Jiang Luo’s expression cracked.
The person he wanted to kill… was a false god?
The closest thing to a god in the world?!
“…”
After a while, he took a deep breath. The twisted look on his face gradually smoothed out.
So what if he’s a false god? Chi You’s body once housed an evil god and he still managed to take him down. Worst case, he’d just kill a god. It’s only a fake one—what’s there to be scared of?
Seeing how quickly Jiang Luo regained his composure, Ji Yaozi couldn’t help but see him in a new light. Jiang Luo fiddled with the soul-locking pendant at his chest. “Will he be able to tell something’s off with this?”
Ji Yaozi smiled, a hint of pride in his voice. “The only thing I can rival the Fated One in is artifact forging.”
That was enough to put Jiang Luo at ease.
By the spring, the Fated One wasn’t alone—Feng Li, who hadn’t appeared all morning, was also there. The Heavenly Master wore a traditional Tang-style outfit and looked even colder than usual. His gaze swept past Jiang Luo and Ji Yaozi, then returned to where it came from without a ripple.
Ji Yaozi noticed something off. “Your master doesn’t look too happy today. His face is even colder than usual…”
But when he turned to look, he realized Jiang Luo’s expression had also chilled.
Ji Yaozi clicked his tongue. What was going on with this master-disciple pair?
Jiang Luo ignored Feng Li and walked straight into the spring. Midway through, to draw the Fated One’s attention to the soul pendant, Jiang Luo feigned being gravely injured—too weak to stay upright in the water.
Sure enough, someone at the edge of the pool noticed. The Fated One said, “Heavenly Master, please check on him.”
Feng Li’s eyes pierced through the steam and landed on Jiang Luo. After staring for a few seconds, he stepped forward—then suddenly stopped. His voice was calm, without the slightest emotion: “I just bathed in this spring. It’s not suitable for me to enter again so soon.”
The smell of wine on him was completely gone.
The Fated One turned to Ji Yaozi. Feng Li, noticing this, frowned at once. Remembering the close relationship between Ji Yaozi and Jiang Luo, his brows furrowed, his gaze darkened. “Ji Yaozi is not suitable either.”
With no other options, the Fated One silently entered the water himself and approached Jiang Luo.
Jiang Luo had his eyes closed, brow slightly furrowed in pain, water dripping from his face—though it was unclear whether it was sweat or spring water. The Fated One took hold of his arm, steadying him in the water, and called gently, “Jiang Luo? Jiang Luo?”
Jiang Luo opened his eyes, his gaze landing on the man before him, full of pain. His voice was weak. “Fated One…”
The pure white hair of the Fated One entered his line of sight. There was a certain “zen” to his appearance—eyelids thin, always drooping in a soft, almost gentle manner, yet once lifted, he seemed distant and unfeeling.
His coldness was different from Feng Li’s. Perhaps some mistook it for warmth. One was like snow—silent, endless, and quietly lethal. The other like sharp ice—cold, hard, and piercing.
Jiang Luo glanced at the water around the Fated One.
It was crystal clear, without a trace of impurity. Was it because he was a false god? Did he really harbor no malice, no desire?
But even gods have selfish thoughts. Could it really be that the Fated One had no trace of “evil” or desire within him?
Jiang Luo narrowed his eyes slightly.
He withdrew all emotion, lifted his pale face, and, unsteady on his feet, grabbed onto the Fated One’s arm.
From the shore, Feng Li couldn’t help but take two steps forward.
Ji Yaozi followed and came to his side, just in time to see the Fated One in the water extend both hands to catch Jiang Luo in time.
He was just about to tease Feng Li for worrying about his disciple when his expression suddenly froze, and in an instant, cold sweat broke out all over his body.
Jiang Luo—he’s not going to… he’s not going to try and see the Fated One’s internal landscape, is he?!
How can he be so bold!
In the water, the pendant on Jiang Luo’s left ear swayed slightly.
The Fated One’s attention was drawn to the earring, and he said with mild surprise, “Soul-Capturing Pendant?”
A flash of confusion passed through Jiang Luo’s eyes. “Soul-Capturing Pendant?”
The Fated One shook his head, raised a hand to brush against the tassel, and mused, “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such a unique Soul-Capturing Pendant.”
It worked.
The corners of Jiang Luo’s mouth curved slightly, and in the next instant, everything before his eyes went white. After a bout of spinning dizziness, both his feet landed on solid ground.
His body felt light—he recognized the familiar sensation of his soul leaving his body. Jiang Luo looked up and found himself standing in front of a temple.
This must be the Fated One’s inner world.
Let’s see what secrets he’s hiding.
Two stone lions flanked the temple gates. Crimson walls exuded a solemn aura, and a sign hung over the entrance with three large characters: Bailu Temple.
Jiang Luo stepped inside. Just past the temple entrance was a lotus pond. Green lotus leaves were lush and thick, with dewdrops rolling off their surface. A few pink-white lotus flowers bloomed brightly, standing tall among the leaves.
Every blade of grass and tree here was steeped in Buddhist energy. Jiang Luo looked ahead—behind the lotus pond, before a hall housing a Buddha statue, stood a single, massive tripod incense burner.
The burner was packed tightly with incense sticks. Wispy white smoke floated up into the sky. Jiang Luo walked around the lotus pond to the incense burner and looked down—ashes had completely filled the entire burner.
The incense varied in color and length. Some were half-burned, others had just started burning.
Jiang Luo fell into thought.
He pulled out two sticks of incense, which vanished the moment they touched his hands.
Taking advantage of the time he had left, Jiang Luo quickly glanced through several temple halls.
The whole temple was proper and orderly—nothing unusual. The only conspicuous thing in the Fated One’s inner world was the tripod incense burner by the lotus pond. Jiang Luo returned to it, thinking of what Ji Yaozi had said. “Offerings… offerings…”
“Burning incense to worship gods. Incense is the medium. Incense, ash, and burner make up the entire communication process with the divine,” he murmured. “Could it be that this incense is the physical manifestation of the people’s faith in the Fated One?”
“Yes.”
A voice suddenly came from behind Jiang Luo.
In an instant, Jiang Luo’s hair stood on end. He spun around and saw the Fated One standing across the lotus pond.
The moment he got a clear look, his scalp went numb and his entire body tensed up.
The Fated One’s smile was gentle. “This is the source of my power.”
“When a person receives faith, they can become a god.” The Fated One stepped onto a lotus leaf in the pond. As he passed by blooming red lotuses, he slowly walked toward Jiang Luo. “Taoist immortals in the East, Buddhas and Bodhisattvas in the West—the more temples that worship them, the more believers they have, the stronger their power becomes. But do real gods truly exist in this world?”
He sighed wistfully. “No one has ever seen a god. Not even me.”
Jiang Luo cautiously took a step back.
“We draw talismans and call on gods. We perform rituals and call on gods. The shamanic tribes can even invite gods to possess them. But if you ask whether gods still exist in this world, most would say no.”
The Fated One stood in the center of the lotus pond. The lotus leaf underfoot looked fragile, yet supported him solidly. “In this world, there are many who call themselves immortals.”
“Great Fox Immortals, Yellow Immortals, even hedgehogs, snakes, mice—they’re the so-called Five Great Immortals,” said the Fated One. “Mountain gods, earth gods, Ding Xin women, Hei Bai Wuchang… We seem to have quite a few lesser gods.”
He stepped out of the lotus pond. “But whether true gods exist—no one knows.”
Jiang Luo had retreated behind the incense burner, lips tightly pressed, eyes locked on the Fated One.
“So I grew curious. I wanted to see if a human could become a new god.” The Fated One stopped before the incense burner, watching the drifting smoke, smiling gently. “Jiang Luo, do you want to become a god?”
Jiang Luo forced a smile, still putting on an unaffected front. “Is this a dream? Fated One, I don’t understand what you mean.”
The Fated One looked at him tenderly, as though at a disobedient junior. “You understand.”
Jiang Luo stared back blankly, not revealing the slightest change in expression.
The Fated One looked at him and slowly smiled.
It felt as if a blizzard was falling from the sky, about to bury Jiang Luo completely. Yet this gaze held not the slightest killing intent. Instead, the snow in the Fated One’s eyes was like gentle seawater—it surrounded Jiang Luo, but didn’t intend to drown him.
It was pure kindness—like the kind shown when killing a bird, done entirely for others’ sake.
A bold thought suddenly surfaced in Jiang Luo’s mind. He abruptly reached out and yanked several incense sticks from the burner, eyes fixed on the Fated One. “If I do this, will you be angry?”
The Fated One smiled helplessly. “No.”
Jiang Luo pressed further: “Will you kill me?”
The Fated One replied, “Of course not.”
Jiang Luo smiled, the corners of his lips curving into a beautiful arc. If an evil spirit were here, they would immediately see that the smile on the black-haired youth’s face carried a pure, pitch-dark malevolence. “Would a god kill?”
The Fated One looked at him for a moment, then slowly said, “No.”
In the eyes of gods, all things in the world are the same.
They are filled with love for mankind. Every person receives the same love from a god. And it’s not just people—other living things are the same. When everything is treated equally, what stands out is not love but indifference. In a god’s eyes, a human’s birth, aging, illness, and death are no different from that of a blade of grass or a bug. They watch all changes from high above. No one is special in a god’s eyes.
They can make a person die with ease, but just as one would not harbor killing intent toward a clump of dirt beneath their feet, or a drop of water in a river, gods too would not harbor killing intent toward people.
In traditional mythology, no deity descends to the mortal world to commit slaughter. But in stories, the line between gods and humans is often blurred. Gods can feel emotions, can be jealous, can fall in love. Jiang Luo could recite the story of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl backwards—let alone tales of deities sacrificing themselves for a greater cause.
But this so-called Fated One, this false god, was different from the deities in legend.
He had no evil thoughts, no desires, no emotions or passions. He regarded all things with benevolence—this kind of “difference,” in Jiang Luo’s eyes, felt far too deliberate. It was revolting.
It was as if only by maintaining this state could the Fated One remain a false god… and eventually become a true god.
But what if the Fated One were to develop evil thoughts? What if he began to desire?
He wanted Jiang Luo to be emotionless and selfless, to be filled with great virtue. But could Jiang Luo reverse that? Could he induce the Fated One to feel malice?
Make him feel anger, killing intent, greed, desire…
Even the desire to become a god—wasn’t that a form of desire?
A glint flashed through Jiang Luo’s eyes.
If the Fated One were to develop evil thoughts and desires, would he fall from his pedestal as a false god and become human again?
Author’s Note:
I’m here!
Fated One: Do you want to become a god?
Jiang Luo: Do you want me to drag you down from the altar?
Chi You: I only got a name drop this chapter.
