Luo Luo stared blankly at the scene before her.
After a long while, she finally realized something.
In an instant, everything became clear.
Wu Ya had given birth to twins.
The divine child became the current Divine Lord, while the human infant was placed into the Divine Water River by the Holy Maiden Wu Xie.
Li Zhaoye was found by her master in the Divine Water River!
He looked so much like the Divine Lord!
So… they were actually brothers?!
Luo Luo drew a sharp breath and hurried after the retreating figure of Holy Maiden Wu Xie—who had taken away the crying infant, likely Li Zhaoye.
As soon as she stepped into the courtyard, the petal-covered ground rippled like water.
Luo Luo lost her footing and sank into it.
Wu Ya was dead, but the illusion had not yet ended.
In a daze, Luo Luo caught a whiff of a strange scent—a mix of heavy incense, rotting wood, fresh fabric, candle wax, ash, and something even more elusive, impossible to fully discern.
She struggled to open her eyes, her vision a kaleidoscope of fractured colors.
Around her, shadowy figures moved, each towering unnaturally tall, swaying as they walked, their necks and waists bent at odd angles—like twisted silhouettes.
These figures turned their heads, each bearing a blank, featureless face.
Utterly horrifying.
Luo Luo should have been terrified, but her reaction was delayed, and instead, a slow, settling calm washed over her.
She thought, This is a dead person’s memory after all. If it weren’t a little unsettling, it wouldn’t feel right. The unexpected is expected here.
With that, Luo Luo relaxed.
After observing for a while, she realized she must be inhabiting Wu Ya’s corpse, now turned into a puppet. The figures around her were all members of the Divine Palace.
The two elongated, noodle-like white shadows at the front were likely Holy Maiden Wu Xie and Saint Maiden Zhen Tu.
To the living, a corpse puppet was just that—a puppet. But to the puppet, the living looked like ghosts.
The puppet followed the crowd up a massive altar.
Her vision was severely distorted—the altar felt like black iron, yet in her eyes, it shimmered with garish colors.
As she ascended, she sensed thunder rumbling close above, lightning snaking through the clouds, stark white against the multicolored sky.
Pale bolts split the rainbow-hued clouds.
Just as she was stealing glances at the surreal sight, a hoarse, muffled voice called out, "Wu… Ya…"
To the puppet, the voice sounded submerged—distant, echoing, unsteady.
Wu Ya was dead, like a piece of wood, incapable of responding.
Luo Luo felt no emotions stirring within her.
She turned her gaze toward the source.
A man stood at the center of the altar, shackled to a massive iron frame. He staggered forward, chains clanking as he struggled.
Luo Luo barely recognized him as the former Divine Lord.
His joints were no longer twisted, the crimson marks in his eyes were gone, the seals embedded in his flesh had vanished, and his terrifying power seemed to have dissipated.
He was thin and refined, almost like an ordinary scholar—frail, even.
Wu Xie motioned for the others to stay back, approaching with only the puppet in tow.
The moment Wu Ya appeared, his eyes locked onto her. He strained toward her, heedless of the chains cutting into his flesh.
"Slap."
Wu Xie struck him hard across the face, snapping his head to the side.
"You killed her," Wu Xie said coldly.
Dazed, he slowly turned back, mouth slack, blood and broken teeth dripping from his lips.
He seemed not to feel pain, only smiling at the puppet, his chained hand stretching desperately toward her.
Clank. Clank.
"Don’t know what death is?" Wu Xie’s expression remained icy. "Wu Ya never taught you. Let me."
The Holy Maiden suddenly seized his shackled arm and yanked—chains snapped, bones cracked.
His mangled arm, still tangled in broken chains, plunged into the hollow cavity of the puppet’s torso.
He groped blindly inside.
No organs. No flowing blood. No warmth or life.
She was an empty shell.
"This is death," Wu Xie said. "She always said you were clever, quick to learn. So now, do you understand?"
He lifted his head slowly, staring straight at her.
He had only ever learned to love, not hate. Only to smile, not cry.
His lips stretched into a grin as he uttered a soft, rasping word:
"Grandmother."
Perhaps from hearing Wu Ya say it so often, the word came smoothly, like any normal person’s speech.
Wu Xie sneered. "Don’t call me that. You are no grandson of mine. I don’t deserve the title."
Still grinning, he whispered another clear syllable:
"Dead."
He kept smiling.
His eyes as innocent as Wu Ya’s once were.
Grandmother. Dead.
A thunderclap roared—"BOOM!"
Even the battle-hardened Wu Xie felt goosebumps prickle her skin.
She took a step back.
Her fingers twitched, as if to reclaim the puppet.
But he was already holding it. His broken arm still inside, unaware it should be removed, he twisted his body with difficulty, pulling the puppet into his embrace, his other arm tightening around it.
Gently, he rested his cheek against its shoulder, carefully retracting the claws that were no longer sharp.
"She’s dead!" Wu Xie’s pupils trembled, her voice cracking. "You and your spawn—freaks! Freaks! It tore her apart from the inside—did you feel it?! You killed her!"
He ignored her now.
Holding Wu Ya, his presence softened, serene.
His lips moved, as if speaking to her the way she once spoke to him.
Time had been too short—he hadn’t learned to express himself fluently. Only fragments came out.
"Happy… Wu Ya… child… will be… I—am human!"
Wu Xie, her face a mask of cold fury, shrieked:
"Human? You’re a monster! Your bloodline—generation after generation—nothing but monsters! Wu Ya died full of regret, hating you! She never should have pitied you! You deserve to die—to suffer, to burn!"
Blinded by hatred, Wu Xie had turned Wu Ya into a puppet just to torment him, to ensure his eternal anguish.
But he paid her no mind.
He only smiled, clutching the girl who had once told him, over and over, that he was human—not a monster.
Holding the brightest light of his life.
Wu Xie turned sharply.
"Leave."
Upon hearing the command, the corpse puppet wrenched itself from his embrace without hesitation.
His severed arm remained lodged in its abdomen. The mindless puppet stared blankly at it, awaiting its master's next order.
Wu Xie's divine awareness enveloped the scene, as if she had eyes on her back.
Her voice was icy. "Put it back. Not a single finger must be missing from the sacrificial offering."
The corpse puppet, molded in the likeness of the young maiden Wu Ya, nodded slowly. It pulled the severed arm from its body and stabbed it back into his abdomen.
A wet, sickening sound followed.
He gazed at her, blood quickly welling at the corners of his lips.
The agony did not breed hatred. Instead, he strained to smile at her, lifting his remaining hand—though it could no longer reach her face.
Luo Luo felt sick to her core.
She knew Li Zhaoye was an orphan, but she never imagined his parents' fate had been so cruel.
The former deity lord's pitch-black eyes reflected the corpse puppet's image—its gaze hollow and indifferent, lips curved in a flawless, empty smile.
It wore the face of his beloved.
But this was no longer the girl whose eyes would light up at the sight of him.
It could no longer love him.
As he laughed, a single tear escaped the corner of his eye.
At last, he had learned how to weep.
'No!' Luo Luo screamed inwardly. 'You're not a monster! Wu Ya loved you until her dying breath! She bore you a son—strong, handsome, and righteous! His name is Li Zhaoye! He's a prodigy among swordsmen, the champion of the Qingyun Tournament, the unbreakable spine of this world!'
But the corpse puppet could not speak.
After wounding him under Wu Xie's command, it turned away without remorse.
Luo Luo was frantic.
Gritting her teeth, she mustered every ounce of her cultivation—and as the puppet's skirt fluttered in its turn, she forced its hand to lift.
Her vision had already shifted away. She did not see what happened behind her.
Like a passing spring breeze, its fingertips just brushed away that single tear on his cheek.
The corpse puppet was led to the edge of the altar.
The disciples of the Divine Palace knelt in reverence, forming an ominous ritual array around the iron-bound man on the scaffold.
Chants rose.
Above the altar, thunderclouds thickened. Crimson lightning streaked down, staining even the puppet's vision red.
From this distance, Luo Luo could no longer see his face.
She was puzzled: Hadn’t all past deity lords entered the Twelve Sealed Divine Halls? Why was this one bound for execution on the altar?
Before she could ponder further, a deafening crack split the heavens.
The hundred-zhang-tall obsidian altar trembled.
The tremors intensified until the entire structure swayed like a tiny boat in a storm. Only those at the Divine Transformation realm remained steady; the rest of the Divine Palace disciples slid helplessly across the ground.
Then, the sky tore open.
Luo Luo had no words to describe it.
The eternal firmament ripped like fabric, revealing an abyssal void beneath. Clouds and lightning vanished like mere pigments washed from silk.
The world seemed inverted.
The altar and the surrounding Divine Palace territory teetered on the brink of being swallowed whole by the yawning maw above.
A terrifying sense of weightlessness took hold.
The disciples pressed themselves flat against the ground, eyes shut, not daring to look up.
Suddenly, the man on the scaffold was wrenched upward.
The chains binding him offered no resistance—they sliced through his flesh, severing his body into pieces.
Each piece plummeted toward the abyss. He might not have died instantly. That was worse.
Something lurked within that darkness.
Something ancient, unspeakable, vast as the netherworld itself.
Luo Luo’s scalp prickled. Every instinct screamed at her—Don’t look! Don’t look! You’ll die! You’ll die!
But she refused to close her eyes.
How could she face Li Zhaoye later and say she hadn’t dared to see who killed his father?
She’d never live down the shame.
She forced her eyes wide open.
As the dismembered body fell, she saw it—what was that thing?!
A shrill, maddening screech filled her ears. Her mind split with pain. An irresistible force yanked at her, threatening to rip her true form from the puppet’s body and drag her into the abyss.
She tried summoning her sword, Qiu Shui, to end herself.
But—nothing. She couldn’t call it!
Just as she was about to be sucked into the void, a thin thread pierced through the air—
And impaled her heart.
Luo Luo lay gasping on the bed, vision swimming.
The deity lord sat cross-legged before her, leaning slightly forward with the expression of someone humoring a fool.
"Tired of living?" he asked kindly.
Had she nodded, she had no doubt he’d have obliged her.
She waved a weak hand. "I knew you were there."
He clicked his tongue.
Luo Luo had never been good at reading moods or censoring herself.
Bluntly, she said, "You, me, and the corpse puppet all entered Yu Fusheng—but you found yourself as a baby. Too embarrassed to let me see, so you—mmph!"
He pinched her mouth shut.
It didn’t quite "blend her lips into paste," but it still hurt.
The pain only fueled her defiance.
She mentally ranted: What’s a baby gonna do, huh? Crawl around? Pinch those chubby cheeks, dangle him midair! Can’t even bite me! Beat him senseless—it’s not like he can die!
He: "..."
Luo Luo seized the chance to wrench free.
"You know," she said earnestly, staring into his wicked eyes, "we’re actually family. You and me."
He scoffed. "Don’t push it."
"It’s true!" she insisted. "Li Zhaoye is your twin brother!"
She watched him intently, eyes shining.
He merely shrugged. "So what? I don’t even know who I am. Why should I care?"
Luo Luo: "...Oh."
You’re just a fish. A brain-dead fish.
He asked, "Did you see it?"
She nodded. "Yeah."
"What was it?"
Luo Luo thought hard. "...Dunno."
She propped her chin, mulling it over.
"The greatest forms have no shape; the loudest sounds go unheard; the most monstrous things... defy description," she mused. "I was just a corpse puppet—couldn’t see clearly. But it was big. The color..."
She thought of the most fitting description: "The color of death."
Generation after generation of Divine Masters had sacrificed themselves at the Twelve Sealing Temples, suppressing the ultimate evil of ancient demons.
Now, Luo Luo finally understood what "ultimate" truly meant.
"As the saying goes, 'Hear the truth in the morning, die content by evening,'" she murmured. "If just seeing this nearly kills you, no wonder witnessing the Great Dao itself would be fatal."
He scoffed, "Who taught you your Daoist arts? Tell them to switch professions and become a butcher."
Luo Luo: "…"
She wanted to argue but had no desire to bring up her master.
After a moment of silence, she briefly explained Wu Ya and the previous Divine Master’s story to him.
The Divine Palace clearly had no intention of allowing a Divine Master to retain their sanity. A mindless Divine Master was an obedient one—submitting to their fate, bearing heirs, and then dying without resistance.
"She was your mother," Luo Luo said, gazing at the smiling corpse puppet. "She taught your father to speak, becoming his first guide. Your father wasn’t a beast—he was human, cursed by the bloodline passed down to him."
You’re human too.
She left that unsaid. It felt too sentimental, and she had a feeling he’d mock her for it.
He tapped his knee thoughtfully. "So, Wu Xie should hate me, then."
Luo Luo nodded emphatically. "Exactly!"
At least you’re self-aware.
"Then…" He smirked, his tone light. "Do you really think she’d be so generous as to let us… frolic around like this?"
Luo Luo bristled. "Who’s frolicking with you?"
The moment she said it, guilt crept in. To outsiders, that’s exactly what it looked like.
With a chuckle, he tilted his chin toward the window. "They should be arriving soon."
Luo Luo darted to the windowsill and peered outside.
Sure enough, a procession from the Divine Palace marched across the courtyard toward the bedchambers.
Twenty women—selected for their supposed "fertility"—followed with bowed heads.
Wu Xie spoke coldly to her colleagues, "Since the Divine Master has awakened and gained… experience, there’s no need to waste further time. If Luo Luo fails to ensure one of them conceives, she’ll take their place herself."
"Refuse? Then we’ll put Him to sleep and administer Yu Fusheng."
