Chapter 79: The Celestial Deity

Wen Jin’ge turned back in confusion, and Liang Si frowned, puzzled, his gaze shifting from Lu Wei back to the man and the maid. Two voices spoke in unison, “Which one?”

Lu Wei: …

Before they could see what happened, the two figures quickly left, and Lu Wei fell from Wen Jin’ge’s arms.

“That one’s raw! It’s not cooked yet!” he called out, chasing after them.

The coffin was cleared away, and the barrier shattered with it. The maid, sensing danger, had already run far away, leaving only the man sitting there, as if stunned by a blow.

“No worries! The primordial power within me can’t be restrained any longer!”

After his advancement, Liang Si seemed quite exhilarated, especially after being humbled by the old Daoist; he was eager to prove himself. “Master! I think I am too, I—”

“Hmm!” Wen Jin’ge patted his shoulder, rummaged through her storage pouch, and found an ancient, unadorned square hammer, which she handed over with great solemnity.

“It seems you can no longer hide your identity as the Thunder God. Go for it, Thor! Let’s strike him down!”

Liang Si scratched his head. This hammer, when it reached his hand, still carried lightning, but when the inner demon appeared, it became an old, gray artifact, somewhat resembling his master’s Gouchen.

“Why does Master carry a hammer? Where did this come from?”

Wen Jin’ge owned many things, most of which Liang Si had organized himself—there was no reason he hadn’t seen this! Even after she secluded herself, the items she left with Ai Fengling were collected by him, but this hammer he truly had never seen.

“Maybe I made—” Wen Jin’ge reflexively began to say, but withdrew halfway, a strange familiarity welling up in her. “Forget it, it doesn’t matter, I’ve forgotten.”

“Who is Thor?”

“My affectionate nickname for you.”

Liang Si did not laugh, but his bright eyes betrayed a burst of mirth; he seemed to have gotten through it.

“Do you really want me dead?” The man’s eyes shone beneath his wild hair, full of spirit—as if he were some ancient creature, more than human.

Hearing Wen Jin’ge’s wish for his death, he was not alarmed; instead, he revealed eight perfectly aligned white teeth, stark against his charcoal-black face.

“Is it true?”

“Is it true?”

“Are you serious?”

“You’re not lying, are you?”

“You’re not lying, right?”

Wen Jin’ge’s brows knitted; the Thunder God’s hammer crackled, and she hadn’t even swung it yet—how had he grown so foolish?

“You want to be struck?”

“Yes! I want to die! Can you help me?” The man knelt, his frame thin as a fire stick, lean and elongated. His gaze was that of a desperate beast.

Suddenly, she wasn’t hungry anymore.

“Master, there’s not much meat on him, probably tastes terrible. Let’s forget it.”

“I’m fine!” The man coughed, hacking up a few wisps of white smoke as he rolled up his sleeves.

At that moment, Wen Jin’ge stepped in front of Liang Si, also rolling up her sleeves.

As if anyone here lacked hands—this place was full of talented, resourceful people; Wen Jin’ge refused to believe anyone could be fairer than their own Mount Ten Thousand Fathoms.

Seeing this, Liang Si silently rolled up his own sleeves as well.

Lu Wei went after the little maid, whose speed was impressive; he nearly failed to catch up. Coincidentally, someone tried to curry favor, but Lu Wei returned with a cold expression, a tongue-pulling Wang Xi trailing behind.

“Grand Master, Junior Sister didn’t mean it.”

Yang Wen’nan, having advanced to the sixth rank today, was more confident, his voice firm as he stood protectively before his junior sister, facing the Grand Master whom he usually avoided at all costs.

Yet, in his hands he still gripped two broken demon-lock chains, making speech awkward and keeping an eye on the little demon lest she escape.

“Yes, yes, Grand Master, sorry!”

“I’m not angry!” He spoke with a hint of anger, turned away, and Wang Xi became the one holding the demon chain, while Yang Wen’nan rolled up his sleeves.

“What are you two doing?” He looked speechlessly at the disciples raising their hands, and noticed Wen Jin’ge and Liang Si doing the same.

“No, nothing—does it look like we’re not fitting in?” The bound little maid fretted, “Do I need to join too…”

It did seem like some ritual, especially when that madman cut a piece of flesh from his own hand, smiling without a hint of pain, and handed the meat to Wen Jin’ge.

“Will you eat it?”

The meat smelled delicious, and both Wen Jin’ge and Liang Si’s faces showed delight, entranced.

Then, both their expressions shifted to identical disdain, sneering, “Filthy!”

“We won’t eat it! Looks like you haven’t bathed in ages.”

Liang Si nodded in agreement, “You’re covered in grime.”

“Whew!” Regardless, Lu Wei breathed a sigh of relief, proudly pushing the little maid forward. “This is the scent you all noticed.”

“She hasn’t bathed either.” Liang Si complained.

“She’s too fleshy, wouldn’t make a good soup.”

“Then stir-fry her!” Wang Xi was simply enjoying the spectacle.

“Waaah… Master, save me! Humans are terrifying, I want, I want…”

“Look! An airplane!” Wen Jin’ge pointed at the sky.

Everyone glanced up, and Wen Jin’ge felt her scalp tingle, as if she’d been outdone—these were all transmigrators!

Then she noticed her own hand pointing skyward, and her mood soured instantly.

“There’s nothing there, Master,” Yang Wen’nan was the first to look back.

“It’s just a flying chicken—there’s a real one right here.”

Lu Wei played the role of the good brother; the longer he spent with Wen Jin’ge, the more patient he became.

He didn’t realize that this dismissive attitude made Wen Jin’ge uneasy once more.

The man’s arm, from which the flesh had been cut, slowly regenerated; the wound stopped bleeding and fresh meat grew in its place.

The injury vanished, as if the piece of meat on the ground were just a collective hallucination, never actually severed.

“You actually know!” The light in the man’s eyes, wild like a beast, grew fiercer. “You know where I come from…”

Wen Jin’ge launched a kick, emotions running wild. She laughed skyward for a moment, then, glancing at the stunned man, quickly composed herself, returning to her enigmatic, aloof persona, as if it hadn’t been her who’d just struck him.

Her tone was cold, her manner distant, serious and unsmiling, perfectly embodying the aura of a hermit sage. “Speak!”

“I am from the heavens…”

Liang Si had learned to interrupt, not understanding why, but doing so anyway.

The Thunder God’s hammer came down; the man shuddered, the more electrified he became, the more spirited, white smoke billowing from his mouth. Lu Wei frowned, saying nothing, his gaze resting on the little maid.

“Plane crash?”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Plane! I’ll show you ‘plane’!”

The man was like a sponge of memories—he changed shape, but always quickly returned to form.

Wen Jin’ge was behaving oddly; Lu Wei noticed, and waited until she’d vented before leading her aside, taking charge himself. “Someone from above?”

“Above…” Liang Si instinctively looked up, then at his master, truly unconcerned, no longer flustered.

“Hmm… above.” The man pointed at the flesh on the ground, his gaze deep as he looked at Lu Wei’s soul. “Eat it, and you will gain a physical body.”

“A physical body?” Lu Wei looked at Wen Jin’ge again; did he really need such a thing? “Did this chicken eat your flesh too?”

“Yes.” The man smiled smugly, only to receive another punch.

“In this lifetime, what I hate most are you gods from above. I didn’t go looking for you, and yet you deliver yourselves to my door.”