Please don't question multi-week players

Chapter 464. Long ago (Three-in-One) (4)

After that day, the Imperial Advisor girl never mentioned any special divination again. She simply followed her promise and wandered aimlessly through the streets and alleys of the capital with the God of Miracles.

Inside the opera house in the market, the sounds of string and wind instruments lingered endlessly.

On stage, the actors' flowing sleeves fluttered gently, their melodious singing like weeping and lamenting. When the song ended, cheers erupted, and gold coins and silver ingots rained down onto the stage, jingling and clanging.

Some people even squeezed to the front of the stage, standing on tiptoe to stuff money into the hairbands piled up among the actress's hair.

Why are they like this?

The God of Miracles gazed at the shimmering gold, his eyes reflecting an unfamiliar light.

"The reward money tucked into her hair was what she kept for herself."

The national advisor girl leaned against the railing, her voice softening:

“Those who perform operas... have it tough. The young woman leading the group has an elderly mother who is seriously ill. She performs one show after another just to earn money for medicine and to make a living.”

The god of miracles remained silent for a moment before stepping down from the stands.

He walked through the noisy crowd and came to the girl who had not yet removed her makeup.

A faint light flowed between her fingers, and an exceptionally bright gold coin materialized out of thin air, which she gently placed into the headband adorned with velvet flowers.

"A miracle will protect your mother."

His voice was calm, yet it carried a certain indescribable weight.

"Thank you... thank you so much."

The girl paused, holding the still-warm gold coin, her eyes slightly red, and gave a deep bow.

Later, they also went to the lantern market during the Lantern Festival.

The long river, like a ribbon, reflects thousands of lights and a full, round moon.

Countless Kongming lanterns are rising from the riverbank, swaying gently, forming a river of light flowing into the night sky.

A family of three squatted on the shore, the parents holding the child's hand, together supporting a lotus lantern, watching it tremble as it broke free from their fingers and merged into the warm light.

Why are they going in groups and releasing this single lantern?

The God of Miracles gazed at the figure nestled together and asked again.

"...That's not called being in a large group."

The female advisor gave a helpless twitch of her lips:

"They are a family. Today is the Reunion Festival, so family members naturally gather together to light lanterns and pray for blessings."

What does home feel like?

The god of miracles turned his head, and the moonlight bathed his perfect profile in a soft glow:
"Some families have three people, some families have two people... why are you all alone?"

The once lively and expressive female advisor suddenly fell silent.

The hustle and bustle on the long river and the laughter in the lamplight seemed to be pushed far away in an instant.

She lowered her head, her fingers unconsciously fiddling with the warm, smooth prayer beads around her neck, her gaze falling on the dusty tips of her shoes, her voice so low it was almost carried away by the wind:
"My parents... are long gone."

She paused, her throat bobbing slightly, as if she had swallowed something that was choking her.

"It seems... it was eaten by 'God'..."

The Imperial Advisor could foresee the Mandate of Heaven, and thus was also closest to those things in the heavens.

Mortals always think that gods are covered in golden light and have a solemn appearance.

Only she knew what lay beneath that dazzling exterior.

They were a group of monsters, utterly indescribable monsters.

I remember it was also a New Year.

The sounds of firecrackers and laughter drifted through the layers of red paper-cut window decorations, and the air was filled with the warm aroma of the New Year's Eve dinner.

But when she ran home through the scattered red petals, she only saw two familiar things hanging side by side under the eaves, next to the brand-new red lanterns.

It's the face of the parents.

The glow of the lantern shone softly through the red paper, illuminating the two lifeless faces.

As the strongest member of the Imperial Preceptor's family, she can directly see the gods.

And so, through that veil invisible to mortals, she saw the monster lurking in the sky.

—Those twisted, ever-changing shadows were slowly tearing and chewing on the remaining limbs, emitting damp, sticky whispers, like playful laughter, that poured directly into her mind:

"Cry..."

"Cry..."

"Let us see...you're crying..."

Xiao Tang did not cry.

She stood on tiptoe, reached out her hand, and her icy fingers touched her parents' cold cheeks.

The warmth that once gently touched her forehead and wiped away her tears is nowhere to be found.

Her hands were trembling so badly that she could barely untie the tightly tied red string.

With great difficulty, I managed to hold the two heads in my arms; they were heavy, like two lumps of ice.

The lights of thousands of homes illuminate the streets, and the interplay of light and shadow creates a scene where it seems as if a happy family is gathered behind every window.

A cacophony of blessings and celebratory drumbeats surged forth, engulfing her alone in the boundless, blinding red.

From then on, the word "reunion" became something she could no longer savor.

From that day on, time seemed like ink soaked in water, blurring into a hazy gray in her memory.

She hated those beings that roamed the heavens, a hatred that burned like a silent, cold flame within her heart, scorching her day and night. But what could she do?
She was, after all, just a mortal.

How can mortals shake the spirits of the gods?
Time flows like the river beneath this lantern market, seemingly calm, until now.

Tang Wan thought she had emerged from the ordeal, spending her days calculating celestial secrets, dealing with court affairs, and always appearing cheerful and smiling.

But the bone-chilling cold and the glaring red always seeped out from the cracks of time at certain unexpected moments, reminding her that she had never truly left the threshold of that New Year.

Standing by the babbling river, gazing at the shattered moonlight and lamplight reflected in the water, she suddenly spoke, her voice soft yet exceptionally clear:

"Actually... you're a god too, right?"

The god of miracles turned his head slightly in surprise:

How did you figure that out?

Tang Wan didn't look at him, her fingertip pointing to the shimmering river surface.

The water rippled, reflecting the warm light of the lanterns on both banks, and also the figures of the two people.

"Look, my reflection in the water is a person."

She paused, then her voice became even softer:

"And your shadow... is a star. A star with six points that glows purple."

The god of miracles looked at the river as instructed.

In His spiritual vision, the reflection on the water was clearly two ordinary human figures, and the disguise was flawless.

Can this girl's eyes... really see right through appearances and discern the essence?
This talent is less a blessing and more a heavy curse.

After all, it directly violated the fundamental principle of "ignorance is no excuse," thus losing its last layer of protection.

"Aren't you a good god?"

The girl finally turned her head and looked at him, her eyes clear yet unfathomable:

"I see you... don't eat people."

A moment of silence stretched across the river, accompanied by the sound of flowing water. The god of miracles gave a soft "hmm," acknowledging the impending danger.

"I've heard that good gods... are all very weak."

Tang Wan's voice became ethereal, as if she were talking to herself:

"Remember to hide well and don't get eaten by anything else... Star God."

As she spoke, she seemed to be trying to curve her lips into a smile, but tears welled up uncontrollably before she could, sliding down her cheeks and dripping silently into the dark soil beneath her feet.

"I have met many spirits and monsters in the mountains and fields, and I have also encountered several auspicious deities with peaceful auras..."

She raised her hand and wiped her face haphazardly, but the more she wiped, the more tears flowed.

"They were all very kind to me. But then... they all disappeared... they were eaten by a stronger evil god."

As soon as he finished speaking, only the river sobbed.

The countless lights rising into the sky, through her blurred, tearful eyes, resembled a grand yet cruel ritual.

At that moment, those evil gods were right above her head, greedily chewing and tearing at the last breaths of her companions.

The sticky sounds and malicious laughter seemed to be digging into her skull, but she could only stand there, unable to even look up.

These spiritual eyes forced her to see everything clearly, and the principle of "ignorance is no excuse" was the only lifeline she could grasp.

She had to pretend to be deaf and dumb.

Just like now, she "saw" it.

The invisible barrier between the human world and the heavens is now covered with spiderweb-like cracks.

Various indescribable deformities were densely packed outside the crack, their greedy eyes piercing the boundary, scanning the brightly lit streets and laughing crowds below.

Just like when she was a child, she would lie outside the crystal cabinet, curiously and indifferently examining the exquisite wooden dolls inside.

Tang Wan dared not look up, nor even let her gaze shift upwards in the slightest.

She just stared intently at the babbling river in front of her, letting the warm yellow glow of Kongming lanterns drift from afar gently sway on her face.

She had to act as if nothing was wrong, just like the countless days in the past when she was forced to turn a blind eye.

The God of Miracles followed her stiff gaze and glanced at the sky.

In His vision, those lying outside the barrier were nothing more than a group of inferior beings who were not worthy of respect.

They couldn't even bear the gaze of a miracle; the moment their eyes met, they would flinch in terror, unable to look directly at it.

"I won't be eaten."

The God of Miracles withdrew his gaze, his voice calm.

He turned his head to look at the girl's eyes, which reflected the broken lights, and then looked at the families and couples reuniting on the riverbank in the distance.

On the long river, human warmth is abundant. There was a pause, as if some kind of adjustment had been made.

He spoke again, attempting to infuse his voice with a gentleness he had never shown before:

"It's okay. You'll be with two people for the Lantern Festival this year too."

Seemingly feeling that the description was not precise enough, He paused for a moment, then earnestly corrected Him:

"It's one person and one star who will be with you."

Tang Wan forcefully wiped away the tears on her face and raised her head.

The smile returned to her face, brighter than the light of the river lanterns.

"Thank you, Star God."

She looked at Him, her voice very soft.

"This year's Lantern Festival is my favorite year."

……

Days passed by silently, and humanity decayed at a visible rate.

The air emanating from the temple was no longer the protective scent of incense, but rather a sticky and violent "divine power" that distorted the celestial phenomena.

The weather has become unpredictable, sometimes leaving the land parched and sometimes torrential rain.

Climate has become a toy manipulated at will by the gods, and the price is that rivers change course and crops turn to ashes.

It was another torrential downpour that seemed to have no end.

Tang Wan stood on a high place, gazing at the horizon.

The thick, lead-gray clouds seemed to weigh down the mountain ridge, yet through the gaps in the churning clouds, goose-feather snowflakes drifted down.

Further away, staircases formed from murky light descended from the sky, becoming increasingly clear and solid.

At the edge of the horizon, the river finally broke free from the dam's restraints, and the turbid floodwaters transformed into a raging beast, devouring fields and villages.

The cries of anguish were drowned out by the wind and rain. Those who managed to escape to the hillside could only watch helplessly as their former homeland turned into a wasteland.

The starving dead lay prostrate in the mud, only to be quickly covered by fresh mud.

Above that barrier, invisible to mortals, Tang Wan's spiritual eyes reflected an even more terrifying scene—countless twisted and enormous shadows were greedily lurking.

They stretched out their long tongues and licked the suffering and death of the people below, as if savoring a sumptuous yet tragic feast.

Tang Wan stood alone atop the hill, her clothes soaked by the cold rain, and the howling wind almost made her lose her balance.

Looking at this devastated landscape, she could no longer shed tears; only a deep, almost numb sorrow remained in her eyes.

Amidst the raging wind and rain and the faint cries of despair, she clasped her hands together and bowed her head toward the sky, which seemed to be filled with malicious prying eyes.

The purple-eyed deity stood silently beside her, watching her almost futile efforts, and asked:
What are you praying for?

Tang Wan's voice was very sad:

"A deadly situation, yet we seek a glimmer of hope... for survival."

She raised her head and sighed deeply:
"But I don't know which god to pray to."

She drew a bittersweet smile:

"Because this world... seems to be teeming with evil gods."

The god of miracles silently gazed at her, then looked at the human world that was being greedily devoured.

Her purple eyes shimmered with light, reflecting the cataclysmic events and her almost desperate longing.

The wind and rain were dark and gloomy, and He did not speak.

……

The situation has irrevocably slid into the deepest abyss.

Human order has completely collapsed, and disasters are no longer isolated incidents, but rather an overwhelming and constant occurrence.

The air was thick with a heavy atmosphere of dust, blood, and despair; even the wind seemed to have stopped flowing, leaving only the oppressive feeling of impending death.

Until that final, decisive moment finally arrived.

A tearing sound, chilling to the bone, echoed from the heavens.

The already overburdened barrier was forcibly torn open with a huge rift.

Immediately afterwards, countless giant tentacles covered with suction cups and bizarre patterns, like rotting intestines hanging from a wound, meandered down from the crack.

They swept across the land at will, and wherever they passed, city walls collapsed like sandcastles, and people were easily crushed and ground into the soil like ants.

The young emperor, clad in tattered armor and brandishing a nicked sword, led the last of his soldiers in a charge toward the nearest tentacle.

It was a tragic charge, but its outcome was predetermined.

When flesh and blood collide with a monster, the outcome is never in doubt—with just a touch, man and horse, armor and sword, all instantly turn into a burst of blood mist, leaving not even a trace.

At this moment, the world turned into a blood-red purgatory.

Cries, wails, prayers, curses... all human voices were ultimately swallowed up by the dull, sticky roar of the tentacles grinding across the earth.

Tang Wan stood on the long-abandoned hill, a cold, howling wind carrying a strong stench of blood.

She watched as the all-consuming terror spread from the horizon, her eyes filled with a deathly emptiness.

A dark red tentacle, dripping with viscous fluid, seemed to have sensed the faint yet unusually "conspicuous" spirituality emanating from her. It abruptly changed direction and, with the force to crush mountains, slammed down upon her.

Shadows loomed over everything, and the stench of death stifled our breath.

At that critical moment—

A faint purple light suddenly shone in front of her, firmly blocking her from the destructive tentacles.

"Om-!"

A strange, soul-stirring sound reverberated.

A miraculous purple radiance erupted, touching the tips of the purple light's tendrils, disintegrating and shattering from the smallest structure, turning into nothingness and dissipating into fluorescent light.

"Aow—!"

From deep space, beyond the rift, came a terrible, inhuman scream, a mixture of excruciating pain and rage, which shattered the clouds and shook the earth.

The shattered, fluorescent tentacles slowly drifted down.

Tang Wan's eyes widened suddenly, the dazzling six-pointed star reflected in her pupils.

"Star Goddess...who...are you...?"

Before she could finish speaking, a line of pale purple text, shimmering with a deep light, silently appeared in the air before her:

My name is—the God of Miracles.

The moment the words vanished, the purple star ceased to linger.

He rose up lightly, hovering between the blood-red sky and the ravaged earth.

Its tiny form and countless terrifying tentacles hanging from the sky seemed so insignificant compared to the shattered crack in the firmament.

However, when a tangible purple glow began to flow from His body, a world-changing presence suddenly enveloped the entire world.

Everyone knows that miracles can bring hope and new life, but few people know that when the concept of "miracle" itself is triggered and applied on a large scale and indiscriminately, what is produced is not a blessing, but an absolute phenomenon that subverts common sense and flattens everything.

This phenomenon, in the secret chronicles of the gods, is called—

"The disaster zone of miracles".

It was like a silent declaration, or perhaps the law itself beginning to lament.

"Buzz————————————————"

A long, magnificent, resounding echo, penetrating both matter and soul, reverberated from the place where the god of miracles resided.

Then, the sky changed.

Countless pure, almost ethereal purple beams of light descended from the heavens above, from around the God of Miracles, and crashed down upon the countless tentacles below.

Where the light reaches, there is not destruction, but "transformation".

Those enormous, terrifying tentacles that wreaked havoc on the human world were wiped away as if by a higher-dimensional eraser the moment they touched the purple light. They were completely "miraculously" transformed from the level of existence into countless purple light fragments flying everywhere.

Within the light, the bodies of those struggling on the verge of death, or even those who had already lost their breath, also transformed into countless gentle points of light within the purple glow.

Like dandelion seeds blown by the wind, they floated lightly and silently upwards along the steps that descended from the sky, drifting towards the hazy, purple-lit place beyond the crack.

The killing was stopped, the disaster was halted, destruction and salvation arrived at the same moment, in the same way.

Between the sky and the earth, only a silent, flowing ocean of purple light remained.

This is the area hardest hit by the "miracle".

As the last glimmer of purple light merged into the sky, an even heavier stillness enveloped this vast, empty world.

There were no cheers of victory, no cries of relief after the catastrophe, only the wailing of the wind through the ruins, and the omen of something grander and colder that was about to descend.

Then, it came.

From the source of that law, from the underlying logic that sustains the operation of countless worlds, a pure "black light," like a verdict, fell silently.

It is the final verdict of the Basic Law on those who transgress its ironclad rules.

The God of Miracles hovered silently in place, the purple starlight flowing around him appearing weak and lonely in the face of absolute black light.

He violated an unshakeable iron law—mass intervention, especially the direct erasure of countless gods through uncontrollable means such as “miracles,” which undermines the very foundation of order.

It should have been annihilated by the deity who holds the power of "death order" and "termination" the moment the error occurred.

However, because the position of the god of death and silence was vacant, the imminent demise was temporarily postponed.

Instead, within the black light, a "little black room," specifically designed for imprisonment and awaiting final judgment, opened before Him.

Inside is endless nothingness, a suspension longer than death itself.

The god of miracles neither spoke nor resisted.

He merely turned his head one last time to glance at the countless purple specks of light dancing in the sky—

That was a sliver of "possibility" that He forcibly dragged from the brink of destruction and sent to an unknown future, at the cost of violating divine law.

That glance was light and quick, devoid of any emotion, yet it seemed to contain all the emotions He had understood since His birth.

Then, the purple star took a step forward and willingly merged into the all-consuming black light.

　This third donation was a large sum from a previous customer, but I was busy the past couple of days and only saw it today...

　　(End of this chapter)