“Great God, you are wrong. They would only feel gratified by my decision. What my parents taught me since childhood was to respect our elders and extend that respect to the elders of others, to cherish our young and extend that care to the young of others.”
Yun Shu lifted her gaze, her eyes clear and bright. “They taught me that if everyone only looked after their own small household and cared only for their personal feelings, then how could the nation remain a nation, and where would family then reside? When my brother and sister chose to join the peacekeeping forces and the criminal investigation brigade, did they not know those professions came with mortal danger? When my comrades gave their lives, did they not know it was better to stay alive?”
The Great God sneered. “That is because they were fools!
“Survival of the fittest, natural selection—this is the sole law of existence. And you are just as foolish. You sacrifice yourself to protect that swarm of ants, but what can they possibly give you? Hundreds of years from now, they will still slaughter one another and forget you completely. Everything you do is nothing more than drawing water with a bamboo basket.”
He stared at Yun Shu, his eyes filled with certainty as though he could already see the cracks in her resolve.
“I do not deny that the survival of the fittest you speak of holds some truth, but I do not agree with it.
“The ‘fitness’ you speak of is nothing more than granting a race a stronger physique, greater intellect, and a longer lifespan. But can such things truly define whether a race is strong or not?”
Yun Shu’s gaze settled on the water mirror. “The seamstresses in the embroidery workshops bring beasts and birds, flowers and fish vividly to life with every needle and thread. The merchants in the marketplace keep goods flowing across the land. The farmers in the fields grow grain that sustains all under heaven. The children in the schoolhouses recite words about ordaining conscience for heaven and earth, and securing life for the living.”
She turned her head and looked at the Great God. “In your eyes, this is weakness. In mine, it is civilization.”
“Civilization?”
The Great God scoffed. “Can civilization withstand natural disasters? Can it withstand invasion? Can it withstand time?”
“No, it cannot,” Yun Shu replied calmly, “yet civilization enables humanity not to yield before calamity, not to shrink back before invasion, and to exhaust every ounce of strength against the march of time to preserve the crystallized wisdom of their forebears.”
She looked straight into the Great God’s scheming eyes.
“You say that centuries from now, they will slaughter one another and forget me entirely. But so what? The path of communism was never meant to be walked by a single generation.
“My brother, sister, and comrades fell one after another along this path. They did not live to see the day this great ideal was realized, yet they believed that those who came after would continue along the road left unfinished.” She slowly rose to her feet, peach blossom petals drifting like rain behind her. “And I likewise believe that this world will never lack successors to carry that torch.
“A single spark can start a prairie fire!”
The Great God did not understand, nor was he capable of understanding.
“And so? You are willing to be a piece of kindling? Burning yourself up just to warm others?
“This is utter foolishness!
“It is completely meaningless!”
Yun Shu did not expect an artificial intelligence consumed by invading worlds to attain enlightenment. She merely asked, “If everything I do is meaningless, then what counts as meaningful?
“According to you, slaughtering all the weak, creating a new race, and then having the strong eliminate the less strong, and the less strong eliminate the weaker, until only you remain in the end?”
The Great God was about to speak, but Yun Shu cut him off.
“Let me tell you: impossible.
“Your so-called survival of the fittest is nothing more than the arrogance of the strong toward the weak. Your so-called dimensional elevation is merely an excuse to sacrifice others for your own fulfillment. And your so-called foolishness happens to be the most precious aspect of human nature.
“The people of this world—even the weakest beings in your eyes—have the right to live. You don’t get to decide their lives, and neither do I.
“Their lives belong to them!”
Silence hung over the peach blossom grove for a long time.
The Great God stared at Yun Shu for several moments before finally gritting his teeth and squeezing out, “You forced my hand!”
He lifted a forepaw and stomped it down lightly.
The entire peach blossom grove jolted violently. The teacup before Yun Shu shook, splashing several drops of tea onto the stone table.
At the same time, the imagery within the water mirror shifted.
Through the fractures in the clouds above Xindu City, streaks of flowing fire plummeted like meteors, carrying scorching heat that threatened to annihilate everything.
“I cannot get out, and neither can you. Most of your power originates from the Dress-Up System—unless you are there in person, you cannot use any of those outfit skills.” His tone dripped with malice. “If you don’t let me out, then you will just have to watch helplessly as your believers burn alive!”
Everything within the water mirror was burning.
The heavenly fire fell far too swiftly, leaving no chance for anyone to hide. Roofs crashed down overhead, burying dozens of vibrant lives beneath a sea of fire.
The schoolhouse teacher desperately shoved the children outside, her back scorched black by flying sparks. Gritting her teeth, she hoisted up a child paralyzed with terror and tossed them out the door. The next instant, the schoolhouse's support beams snapped.
Within mere breaths, nothing remained in the water mirror except raging fire and the silhouettes of people fleeing and falling.
Those faces, both familiar and unfamiliar to Yun Shu, were crushed like ants before the heavenly fire.
Charred corpses, scorched soil, gutted homes—the entire world was crumbling before her eyes.
“Yun Shu, listen to them. They are crying, screaming, begging their deity to save them.”
Hearing this, Yun Shu dug her fingers deep into her palms. Her nails pierced her flesh, blood dripping down between her fingers.
“Let me out, and I will stop immediately,” the Great God coaxed.
Yun Shu paid him no mind.
Letting the Great God out was impossible.
She was waiting.
Over these past few years, in order to diminish the faith in theocracy, she had reduced the number of times she manifested before the people, but she had never been idle.
“And you judge me? Are you not just as cold-blooded?”
The Great God’s face darkened.
Just as he was about to sneer further, he saw all the light and fire swallowed in an instant by a colossal shadow.
That shadow flew in from the edge of the world.
It blotted out the sky and sun, resembling an inverted ocean.
It was a Kunpeng.
Its body was so vast that its boundaries could not be seen. As its fin-wings spread, the rushing currents of air scattered the fireballs filling the sky.
A distant, resonant cry echoed out.
Immediately after, a pale blue barrier swept across the sky, across the earth, and across every city like ripples of water.
The heavenly fire crashed against the barrier like stones falling into the sea, instantly engulfed, dissolved, and extinguished.
The Great God was flabbergasted. “Where did this Kunpeng come from?”
“I raised it.” Seeing Xiao Lan appear, Yun Shu let out a quiet breath of relief, her clenched hands slowly loosening.
She had spent two years traveling across the entire world to lay down this massive barrier, nurturing Xiao Lan into a Kunpeng so it could serve as the barrier’s formation eye—all for this very day.
“Do you think you can protect them with just this?”
The Great God attempted to bring down another disaster, only for Yun Shu’s fist to knock his head sideways. “I had originally intended to spare your life, but now it seems leaving you alive is nothing but a menace.”
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