"It won’t burn anymore."
The God of Suffering remained deeply asleep; what appeared now was merely a sliver of his consciousness.
During his time in Mingjiang Prefecture, he had never lent a hand to Zhou Xuan, as his powers were too weak. If unleashed, the Heavenly God’s Fire would extinguish again.
From a certain perspective, he was somewhat selfish. Yet, everything Zhou Xuan had done for Mingjiang Prefecture was seen by the God of Suffering.
Feeling too ashamed to hide any longer, he decided to help Zhou Xuan, albeit just this once. As for that fire of the Heavenly God... Mingjiang Prefecture had collapsed to such ruin; what dignity remained in keeping oneself perched in the heavens?
"Then don’t help me."
Zhou Xuan said, "Keep that flame burning. When the day comes that you regain your peak strength, you must remember to illuminate the skies of all Mingjiang Prefecture. And let those five gods who silently watched Mingjiang’s demise know—why gods are worthy of being called gods!"
With that, he turned toward Xia Jin without further acknowledgment of the God of Suffering.
Step by step, as Zhou Xuan’s entire body ignited in divine flames, he finally bore the Fierce Sun above the undead.
"Lord Jiu, I’ve reached the undead. Descend."
"Xiao Zhou, if I descend, the blazing flames will utterly consume your Divine Soul."
"Cut the nonsense—descend!"
Zhou Xuan roared again.
Lord Jiu conceded, gripping his wine gourd tightly and spreading open his arms. A beam of sunlight enveloped his body.
The sunlight burned fiercely, transforming Lord Jiu into a blurry silhouette,
while the true Lord Jiu emerged from the Fierce Sun lifted by Zhou Xuan.
In Jing Country’s decree, the wandering gods of the nine prefectures must hail from disciples of ancient Tangkou halls,
but as the Painter once said, each state had its own unique circumstances, and these rules were rarely adhered to.
Lord Jiu did not hail from an ancient Tangkou at all; he came from the one associated with "Mr. Ye."
Behind Mr. Ye was not a god but the Alien Ghost known as the "Earth Child."
Lord Jiu clutched his wine gourd in his left hand while holding a white paper banner in his right.
He exhaled onto the paper banner, which expanded against the wind—larger and larger—until it blotted out the sky and hovered over the reservoir.
"Lord Jiu is actually with Mr. Ye?"
"Xiao Zhou, sharp observation."
It wasn’t Zhou Xuan’s keen observation, but his familiarity with the tattoos of the Earth Child that marked those under "Mr. Ye"; he recognized the white paper banner.
"Upon entering Mr. Ye’s Tangkou, one inherits the Earth Child’s decree: to slaughter every tainted soul before they grow beyond infancy.
I have killed countless tainted ones. Yet, who would have thought that one such auspicious being like you would die before me?"
Lord Jiu shook his head repeatedly, already witnessing Zhou Xuan engulfed in flames, his torso burned through without hope of survival.
"When you’re gone, on each anniversary of your death, I’ll visit your grave to share a heart-to-heart drink with you."
With those words, Lord Jiu uncorked his wine gourd, took a swig of fiery liquor, and spat it onto the immense paper banner.
Countless images of evil ghosts appeared upon the surface of the banner.
Lord Jiu pointed at the undead still charging the reservoir,
whereupon the evil ghosts peeled off the banner and descended upon the undead.
Swarming like leeches, innumerable evil apparitions clung to the undead, devouring ferociously.
In no time, dismembered remains of the undead scattered across the reservoir’s waterways—detached limbs and fragmented body parts everywhere.
Meanwhile, Zhou Xuan’s limbs had been charred to stumps, his chest and abdomen entirely obliterated.
His Divine Soul was fading, leaving Zhou Xuan convinced there was no path left for him.
From the spectral distance came Xia Jin, anguished and sorrowful, gazing at Zhou Xuan’s dwindling soul.
Lord Jiu, seated along the reservoir’s stone pathway, simply tilted his wine gourd toward Zhou Xuan’s direction.
Under the Ancestor Tree belonging to the Zhou Family’s Troupe, Zhou Lingyi had sensed Zhou Xuan’s dire predicament, crying silently.
Then, at this precise moment, a voice drifted toward Zhou Xuan’s ears: "For the people of Mingjiang Prefecture, you’re willing to sacrifice your life. Is it worth it?"
Zhou Xuan glimpsed an elderly Taoist riding a donkey backward, wielding a horsetail whisk and hovering midair.
"Is it worth it? The common folk of Mingjiang Prefecture are spreading rumors, claiming you’re an alien ghost from beyond the realm, weaving tales about you. And yet, you would save the very people who malign you?"
"Saving them has nothing to do with them."
"Sounds oddly convincing."
The Old Taoist on a Donkey flicked his horsetail whisk toward Zhou Xuan.
A gentle breeze swept across Zhou Xuan’s Divine Soul, extinguishing the flames licking at it.
"The fire is out, but your soul is already severely damaged. Luckily, you’ve met me."
The Old Taoist waved his horsetail whisk again, its mysterious powers knitting Zhou Xuan’s soul back together, restoring formidable perceptive strength within his soul.
"Breathing life into death, bringing flesh to white bone—what do you make of my methods?"
"Wondrous indeed. But, Old Taoist, why save me?"
"Why shouldn’t I? To take your own argument... Saving you has nothing to do with me."
With a broad grin, the Taoist rested his horsetail whisk on his shoulder and rode his donkey away,
singing as he departed—"The past cannot be chased; regard it as destiny. The future remains changable; regard it as impermanence."
Zhou Xuan heard the song, confirming his suspicion about the old Taoist.
This Taoist was none other than the Guardian of Jing Country’s Time-Space World—"Xiang and Fire."
"It is I who should thank you. If those from Buddha Country had infiltrated, this old Taoist would have found himself cleaning up countless troubles again."