Chapter 49

Five thousand years — what an incredibly long stretch of time.

The world undergoes dramatic transformations; mountains turn to seas, and everything is altered.

Yet Han Nu’s heart remains trapped five thousand years in the past.

Those who once sent her to the flames are long dead; their bodies decayed into dust.

The descendants of those people still live in the remote village, along with many unrelated strangers, all of whom she burned to ashes with a single fire.

She wasn’t wrong.

She should not have become a goddess.

Even though the body and spirit of a god are incredibly powerful, their hearts remain as fragile as those of mortals.

This is why so many god and goddess have perished in human tribulations.

“I died here.”

Han Nu turned and slowly walked toward the back, where a dilapidated wooden house once stood.

Inside lived a sister who thought she was happy, and a sister who harbored dark intentions.

The wooden house had long since decayed over the ages, and the clearing was now overgrown with waist-high weeds and shrubs.

Flames flowed from Han Nu’s sleeves, instantly igniting the entire hillside.

“It’s all over now.”

The sky and earth were engulfed in flames, surrounding Han Nu.

She wore a strange smile on her face, appearing both exhausted and as if plotting something sinister.

“You shattering my divine consciousness was truly unexpected,” she said calmly.

“But I won’t die. Don’t get complacent—I will not die.”

Tang Hua’s body suddenly went limp, and a mass of translucent, red mist in the shape of a human figure swirled from the top of his head.

It gazed toward the burning village at the foot of the mountain, where countless souls who had just died unjustly wandered.

These souls, unable to enter the cycle of reincarnation right away, were sucked into the creature’s mouth, devoured in droves.

The more souls it consumed, the more vivid the color of the demon became, resembling a floating mass of blood.

The blood mass churned and twisted, finally forming into the image of Han Nu.

Her hair and eyes were blood-red, and the gaping wound in her chest slowly began to shrink.

Han Nu looked down proudly at the gradually closing hole and burst into wild laughter: “I won’t die! Wushuang, let me devour you! Your soul must taste even better than Taihe’s!”

Her figure transformed into a blood-red shadow, and her flailing hands became indistinguishable from her robes.

The blazing fire, drawn by the demonic energy, soared several meters higher, turning the color of blood.

The flames scorched Tanyin’s body, consuming what little divine power she had left.

“Come on, come closer…” The sweet voice tempted her.

“Taihe is waiting for you… Inside me, you can be reunited, and later I’ll find that lowly mortal immortal so you can reunite with him too.”

That lowly mortal immortal — could it be Yuan Zhong?!

Tanyin felt as though her heart had turned to stone and dropped into the abyss. How many days had she been trapped in the embroidery?

Han Nu, disguised as Tang Hua, went to Xiang Mountain; how could Yuan Zhong not have noticed?

Did she find him?

Did she kill him?!

“Taihe died for you, and you’re still thinking of that mortal immortal? Wushuang, you truly are heartless.”

Han Nu’s voice was soft, but her tone was mocking and venomous.

“That immortal is as fragile as an ant. A mere pinch, and he’s dead… Do you want to see how he died?”

No! She didn’t want to see it!

But the flames before her were suddenly obscured by countless threads, twisting and entwining until they gradually formed the landscape of Xiang Mountain, every blade of grass and tree.

Tang Hua’s purple silhouette was still on the mountaintop — the very moment when Tanyin had just been pulled into the embroidery.

A beam of golden light fluttered from the base of the mountain and landed at the peak in the blink of an eye.

The newcomer was dressed in black robes with long hair and a forgettable, passerby-like face — Yuan Zhong.

His expression was guarded as he stared intently at Tang Hua.

After a moment, he finally spoke, “You dare show up again.”

Tang Hua smiled faintly, as if unwilling to engage in conversation.

He slowly tucked the embroidered picture into his sleeve, glanced at the sky, and turned to descend the mountain.

“Wait!”

Yuan Zhong called out, his expression growing more cautious.

“Who are you?”

Tang Hua was slightly surprised.

“Oh? Why do you ask?”

Yuan Zhong covered his nose and took a step back, speaking in a low voice, “You smell only of death… Did you kill Tang Hua?”

Han Nu laughed in astonishment.

She had taken over Tang Hua’s body, fooling the eyes of a goddess like Tanyin, yet this lowly mortal immortal detected it through scent alone.

She looked down at Tang Hua’s body.

There was no blood, no wounds — the body had been perfectly restored.

How had he noticed?

Sensing her thoughts, Yuan Zhong said quietly, “The blood of the Fox clan carries a fragrance. It serves as a marker to identify kin. But the moment one dies, the scent vanishes. You may wear Tang Hua’s skin, but you lack the scent of my kin. You’ve taken over his body… To be able to do that to an immortal, are you the god who wants my left hand?”

“Impressive,” Han Nu clapped in admiration.

“You’re quite smart. Yes, this immortal was killed by me so I could use his body. Even at his death, he was grateful, thinking it an honor to serve a god… But what about you? Aren’t the Fox clans supposed to serve gods? Why aren’t you kneeling?”

Yuan Zhong quietly stared at her, unmoving for a long moment, then suddenly asked, “Where is Tanyin?”

Han Nu smiled.

“Guess where she is?”

This time, Yuan Zhong didn’t respond.

He stared at her wide sleeves, recalling how he had seen her place a strange, large embroidery inside as he climbed the mountain.

Gods are all mortals who, through immense sincerity and deep obsession, managed to defy fate and ascend.

Tanyin was an unparalleled craftswoman, and this person had an embroidery — could she be the god renowned for her exceptional embroidery?

If that were the case, then the embroidery might not be ordinary but instead another small universe, like a qiankun bag.

Seeing him eyeing the sleeve where she had placed the embroidery, Han Nu’s surprise deepened.

“…You’re so clever that even I’m astonished. Come, let me take a closer look at you.”

She crooked her finger, and Yuan Zhong suddenly felt an overwhelming force pulling him toward her.

The ominous feeling in his heart intensified.

He transformed into a streak of golden light, forcibly breaking free from her grasp, retreating several steps.

“How insolent,” Han Nu frowned.

“You see me, yet neither kneel nor show respect. Is this how the Fox clan serves gods?”

“…You are not a god,” Yuan Zhong fixed his gaze on her.

“A god’s aura is not like yours.”

She had forgotten — this immortal had spent a considerable amount of time in close proximity to a real goddess.

No wonder he could sense the difference between her and Tanyin.

Yuan Zhong suddenly rolled up his left sleeve, revealing his dark red left hand, which was fused with divine script and the frozen essence of the Milky Way.

Han Nu couldn’t help but laugh, “What, do you plan to fight me?”

He didn’t respond.

He wasn’t arrogant, nor did he belittle himself.

The person before him, though different from a god, was terrifyingly immense in power.

Even if he were to risk his life—no, even if all the immortals of Xiang Mountain gathered together, they still wouldn’t be able to match her.

Acting recklessly would only lead to a laughable death.

“The left hand you’ve always wanted.”

He extended his hand, calmly locking eyes with her.

“Take it. Give Tanyin back to me.”

Han Nu couldn’t help but laugh out loud, her clothes fluttering wildly as her laughter shook her so much she could barely speak: “Me? Want your left hand? Hahaha! You poor fool, kept completely in the dark! I’ll do you a favor and let you die knowing the truth—I’m not the one who wants your left hand. It’s your beloved goddess, Wushuang. Do you know why? Because she wants to wake the man she loves.”

“Your left hand belongs to a divine god who lost it in the mortal realm. This divine god’s name is Taihe, and he’s the one your goddess loves. He lost his left hand during the battle between gods and demons, and because of that, he fell into a deep slumber, from which he’s been unable to awaken for five thousand years due to his dwindling divine power. Your goddess grew tired of waiting, so she descended to the mortal realm to find his left hand—this led her to you. Do you really think she stayed by your side, protected you, because she liked you? Ha! Her only goal was your left hand. She couldn’t forcibly sever it, as that would disrupt the natural order and cause Taihe’s soul to dissipate. So she stuck with you, waiting for you to die naturally. Only after your death could she take your left hand and return it to Taihe. Now, do you understand? Your goddess has been waiting all along for you to die sooner.”

Yuan Zhong’s face paled, but his gaze remained resolute as he stared at her.

After a long silence, he softly replied, “So what?”

Han Nu laughed, “Nothing. I’ve simply told you the truth. What you choose to do with it is up to you.”

She seemed to grow tired of their exchange.

Her shoulders slumped as she spoke indifferently, “Since you love her so much, I should reunite the two of you. Come! I’ll send you to her!”

She extended her hand, and once again, Yuan Zhong felt that terrifying power rushing toward him.

He quickly retreated, but before he could react, a streak of black light shot from her sleeve.

The overwhelming difference in strength made it impossible for him to evade or resist.

His chest went cold as a jet-black dagger pierced deep into him—the same god-slaying dagger he had returned to the Lord of Xiang Mountain earlier.

Blood trickled slowly from the corner of his mouth.

Growing tired of toying with him like a cat with a mouse, Han Nu seized him by the throat without hesitation.

With a light grip, his body suddenly turned into clumps of mud and stone, crumbling to the ground.

Han Nu’s face shifted slightly as she brushed the dirt off her sleeve, scanning her surroundings.

All she saw was a pool of blood left on the ground, its fragrance thick in the air, but the wretched mortal immortal had vanished.

He was quite good at escaping with his life.

Red light flickered in her eyes, and she suddenly stomped her foot lightly.

The entire mountain peak trembled slightly, and in the distance, a muffled groan could be heard.

The force of her stomp had once again severely injured him.

Without a god to repair his body, his death was only a matter of time.

Han Nu, unwilling to waste any more time on such a lowly immortal, disappeared from Xiang Mountain in a flash.