Its rain

"What do you mean?" Yunxiu frowned.

The wind on the top of the mountain began to blow again, but this time it did not bring the coolness of the morning mist. Instead, it was wrapped in the sweetness of pine needles and wild fruits, gently brushing across Yunxiu's hair.

The Ancient God didn't continue the conversation. He simply raised his hand, and the warm light from his fingertips gently fell on a small weed sprouting from a rock crevice. The weed had been drooping, but enveloped in the light, it instantly straightened up. A fine, luminescent glow shone from its leaves, and even its roots were quietly unfurling within the cracks, as if greedily absorbing the warmth.

Yunxiu stood there, looking at his focused profile, his silver-white hair gently lifted by the wind, brushing against his soft jawline.

The words she wanted to ask were stuck in her throat. Looking at the warm light flowing from the ancient god's fingertips, and then at the wild grass that had regained its vitality, she suddenly felt a little dazed.

Is this the God who created the world and suppressed disasters with his own body? He lacks the majesty and distance I imagined, instead looking like a traveler strolling in the mountains.

He would stop for a wild grass and gently nourish all living things with his divine power.

The two sat in silence, the morning light rising slowly from the mountaintop, evaporating the dew on the bluestones. The air was filled with the fresh scent of steaming grass and trees. Occasionally, in the distance, they could hear the shouts of villagers and the chirping of birds flying across the sky. Everything was peaceful, as if there had never been any killing or disaster.

But Yunxiu's heart became heavier and heavier.

Those fellow disciples who died at the gate of Yaoxi Mountain, the corpses piled up on the Qinglan Sect's competition stage, and Zhi Huan's eyes filled with murderous intent, all flashed through her mind like a kaleidoscope, making her even feel short of breath.

She clutched the hem of her clothes, the thin calluses on her fingertips rubbing against the texture of the fabric, and the questions in her heart surged like a tide.

Zhihuan is part of the ancient gods, so can the ancient gods really completely deny themselves of any connection with the evil deeds he committed?

If He is truly a merciful God, why didn't He stop Zhi Huan? Why did He let so many innocent people die?

"You said Zhihuan is a part of you," Yunxiu finally spoke.

"Then are you responsible for what he did? You clearly have the ability, so why don't you restrain him and stop him?"

The ancient god paused, and the warm light on his fingertips slowly faded. He turned his head, and Yunxiu's face was reflected in his cyan-gold pupils, but it was still as calm as the lake on the top of the mountain, without a single ripple.

"I can't do that."

These four words were light and airy, but they hit Yunxiu's heart like a stone, leaving her stunned for a moment.

She thought she would hear an explanation and a reason, but she didn't expect it to be just a simple "I can't do it".

"Why?"

Yunxiu's voice became louder:

"Aren't you a god? You can transform yourself into the world, suppress the three calamities, and even nurture the wild grass in the mountains with your heart. Why didn't you stop Zhi Huan? Aren't those who died at his hands worth your effort?"

The fellow disciples of Yaoxi Mountain and the disciples of Qinglan Sect who didn't have time to escape...

They were all living well and guarding the things they wanted to protect, but they died under Zhihuan's butcher knife.

And the instigator of all this was actually the gentle and transparent god in front of him.

A part of God?

The ancient god did not answer immediately. He raised his head and looked towards the distant valley. The smoke from the cooking stoves had dissipated, leaving only the figures of villagers working on the fields, moving like small black dots on the ridges.

He was silent for a long time, so long that Yunxiu thought he would not answer. Then he slowly spoke, his voice filled with a distant weariness, as if carrying the weight of ten thousand years.

“Because I truly hated it.”

Yunxiu was suddenly stunned. She looked at the calm profile of the ancient god, as if she couldn't believe her ears.

The Ancient God smiled faintly and confirmed:

"I hated it."

Hate? This word actually came out of the mouth of the god before him.

He clearly used his own flesh and blood to support the world, and used his divine power to nourish all living things...could he hate?

Can God have the emotion of "hate"?

The ancient god seemed to see through her doubts and shook his head gently. A bit of warm light gathered at his fingertips again, but this time it did not fall on the grass or trees. Instead, it hung in the air, slowly reflecting a series of blurry images.

The scene depicted a catastrophe that had occurred ten thousand years earlier. Crimson lava devoured the earth, a deep blue tsunami swept through the village, and a massive crack opened up in the ground.

Creatures cried and struggled in the catastrophe. Some ran, clutching children, others carrying elderly parents on their backs, but none could escape death. The Ancient God stood at the center of the catastrophe, his divine form disintegrating bit by bit, transforming into mountains and rivers to hold back the magma, dams to hold back the tsunami, and foundation stones to support the cracked earth.

Those creatures who survived the disaster knelt on the ground and worshiped in His direction, chanting "God" with their eyes full of gratitude and awe.

"At that time, they remembered me." The ancient god's voice was very soft.

"They would bring offerings of fresh fruits and clean spring water, pray to the halo at the mountaintop, and tell my story to the next generation. The incense of that time would dye the mist of Yaoxi Mountain golden. My soul, nourished by the incense, could easily transform into human form, and the world was filled with peace."

The picture changes slowly and time seems to pass quickly.

The halo on the top of the mountain gradually dimmed, the villagers' offerings became less and less, and some even stopped coming to worship.

They began to forget who had prevented the disaster and who had given them the chance to survive. They only remembered that the immortals in Yaoxi Mountain could cure diseases and save lives and could resist minor disasters. So they replaced the "gods" on the tablets with "immortals" and offered incense to those immortals who had transformed into human form with the power of gods.

In the picture reflected by the warm light, the halo on the top of the mountain is cracked with fine lines, and tiny spots of light float down along the lines, like dandelions blown away by the wind.

"Some of the immortals who took form with my divine power still remember me and come to the mountaintop to pray, hoping to gather incense for me. But some have forgotten me. They enjoy the benefits of the divine power and regard themselves as saviors, accepting offerings from the villagers, and are becoming increasingly distant from me."

——"You are nothing but a bunch of ants parasitic on his divine power, yet you dream of being worshipped as 'immortals'"

Yunxiu thought of the fairy temple on Yaoxi Mountain, the pilgrims who came to pay homage to his master and senior brothers and sisters, and what Zhihuan had said.

"I watched my divine power being consumed, my soul dissipating bit by bit, and the world forgetting all my efforts."

He paused, the warm light on his fingertips suddenly trembling slightly, like a candle about to be extinguished by the wind. Then he lowered his eyes to look at his palm, where the light was as fine as stars, and suddenly asked:

"Do you know what it's like for your soul to slowly dissipate?"

Yunxiu shook his head subconsciously.

The ancient god seemed to look at Yunxiu meaningfully.

"It's not like being killed instantly, but rather like being cut by a blunt knife—a little less light today, a crack tomorrow, even my senses are slowly becoming duller, yet I clearly know I'm heading towards extinction."

Yunxiu's heart suddenly shrank, as if it was being gripped by something.

The Ancient God seemed to see through her doubts. He gently shook his head, and a warm light gathered again at his fingertips. This time, the light was brighter than before, but with an almost fragile tremor. It hung in mid-air, like a mirror covered with water vapor, slowly reflecting a series of blurry but piercing images.

That was not the disaster that happened ten thousand years ago, but the appearance of His soul when it dissipated after the disaster.

In the image, the Ancient God's silhouette was transparent, like a shadow shrouded in morning mist, standing atop a shimmering mountain. He stretched out his hand, a palm once capable of holding up mountains and rivers, but now unable to condense even a single beam of warm light. Particles of light fell like beads from a broken string, and with each drop, his form faded a little.

Once, He wanted to touch the thousand-year-old cypress tree on the top of the mountain again.

He had personally nurtured the ancient cypress with his divine power, watched it grow from a seedling into a towering tree, but his fingertips passed straight through it, unable to even grasp the rough texture of the bark. The divine power he had infused back then was still hidden within the tree's rings, but he could no longer sense it, as if he had been cut off from the world.

What follows is the disappearance of perception.

At first, he could no longer hear the chirping of insects in the mountains. He could no longer catch the flutter of wings of those insects that once sang in his palms. Later, he could no longer smell the fragrance of the plants. The small flower that had bloomed for a thousand years at the foot of the mountain could no longer be smelled when he passed by.

Finally, one cannot even perceive the emotions of living beings.

The villagers were laughing on the ridges of the fields, the children were playing by the stream, but those lively joys seemed to be separated by a thick layer of ice, and He could not touch them no matter how hard He tried.

Once, it snowed on the top of the mountain. He wanted to catch a snowflake, but it passed through him and fell on the bluestone, turning into water.

Yunxiu recalled how, ten thousand years ago, when he had suppressed the tsunami, he had been able to freeze the entire ocean into an ice bank. But now, he couldn't even hold onto a single snowflake. In the image, a transparent figure crouched in the snow, reaching out to catch the falling snowflakes, again and again, until the snowflakes stopped falling, and only the empty wind remained in his palm.

"That seedling that I had protected from the frost just the day before, I could no longer touch. I clearly knew I was dying, but I didn't even have the strength to grab a falling leaf. Life was worse than death."

In Yunxiu's understanding, God is omnipotent, high and mighty, and untroubled by illness or death...

It turns out that God also feels pain, fear, and despair in the long process of extinction?

"You always call me 'God',"

The ancient god's voice became softer, and his gaze returned to Yunxiu, her appearance reflected in his cyan-gold pupils.

"It seems like I'm supposed to dedicate myself to humanity, to protect this world without expecting anything in return. But before the catastrophe, I hadn't received any favors from humans, nor did I consider myself a 'god'. I simply happened to possess that kind of power, and I just couldn't bear to watch life perish. I just... wanted to preserve some hope for this land."

In the scene, He once watched from a mountaintop as the villagers built their first village, watched them go from eating raw meat and drinking blood to learning to farm, watched children chase butterflies on the ridges of the fields. At that time, He believed that everything He had done was worth it, even if it meant enduring the pain of His divine body disintegrating.

But later, the descendants of those children no longer remembered who gave them the land to farm, or who blocked the tsunami that would have swallowed up the village.

——In the end, he didn't get any reward.

The Ancient God looked at Yunxiu quietly and asked her:

"Xiaoyou, where exactly is the line between 'God' and 'man'? Just because I have power, does that mean I have to take on everything?"

Yunxiu had never thought about this question.

When she was growing up in Yaoxi Mountain, she heard her master talk about the greatness of the ancient gods, and heard her senior brothers and sisters talk about the compassion of the ancient gods.

But no one ever told her that God would also feel confused between giving and forgetting.

Now, she heard it with her own ears. She came with a heart full of anger, but was left speechless by the question.

He clutched the hem of his clothes tightly, and the chill from his fingertips climbed up through his blood vessels, causing a pang of pain in his heart.

The Ancient God didn't seem to expect her to answer. He simply shook his head gently, and a warm light gathered again at his fingertips. This time, the light was brighter than before, hanging in the air like a small mirror, slowly reflecting a series of blurry yet vivid images.

"At that time, I really hated them. I hated their ingratitude, their selfishness, and I hated this world that I protected with my life, but in the end, it completely forgot about me."

The warm light on the fingertips flows, and the picture continues to move forward.

The cracks in the halo on the top of the mountain grew larger and larger, like a frozen lake. The tiny points of light fell faster and faster, and the transparent figure almost dispersed into light particles.

At this moment, a black light emerged from the deepest part of the crack, like an ice bead condensed in the darkness, slowly condensing into the appearance of a young boy.

The man wearing an inky cloak, with a cold white jaw and eyes full of lingering hostility, was Zhi Huan.

The ancient god's voice returned to calm.

"Zhi Huan... He inherited my resentment. He's a pitiful child."

In the scene, Zhi Huan turned back to look at the Ancient God. He frowned, his gaze like a sword, looking at the Ancient God and also at Yun Xiu.

Amidst Yunxiu's instinctive fear, she heard Zhihuan's first words:

"Gao," he said, "I'll help you kill them."