Empathy
But the power of the divine body was dissipating at an alarming rate. His arms felt like they were filled with thousands of pounds of lead. They fell heavily just after being raised an inch. Golden light splashed out, and the arms were still slightly hot when they hit the ground.
She tried to mobilize her divine energy, but found that it seemed to have been burned weak by magma, and it was difficult to even condense it into a strand. She could only watch helplessly as the golden light of the divine body became fainter and fainter.
This is not a momentary severe pain, but a continuous and spreading torture.
The burning of the magma is grinding the skin, the ice of the sea is freezing the spirit, and the cracks in the earth are tearing the soul apart. The three kinds of pain are like three airtight nets, wrapping Yunxiu tightly.
Yunxiu couldn't remember how long it had been.
The sun rises and the moon sets in a repetitive cycle - when the sun rises from the red volcanic ash, the burning of the magma becomes more intense; when the moon sinks into the cold sea fog, the ice of the sea becomes more biting.
With each cycle, the golden light of the divine body faded a little, and a crack appeared. The pain changed from the initial sharpness to dullness, and then to numbness deep in the bone marrow. In the end, only heavy fatigue remained, and even the consciousness trembled in the pain.
It turns out that ten thousand years ago... the ancient gods did not "easily" incarnate into the world.
It's not that one can turn the divine body into mountains and rivers with a wave of the hand. Instead, one has to endure such heart-wrenching pain and dismantle the divine body bit by bit - the part that blocks the magma turns into black rock, the part that blocks the huge waves solidifies into a solid dam, and the part that supports the earth becomes a cornerstone buried deep underground.
Every inch of the divine body that melts is soaked in blood and pain; every time the divine essence is lost, the soul is torn apart.
This kind of pain lasted for several days, and Yunxiu could no longer remember the number of times the sun rose and set.
She only remembered that when the last wisp of magma was blocked by her divine body and gradually solidified into black rock, when the sea water retreated back to the deep sea and no longer flooded the embankment, when the cracks in the earth slowly closed and the black mist dissipated, her divine body also became transparent like morning mist.
The edges of the divine body began to melt, seeping through the cracks in the earth. When it touched the remaining magma beneath the ground, it emitted a final, faint "sizzle." The golden light turned into tiny points of light, seeping into the soil, between the rocks, and even into the mountain streams.
She could clearly feel that her body was merging with the earth - the soil touched by her fingertips was damp and cool, the sound of a stream flowing over pebbles came to her ears, and the shouts of villagers drifted from the distant village.
The pain gradually subsided, replaced by a fatalistic calm.
When the pain completely disappeared, Yunxiu found himself standing on the top of Yaoxi Mountain, surrounded by a faint golden light.
In the village at the foot of the mountain, villagers, carrying fresh wild fruits and clean spring water, ascended the bluestone steps, their faces filled with awe and gratitude. They knelt before the statue, placed offerings on the stone table, and chanted "God." Incense curled upward, transforming into golden threads that drifted on the wind toward the halo of light at the mountaintop.
The ancient god's silhouette was clear within the halo, his silvery-white hair shimmering with a warm light. He extended his hand, his fingertips accepting a wisp of incense, and the golden light instantly brightened. The villagers' prayers drifted on the wind—"May God bless the crops with a bountiful harvest," "May God bless the children with safety," each one uttered with sincerity, causing the divine energy within the halo to tremble gently.
Yunxiu could feel the warmth of being needed. The incense, like sweet spring water, nourished the souls of the ancient gods, and even the vegetation on the mountaintop glowed with light. At that time, even the wind on Yaoxi Mountain was wrapped in a golden warmth. Immortals, transformed, would come to the mountaintop to pay homage, some bearing fruits they had grown, others singing mountain songs. Even graybirds dared to nest on the shoulders and necks of the deities.
But this warmth didn't last long.
As time went by, the villagers' offerings gradually dwindled. First, the wild fruits disappeared, and later, even the incense became sparse. Some said, "The immortals can cure illnesses, so there's no need to pray to the gods." Others said, "The light on the mountaintop is always shining, so it doesn't matter if we don't offer anything."
The offerings on the stone table were covered with dust, and the incense ashes piled up in the corner, and no one cleaned them up anymore.
The halo at the summit, which had spread halfway up the mountain, gradually shrank to a circle barely wide enough to encompass the statue. The golden light faded, and tiny cracks began to appear at the edges. The immortals came to worship less and less frequently. Some were busy rescuing people below the mountain, while others accepted offerings from the villagers, gradually forgetting who to offer their incense to.
Yunxiu's figure became more and more transparent, and his fingertips could no longer catch a complete incense stick. He could only watch the golden threads float away and land in the immortal's temple.
The cracks in the halo grew wider, like the cracks of a frozen lake. Tiny fragments of golden light fell through the cracks, and with each drop, the ancient god's silhouette faded a little. Yunxiu suddenly found himself "blind"—not dark, but unable to perceive even light. The morning mist on the mountaintop, the figures of the villagers, the green of the grass and trees, all became blurred shadows, leaving only a biting cold that penetrated his soul.
The sounds around her began to fade. The chirping of mountain insects, the voices of spirits, the shouts of villagers gradually faded until only silence remained. She tried to smell the fragrance of the small flowers at the foot of the mountain, but her nose was met with only the cold wind. Those once familiar scents seemed to have been completely erased.
The most terrifying thing was that she could clearly feel her soul shattering. Today, a few particles of light fell from her fingertips, tomorrow, the divine energy in her shoulders faded. Every breath felt like divine energy leaking out, but she didn't even have the strength to hold it back. Once, it snowed on the mountaintop. She tried to catch a snowflake, but it passed through, landing on the bluestone and dissolving into water. The power that once froze the entire ocean into an ice bank could no longer hold even a single snowflake.
She squatted in the snow, staring at her transparent palms, feeling the powerlessness of her soul gradually crumbling. The despair of clearly watching herself extinguish, yet unable to even grasp a falling leaf, was more unbearable than the pain of resisting the three disasters with her own body.
The torture called "being forgotten" seeps out from the cracks in the bones.
"Xiao You."
The voice of the ancient god suddenly sounded in my ears.
Yunxiu suddenly came to his senses and found himself still standing on the top of the mountain. The warm light around him had dissipated, but the coldness of a broken soul still remained in his body. Cold sweat soaked his clothes, and his fingertips trembled uncontrollably.
The ancient god looked at her pale face, and there was only calmness in his cyan-gold pupils.
"Tell me. What would you do if you were me?"
Yunxiu held onto the ancient cypress tree beside her and managed to stand. She opened her mouth, but her throat felt like it was blocked and she couldn't speak.
The wind blew up the tiny dead leaves on the ground, brushing against the back of Yunxiu's hand, which was covered in cold sweat, making her shiver.
"Actually... since the world has forgotten me, since the beings I protected with my life have ultimately become ants parasitic on my divine power, it's better to kill them all. Right?"
Yunxiu looked up suddenly, and the shock in his eyes met the calm gaze of the ancient god.
"Gather all the divine power scattered everywhere, and kill all the immortal spirits who relied on my power to transform but forgot their true nature. Then I will be able to rebuild a complete divine body."
He took half a step forward, and the golden light around him turned cold:
"When the time comes, I will tear down this world drenched in oblivion and rebuild a new one, one without ungrateful creatures, without dissipating pain, only pure order controlled by me. That kind of world is what I desire."
"no!"
Yunxiu finally managed to utter a sound. She suddenly took a step back.
The divine power in the body suddenly became agitated. It was no longer as docile as before, but instead surged along the blood vessels to the fingertips with a fierce determination to resist.
Yunxiu could feel that the power was resisting the will of the ancient gods and echoing her determination.
The Ancient God chuckled.
"You are only protecting a group of people who will forget you sooner or later. Just like they forgot me."
He raised his hand, and a golden light suddenly wrapped around Yunxiu's wrist, like an icy chain, instantly suppressing the divine power surging in her body.
"Stay, and wait with me until Zhi Huan takes back his divine power. You are the embodiment of my divine power, and you should be one with me."
A biting chill came from her wrist, and golden light climbed up her arm like a vine, trying to completely lock her spiritual essence.
Divine power surged within him, tugged repeatedly against the ancient god's golden radiance, and the pendant on his chest burned so hot it seemed to melt into his skin. Yunxiu could feel the illusion tightening its grip. The mountaintop scene began to distort, the shadows of the cypress trees becoming a blurry black mass, and the village in the distance gradually faded.
The ancient gods were trying to trap her to death in an illusion.
"Xiaoyou, stay here."
The golden light tightened a little more.
"Your divine power comes from me. If I want, I can keep you here forever."
The golden light suddenly exploded, and when the light fragments in the sky fell in front of Yunxiu's eyes, they condensed into the appearance of Yaoxi Mountain that was engraved in her bones and blood.
The old whiskers of the banyan tree were still wrapped around the old swing, damp from the morning dew. When the wind blew, it made a crackling sound, exactly the same as the one she heard when she stayed in bed at the age of fifteen.
Yingtang squatted in the corner of the courtyard, tending to the flowers and plants, her fingertips stained with dirt, surrounded by a few itchy little rabbits. Jing Er stood behind her, holding a bunch of freshly picked forget-me-not flowers, and smiled as he put them into her hair. The pale blue of the flowers was exactly the same as the pattern embroidered on Yunxiu's hair tie.
Yu Wei sat on the bluestone slab with an unfinished embroidered headband spread on his knees. The silk thread was the light green that Jing Er liked. When he looked up, there was still the gentleness in his eyes as before. When he saw her looking at him, he waved at her.
Yan Xiu was practicing swordplay in the bamboo courtyard, his dark armor sweeping through fallen leaves. The gleam of his Broken Water Sword was clear and sharp, leaving no trace of a wound. Seeing her standing outside the courtyard, he raised his chin as usual, "Xiao You, what are you standing there for?"
Farther away, the door of the master's bamboo house was open. Qingwu placed a freshly dried scroll on the stone table. Beside the wooden table was the master's unfinished manuscript, the ink marks still wet.
Yunxiu's breathing suddenly stopped, and his feet moved forward half a step uncontrollably.
Her fingertips subconsciously lifted up, as if she could touch the rough texture of the swing rope, smell the fragrance of the flowers and plants around Yingtang, and catch the hairband handed to her by Yuwei.
How long has it been since she saw Yaoxi Mountain like this?
There was no blood, no broken barriers, no trace of Zhi Huan's slaughter. Even the air was filled with the sweet scent of wisteria flowers. Those people she thought she would never see again, those daily lives torn apart by disaster, all existed vividly here.
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