Reversing Falsehood and Preserving Truth: All Gods and Gods Are in My Hands

The morning mist still clung to the cracks in the bricks and tiles of the old house, mixed with the musty smell of decaying wood and the earthy stench, enveloping the three as they crossed the crooked courtyard gate and pushed open the door to the main room.

The door hinges creaked softly, like an old man's unconscious sigh in his sleep, startling the dust from the cobwebs under the eaves, which swirled and fell in the morning light.

When the scene in the main room came into view, Lu Yu suddenly tensed up, subconsciously suppressing his breathing and even slowing his heartbeat.

In my memory, the main room should have been warm and cozy: a jar of pickled vegetables made by my grandmother sat on the eight-immortal table, a sewing basket was placed under the window, sunlight shone through the lattice and onto it, the spools of thread gleaming with a warm luster, but now all that remains is a mess.

The octagonal table was upside down, with dirt and porcelain shards embedded in the wood grain of the tabletop. A chipped, coarse porcelain bowl was wedged between the table legs, and the new scratches on the rim of the bowl were angled, with the force increasing from left to right, indicating that someone had violently overturned the table from the right side, causing the bowl to break.

The sewing basket in the corner was scattered all over the floor, and spools of thread of various colors were rolled everywhere—red thread was tangled in the crack of the threshold stone, with the end still having a torn, rough edge, the break was jagged, as if it had been pulled apart by brute force; green spools fell into the brick floor depressions, the spools with half a grain of unmelted mud stuck to them, the dampness of the mud stains indicating that the intruder had left only a few hours ago.

The most conspicuous thing was the old wooden box in the corner. The iron lock was hanging crookedly on the edge of the box. The pry marks on the lock cylinder were in the shape of a "I". The edges were flat and there were metal indentations. It was the mark of professional prying with a flat chisel, and it was definitely not the work of an ordinary thief.

All the old items inside the box had disappeared, leaving only half a burnt letter. The charred edges were rolled into a brittle tube, and most of the ink on the paper had been licked into ash by the flames. The four characters "mending the gap in the sky" were vaguely visible. Because the ink had seeped into the back of the paper, the outline could be barely made out in the morning light, like a prophecy hanging in mid-air, exuding an indescribable eeriness.

"What exactly are they looking for?" Lu Yu muttered to himself.

Su Wan's fingertips pressed against the door frame, her face paler than the morning mist. The silver light of the Path of Spiritual Connection flickered weakly in her palm, swaying precariously like a candle in the wind.

She could feel a slight stinging sensation in her fingertips, and the stagnation in the air made it hard for her to breathe. Yet, her psychic senses were as if covered by a thick cloth, and she couldn't even grasp a stable outline.

"I can only be certain that... the intruder's aura is human, or a phantom that hasn't triggered its instincts," her voice trembled, and the silver light at her fingertips dimmed a little more. "Moreover, deep within the old house, there is a long-sealed power of the Great Dao, which is of the same origin as the power of truth in your body. It is... it seems to be in the cracks between the bricks in the inner room? But when I touched it, I was bounced away, as if it was deliberately covered by something."

Her spiritual path was only at level 1, and she had not inherited the complete path, but only the budding of the path. Her abilities were inherently weak. The decay of the old house and the various residual auras made her perception even more fragmented, and she could only capture scattered clues. This sense of powerlessness intensified the unease in her heart. Her hand gripping the utility knife tightened unconsciously, and her knuckles turned white.

Zhao Lei, carrying a baseball bat wrapped with red ribbons, leaned against the threshold, patted his chest, and shouted, "Who cares what kind of scoundrels they are! Tonight I'll bring an old door plank here to make a bed, and keep watch for three days and three nights. I guarantee I'll wipe them all out!"

As he spoke, he glanced into the inner room, picked up an old wooden beam that had fallen to the ground, weighed it in his hand, and while he boasted, his eyes unconsciously scanned the cracks in the doors and windows. "Perfect for building a makeshift bed with this thing, and it can also serve as a weapon—killing two birds with one stone!"

Lu Yu ignored his bluster and remained focused on the half-sheet of paper.

The ability to trace the source of truth can only be used once a year. It is a precious ability passed down from Nuwa. Using it on this tattered letter may not yield any useful information; however, it is currently the only clue that can lead to Grandma's whereabouts.

The trace he made with his fingertips, the mark of origin he traced, was torn within him—

If you use it, you might only see half of the blurry text, wasting the opportunity.

No need. Who knows when we'll find another clue about Grandma?

He remembered the way his grandmother held his hand before she disappeared and said, "Xiaoyu has grown up." At that time, the calluses on her palm brushed against the back of his hand, warm from the sun. Her fingertips almost touched the scorched edge of the letter, then she suddenly pulled back.

Light streamed in through the broken window frame, stirring up dust that swirled in the air, carrying with it a faint, unfamiliar scent.

"This is the True Vision of the Origin, inheriting the power of the rules left over from when I mended the heavens. When applied to an object, it can trace its true trajectory and reveal its destiny. It can only be used once a year, and I hope it can resolve the obsession in your heart."

In Lu Yu's mind, the scene of Nuwa imparting the Origin Mark reappeared.

Just as the scales in Lu Yu's mind were about to tip toward "use", the shadow in the inner room suddenly flickered, and a very faint black shadow flashed past along the base of the wall.

Just as he was about to get up and go to the inner room to check, he suddenly heard a soft rustling sound of fabric brushing against the courtyard wall outside the window. It sounded like a night breeze, but it was deeper and carried the coldness of metal rubbing against metal.

"Returning to the true self is eternal!"

A hoarse slogan suddenly exploded, mixed with the sharp sound of metal cutting through the air, instantly shattering the deathly silence of the old house.

Three dark figures darted out from the inner room, and at the same time, several figures scaled over the low courtyard wall, surrounding the three.

The leader was dressed in a black bodysuit with twisted symbols embroidered on the cuffs, the same as those on the door, like venomous snakes coiled around his wrists, gleaming with a cold, eerie light.

The dagger in his hand gleamed with a dark purple light, its blade engraved with fine spiral patterns. The light flowed along the patterns, exuding an eerie aura.

The others, some wielding steel pipes and others carrying machetes, charged forward with fanatical eyes, oblivious to the fact that their arms were being struck by old wooden beams.

"Be careful!"

Lu Yu let out a low roar, and golden light suddenly rose from his palm. The Void-Piercing Blade instantly condensed into a long sword, which he held horizontally in front of him, barely blocking the dagger thrust by the leader.

The golden light collided with the dark purple glow, producing a sharp, crackling sound and sparks flying everywhere. Lu Yu's hand suddenly went numb, and a strange power of the Great Dao flowed through the dagger.

His pupils contracted sharply, and a storm raged in his heart.

Outside of the Guardian Bureau, there are actually people who inherit the Great Dao?