Chapter 124: Ascension to Divinity

"The fifth level of the Enlightenment Fist, reaching the Xiantian realm, cost a total of over twelve thousand merit points, leaving me with nearly forty thousand."

Fang Yue immersed his consciousness into his mind to check the Merit System. About forty thousand merit points were not enough to propel him from the early stage of the Xiantian realm to its peak; he was still a long way off. However, there was no rush. Having just broken through to the early Xiantian stage, he needed time to adapt before pushing his cultivation further. During this period, he could figure out ways to acquire more merit points.

"I will first refine the third level of the Flame Palm to increase its power." Previously, restricted by his own martial arts realm, the Flame Palm could not be improved further. Now that Fang Yue had entered the Xiantian realm, he could naturally continue to refine it.

As for how to harvest merit points, Fang Yue planned to join the White Cloud Palace and become a patron. He would then accept tasks from the palace to slay ghosts and eliminate monsters. This way, he could earn not only merit points but also contributions, which could be used to exchange for cultivation techniques, pills, and magical artifacts from the White Cloud Palace. It was like killing two birds with one stone—doing one job and receiving two salaries.

Just as he was feeling smug, Fang Yue’s expression suddenly changed.

...

"I pray to the Sea God to bless my husband with a safe journey at sea!"
"I pray to the Sea God to bless my child to be free of illness and disaster, and to keep him healthy."
"I pray to the Sea God to help me earn a fortune and marry a good wife."
"I pray to the Sea God to keep my home safe."
"I pray to the Sea God to bless my daughter-in-law so she may conceive soon and give birth to a healthy baby boy."
"I pray to the Sea God to save our town."

...

The contents of those strange dreams suddenly flooded into Fang Yue’s mind in broad daylight. Strangely, he could finally hear clearly the prayers and entreaties those people were whispering in his ears. Unfortunately, this was not a good thing. These pleas were intermingled with the distractions and desires of the supplicants—countless people’s雜念 (distractions) and desires surged in together, tangled and inseparable.

In his dreams, he couldn't hear the specifics of their words, only feeling irritable and suffering from a splitting headache. But at this moment, not only did the words of their prayers become clear, but their various desires and distractions also became distinct, flooding his mind all at once. It was like a dam bursting, with the surging river water pouring into a village; the result was inevitably catastrophic. Countless prayers, thoughts, and desires poured in, and Fang Yue felt as if there were countless buzzing voices in his head. These human thoughts and desires converged into a torrent, battering his mind and leaving him with a headache so severe he felt he might go mad.

Fang Yue clutched his head, rolling on the floor in agony. This was not physical pain, but agony of the spirit.

...

Bai Taoru was carrying a tray toward Fang Yue’s room. On the tray sat a white bowl filled with lotus seed soup, still steaming. Arriving at the door, she smoothed the loose hair on her forehead that had been ruffled by the wind and knocked gently. There was no response. Hearing an unusual noise from inside, she tilted her head and pressed her ear against the door. From within came the sound of a body hitting the floor and struggling.

Bai Taoru’s expression changed. She knocked harder and shouted, "Junior brother! Junior brother!" Still, there was no response, only the sound of someone thrashing about and bumping into things. Panicking, she took a deep breath and kicked the door with all her might. Being skilled in martial arts, she was no frail woman, and her kick shattered the door. Seeing Fang Yue on the ground, his face twisted in pain and his head bloodied from the impacts, the tray in her hand fell to the floor. The white bowl shattered, and the lotus seed soup spilled everywhere.

Ignoring this, Bai Taoru rushed into the room, lifted Fang Yue’s upper body, and cradled his head in her arms to keep him from rolling and hitting himself. "Junior brother, what is wrong? Junior brother, don't scare me!" Bai Taoru burst into tears.

...

Fang Yue felt terrible. His consciousness was actually clear, but that only made the pain more acute. Countless pleas and desires surged into his consciousness, mixing into a chaotic mess, like a tangled ball of thread that could not be unraveled. Moreover, they kept pouring in. If this continued, he would either have his consciousness shattered or, even if he survived, he would go completely insane, becoming a monster dominated by countless chaotic emotions.

Only then did Fang Yue understand why no person or entity in this world could ascend to godhood by borrowing the power of incense and faith. The incense and faith in this world were mixed with too many negative elements—often more than the power of the prayers themselves—making it impossible to absorb directly. Even if a clay or wooden idol were to become spiritual through years of worship, it would inevitably be dominated by countless gray-black negative emotions and become a terrifying, mad monster, rather than a guardian deity.

However, realizing this was already too late. As the guardian of Fish Head Town, and with the Sea God molded in his own image, the residents of Fish Head Town implicitly conflated the Sea God with Fang Yue when they prayed at the temple. When Fang Yue broke through to the Xiantian realm and gained a stronger connection to the world, those forces of incense and faith, laden with countless distractions and desires, surged toward him.

If Fang Yue could not endure this, his consciousness would collapse, and his soul would scatter. Even if he survived, he would be dominated by these negative emotions, his personality would change drastically, and he would succumb to madness. Neither of these was acceptable. In this critical moment, Fang Yue thought of his merit points. Merit points could fuel divine abilities, heal physical wounds, and ward off evil. Could they ward off these negative emotions?

Fang Yue did not have time to think. He had no choice but to treat a dead horse as if it were a living one. "Sacrifice!" Fang Yue shouted inwardly.

Merit points were consumed rapidly, and golden light appeared within his consciousness. As soon as the dense gray-black negative emotions were touched by the golden light, they melted and vanished rapidly.

...

He did not know how much time had passed. Of the dense gray-black negative emotions that had filled his consciousness, only a small patch remained in the corner, and the golden light faded as his merit points were exhausted. Although the remaining gray-black emotions were slowly increasing again, they posed no major threat to Fang Yue for the time being.

After the gray-black emotions were dissolved by the golden light, what remained beneath them was revealed: clusters of milky white mist. "This milky white mist must be the power of prayer," Fang Yue thought, pondering how to utilize it. Suddenly, the milky white mist enveloped his consciousness and pulled him into the distance.

When Fang Yue opened his eyes, he found himself holding a large saber, standing tall upon a pedestal inside a temple, with several people below burning incense and praying to him. And those milky white prayers began to fuse into his current clay-molded body.

"This is the Sea God Temple in Fish Head Town." Fang Yue was startled; he had possessed the clay statue of the Sea God. Seeing the power of prayer merging into the statue, Fang Yue had a realization: this was the condensation of a godhead. Of course, with such meager prayers, he would be nothing more than an insignificant, petty local deity.

Fang Yue hesitated.