Shikigami Luo Zhu and the others were lying in ambush around Dazhao Temple. They were very close—should the Fated One summon them, they could rush over in the shortest time possible.
Luo Zhu was the only female among the three great shikigami by the Fated One’s side. Calm yet daring, she acted swiftly and decisively. She had been assigned to the front line to protect the Fated One.
The area in front of Dazhao Temple was completely still. The forest was eerily quiet, the only sound being birds flitting through the trees.
Perched in a tree, Luo Zhu kept her gaze fixed on Dazhao Temple. A breeze brushed her nose, and she suddenly caught the scent of something burning.
She stood, following the smell, and turned to look behind her.
Thin gray smoke was rising from the distant forest, gathering slowly in the sky.
A fire?
Luo Zhu sent a shikigami to investigate. But five full minutes passed, and the shikigami had not returned. Her heart sank. She leapt down from the tree and split the group in two—one team would follow her to report the disturbance to their Master, and the other would go check out the source of the smoke.
After giving her orders, Luo Zhu led her group toward Dazhao Temple without hesitation.
But just as they neared the temple, Luo Zhu abruptly halted and raised a hand to signal the others to stop.
Ahead of them, Master Chengde and his three disciples stood firmly, blocking the path.
Master Chengde smiled benevolently. “Benefactor, Dazhao Temple is not receiving worshippers today.”
Knowing her Master didn’t want to antagonize Dazhao Temple, Luo Zhu also remained courteous. “Master Chengde, I have urgent business with the Fated One.”
Master Chengde disapproved, “The Fated One is at a critical moment. You cannot disturb him. If you do, you may ruin everything he’s working for.”
At these words, many of the shikigami behind Luo Zhu began to waver. But Luo Zhu showed no hesitation. She knew it was useless to continue talking, and directly stated, “Forgive me, Master.”
The shikigami instinctively followed her, preparing to bypass Chengde and the others—but a Buddhist bead came hurtling toward Luo Zhu with lightning speed. She barely dodged it and looked at Master Chengde with wary surprise.
Master Chengde’s three disciples stepped forward, raising their palms and chanting sutras in unison. As their lips moved, Luo Zhu felt her mind reverberating as if struck by gongs and drums, her vision spinning.
They came with ill intent!
To stay conscious, Luo Zhu cut herself sharply and snapped out of it. Without a second thought, she ordered, “Change route!”
The attitude of Master Chengde made it clear—Dazhao Temple’s so-called “true god” was a trap. They had to get this message to Master.
Master Chengde shouted sternly, “Don’t think you can escape!”
He too began to chant with his disciples.
The shikigami collapsed one by one in agony. Only Luo Zhu gritted her teeth and stumbled away, finally disappearing into the forest.
As the chanting ceased, the eldest disciple asked worriedly, “Master, shouldn’t we chase her?”
Master Chengde remained calm. “All we need to do is guard this path. No matter where she flees, anyone trying to reach Dazhao Temple will be stopped.”
He paused, then sighed. “Half a year ago, the Fated One was so imposing… But now look—his followers are either gone or have sided with Jiang Luo and Chi You. The situation has completely flipped in such a short time. If someone had said this would happen six months ago, who would’ve believed it?”
The disciple nodded, then asked uneasily, “Master, do you think the Fated One will be killed in the end?”
Master Chengde’s expression turned cold. He sneered, “Whether it’s today or not, he must die.”
As he spoke, his eyes scanned the forest. The smoke had thickened, birds and beasts scattered in panic, and trees crashed down one after another.
Though the day had been clear, dark clouds had gathered at some point and were now creeping toward Dazhao Temple.
Even from afar, it felt like an overwhelming army was approaching.
Master Chengde suddenly burst out laughing. “Fated One, with such a grand scene today—even in death, you won’t be dying in disgrace.”
The national military had encircled the base of Dazhao Temple to prevent enemies from fleeing. Chi You’s forces and the renowned elders—both humans and spirits—stood guard around the temple. Inside were Jiang Luo and the others.
This time, the Fated One’s death would not be in vain.
***
Inside Dazhao Temple, all was calm.
The Fated One entered the shrine of the true god and bowed respectfully. “This junior has already admitted his mistakes.”
He lit three incense sticks. A moment later, the true god spoke. “Are you truly repentant?”
The Fated One smiled. “Of course I am. After your guidance, I’ve come to truly understand the meaning of the words: ‘All things are empty.’”
“That’s right,” the True God said after a long pause, gratified. “Knowing your mistakes and changing your ways is rare indeed. Very well, come in.”
The Fated One straightened up, eyes fixed on the door that was only a few steps away.
The True God was behind that door. Once he stepped through, what awaited him would either be a deadly trap—or the divine path to ascension. He had waited two hundred years for this moment. It had finally come.
The Fated One closed his eyes, calmed his turbulent emotions, then stepped forward and pushed open the door.
Behind it was a spacious and somewhat austere grand hall.
At its center stood a statue of Shakyamuni Buddha. The Fated One was slightly taken aback and called out tentatively, “Senior?”
“I’m here,” a distant voice answered from within the hall, its origin impossible to place. “Fated One, you truly surprised me. I never expected you to come this far.”
The Fated One responded humbly, “I don’t dare claim much. I only hope Senior will continue to guide me.”
The True God was direct. “At this moment, you are only one step away from becoming a god.”
Even the calm and detached Fated One couldn’t help but feel his heart skip two beats at those words, his breath quickening slightly. He paused for a moment to steady himself. “Please, go on.”
“This final step,” said the True God, “is the hardest of all—filled with pain and suffering. If you fail, all your efforts will be for nothing. I wonder… do you have the resolve to bear such pain?”
The Fated One smiled faintly. “I am already prepared.”
“Good,” the True God changed tone slightly. “Do you still remember what I told you before?”
The Fated One bowed slightly. “I wouldn’t dare forget a single word.”
“Then you should recall that I told you about those who became gods—whether it was Heavenly Master Zhang, Lord Guan, the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, or even Ding the New Bride. All of them became gods only after death.”
The Fated One froze.
The True God said calmly, “Only through death can you be granted divine status after passing.”
Silence.
The entire temple fell into stillness.
The smile on the Fated One’s face slowly faded.
What did this mean? Was the True God toying with him?
But the more he thought about it, the more it made a strange sort of sense. Throughout history, gods were indeed made after death and virtue.
But how could death be the final step to divinity?
What if he died and didn’t become a god?
It was a vicious cycle. If the True God was right, he could never become a god unless he died—but if he died, who could guarantee his ascension?
The True God seemed unsurprised. “See? Even this step you cannot take. You will remain stuck in place forever.”
The Fated One’s eyes darkened. He closed them briefly; snow-white lashes casting a shadow. “Is there… another way?”
The True God sighed. “Very well. Let me help you.”
The Fated One opened his eyes—only to hear the True God’s voice drawing nearer.
No… not nearer—just no longer clouded by mystic airs and illusion.
He instinctively turned toward the voice and saw a figure stepping out from behind the Buddha statue.
A familiar face. The man smiled at him—mocking, as though enjoying a good show.
“Let me, your elder, help you die.”
It was Jiang Luo.
Impossible.
The Fated One’s expression cracked. He stared in disbelief. The True God… had been Jiang Luo this whole time?
How could it be Jiang Luo?
Shock, fury, and soul-crushing disappointment swept over the Fated One’s face. He thought back on the past month—his reverence for the True God, his willingness to confess the prophecy—all of it now felt like a cruel farce. His face turned pale.
“You impersonated the True God to deceive me?” he growled, jaw clenched.
Jiang Luo said lazily, “Impersonate? That’s a harsh word.”
He chuckled. “Wasn’t I helping you become a god?”
Jiang Luo waved his arm. A massive golden dragon roared out from the Yin-Yang hoop.
With a half-smile, Jiang Luo glanced at him. “The dragon of the Yin-Yang hoop—you don’t even recognize it?”
Before the Fated One could reply, Jiang Luo continued, “Ah, right. The hoop’s been reforged. Of course you don’t know what it can do anymore.”
Each word struck like a bucket of ice water, shattering all the Fated One’s composure, grinding his hopes and confidence into dust. Two weeks of patient waiting—now a cruel joke.
His dreams of godhood had crumbled to pieces.
Pale-faced and stunned, he barely reacted before Jiang Luo lunged forward and slammed a punch into his chest—wrapped in a force as overwhelming as crashing mountains and raging seas.
The dragon struck alongside the blow, vicious and relentless.
With a deafening crash, the Fated One was hurled through the door, landing hard in the vast courtyard outside.
Jiang Luo quickly used a character sigil to pin him down temporarily. He drew a dagger, and without hesitation, slashed toward the Fated One’s throat.
The blade barely broke skin before a powerful force knocked Jiang Luo flying.
He regained his footing and looked up to see two shikigami standing protectively behind the Fated One.
Of course—he had backup.
Jiang Luo wasn’t sure if he had managed to sever the vocal cords—but he knew he couldn’t afford to give the Fated One time to speak.
He swiftly wrote the character for “Water.” It flashed and transformed into a massive wave that surged toward the three.
The shikigami shielded the Fated One, shattering the water blast into splashes.
Jiang Luo grinned, then cruelly inscribed the character for “Thunder.” He flung it into the sky, then clenched his fingers, as if yanking something down.
Thunderclouds gathered thick over the temple. A barrage of silver lightning crashed down, conducted through the lingering water—displaying the full destructive might of the storm.
The Fated One dodged in time, but his two shikigami were struck by the lightning and turned into two small, charred paper effigies, which fell to the ground and crumbled into ash.
The Fated One looked at Jiang Luo again, as if seeing him for the first time—utterly unfamiliar.
While he was caught off guard and had no time to fight back, Jiang Luo had already seized the advantage—and continued expanding it with unstoppable momentum. By now, the Fated One had completely lost the upper hand.
Shock and rage from being deceived still churned in his chest. He touched the wound on his neck, his eyes dark and deep.
With all the noise in Dazhao Temple, by reason, his shikigami should’ve already rushed over. But in reality, not a single one had arrived.
The Fated One was no fool. After snapping out of his obsession with becoming a god, he understood—he had fallen into a trap that had been laid out for an entire month.
For a whole month, the other side had been setting one trap after another—just to trap him in Dazhao Temple today.
Jiang Luo wanted him dead.
The Fated One knew, at this very moment, the most rational choice was to run.
This was a trap—so Jiang Luo was likely not the only one here. His shikigami were probably already wiped out. Escape was the only viable option. The faster, the sooner he fled, the more chance he had of rising again.
He took a deep breath, suppressing the chaotic surge of emotions in his chest. Without hesitation, he turned and bolted.
