Chapter 19

Tanyin’s brows slowly furrowed, a hint of disgust surfacing in her expression at Han Nu’s indifferent tone towards human life.

“If Taihe were awake, he wouldn’t like your methods,” she said coldly.

“Regardless of Taihe, it means you don’t oppose what I’m doing,” Han Nu replied with a smile, grasping Tanyin’s hand.

“I know you’re even more anxious than I am.”

Tanyin slowly withdrew her hand, turning her head away.

“I do oppose it. I won’t let you kill the high priest.”

Han Nu’s expression subtly changed. After a moment, she seemed to understand, and her curiosity piqued.

“Do you perhaps have feelings for the high priest from the Fox Clan? Why are you protecting him so?”

Tanyin’s brows knitted tighter.

“I don’t want to discuss this with you. Your body has deteriorated to this extent; it must be completely sealed in the Divine Crystal to last until Taihe awakens. There’s no need to be so hasty.”

Ignoring her, Han Nu laughed.

“I always thought you were wholeheartedly devoted to Taihe. I never expected to be wrong.”

“Enough!”

Tanyin snapped, her face darkening with anger.

Unfazed, Han Nu smiled. “You resent me for taking Taihe away, I know. But there’s no need to degrade yourself by getting involved with an immortal from the lower realm. It diminishes your status as the unrivaled goddess…”

Tanyin raised her hand, staring intently at Han Nu.

“You can continue if you wish.”

In her palm was a small golden seal, radiating divine power. Han Nu’s body had already begun to disintegrate, and even if it hadn’t, the seal could still inflict the agony of soul destruction.

Unperturbed, Han Nu glanced at the seal and then at Tanyin’s icy face, an unusual fervor flickering in her eyes.

“…Alright, my mistake,” Han Nu softly apologized.

“Pushing you too hard doesn’t look good.”

Tanyin silently retracted the seal, feeling discomforted by Han Nu’s condescending tone, which regarded the high priest as mere dust. Yet she had initially viewed the high priest as insignificant too. Han Nu’s words pierced through her own hidden shadows, causing a sudden wave of regret for her arrogance.

Even knowing her mysterious origins and unclear motives, the high priest still allowed her to follow him. Despite his temper being more unpredictable than Taihe’s, oscillating between joy and anger, he was forthright and genuine. He would shield her with his life, making him far superior to her, a goddess with ulterior motives.

“…Don’t say such things again.”

Tanyin sighed deeply.

“Alright, I’ll find the Divine Crystal to seal your body.”

The Divine Crystal, a rare treasure in the divine realm, was hoarded by Tanyin through her privileges as a craftsman. But sealing Han Nu’s body would deplete her stock to just enough for one more use. Taking the crystal-filled box, she glanced back at Han Nu, deciding to carry the remaining crystals to prevent Han Nu from causing more trouble.

“…Taihe will be heartbroken,” Han Nu remarked unexpectedly as Tanyin sealed her body.

Tanyin pretended not to hear.

Han Nu watched her, speaking softly after a while.

“I will be heartbroken too.”

Tanyin’s hands paused momentarily before she resumed the sealing process.

“Three cycles of sixty years ago, you confirmed Taihe’s left hand was with the Fox Clan. Why haven’t you gone to retrieve it?” Han Nu asked quietly.

Tanyin replied indifferently, “Because there was no movement in the mortal world, so you’ve been frequently sending out divine power to monitor me for three cycles of sixty years?”

If the immortals and spirits knew that the so-called heavenly phenomena were merely a goddess searching for someone, what would they think?

Han Nu smiled mischievously.

“I know everything about you. Consider it my way of ensuring your safety, though I know you won’t believe it. Now, answer my question.”

Tanyin shook her head, unwilling to speak.

In the days before Taihe fell asleep, he almost never left the house due to the exhaustion of his divine power.

Tanyin did not go to find him.

Perhaps if she had been more generous and cheerful, everything would have been different.

If she wanted Taihe to laugh, she should have gone to find him as before, and the three of them should have talked and laughed as before.

She should have expressed her sincere blessing to Taihe and Han Nu to be together. The divine world is vast and cold, and it is very happy to have a companion.

But she didn’t want to go. Even seeing Taihe’s silhouette from afar made her hide. She spent a long time in her messy temple, picking up the most familiar wooden hammer and rivet, but had no idea what to do. Although there were so many things she wanted to do before, her mind was now blank.

One day, as she sat dazedly with her wooden hammer, Taihe appeared silently. She turned to find him standing there—who knows for how long—his expression serene.

Instinctively, she dashed behind a pillar, peering at him with wide, bewildered eyes. She wanted to leave but had nowhere to go, feeling like a misplaced nail stuck behind the pillar.

Tai He suddenly laughed, and in her astonished gaze, his laughter turned to a sigh.

“Tanyin, I’m sorry,” he apologized softly.

“Don’t take what I said last time to heart.”

He called her Tanyin, her mortal name. He had always called her that until he started calling her Wushuang, like Han Nu. Now, he called her Tanyin again.

Tanyin slowly stepped out from behind the pillar, remaining silent and just watching him.

Taihe looked at her intently, his gaze filled with sorrow and determination, an expression she had never seen him use before.

“…I have hated you. But the Ji Tanyin who creates things is still the real Ji Tanyin,” he said softly, then suddenly turned and left.

“Goodbye, Tanyin.”

Tanyin pondered his words but remained bewildered. When she left the temple again, Taihe had already fallen into a deep sleep due to his dwindling divine power. It was she who had sealed his body in the Divine Crystal with her own hands.

His final words stayed with her for many years. During that time, the longevity trees by the Tianhe River bloomed and bore fruit five times. She eventually realized the helplessness and sense of loss in his words.

She had spent seventeen years as a human, her soul wandering in the mortal realm for hundreds of years before becoming a god for over five thousand years. She always took pride in her unmatched craftsmanship. Yet, when Taihe denied her once, she could no longer create anything. However, his parting words rekindled a small spark within her.

Gradually, she began to understand his words, and she spent three cycles of sixty years in seclusion near her ancestral home, trying to rediscover the Ji Tanyin who loved creating things. A god once told her that those with sincere obsessions become gods, while the fanatical ones become demons. Her sincere obsession had made her a goddess, and she couldn’t abandon it.

These were matters she did not want to share with Han Nu. Their bond had faded, and she even felt a subtle repulsion towards her.

“Alright.”

Tanyin removed her dragon-skin gloves, cleaned them, and placed them in her storage pouch. She turned to look at Han Nu, who was also quietly observing her, her gaze unfathomable.

“I’m leaving. You’d better not make another move against the high priest,” Tanyin said after some thought.

“Next time, I won’t be so polite.”

Han Nu smiled faintly. “I know you’re doing all this for Taihe. But what if I don’t comply? What will you do to me?”

Tan Yin’s brows furrowed before she slowly relaxed them.

“I’ll break the Divine Crystal and leave you to fend for yourself.”

Han Nu laughed.

“How frightening. You’ve developed quite a temper in the lower world.”

Tanyin ignored her and turned to leave.

Han Nu called after her, “Wushuang, do you hate me?”

Her steps paused for a moment before she continued walking.

“Wushuang, I will always be watching you,” Han Nu’s gentle voice echoed behind her, but she didn’t look back, leaving the cold divine realm.

Back in the mortal world, it was still daylight. The high priest was asleep in the inn’s bed, still not awake.

Tanyin sat by the bed, watching his sleeping face. Her trip to the divine realm felt like it had lasted many years, but thankfully, he hadn’t encountered any further trouble. That was a relief.

As she gazed at his face, she suddenly couldn’t resist reaching out to touch it gently. She felt along the edge of his jaw for a while, then found a thin layer of skin. She carefully peeled it off—revealing yet another fake face underneath.

She continued to peel off one layer after another, removing over thirty layers, yet it seemed there were still more to go.

His facial disguises were practically a divine artifact. Tanyin marveled at the lifelike masks in her hand. No one else could ever peel away his final mask, only he could reveal his true face with a single motion. She had never seen such a skill before.

Filled with a researcher’s curiosity, Tanyin examined the masks closely, preparing to peel off more when her wrist was suddenly grabbed.

“…What are you doing, being so hands-on?” Yuan Zhong opened his eyes, looking at her with a half-smile.

Tanyin waved the thick stack of masks in her hand, asking curiously, “How many masks do you actually wear?”

If he wore them all, how thick would that be?

Yuan Zhong moved slightly, noticing that the wound on his chest felt perfectly fine, as if he had never been injured. He rolled his eyes, then met Tanyin’s eager gaze, and suddenly smiled.

“Do you want me to take off my mask?” he asked mischievously.

“I want to know how you manage to wear so many masks without anyone noticing,” Tanyin answered honestly.

“It’s just a minor, unworthy trick of a low-level immortal.”

Unconcerned, Yuan Zhong raised his hand and removed the mask himself, revealing a somewhat pale face. Unlike the striking presence of Tang Hua, his features were clear and sharp, and his lips were slightly pursed, giving him a cold demeanor. At first glance, he seemed unapproachable, but his eyes were exceptionally captivating, as clear as a deity, with a hidden, unknowable smile. Once you met his gaze, it was hard to look away.

“Well, how do I look? Handsome?” Yuan Zhong asked, holding his chin proudly.

Tan Yin smiled faintly.

“Your Highness, the High Priest, how do you feel? Any better?”

Yuan Zhong didn’t answer immediately but tilted his head to scrutinize her.

She… seemed to have changed again. What could it be? It shouldn’t be his imagination. There was something about her eyes and overall demeanor that felt increasingly different from the Ji Tanyin he first met. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact changes, but every sense told him she was not the same as before.

He touched his chest, where there should have been vicious scars from his injuries. Now, not only was there no pain, but it seemed there weren’t any scars either.

He recalled the day the war ghost nearly shattered Ji Tanyin’s body, yet by evening, she appeared before him completely unharmed. From that moment on, her energy and spirit markedly changed, and today, this feeling is even more pronounced.

“…Did you heal my wounds?” he suddenly asked.

Tanyin hesitated for a moment, then silently nodded.

Yuan Zhong reached out and took the thick stack of fake face masks from her hand, speaking softly, “Yuan Zhong.”

Tanyin looked puzzled. “What?”

“Yuan Zhong,” he repeated, coughing lightly and looking at her with a serious expression, though a hint of amusement sparkled in his captivating eyes.

“That’s my name. I don’t like being called ‘Your Highness, the High Priest.'”