An evil god?

Everyone shuddered.

They looked again at the Honglian statue, and whether it was because the temple had grown even darker, the statue that had once appeared rather gentle now seemed shrouded in a layer of black mist, taking on a sinister and wicked quality, its features beginning to twist and contort.

Elder Ke’s expression turned cold. “Outrageous. How dare you speak such nonsense before the Mountain God?”

“Did I strike too close to the truth? Is that why you’re flying into a rage?” Lang Jiuchuan let out a cold laugh and said, “A corpse’s bones sealed inside a clay statue, receiving worship, offerings, and prayers from devotees — day after day, night after night, incense burning without cease, faith accumulating over time — preventing the dead from passing on to Wangsheng, then using the living as blood sacrifices, gorging on blood and severing souls, until at last an evil spirit is born.”

“Shut your mouth. She is the revered Honglian Mountain God of our village, not some evil spirit.” Elder Ke was extremely agitated. He raised the bone flute to his lips, but before he could blow it, Jiangche reached out and smacked it away from a distance with one paw.

Elder Ke stared at his empty hands, his expression shifting.

“A Mountain God is born from the spiritual essence of a mountain — tempered through countless storms, winds, thunder, and rain, nourishing all living things with that mountain’s vital energy, until awareness emerges from that nurturing. Only with the faith and devotion of the people, sustained by the power of their prayers, can something truly be called a god of the mountain. So what exactly is she?” Lang Jiuchuan pointed at the Honglian statue and sneered. “You sealed her bones inside that clay figure — it amounts to a burial. When a person dies, the flame goes out. The physical body returns to dust, the bones rest in the earth, and the soul passes on to Wangsheng — that is the natural order of reincarnation. But you — you sealed her bones in clay, let people kneel before her day and night, deceived ignorant villagers into making offerings, and fed her an endless, insatiable greed. You have caused untold harm.”

Shen Qinghe looked toward the Honglian statue. To think that this lifelike clay figure actually contained human bones sealed within it — and every single day, people came here to burn incense and make offerings, to kneel and pray for the Mountain Goddess’s protection. Each year, under the guise of the Mountain God taking a bride, living people were sacrificed to her. With both the power of prayer and the living as fuel, her strength grew day by day, naturally allowing her to do things that made people fear her, and that fear only deepened their faith in the Mountain God’s power, driving them to continue the sacrifices.

How terrifying.

So this was what Lang Jiuchuan had meant by “the work of human hands.” There had been no evil here to begin with — only the wickedness of the living. But once that wickedness took root, evil was born from it.

If this had been nothing more than revenge against the villagers who had wronged Honglian — a life for a life, given what those people deserved — that was one thing. But what of the innocent ones who came after? Who would speak up for them?

Shen Qinghe’s expression grew cold.

“No, that’s not how it was…”

“The offerings of incense will not cultivate any divine virtue in her. They will only make her grow more wicked by the day, because it runs contrary to natural principle, in violation of the laws of Heaven. If everyone followed your example — sealing the dead inside clay, then disguising the whole thing as a bodhisattva or divine goddess to be worshipped day and night — what do you think would be summoned? Nothing but demons, malevolent spirits, or evil gods — or perhaps a Ghost King? If a hundred such evils were to rise, would the world not descend into chaos?” Lang Jiuchuan said coldly. “The reason this village became what it is today — isn’t it entirely because of your desire for revenge? You cultivated this evil god, and once she was unleashed, there was no reining her in. Don’t try to tell me her appetite was this insatiable from the very beginning.”

Elder Ke’s eyes went wide with fury, and he suddenly burst into wild laughter. “What do you know?! Whatever this village has become, it brought it upon itself. They committed evil first — everything that followed was the consequence of their own actions. They were the ones who started the tradition of sacrifice, and so the bridegroom sacrifices came after. If blame is to be placed, it belongs entirely on their own sins. This is divine punishment for their wickedness — no one else is to blame. What wrong has the Mountain God done? This is nothing more than an eye for an eye.”

Shen Qinghe said coolly, “And what of the innocent ones? Those who had no part in what was done to Honglian? The generations of descendants who came after? And especially the travelers from outside — what did any of them do wrong?”

Elder Ke’s gaze turned dark and cold as he looked at him. “Wrong? Of course they did nothing wrong. Those chosen to serve the Mountain God should feel honored. To be selected is a blessing — a matter of great fortune.”

“And yet somehow this great fortune never landed on you, did it?” Lang Jiuchuan seemed amused, then let out an exaggerated sound of realization. “Ah, but of course — how could I forget? You think of yourself as her son. Naturally you’d never do something so scandalous. Though honestly, you could have.”

“You little wretch — you’re asking to die!” Elder Ke flung out a handful of poison powder.

Jiangche let out a roar, and the thunderous wave of his tiger’s cry became wind itself, sending the poison powder surging right back at its source. He punctuated this with a contemptuous sound. “Vile little schemer — I had your dirty trick figured out long ago.”

He turned and cast a sideways glance at Lang Jiuchuan. “Pretty impressive, right? Go ahead and praise me.”

Lang Jiuchuan replied, “Would you care to look at the people around you? Your roar just made blood pour from their mouths, noses, and ears. The space in here is small — are you trying to leave everyone permanently deaf?”

Jiangche looked around at the others. Sure enough, they were clutching their ears, groaning in pain, with trickles of blood seeping from the corners of their mouths, their noses, and even through the gaps between their fingers.

Well, this is a problem. What do you do when you know you’re in the wrong?

When you don’t dare touch the unhinged one, you can always take it out on the one who started it all.

Jiangche charged toward Elder Ke, whose face was already melting and rotting from the backlash of his own poison powder, and brought a paw down. “This is all your fault.”

Elder Ke let out a wretched shriek.

Everyone stared. That face — something had raked across it, and the flesh was heaving and writhing in a grotesque manner.

Those were the claw marks of a great tiger. So the tiger’s roar they had heard — it had not been their imagination.

But where was the tiger?

“Could it be a tiger ghost?” Luo Tian murmured to himself. He supposed that if you lived long enough, you really could see everything.

Jiangche: …

Silence. What tiger ghost? I am descended from a divine beast — a spiritual tiger with true awareness. You ingrate.

Elder Ke’s face was covered in blood. He glared at Lang Jiuchuan and snarled, “You will all face retribution. Those who show no reverence to the divine will be met with divine punishment. You will all answer for this — the Honglian Mountain God will bring her judgment down upon you.”

Lang Jiuchuan looked at Elder Ke, the Panguan brush pinched between her fingers. “You are wrong. She is not Honglian. She is nothing but an evil god that your own selfish desires cultivated. Honglian — she should never have become this.”

Elder Ke’s bloodshot eyes looked ready to burst from their sockets. He glared at her and snarled, “Shut your mouth. You are not permitted to slander the Mountain God. She is no evil thing — she is a true and righteous god.”

She was his mother. She was a divine presence, like a god to him. How else could she have saved him from that sheer cliff face, from what should have been his death, and continued to sustain his life all these years? Only a birth mother would show such devotion toward him.

She was his god. He was the son of a god.

Elder Ke was verging on madness now. He lunged toward the Honglian statue and dropped to his knees with a resounding thud. “Mountain Goddess, open your eyes. Look upon these sinners!”

The moment his words fell, a fierce wind suddenly swept through the temple. Massive waves of wicked, malevolent energy came surging in, carrying a bone-deep chill. Before anyone could react, a strange sound rang out.

Everyone looked up, their eyes filled with shock.

The Honglian statue had come to life. Her eyes had opened fully — and in the depths of those eyes bloomed two red lotuses, red as blood. She blinked, and then she stepped down from the lotus pedestal.

Elder Ke cried out in ecstatic joy. “The Mountain Goddess has revealed herself!”

Lang Jiuchuan stood perfectly still. She hauled down a certain cat who had lost all pretense of dignity, and dragged her hand idly back and forth across the back of its neck, her gaze fixed cold and hard on the Honglian statue.

“After all that rambling,” she said, “you’ve finally finished cowering and decided to show your face.”