Qingling Punishing Heart

Chapter 1 Preface After Conferring the Gods
On the banks of the Weishui River in late spring, an old man with white hair and a childlike face was fishing by the river.

The child with a sad face on the side browsed an ancient scroll and asked:

"What's written on it?"

"...the name of God." The old man replied slowly.

"Your name is on it too?"

The old man stared at the river going east, shook his head, and slowly picked up a wine gourd with his thin hands.

The child asked again: "Alcohol is a poison that hurts the body, why do you still drink it?"

"Drinking alcohol hurts the body, not drinking is sad..." The old man took a sip as he said.

Looking at the old man's silver-white hair and beard, the child's eyes flashed inexplicable melancholy.

"You should be sad." The child stared at the long yellow scroll in his hand and sighed: "Everyone will die. If only my name was on it. Some people say that my life span is very short and I won't live long."

The more the child talked, the sadder he became, but the more the old man drank, the happier he became. He held the wine gourd in front of the child and said:

"Ordinary people have the fun of ordinary people. The world is like this wine gourd, and everyone is soaked in it. The longer the time, the more intoxicated it is."

The child pursed his lips and blinked blankly.

"What's your name?" asked the old man.

"... Su Ji."

"Surname Su?" The old man was slightly taken aback, then pondered: "Her surname is also Su."

"who is she?"

"She is the past calamity of the gods. You are the fate between me and the future. The calamity of the gods crossing the first life, and the fate of the human cultivation."

Before the words fell, the old man suddenly felt the fishing rod move, and quickly picked it up!
There was no fish, only a straight, hookless, bare copper needle attached to the lower end of the fishing line.

The old man closed his eyes, let out a deep sigh, and gradually lost strength in his grip on the fishing rod.

Seeing that he stopped talking, the child's expression slowly froze, as if the last ray of sunset was obliterated by darkness.

In the blink of an eye, the old man disappeared without a trace, leaving only a pile of snow-white down feathers on the ground.

A gust of wind messed up the child's hair, and the feathers on the ground were blown to the sky, and they swirled one after another, covering the world.

An ethereal voice echoed in the sky:
"The fate in the dream is over, and the doom in the world will come again."

"Doom?" The child opened his eyes wide, looked up at the feathers flying all over the sky, and asked, "When?"

"250 years from now."

"At that time, I was no longer in this world. I only hope that some gods will come to the world to save the catastrophe. Will it be you?"

The wind blows towards the horizon, and the feather is already in the horizon.

The last sentence of the old man seemed to come from the horizon:

"I am no longer here, but you are still..."

(End of this chapter)