Bond what good karma?
Xue Cuo and the cloud god stared at one another, big eyes glaring at small ones. Both were visibly awkward.
Once, this deity had followed the Goddess of the Great Loch and governed all the cloud qi over the Three Mountains and Five Seas. In those days, even a single cloud god could pummel a cultivator at the Spirit Void Stage.
But now?
The Heavenly Statutes, the Heavenly Orders, the Heavenly Timing, the Heavenly Fates all lay in the hands of cultivators. As divine fortune declined, such gods could do little more than cling to existence within Wendao Palace. With time, they even began to forget the name of their mistress.
Ten thousand years had passed.
He had drifted dazed and directionless in the clouds.
Had it not been for the boy who recited the Goddess’s sacred name before him today, had he not once more sensed Her divine resonance…
The cloud god wept.
He suddenly could no longer remember why he had left the Goddess of the Great Loch in the first place. He strained to recall, knowing there had once been something important he had to do. But for the life of him, he could not recall what it was.
What matter was it?
The cloud gods were too ancient. And now too feeble.
He had forgotten his mistress. Forgotten her commands. All that remained, wrested from the depths of memory, was that once he had been a newborn cloud in the mortal realm.
Back then, Xianghuo flourished with worshippers across the land.
Mountains, rivers, oceans, and lakes birthed spirit after spirit.
The people who dwelled near the Great Loch had once worshipped its waters with pious devotion, praying to its gods for lush pastures, plentiful fishing, and peace in the household.
As the number of worshippers grew, over many years, a natural spirit took form within the Great Loch.
The divine are not born with gender, but the goddess had chosen the form of a woman.
It was an era when the Eastern Sun had risen, scattering the tattered stars and dimmed moon. The heavens blazed with war, the earth ran red with blood.
The Great Loch rose to resist the enemy, its waves surging wildly.
Waters swallowed land and drowned villages. Countless living things struggled in the flood.
And amid that chaos, the Goddess cloaked in rosy clouds and starlight, stood between the Three Mountains and Five Seas, her many subordinate gods trailing behind. While fighting, she turned once to look back toward her Great Loch of old and faltered.
The cloud god remembered she had said something to him that day. But now, he could not recall it.
Back then, he had been one of her many attendants, her most insignificant one.
But now, why was all that remained of her a sleeping remnant, a lingering echo? Where had She gone?
“Little bro, what has become of the Divine Land now? The Three Mountain Emperors. The Ten True Gods. The Five Directional Goddesses. Do they still exist?”
Xue Cuo was completely confused. “Non-existent. Never heard of them.”
The cloud god was shaken to the core. The line-etched eyes etched on his face widened. “Gone? What of the Demon Emperor Hun Kun? The Twelve Immortal Beasts? The Southern Peacock King……”
Xue Cuo scratched his head, full of regret that he’d never studied harder. He’d never heard a single one of those name before. “I don’t think they’re around anymore. These days, demons and cultivators just train side by side.”
The cloud god shut his eyes. He stood in silence for a long time before speaking again: “It was I who lost composure… Little bro, you must be the Goddess’s divine envoy.”
Xue Cuo saw the words “Cause and Effect” looming over his head. But in Eastern Divine Lands, what status did the Xianghuo gods even hold? Who would dare receive divine karma on behalf of the Goddess?
He leapt to his feet at once, bowed deeply and insisted, “Uncle, you’ve mistaken me.”
“You recited Her sacred name,”
“You borrowed Her Great Loch manifestation. Even carried a trace of Her divine resonance.”
He lowered his head, leaned close, and sniffed Xue Cuo: “There’s still a faint scent of underworld paper talismans about you.”
“You are not Her divine envoy?”
Xue Cuo shook his head. “No.”
The cloud god fell silent again, unmoving like clay. Then, with a thump, he sank to both knees. His immense form trembled all over. The other cloud gods didn’t understand why their eldest brother did this, but as one, their hearts filled with sorrow.
The cloud god gave a long, heavy sigh. “I understand now. Little bro, you may go.”
Xue Cuo was startled. He took a few cautious steps. The cloud god remained still as a statue, his blinking eyes now frozen, making no move to stop him.
So, Xue Cuo hopped off the cloud and hurried off toward the horizon. But the further he went, the slower his feet became.
Behind him, the cloud god rose again, dazed and broken. He turned around, plunged his hand into the clouds, and drew out a massive mace entwined with raging winds. He swept his gaze across the others and declared: “You lot, stay here. Don’t follow me. I am going to search for the Goddess’s divine kingdom.”
“To ask… what was it that I forgot?”
This cloud god was no more than a captive mount kept by Wendao Palace. He looked up at the sky. There, the night was a deep, starless blue.
But in his memories, Eastern Divine Lands’s nights were filled with stars. He and his fellow gods had drunk wine on the clouds, the moon above them not so bright nor domineering, but soft and beautiful.
He remembered, too, that he had brothers. Tall as eight-storey towers, strong enough to lift mountains. At every dawn and dusk, they would gather to push clouds to the edges of the sky, to decorate the firmament.
Back then, he had forgotten. That was why he’d managed to keep dragging out a half-life.
But now, he remembered. And having remembered, he could no longer endure the prison of this stagnation. Even knowing that to leave would mean annihilation of both body and spirit.
He still had to ask. He had to ask.
What was it that he had forgotten?
The cloud god walked toward the edge of the sky, a group of small giants trailing behind him. He turned back. “Don’t follow me. I’m going to seek death.”
These little giants had been born later. They didn’t know the Goddess. They didn’t know the Xianghuo gods of the past. The cloud god’s question had nothing to do with them. If they stayed here, they might remain trapped, but they would not die.
But one of the giants slung his mace over his shoulder and grinned. “Wherever Big Brother goes, there I go too.”
“Yes. Wherever Big Brother goes, I’ll follow.”
The cloud god hesitated. “Once I leave, you’ll be Big Brother.”
The giants chuckled but said nothing. They shouldered their weapons with that same bullish swagger and trailed loyally after the cloud god.
“Wait for me, Big Brother!”
The cloud giants marched in step.
“Uncle!”
A small voice suddenly called out. The cloud god turned, startled. That human child hadn’t left after all. He lowered his massive head. “Little bro, is there something else?”
Xue Cuo said, “I don’t like the Xianghuo Divine Dao, but I can light a stick of incense for you. If there’s anything you wish to say or ask, I can burn it on your behalf for the Goddess of the Great Loch.”
The giant’s gaze dimmed. “If the Xianghuo Divine Dao no longer exists in this world, I fear you won’t be able to find Her. I think I’ll go and ask Her myself.”
The cloud god said, “Little bro, that small white cloud on your head… at dawn each day, gather a wisp of morning mist to feed it properly.”
Xue Cuo reached up and patted the soft fluff on his head.
The cloud god didn’t look back again. He hefted his wolf-fang cudgel and charged towards the edge of the sky.
There, nestled in the cloud bank, a drowsy Daoist yawned awake. He stretched, drew his sword lazily, and said, “Oh? You again? Every few decades like clockwork. You really don’t get tired of this.”
The cloud god’s expression was blank as a clay idol. Without a word, he raised his cudgel and lunged forward.
The Daoist sprang into the air and slashed his sword.
The cloud god didn’t dodge. He was willing to lose an arm if it meant wounding this man.
The other giants rushed to follow, weapons at the ready, eager to assist in the name of righteousness.
The Daoist gave a disdainful snort and, with a single swing, lopped off one of the cloud god’s heads. He kicked it aside and muttered grimly: “Do you know why you’ve never managed more than six arms and four heads? Because you’ve got a death wish.
“Ten thousand years. I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve chopped off your heads. Me, my predecessor, my predecessor’s predecessor, all the way back.
“How many of our cultivators have you worn out? You probably don’t even remember. Today, I’ll slice off two of your heads. Then your arms. One by one.”
He raised his sword. “You Xianghuo Dao gods are a bloody nuisance.”
The giants surged forward, but they were no match for the Daoist’s blade. They were quickly repelled.
Still, the cloud god clenched his cudgel and charged again.
The cloud giants howled, throwing themselves between their brother and danger, refusing to back down even as they were wounded.
The Daoist was growing irritated. These cloudy gods really didn’t know when to quit!
Still, the cloud qi he cut from them would be perfect for crafting feather-robes for fairies. Perhaps it was time he found a Daoist partner of his own.
Xue Cuo watched the battle unfold from behind a veil of cloud, increasingly anxious.
