Xue Cuo had only been joking.
He lifted his foot and stepped through the gates of the Shiliu Temple.
At once, he was swallowed by the dim, murky light within.
The vast hall was cloaked in incense haze. At its centre loomed an enormous stone statue. It was carved from black rock, half human, half fish, with four arms, a brooding face, and hollow eyes that revealed neither gender nor warmth. In both hands it held a baby wrapped in red cloth, arms extended slightly forward, as though presenting a gift.
Xue Cuo reacted quickly, stepping back to one side to avoid the “blessing” offered upon entry.
The floor was cluttered with children’s toys, the air thick with choking incense smoke.
At the statue’s feet clustered countless small wooden carvings of infants. Each bore an unnervingly lifelike face—pale, stiff, and sinister—their black, glassy pupils fixed upon the visitors. Shadows of dark red flickered across the ground with each wavering candle flame, like countless tiny arms tugging at human silhouettes.
Xue Cuo’s gaze swept over the altar, lingering on the murals that lined the temple walls.
He gave a quiet hum and stepped closer to take a better look.
The little golden dragon poked half his head out of his shixiong’s fragrant robes… only to be discreetly pressed back down.
The mural was faded and blotched, painted in only red and black.
It depicted a deity born into mortal flesh, wandering the deep mountains and green plains, where it encountered a group of anciently dressed humans.
The humans sculpted its likeness, bestowed it with a form, built a temple, and began to worship it. Their incense flourished.
They plundered and cooked their captives, offering the blood and flesh in sacrifice, praying for the prosperity of their tribe. Babies were born in droves.
With every ritual, the god grew stronger; its incense blazed brighter.
Studying the mural closely, Xue Cuo soon found the figure that had first caught his attention.
It was a deity standing among the clouds. A woman, magnificent and austere, her robes billowing as she hovered above. Behind her followed a host of towering retainers wielding spiked maces.
Opposite her stood another great god… a lizard-bodied being with the tail of a serpent, long spear in hand, majestic and fierce.
The two gods faced each other. The heavens boiled with floodwaters, and colossal trees surged upward. While gods battled above, the mortal tribe below was drowned by the deluge and crushed beneath the fallen trees and temple ruins.
If his eyes were not deceiving him, that indistinct goddess… looked very much like Her Ladyship.
Xue Cuo couldn’t help glancing again. And there, in one corner of the mural, he found the lizard-bodied god. It had descended among mortals, seemingly striking some bargain with the God of Childbirth.
When he looked back to the divine battle, a chill ran down his spine. He sucked in a sharp breath, his mind tumbling:
[Your Ladyship, Your Ladyship. Your old friend’s here.]
Naturally, there was no reply.
The temple’s candles flickered suddenly. Xue Cuo turned in alarm, just in time to see one of the wooden infant carvings in the corner blink.
He had lingered too long without moving. It was enough to draw attention.
Though the veil laid upon him by Her Ladyship masked his presence from lesser gods, the little golden dragon he carried gave off a different sort of lure. It made him look… edible.
To put it plainly, his incense must smell delicious.
Suppressing the urge to swear, Xue Cuo strode up to the altar, lit three sticks of incense, and quietly slipped a transformation talisman between his fingers. Speaking through the spell, he whispered, “Xiao Mu, it’s your turn to act.”
The little golden dragon popped out from his robes, wings fluttering, ready to offer the incense. Then suddenly let out a squeak and darted straight back inside.
“You’re not listening to Shixiong now?” Xue Cuo hissed.
The dragon clung to his robes, shaking his head furiously.
“Be good. Come out.”
But the little dragon’s eyes were wide with terror. In this moment, he’d rather die than obey. He plunged deeper into Xue Cuo’s clothing, tail trembling, and refused to emerge.
Xue Cuo could only lift his head, expression flat.
Barely an inch from his nose was a face, …ashen, hollow, and vast. The statue had bent low from its pedestal, peering at him with empty eyes.
To ordinary mortals, of course, the statue would remain motionless. None of the temple’s strangeness would register at all.
But Xue Cuo was not mortal. He bore a divine lineage, and illusions could not deceive him. His prolonged examination of the mural, however, had been like staring intently at a blank wall for too long, too obviously.
That mural had not been what it seemed.
He had, quite literally, walked into a divine sting operation.
The carved clay idol emitted a strange, sticky scent of incense. Its stone eyes blinked, finding nothing amiss, then straightened slowly. After a moment’s hesitation, it gestured lazily toward a wooden doll at its feet.
The doll yawned, woke, and burst into a wailing cry. It revealed a row of sharp, silver fangs.
Still crying, it clutched at Xue Cuo’s robe and began to climb.
Every hair on his body stood on end.
He suddenly realised what had disturbed him in the mural: the lizard-bodied god, once slender, had swelled grotesquely mid-battle, its belly round and full. Meanwhile, every stick-figure human in the mural’s tribe had been shown with a distended stomach.
He had dismissed it then, but now… the truth was impossible to ignore.
The Shiliu God’s “blessings” did not distinguish between man and woman. So long as there was flesh and blood to serve as vessel, the god could birth a child through it.
And at the height of its power, it could even impregnate another god.
Xue Cuo had never intended to offer incense, but this Shiliu God, apparently smitten by his aura, had decided to take matters by force.
He gritted his teeth, about to strike first with a single offering of incense.
When a thunderous boom erupted outside the temple. The entire hall shook violently.
The child clinging to him vanished. The god’s spiritual presence dissipated in an instant, as though it had left to investigate the disturbance.
Xue Cuo hastily stamped out the incense and candles, then cast a glance at the little wooden figurine.
The little golden dragon felt a sudden chill upon its rump; turning about, it found itself face to face with a wooden effigy whose babyish features were marked by a pair of ghastly, hollow eyes.
“Eldest Shixiong!”
Xue Cuo tumbled out of the shrine and bolted into the crowd. In the next instant, a celestial cloud drifted into view above the city, bearing a dozen or so cultivators.
Judging from their auras and bearing, they were unmistakably disciples of an immortal sect, and not of low rank.
“People of the city, do not panic!” one of them proclaimed. “We are disciples of Wendao Palace. We have descended the mountain to purge evil and deliver all living beings from harm.”
Xue Cuo looked up, eyes widening for a heartbeat, then quickly composed himself and melted into the crowd.
The townsfolk murmured in confusion.
An old man with nothing but skin and bones yet sporting a swollen belly, pushed his way forward in agitation. “Who are you lot? To show such disrespect towards the Shiliu God. You’ll bring calamity upon us all!”
“No matter who you are,” cried another, “to destroy our temple so brazenly is to make yourselves enemies of Qianyun City!”
“That’s right! I thought you were just immortal lackeys. I’ve suffered enough at your hands and fled all the way here. Yet still you won’t leave us be!”
“Come down here!”
“Down with you!”
The crowd grew incensed, shouting abuse.
The young disciple carrying a great cauldron looked towards his senior. “Liu-shixiong, they’re obstinate and blind. What should we do?”
Liu-shixiong, a tall and commanding figure, flipped open the Book of Merit, cast a sweeping glance at the mortals below, and said coldly, “They aid the wicked and are beyond salvation. Fools of the lowest order. Slay them all.”
The younger disciple faltered. “But they’ve been beguiled by the heresy of Xianghuo Divine Dao worship.”
“Can’t you see?” Liu snapped. “These so-called gods are born of mortal desire. The incense that sustains this temple is the debt their hearts have offered up, bit by bit.”
The disciple looked down. With his spiritual sight, he could see that every womb among the people harboured a faint trace of evil. None were of pure mortal birth.
From grey-bearded elders to children barely fourteen, almost all were pregnant, male and female alike. And none found it strange.
The young disciple steeled himself. Placing his palm upon the cauldron, he assumed his stance.
The leading disciple, intent on shattering the temple and destroying the evil god’s corporeal form, struck without mercy.
The great cauldron crashed down towards the shrine… but was repelled by an invisible barrier of light. The deflected force blasted into the crowd instead; blood and flesh burst through the air, and screams filled the square.
Xue Cuo barely managed to save a dozen souls.
Above the temple now stood a human-bodied, fish-headed deity. The Shiliu God himself. His form was shrouded in incense so thick that no Daoist spell could touch him. He lifted his head coldly towards the immortal cloud.
Liu-shixiong’s sword danced like rain. “Be destroyed!”
His blade carried a faint thread of the Great Dao itself. The Shiliu God twisted aside, but even so, a wisp of sword aura tore away a corner of his divine robe.
The Xianghuo Divine Dao shattered into dust. Its power drowned beneath the midday sun of the Dao.
Liu-shixiong no longer fought with swordsmanship, but with the authority of Heaven itself. He wielded the Dao as judgement: Heaven’s will, Heaven’s decree, Heaven’s execution.
Heaven would not abide a resurrected Xianghuo Divine Dao god.
Realising this, Shiliu God did not attempt to resist. His body burst apart into countless translucent eggs that scattered, each seeking the womb of some pregnant host.
The young disciple gasped. “Shixiong, he’s escaped!”
Liu-shixiong glanced about the city. He had smashed one temple, hoping to cut the knot cleanly. But Qianyun City housed more than one heretic god, and his time was limited.
“Give me the cauldron!”
He seized it from his little shixiong and hurled it down. The blow would have annihilated hundreds of unborn vessels, which were hundreds of nascent lives.
Suddenly, from the crowd, a young voice cried out, “Everyone! Pray to the Great Shiliu God to save us!”
The chosen followers of Shiliu God, already fanatically devout, were now driven to desperation. One by one, they fell to their knees, crying aloud for the god’s mercy.
The deity gathered the incense of their faith, compelled to answer their pleas. For a god born of mortal vows, such response was reflex, not will.
From the sky, Liu-shixiong saw a womb gleam faintly with light. “There!”
The Shiliu God, voiceless with fury, tore free from the host and took shape once more. His figure towered beyond measure as he hurtled towards the immortal cloud.
Liu-shixiong drew himself up, his Dao pressing hard against the god’s power. Though his cultivation was far from sufficient, the Dao itself restrained incense-born deities, and for a while the two were evenly matched
Until a startled cry broke the air. “Ow!”
Liu-shixiong turned and blanched. His fellow disciples were clutching at their bellies, faces twisted in terror as their abdomens swelled grotesquely.
“Shixiong, it hurts!” one screamed.
Before the words had finished, his stomach burst open. Blood and viscera spilled onto the cloud, and from within tumbled a slick, red infant, wailing.
Damn it! The fragment had been a decoy. This was the true killing strike!
Had the heretic god not been forced out by the people’s prayers, Liu-shixiong would never have realised until his disciples were gutted from within.
He cast one last look at Qianyun City. Already, several malignant powers had awakened. Without hesitation, he crushed a talisman. In a flash of light, he and his surviving disciples vanished, fleeing a thousand miles away.
Xue Cuo stared after the retreating immortal cloud, his expression sombre.
A moment ago, the little city had been full of bustle; now it was drenched in blood, strewn with corpses.
A heavy hand patted his shoulder. Xue Cuo turned to find the temple’s burly priest, drenched in gore, grinning at him.
“You were the first to start the chant, weren’t you? Clever lad! Very clever! I’ll reward you by taking you as an initiate under our Great Shiliu God. Three children in one womb. You’ll amass plenty of merit! Boy, your blessings have arrived!”
The little golden dragon peeked its head out, unseen by all, and curled up in his eldest shixiong’s arms, grinning in a jagged, zigzag line.Xue Cuo had only been joking.
He lifted his foot and stepped through the gates of the Shiliu Temple.
At once, he was swallowed by the dim, murky light within.
The vast hall was cloaked in incense haze. At its centre loomed an enormous stone statue. It was carved from black rock, half human, half fish, with four arms, a brooding face, and hollow eyes that revealed neither gender nor warmth. In both hands it held a baby wrapped in red cloth, arms extended slightly forward, as though presenting a gift.
Xue Cuo reacted quickly, stepping back to one side to avoid the “blessing” offered upon entry.
The floor was cluttered with children’s toys, the air thick with choking incense smoke.
At the statue’s feet clustered countless small wooden carvings of infants. Each bore an unnervingly lifelike face—pale, stiff, and sinister—their black, glassy pupils fixed upon the visitors. Shadows of dark red flickered across the ground with each wavering candle flame, like countless tiny arms tugging at human silhouettes.
Xue Cuo’s gaze swept over the altar, lingering on the murals that lined the temple walls.
He gave a quiet hum and stepped closer to take a better look.
The little golden dragon poked half his head out of his shixiong’s fragrant robes… only to be discreetly pressed back down.
The mural was faded and blotched, painted in only red and black.
It depicted a deity born into mortal flesh, wandering the deep mountains and green plains, where it encountered a group of anciently dressed humans.
The humans sculpted its likeness, bestowed it with a form, built a temple, and began to worship it. Their incense flourished.
They plundered and cooked their captives, offering the blood and flesh in sacrifice, praying for the prosperity of their tribe. Babies were born in droves.
With every ritual, the god grew stronger; its incense blazed brighter.
Studying the mural closely, Xue Cuo soon found the figure that had first caught his attention.
It was a deity standing among the clouds. A woman, magnificent and austere, her robes billowing as she hovered above. Behind her followed a host of towering retainers wielding spiked maces.
Opposite her stood another great god… a lizard-bodied being with the tail of a serpent, long spear in hand, majestic and fierce.
The two gods faced each other. The heavens boiled with floodwaters, and colossal trees surged upward. While gods battled above, the mortal tribe below was drowned by the deluge and crushed beneath the fallen trees and temple ruins.
If his eyes were not deceiving him, that indistinct goddess… looked very much like Her Ladyship.
Xue Cuo couldn’t help glancing again. And there, in one corner of the mural, he found the lizard-bodied god. It had descended among mortals, seemingly striking some bargain with the God of Childbirth.
When he looked back to the divine battle, a chill ran down his spine. He sucked in a sharp breath, his mind tumbling:
[Your Ladyship, Your Ladyship. Your old friend’s here.]
Naturally, there was no reply.
The temple’s candles flickered suddenly. Xue Cuo turned in alarm, just in time to see one of the wooden infant carvings in the corner blink.
He had lingered too long without moving. It was enough to draw attention.
Though the veil laid upon him by Her Ladyship masked his presence from lesser gods, the little golden dragon he carried gave off a different sort of lure. It made him look… edible.
To put it plainly, his incense must smell delicious.
Suppressing the urge to swear, Xue Cuo strode up to the altar, lit three sticks of incense, and quietly slipped a transformation talisman between his fingers. Speaking through the spell, he whispered, “Xiao Mu, it’s your turn to act.”
The little golden dragon popped out from his robes, wings fluttering, ready to offer the incense. Then suddenly let out a squeak and darted straight back inside.
“You’re not listening to Shixiong now?” Xue Cuo hissed.
The dragon clung to his robes, shaking his head furiously.
“Be good. Come out.”
But the little dragon’s eyes were wide with terror. In this moment, he’d rather die than obey. He plunged deeper into Xue Cuo’s clothing, tail trembling, and refused to emerge.
Xue Cuo could only lift his head, expression flat.
Barely an inch from his nose was a face, …ashen, hollow, and vast. The statue had bent low from its pedestal, peering at him with empty eyes.
To ordinary mortals, of course, the statue would remain motionless. None of the temple’s strangeness would register at all.
But Xue Cuo was not mortal. He bore a divine lineage, and illusions could not deceive him. His prolonged examination of the mural, however, had been like staring intently at a blank wall for too long, too obviously.
That mural had not been what it seemed.
He had, quite literally, walked into a divine sting operation.
The carved clay idol emitted a strange, sticky scent of incense. Its stone eyes blinked, finding nothing amiss, then straightened slowly. After a moment’s hesitation, it gestured lazily toward a wooden doll at its feet.
The doll yawned, woke, and burst into a wailing cry. It revealed a row of sharp, silver fangs.
Still crying, it clutched at Xue Cuo’s robe and began to climb.
Every hair on his body stood on end.
He suddenly realised what had disturbed him in the mural: the lizard-bodied god, once slender, had swelled grotesquely mid-battle, its belly round and full. Meanwhile, every stick-figure human in the mural’s tribe had been shown with a distended stomach.
He had dismissed it then, but now… the truth was impossible to ignore.
The Shiliu God’s “blessings” did not distinguish between man and woman. So long as there was flesh and blood to serve as vessel, the god could birth a child through it.
And at the height of its power, it could even impregnate another god.
Xue Cuo had never intended to offer incense, but this Shiliu God, apparently smitten by his aura, had decided to take matters by force.
He gritted his teeth, about to strike first with a single offering of incense.
When a thunderous boom erupted outside the temple. The entire hall shook violently.
The child clinging to him vanished. The god’s spiritual presence dissipated in an instant, as though it had left to investigate the disturbance.
Xue Cuo hastily stamped out the incense and candles, then cast a glance at the little wooden figurine.
The little golden dragon felt a sudden chill upon its rump; turning about, it found itself face to face with a wooden effigy whose babyish features were marked by a pair of ghastly, hollow eyes.
“Eldest Shixiong!”
Xue Cuo tumbled out of the shrine and bolted into the crowd. In the next instant, a celestial cloud drifted into view above the city, bearing a dozen or so cultivators.
Judging from their auras and bearing, they were unmistakably disciples of an immortal sect, and not of low rank.
“People of the city, do not panic!” one of them proclaimed. “We are disciples of Wendao Palace. We have descended the mountain to purge evil and deliver all living beings from harm.”
Xue Cuo looked up, eyes widening for a heartbeat, then quickly composed himself and melted into the crowd.
The townsfolk murmured in confusion.
An old man with nothing but skin and bones yet sporting a swollen belly, pushed his way forward in agitation. “Who are you lot? To show such disrespect towards the Shiliu God. You’ll bring calamity upon us all!”
“No matter who you are,” cried another, “to destroy our temple so brazenly is to make yourselves enemies of Qianyun City!”
“That’s right! I thought you were just immortal lackeys. I’ve suffered enough at your hands and fled all the way here. Yet still you won’t leave us be!”
“Come down here!”
“Down with you!”
The crowd grew incensed, shouting abuse.
The young disciple carrying a great cauldron looked towards his senior. “Liu-shixiong, they’re obstinate and blind. What should we do?”
Liu-shixiong, a tall and commanding figure, flipped open the Book of Merit, cast a sweeping glance at the mortals below, and said coldly, “They aid the wicked and are beyond salvation. Fools of the lowest order. Slay them all.”
The younger disciple faltered. “But they’ve been beguiled by the heresy of Xianghuo Divine Dao worship.”
“Can’t you see?” Liu snapped. “These so-called gods are born of mortal desire. The incense that sustains this temple is the debt their hearts have offered up, bit by bit.”
The disciple looked down. With his spiritual sight, he could see that every womb among the people harboured a faint trace of evil. None were of pure mortal birth.
From grey-bearded elders to children barely fourteen, almost all were pregnant, male and female alike. And none found it strange.
The young disciple steeled himself. Placing his palm upon the cauldron, he assumed his stance.
The leading disciple, intent on shattering the temple and destroying the evil god’s corporeal form, struck without mercy.
The great cauldron crashed down towards the shrine… but was repelled by an invisible barrier of light. The deflected force blasted into the crowd instead; blood and flesh burst through the air, and screams filled the square.
Xue Cuo barely managed to save a dozen souls.
Above the temple now stood a human-bodied, fish-headed deity. The Shiliu God himself. His form was shrouded in incense so thick that no Daoist spell could touch him. He lifted his head coldly towards the immortal cloud.
Liu-shixiong’s sword danced like rain. “Be destroyed!”
His blade carried a faint thread of the Great Dao itself. The Shiliu God twisted aside, but even so, a wisp of sword aura tore away a corner of his divine robe.
The Xianghuo Divine Dao shattered into dust. Its power drowned beneath the midday sun of the Dao.
Liu-shixiong no longer fought with swordsmanship, but with the authority of Heaven itself. He wielded the Dao as judgement: Heaven’s will, Heaven’s decree, Heaven’s execution.
Heaven would not abide a resurrected Xianghuo Divine Dao god.
Realising this, Shiliu God did not attempt to resist. His body burst apart into countless translucent eggs that scattered, each seeking the womb of some pregnant host.
The young disciple gasped. “Shixiong, he’s escaped!”
Liu-shixiong glanced about the city. He had smashed one temple, hoping to cut the knot cleanly. But Qianyun City housed more than one heretic god, and his time was limited.
“Give me the cauldron!”
He seized it from his little shixiong and hurled it down. The blow would have annihilated hundreds of unborn vessels, which were hundreds of nascent lives.
Suddenly, from the crowd, a young voice cried out, “Everyone! Pray to the Great Shiliu God to save us!”
The chosen followers of Shiliu God, already fanatically devout, were now driven to desperation. One by one, they fell to their knees, crying aloud for the god’s mercy.
The deity gathered the incense of their faith, compelled to answer their pleas. For a god born of mortal vows, such response was reflex, not will.
From the sky, Liu-shixiong saw a womb gleam faintly with light. “There!”
The Shiliu God, voiceless with fury, tore free from the host and took shape once more. His figure towered beyond measure as he hurtled towards the immortal cloud.
Liu-shixiong drew himself up, his Dao pressing hard against the god’s power. Though his cultivation was far from sufficient, the Dao itself restrained incense-born deities, and for a while the two were evenly matched
Until a startled cry broke the air. “Ow!”
Liu-shixiong turned and blanched. His fellow disciples were clutching at their bellies, faces twisted in terror as their abdomens swelled grotesquely.
“Shixiong, it hurts!” one screamed.
Before the words had finished, his stomach burst open. Blood and viscera spilled onto the cloud, and from within tumbled a slick, red infant, wailing.
Damn it! The fragment had been a decoy. This was the true killing strike!
Had the heretic god not been forced out by the people’s prayers, Liu-shixiong would never have realised until his disciples were gutted from within.
He cast one last look at Qianyun City. Already, several malignant powers had awakened. Without hesitation, he crushed a talisman. In a flash of light, he and his surviving disciples vanished, fleeing a thousand miles away.
Xue Cuo stared after the retreating immortal cloud, his expression sombre.
A moment ago, the little city had been full of bustle; now it was drenched in blood, strewn with corpses.
A heavy hand patted his shoulder. Xue Cuo turned to find the temple’s burly priest, drenched in gore, grinning at him.
“You were the first to start the chant, weren’t you? Clever lad! Very clever! I’ll reward you by taking you as an initiate under our Great Shiliu God. Three children in one womb. You’ll amass plenty of merit! Boy, your blessings have arrived!”
The little golden dragon peeked its head out, unseen by all, and curled up in his eldest shixiong’s arms, grinning in a jagged, zigzag line.
