Ch 193: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

ARC 12: Suddenly, I Became a God

“Almighty God, please hear the prayer of your most devout believer. The faithful of Naya have longed for you for a thousand years…”

In a haze between dream and waking, Mu Xing heard endless whispers by his ear.

His consciousness felt as though it were being dragged down by some heavy, sticky presence, slipping toward a bottomless abyss of darkness. Only the whisper pierced through the void, reaching his ears.

…What is going on?

The voice paused, then continued: “Barton said perhaps the blood of virgins can awaken Your will. I have already sent people to Bailing City to seek out handsome boys and beautiful girls.”

Mu Xing: ???

Wait a minute.

I don’t know exactly what you’re planning, but no matter how I hear it, it doesn’t sound like anything good!

But the voice faded away, as if the person praying had already left.

Mu Xing sensed something was very wrong. He tried to call out, to stop him, but could not make a sound.

Annoyed, he furrowed his brows—and in the next instant, his immobile consciousness entered a white space.

This was his own sea of consciousness.

The orb floated there, unmoving. From experience, Mu Xing knew this guy was asleep.

Mu Xing: “…”

This ball of who-knows-what was growing more and more unmotivated.

He still didn’t know its true purpose. Aside from a few early attempts to incite him—half-hearted and ineffective—it had simply become a salted fish, lazing around.

It squatted in his consciousness sea day after day, doing nothing but sleep, living even more leisurely than Mu Xing himself.

Mu Xing moved closer and poked it with his finger.

The light-ball shuddered twice and blurted out in confusion, “Who—who ambushed me?”

Mu Xing: “…”

He was just about to reply when his consciousness was forcibly dragged back into that earlier darkness.

At the same time, a flood of memories surged into his mind.

This body belonged to a god.

More accurately, a god who had long since fallen.

On this continent, humanity once established three great empires:

The Vista Empire upon the northern ice plains.
The Tianhai Empire in the east.
And the most fertile southern lands, once home to the mighty and beautiful Naya Empire.

Each empire had its patron deity, and the gods sheltered their people.

But a thousand years ago, Naya’s god perished. Without divine protection, the vast empire tore itself apart through civil strife and invasion by its neighbors, collapsing into two kingdoms and several principalities.

Without their powerful god and empire, the people of Naya suffered endlessly.

The original body Mu Xing now inhabited was but a fragment of that fallen god’s soul, painstakingly preserved by his most loyal high priest, Or, awaiting the day of revival.

The one who had whispered to Mu Xing earlier was the descendant of that high priest—a mage who even bore the same name, Or.

For countless generations, the Or lineage had struggled to bring their god back.

But Mu Xing, having glimpsed the original story, knew the truth: Naya’s god had perished completely. That fragment of soul had long since lost its memories and sentience. Revival was impossible.

Yet Or had believed the words of a traveling merchant named Barton. Barton had given him a sheepskin scroll, inscribed with a method for reviving a god: each day, sacrifice a pair of pure, beautiful virgins, channel their blood into a ritual array, nourish the god’s soul for eighty-one days, and then the god would rise again.

Mu Xing thought they must have gone mad.

In a way, they succeeded.

But what they summoned was not their god.

The divine fragment had no consciousness left. The sinister ritual, with its blood sacrifices, only drew in countless malicious beings from hell and the dark night. These merged with that faint remnant of divinity, producing an abominable monster.

The god’s soul had no will of its own. All the array and those fiends instilled into it was corruption and malice.

From the moment of its rebirth, Naya’s “god” was nothing more than a mindless abomination that devoured human flesh and blood.

And at that time, a hero named Amos happened to arrive in the Naya lands.

He was the son of a duke from the Vista Empire. Vista worshipped a mighty god of war and beasts. Their warriors could transform into beasts in battle, sweeping all before them.

Before the Naya people could decide whether to rejoice in their god’s “revival” or lament having summoned a monster, the newborn abomination was… slaughtered.

Naya became a laughingstock once more.

Not only Naya—the very faith they once held sacred, the almighty god they once worshipped—was reduced to ridicule.

No one remembered that their great god had once protected them for millennia. All they saw was the hideous, evil, and weak creature, and equated it with their god.

Now, Mu Xing had become that god.

Or rather, his consciousness and soul had devoured and replaced the fragment of divinity preserved in the crystal Or had worshipped.

When he was forced to consume that fragment, he faintly heard a sigh in his mind.

It was the fallen god’s whisper.

The god “saw” the future.

He foresaw that his worshippers, in their zeal to revive him, would commit folly—and pay the price. The very first sacrifice consumed by the false revival would be his most loyal high priest.

He foresaw blood soaking the ground. Before the hero from Vista arrived, the abomination would already claim countless Naya lives.

He left his remaining soul fragment and all his divine power to Mu Xing, entrusting him with the task of watching over his followers.

Mu Xing thought to himself, Brother, I’m in a tough spot too.

Your followers are about to drag in people for a live sacrifice.

That ritual array is clearly no good. In the original storyline, most of the reason Or summoned that monster was because the ritual array brought in too much corrupt energy, corroding what was left of the god’s mind.

Strictly speaking, the god of the Nayans was already gone. Whatever they summoned would never be their god again.

What they managed to summon would depend entirely on the will of the thing they called forth.

Mu Xing worriedly “looked” at himself.

He couldn’t actually see anything. He only felt as though he were submerged in infinite darkness. No body, no sight, just endless black where his consciousness reached.

It felt like he was sealed.

Then he remembered. In the story, to prevent the god’s soul fragment from dissipating, the great priest had burned his own soul and life essence to forge a magical crystal orb to lock the remnant inside.

So right now, he was inside that crystal orb?

Was the ritual really the only way to revive him?

No. Mu Xing refused to accept revival bought with the blood and lives of innocents.

He closed his eyes and sank deeper into the dark void.

Very soon, he realized something was off.

He wasn’t the original fragment. His divine soul was whole, powerful. That remnant only gave him a scrap of divine energy, some information about the gods, and most importantly, passed on its identity to him.

Finally, he understood: he now carried the identity of a god.

The fragment had perished, but he was intact.

He could completely rebuild himself, cultivate anew, and use divine power to shape a new body—revive openly and legitimately.

With a god’s soul and status, his cultivation speed was beyond doubt.

Time flowed differently in the sea of consciousness. By the time he next heard movement outside, Mu Xing had already pushed his awareness past the crystal orb’s seal and could “see” what lay beyond.

It was a vast, sinister temple. The towering walls once had many skylights, all sealed for unknown reasons.

Brilliant reliefs and murals, eroded by time, now appeared scarred and ghastly. In the dim hall lit only by candles, the atmosphere was eerie.

Mu Xing really didn’t get why a god’s temple had to be this creepy.

The whole place radiated evil.

His sight moved forward. At the very center of the temple stood a high platform, as tall as a man. Atop it rested a white jade vessel, within which sat a purple crystal orb.

That should be the magic crystal that sealed him.

A man in a black cloak entered, tall, holding a wand.

When he spoke, Mu Xing immediately knew who he was.

The one who had prayed into his ears before—his most devout follower, the mage Or.

Or knelt at the high platform holding the crystal orb and began the usual pious prayer.

Then he said, “I have found a pair of beautiful virgins, and the ritual array is nearly complete. My God, just a little longer—two days from now, Your will shall descend upon Naya again, and Your radiance will once more shine upon this land…”

After a long stream of praises, he added in pain, “I know I will commit a great sin. I am willing to bear it alone, even if my soul falls into hell without release.”

Mu Xing: “…”

“No need,” he said aloud.

The kneeling figure stiffened.

…What did he just hear?

He lifted his head blankly. Mu Xing saw his face—and to his surprise, this fanatical devotee was very young.

Not only young, but uncommonly handsome. A pale, finely sculpted face, beautiful enough to drive women mad.

And he was said to be a high-level mage, proof of rare talent in the arcane.

Unfortunately, this person had never lived for himself.

His whole life was spent serving a god long since dead, even to the point of committing terrible mistakes. In the end, he died miserably in a monster’s jaws.

Blind faith truly led nowhere.

Mu Xing spoke again: “I said, it is not necessary.”

The voice fell into Or’s mind, ethereal and indistinct, impossible to tell whether it was male or female.

His eyes went wide. He stared dumbly up at the crystal orb, tears slipping uncontrollably from his green eyes as he wept: “Is it truly You answering me, my God?”

Mu Xing, inexplicably softened, sighed inwardly.

He couldn’t stand people crying.

Especially not good-looking ones.

He answered, “It is I.”

“No ritual, no sacrifice,” he emphasized. “Blood cannot bring me back—only add to my chains. Release them.”

“I have heard your prayers. After eighty-one days, I shall return. My radiance will be reborn upon this land.” He calculated that with cultivation, he should be able to reshape a divine body by then.