Chapter 61: Merit and Demerit

"Why, why?"

Die Lvxin let out a desolate, piercing wail, throwing herself upon the elephant deity seated upon the throne, weeping bitterly.

Throughout the banquet, as the butterflies listened to his rhythmic snores, they all lowered their heads in silent tears.

They could already sense that this venerable figure might never wake again, or that even if he did, he would sink into senile dementia, forgetting their very existence.

Just as the siren's prophecy had foretold:

"O heroic and wise Scholarly Elephant God, you shall sink into senile dementia in your twilight, and die within that haze."

...

The Immortal Deity quietly departed the tear-soaked temple, taking the Phoenix Emperor with him.

The Amber Phoenix Butterfly wore a slightly melancholy expression.

"Age, sickness, and death are the natural state of all living beings; immortality must always experience these trials," the Immortal Deity said faintly, leading her away from the temple without a sound.

"Though your natural talent is supreme, and you are already a goddess of wisdom possessing a romantic nature, if you do not strive in cultivation, his today will be your tomorrow, and I, too, shall send you away."

Down on the mountainside, Liu Jun sighed softly, listening to the thunderous snoring and the sounds of weeping echoing from the peak.

"Truly, the burden has been hard upon you."

He recalled his eldest disciple, the most steadfast of them all, who had never once caused him worry.

Even the very spirit and morale of the entire butterfly race had been personally guided by him.

Everyone knew the angels were beautiful.

Yet none knew that had it not been for the insectoid atmosphere meticulously crafted by this emperor of the butterfly race—with generations rushing forward fearlessly to spin their cocoons within the Weaving Garden—the angels would never have been born.

Only with suitable soil could flowers bloom.

Without him, the butterfly race might long ago have fallen apart.

As time passed, rifts had gradually formed between the single emperor and the four marquises.

Secretly acting as roots hidden in the dark, he had exhausted every stratagem and scheme, all to guard this beautiful flower of a flourishing era and pave the way for those who came after.

Though he had schemed against the angelic race, he had simultaneously resolved the fractures within the ancestral homeland of the butterflies.

Even now.

At the very end, he had confessed his sins, using them as leverage to awaken the saints gathered before him.

"You could easily have chosen not to speak of it, dying in glory and greatness, yet you chose to confess."

The voice of the prophet seemed to transform into the wind, drifting lightly and echoing through the mountain, pouring into the temple and into the ears of the snoring, slumbering elephant god.

"The one the butterfly race should revere most is not me, but you."

Complex emotions washed over the faces of the four butterfly kings and the Angel of Truth as they listened to the prophet's whispers drifting from the mountain, the voice gradually fading as he walked away.

...

"I merely spoke of the Law, yet you put it into practice across this land."

Across the realm, the voice echoed.

It swept across the earth, the mountains, and the rivers.

In the streets of countless tribes, ordinary folk emerged from their homes, raising their heads to listen to the lingering echoes of the divine whisper in the skies.

"I merely forged a starting point for the butterfly race, yet you established the spirit of the race upon this earth, laying down an enduring backbone that shall last through the ages."

"I merely spoke, while you took action."

...

Whispers of the Immortal Deity echoed throughout the mountain.

Hearing the recognition bestowed by the deity, a look of fleeting relief seemed to cross the foolish, slumbering face of the elephant god upon the divine throne.

...

Within the temple.

Xu Changsheng, manifested as a butterfly, watched the scene quietly in a daze.

He departed the temple and stepped outside.

Through Xu Changsheng's perspective, the Angel of King attached to him happened to catch sight of the Immortal Deity leading the Phoenix Emperor down the mountain.

Whoosh—

The Immortal Deity suddenly turned around, casting a profound, deep gaze in his direction.

Those eyes bloomed with a faint golden light, their noble and frigid gaze seeming to pierce through the depths of the soul, locking directly onto the hidden presence of the Angel King.

Boom!

His mind erupted with a deafening roar.

The Angel King's consciousness plunged into a daze, and a thought flashed incredulously through his mind:

"Across an entire era... can a deity perceive me watching them from the distant river of history?"

...

...

He opened his eyes, and another night had passed.

Jingle ling!~

Xu Changsheng opened his eyes in bed and pressed the alarm clock on the bedside table.

Glancing around the room, he spotted the projection of the Angel King squatting in a dark corner, staring blankly into space.

A pair of massive, snowy-white wings wrapped tightly around his entire body, as if shielding him from reality.

And naturally so!

It would have been one thing if he had merely dreamed of some other historical myth.

Yet what he had dreamt of last night was intimately tied to the Angel King himself—the legendary "Invasion of the Wutong Tree"!

That divine banquet had turned out to be a massive reversal!

It shattered every perception, whether concerning his own Empress Chong Qiyi or his faith in the Emperor of the Butterflies...

It forced even Xu Changsheng to wonder: could it truly be that what one thinks by day, one dreams by night?

Because he had been dwelling on the Angel King during the daytime, he had dreamt of the past tied to him?

"Come out, let's talk."

Xu Changsheng sat in the living room, retrieved yesterday's leftover rice and dishes from the refrigerator to heat them up, and began to eat unhurriedly.

"What is it? Are your illusions about the past shattered?" Xu Changsheng chuckled.

The Angel King remained silent.

His mind was still fixed on the gaze of the Immortal Deity—those eyes of faint golden light.

He suddenly recalled how, shortly before, he had sensed the Immortal Deity bestowing upon him the blessings of longevity and concealment.

A deity.

What manner of towering, majestic existence could walk through successive mythical eras? Just how high was his realm of cultivation?

In the present world, only the four tiers of Wind, Rain, Thunder, and Lightning were publicly known.

What tier was he in, lingering in realms the human civilization of this era had yet to explore... The fifth? Sixth? Seventh?

Xu Changsheng murmured to himself:

"Human nature cannot withstand the test. Once a test begins, cracks will inevitably appear, even if one passes."

"Thus, he chose the most rational method: instead of testing them, he chose to witness the tragedy of a group of companions who were just like us."

"That Emperor of the Butterflies understood the fleeting nature of transient beauty. Tearing the most exquisite beauty to shreds right before one's eyes—that is the most profound thing in this world."

"Therefore, he led the butterflies of the Wutong Tree, watching the Archangel rage and attack out of fury for her son, watching the four of you split apart."

"With beautiful angels torn to shreds before their eyes, the four of them grew fearful, and thus bound themselves tightly together with fragile butterfly knots of friendship."

Xu Changsheng's analysis pierced deeply into the core of human nature, showing not an ounce of mercy.

Yet the next moment.

The Angel King finally snapped out of his reverie, a different voice replying: "You are wrong, utterly wrong. After learning the truth, I no longer hate Die Lvxian."

"Oh?" Xu Changsheng offered a hint of surprise, taking another bite of the green rice gruel he had prepared the previous night, mixed with a dash of rainwater.

The sour and metallic taste dissolved down his throat, but he paid it no mind; bitter as this tea might be, nothing could taste bitterer than the endless passage of time, the parting of loved ones, and death.

Although the Angel King was only a projection, his true body on the other side was likewise drinking rainwater and bitter tea, drinking from afar with Xu Changsheng:

"In this matter, he merely let things take their natural course, turning a blind eye to Chong Qiyi's vengeance."

"Even without his interference, Chong Qiyi would still have reached that point, leading her army to attack the Wutong Tree."

"He did not guide them into committing evil; he merely chose not to stop the evil from happening."

"Building upon the foundation of these events, he simply added various objectives in secret, seizing the opportunity to ensure a better future for the butterfly race."

"During the Wutong Tree incident, the latter half of my life was spent carrying a heavy burden."

"I believe the Emperor of the Butterflies was the same. Like me, the remainder of his life after that incident was filled with guilt and agony."

"Both the remainder of our lives bore different sins and remorse."

"He was blameless. His only 'sin' was failing to stop Chong Qiyi, choosing instead to watch with cold detachment."

"In that era, apart from the lives infected by the Calamity of Wisdom, not a single one of them was truly evil."

"Instead, I admire his intellect. His methods established the spirit and morale of the butterfly race, allowing our era to endure much longer."

The Angel King drank deeply, his expression complex. Surprisingly, he now felt a deep sense of reverence for that figure.

The dead were gone.

No matter how much hatred, pain, or despair had once existed, it had all drifted away with the wind.

He admired that wisdom which had unraveled the Calamity of Wisdom afflicting the left and right brains; truly, he was worthy of being the Scholarly God of the High Mountains.

Xu Changsheng sipped his tea, lowering his voice: "As expected of you. This is precisely what you would think."

The Angel King drank his tea, murmuring softly:

"He, too, was a king who held aloft the torch of civilization. From the very night he walked down the Wutong Tree, he was already like a moth flying into a flame, living a life with no regrets toward all living things."