“Fish, fish.”

Their voices grew muffled as the heads floated on the filthy river, resembling white stones from a distance.

Even with the practitioners gone, the mountain fires in the distance still burned green. The dark shadow surged with fury and the river didn’t stop.

They needed to relocate.

Fang Xiu turned and tapped the Taoist on the shoulder. At the touch, the man’s entire arm detached at the shoulder and quickly melted into filthy foam.

But the Taoist didn’t notice. He clutched the child tightly. As soon as the golden wind vanished, the child’s body crumbled on the spot, leaving only a twitching head behind.

The child clearly didn’t understand what was happening. He writhed violently in the Taoist’s collapsing embrace, inching toward the water.

“Fish, fish,” the head squeaked.

Panicked, the Taoist clung to it, as if that could return the child to normal. But the harder he held on, the faster his arms withered and snapped. At last, he looked at Fang Xiu with wide eyes and opened his mouth to ask for help—

“Fish, fish,” he said.

Fang Xiu couldn’t respond. The golden wind had vanished. Darkness fell. He only had time to glimpse the tear at the corner of the Taoist’s eye.

That was the final trace of his humanity. Fang Xiu suddenly realized, he still didn’t know the Taoist’s name.

Maybe the story hadn’t recorded it, which subtly clouded Fang Xiu’s mind and made him forget to ask. But now it was too late.

In just a few seconds, the two heads—one large, one small—hit the ground. They squirmed like live fish, greedily inching toward the river.

Splash.

Two warm, living humans disappeared from the world. Everything was surreal and twisted, like a ridiculous dream.

Fang Xiu had dreamed this exact scene before.

A horizonless mountain range. Trees filled with hanged corpses. Endless rivers of black water. And heads drifting through it all.

In that nightmare, he had wandered helplessly, his feet slowly gnawed away, searching for his lost ghost hand.

That was when he had met Bai Shuangying.

Bai Shuangying…

Fang Xiu instinctively looked toward his ghost.

In the first instant, he didn’t see the familiar white robes. His mind went blank and cold sweat drenched him.

The second instant, he felt Bai Shuangying’s icy hand. But his robe had dulled, fading nearly to charcoal gray.

The third instant, he realized Bai Shuangying’s face had lost all features again. Only the blood-red birthmark remained. Beneath that blank surface, something was writhing frantically, about to burst through the skin.

For the first time ever, Fang Xiu gripped Bai Shuangying’s hand tightly, and Bai Shuangying didn’t respond.

This was bad.

“Tell a story about Xushan! Anything related to the God of Calamity!” Fang Xiu shouted to A’Shou.

Bai Shuangying was an evil spirit, proficient in manipulating karma. Fang Xiu had considered every possible failure point, except this one. That Bai Shuangying might succumb before he did.

They couldn’t stay. They had to escape the story now.

A’Shou didn’t waste time. She began speaking with suppressed fury.

“All civilians perished. The garrison was wiped out. Zhuang Guiqu claimed it was the work of the God of Calamity and rallied soldiers from all corners to march on Xushan.”

“The disaster lasted forty-nine days. Ten thousand troops went in, none came out. The frontier was already short on food and soldiers. The chaos only deepened! Back in the day—”

As expected, black characters fell from her mouth as she spoke.

Another story portal.

Just as Fang Xiu had predicted.

Each time these black words appeared, people had been discussing Xushan and the God of Calamity. That topic could link stories together, allowing transitions between them.

Fang Xiu grabbed Bai Shuangying with one hand, reaching for the floating characters with the other. He planned to repeat the same escape method.

“What are you all doing?”

A cheerful voice spoke up behind him, along with the flare of a flaming sword.

Zhuang Feng.

Zhuang Feng had arrived at some unknown point, glowing with golden light. A’Shou reflexively drew her soft sword, shielding Fang Xiu from the hostile blade.

As a result, the scattered black characters dissipated, and the story portal vanished.

Still, A’Shou held her ground and repeated in a low voice.

“All civilians perished. The garrison was wiped out…”

But barely a few words in, golden light blanketed the area again. Under the brilliance of the divine Heaven-Breaking Divine Art, the newly formed black characters vanished like melting snow.

This wasn’t some makeshift imitation. It was real divine magic. Even a ghost immortal of the Underworld couldn’t withstand a weapon of the Heavens.

“Fascinating magic,” Zhuang Feng remarked leisurely. “You all must be quite accomplished. Unfortunately, you shouldn’t be here.”

“You’ve seen too much. It’s better if you don’t leave the mountain. Forgive me.”

He weighed the sword in his hand. The flames had gone out, revealing its unnaturally sharp edge.

Even though her powers were sealed, A’Shou showed no fear. She readied her stance, shielding the “delicate” Fang Xiu.

“Spouting so much crap. If you want to fight, then fight.”

And then she saw Fang Xiu crawl out from behind her sword and step toward Zhuang Feng.

Zhuang Feng, A’Shou: “?”

“Sorry, this girl was just someone I hired on the road. She doesn’t know the rules,” Fang Xiu said politely.

“I’m only here to help. It’s all a misunderstanding.”

Zhuang Feng was stunned by his audacity. “…Help?”

“I’ve studied ‘E’s’ a bit,” Fang Xiu said casually, looking like he actually meant it. “You’ve gone to great lengths with all this. Isn’t it all to nurture an E?”

Zhuang Feng narrowed his eyes. His sword lowered slightly.

“Set fire to the mountains. Enrage the God of Calamity. Then wake the victims so their suffering draws in outside aid—first your own people, then nearby practitioners. You wanted all of them to die here.”

Fang Xiu spoke fluidly, though his palms were slick with sweat. His mind raced, stitching everything he’d seen and heard into a coherent bluff.

“Now the God of Calamity is in a frenzy. The massacre is done. You’ll petition the court, citing the people’s suffering, and request more troops. When this is over, over a hundred thousand will have died here.”

“Think of that karmic weight. If properly harnessed, you could nurture an E of terrifying scale.”

Zhuang Feng didn’t reply. He just let out a quiet hum, and his expression turned mildly intrigued.

Good—he had bought them some time.

Fang Xiu glanced at Bai Shuangying out of the corner of his eye. As long as he could stall Zhuang Feng, they might still find a way to escape…

“Ah.”

Bai Shuangying suddenly made a sound.

A crooked mouth began forming on his blank face. The shape was all wrong, twisted and grotesque.

“Xushan…”

Even beneath the divine light of the Heaven-Breaking Divine Art, the word still fell from his mouth.

The author has something to say:

Anyway, Xiao Bai’s vest is falling off _(:з」∠)

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

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

Chapter 138: Just the Beginning

A ghost from the past was crying for help.

The child clung to the black Taoist’s shoulder, his sobs growing quieter. Fang Xiu unconsciously slowed his breathing. The Taoist was running into the dark mountains, just as his own parents had done years ago.

Xushan was too vast. Even though the provinces were different, the mountains next to his grandmother’s village had also been part of Xushan’s outer regions.

[Different times and directions, but the same destination.]

[Fang Xiu recalled the scent of plants in the air that day, and the brush-covered terrain of the mountain. He could no longer see his grandmother, who had fallen to the ground, nor the village cult that had tried to keep their family trapped.]

[Little Fang Xiu lay on his father’s shoulder, staring blankly as everything receded. His father was crying, but ran too fast to sob outright, forcing himself to suppress the tears.]

[Young believers from the village chased them with hoes and cleavers in hand.]

[You won’t escape, the believers shrieked. No one survives in these mountains; those who charge into Xushan unprepared rarely leave alive!]

[Come back! Come back! You won’t make it!]

[Fang Xiu still remembered the despair and confusion of that moment. It felt like death was chasing them from behind and awaiting them ahead. His throat convulsed from tension, unable to form words, and his parents had no time to respond.]

[But they still ran forward.]

[If he could return to that day, maybe he could save his family.]

The story here was almost indistinguishable from reality. If he could go back into the story and save them, perhaps he could live out a long, happy tale.

Yes, just like that.

You must understand now. You’re in a story.

And given the choice, wouldn’t a warm, comforting story be better than one of dangerous revenge? I can give you the best story, the longest story—a story that lasts a hundred years.

Go home.

It’s a wonderful wish. Don’t you want it?

Fang Xiu was a little tired. It felt as if something was nudging him to make a wish. They dangled before his eyes like bait, one after another, switching endlessly. Who knew how many more would follow?

This wish didn’t sound too ba—

Don’t control my thoughts.

Fang Xiu smacked his forehead hard with a loud “thwack”, startling Bai Shuangying, who reflexively tightened his grip on Fang Xiu’s wrist.

[…]

What a shame.

Fang Xiu steadied himself and decisively grabbed the weeping black Taoist, and they all bolted in the opposite direction. Bai Shuangying and A’Shou followed closely behind; Bai Shuangying kept hold of Fang Xiu’s wrist, channeling yin energy without pause.

As for A’Shou, this ghost immortal had fully resisted the “God of Calamity’s” influence and moved quickly and steadily.

They ran toward Zhuang Guiqu tent. For once, the three were in agreement. There was no way that wily old man would place himself in the most dangerous position.

“Does the Immortal Encounter E have thoughts of its own?” Fang Xiu asked the two spirits while running, directing the question especially toward A’Shou, the one most directly in charge.

“E’s are dead things. The Immortal Encounter E is also dead. An ‘E’ having a will of its own is unheard of in the Underworld.”

A’Shou spoke in quick, quiet succession without needing to breathe. “At most, they reflect the will of their controller. But the Immortal Encounter E isn’t even active. It can’t be controlled.”

She was confident about that. That entity in all black was certainly suspicious, but it could never be the Immortal Encounter E itself. If E’s had their own consciousness, the Temple of All E’s would’ve already fallen into chaos.

Though in all honesty, she didn’t really understand what was happening now either.

Fang Xiu glanced toward Bai Shuangying again, only to find him distracted. His ghost stared blankly ahead, as if listening to a voice that didn’t exist.

Suddenly, a warm, gentle wind blew by, sending a shiver through Fang Xiu’s body, making him feel significantly lighter. Even the half-dead black Taoist revived slightly, his movements less rigid.

It was a storm created by magic.

The wind carried countless tiny golden lights, breathtakingly beautiful, sweeping out from the direction of Zhuang Guiqu’s tent like ocean waves.

Wherever the golden wind passed, those under control regained their clarity.

Unfortunately, even though they woke, they couldn’t resist the strange “tree transformation” process. In an instant, shrill screams and cries for help exploded in Fang Xiu’s ears.

The child in the black Taoist’s arms gasped for breath and burst into loud wailing. Seeing the Taoist fleeing smoothly, Fang Xiu let go of his hand and took up the rear.

In the chaos, Fang Xiu once again locked eyes on Zhuang Feng.

Zhuang Feng stood beside the tent, calmly sipping sweet soup. Though the bowl held only light broth, he drank it with the air of consuming blood. The tent behind him glowed with lamplight, but Zhuang Guiqu had yet to appear.

Golden winds radiated outward like lotus petals unfolding, breathtaking in their splendor. But the disaster victims had no time to appreciate it.

Mudslides, fires on evil mountains, living immortals offering prayers—just when they thought they could finally relax, death came too suddenly.

Fully awake, the people marched straight into death. Some cultivators fired flames skyward as distress signals. The combination of mud, debris, firelight, and wails made the surroundings a living hell.

Looking at it in the distance, one could see mountain fires and golden wind on the ground, while fireworks lit the sky. Zhuang Feng stood firm, calmly watching the people struggle.

He even briefly glanced at Fang Xiu and the others running the opposite way. He seemed neither surprised nor concerned. Soon, Fang Xiu understood why.

More people were converging from this direction.

The black Taoist licked his cracked lips and patted the trembling child in his arms. His voice was excited beyond reason. “We’re saved! We’re really saved!”

“Thanks to Master Zhuang, otherwise we couldn’t have even lit a signal flare!”

Fang Xiu didn’t respond.

A few days ago, he’d heard the survivors chatting. Disasters like “God of Calamity Descends” often struck the Xushan region. More than a thousand mystics and soldiers were stationed nearby. They hadn’t shown up this time purely because a high-ranking figure like Zhuang Guiqu was present.

Now, with the cries for help so loud and the golden winds waking the cultivators, people had finally realized something was wrong. Fire signals lit up the way like markers.

As reinforcements approached, Zhuang Feng finished his soup, solemnly set down the bowl, and drew his sword.

The sword burst into flames, shooting a fiery column into the sky. In the darkness, it looked like a rallying banner.

“Master Zhuang has resisted the God of Calamity’s corruption! Follow me and save the people!”

His voice boomed, reinforced by the warmth of the sweet soup. “The God of Calamity must be destroyed! Destroy the God of Calamity!”

Fang Xiu pulled the Taoist into the shadows of a crumbling wall. After settling the crying child, he looked out toward the distant chaos.

“What’s that golden light?” he asked the Bai Shuangying who was still in a daze.

“That’s the real Heaven-Breaking Divine Art. Looks like the divine book is still in Zhuang Guiqu hands,” A’Shou cut in before Bai Shuangying could answer, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Fang Xiu asked, “Heaven-Breaking Divine Art?”

A’Shou nodded. “A divine text bestowed by an immortal. This is how it’s truly supposed to look. That Zhuang guy could’ve completely severed the corruption, but instead…” Instead, he only woke the survivors and didn’t lift a finger to help them.

She figured she didn’t need to spell it out. Fang Xiu would understand.

And Fang Xiu did understand perfectly.

“They died too quietly before,” he said. “Zhuang Guiqu wanted a grander stage.”

“Don’t say that…”

The black Taoist finally managed to speak, “Master Zhuang is… helping. This kind of support… is very common.”

His face twisted; the prior corruption still lingered, making his voice wooden. “Just a bit of suppression and they can be saved… the God of Calamity, actually…”

[These days, the God of Calamity rarely responds. Villagers seldom offer prayers. Before the temple was torn down, they could barely scrape together a single whole fruit for the altar.]

[It was a shrine passed down from older generations. The wish-granting methods were always twisted, and the one who made the wish was fated to die violently.]

[Only the most wicked or desperate still prayed to it. Most would’ve torn the shrine down ages ago, if not for the threats it posed.]

[Still, desperate and evil people kept wishing, and the village kept facing disasters. Droughts, floods—they put up with it, and eventually resorted to burning the mountain.]

[After the fires, anomalies would appear, and that’s when people like us were called in to suppress them. My ability to stay in this village came from this skill.]

Fang Xiu’s eyes widened as black characters poured from the Taoist’s mouth. They dripped down his chin, smeared across his robes, and clattered onto the ground.

But this time, Fang Xiu didn’t reach out to touch them.

…Because not far away, the reinforcements were “suppressing” the God of Calamity.

The golden light from the Heaven-Breaking Divine Art cleared the path as soldiers charged ahead to rescue survivors. The practitioners each performed their own magic, building platforms that rose on the spot. Layers of spells overlapped each other, filling the air.

At the front stood Zhuang Feng, his sword pointed skyward, surrounded by a turbulent whirlwind.

Screams mingled with chants. In the distance, the mountain fires shifted hue, turning an eerie green. The flames rose higher, devouring the farthest slopes like a plague of locusts.

Finally, the silence of the mountains broke.

From within the strange green fire, a giant shadow emerged. Its silhouette shifted softly, hard to tell if it was liquid or gas. As it rose, the land trembled and stones cracked with deafening noise.

“It’s working!” Zhuang Feng shouted. “Don’t fear its corruption. The divine art will protect you! Curse it with all your might!”

Behind him, the practitioners cheered. But in the next moment, their voices cut off like a flock of strangled geese…

Within the golden light of the Heaven-Breaking Divine Art, the soldiers’ movements went awry.

They stopped shielding civilians. Their armor turned into bizarre white garments. They twitched uncontrollably. Then they ran to the dead trees that were once the disaster survivors and tied strips of cloth onto the branches. For a moment, thousands of soldiers gathered around the trees creating a lively scene.

“Sprout. Sprout,” they murmured deliriously.

“Bloom. Bloom.” They looped the ropes around their waist and hung them on the branches.

“Fruit. Fruit.”

Then, joyfully, they leapt up and placed their necks into the nooses, swinging happily among the dead branches.

“Harvest. Harvest.”

Their throats made a cracking sound, and they turned into smiling fruit.

In a flash, the barren forest became lush and full of life, heavy with fruit. Bathed in the golden wind, the scene looked alive and thriving.

So that’s it, Fang Xiu thought.

The dead survivors weren’t the end. They were only the beginning.

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