He and It Chapter 218: Inquire Here (46)

Chapter 218: Inquire Here (46)

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: GaeaTiamat

 

The God of Many Faces set out personally. He trod on wind, thunder, and fire, as he soared in the vast expanse of the sky. Clouds collided and shattered against Him, then turned into thread-like mist, that resembled tattered garments on the brink of destruction.

He didn’t believe that Supreme Good or Evil could be imbued with individual will. In the world, whispers were often echoed, and they claimed that everything was predestined by fate, that good and evil were meant to intertwine for life, both hating and loving each other.

The God of Many Faces avoided the black dragon who was greedily searching for food. He descended not far from the altar, and His arrival instantly brought the scent of a battlefield filled with blood and carnage. Thick clouds rolled, and blood rain fell in mournful drops. He transformed into a young girl, beautiful and delicate, dressed in a blood-soaked robe, who cried as she ran toward the Immortal, pleading for help.

The disguise of the god was flawless, and the incarnation seamless.

“My family, everything I had, was all burned to ashes by the God of Many Faces’ army,” the girl wept bitterly. “What should I do, Immortal? I have nowhere to flee but to seek your protection.”

She lifted her face, pale as dew, pale as moonlight, while her blood-red robe clung to her trembling, bird-like, snow-soft body.

She came by night, her face noble and frozen. When she bowed at the man’s knees, she was like a fallen flower that drifted powerlessly with the breeze. All eyes followed her, and wherever she appeared, the flames of desire ignited.

The Immortal looked at her and spoke softly, “You can mourn, and you can find a new place to live. No matter what, life is long. You shouldn’t waste it on me.”

“But I only wish to serve you,” the girl sighed, tremulously. “I have long loved you. Perhaps it is Heaven’s will. Though the God of Many Faces took everything from me, I can still stay by your side.”

The man smiled and shook his head. “You are too young to understand that the so-called Heaven’s will is terrifying. It manipulates your fate in secret, and leads you astray onto paths you never dreamed of. Many who claimed to grasp Heaven’s will have died in disbelief and resentment. Is it truly Heaven’s will, or is it just the stubbornness of the human heart?”

The girl remained silent for a moment, as if she were summoning her courage.

“I love you, no matter what awaits me ahead,” she said. “I am willing to die for you.”

The Immortal looked at her, his gaze as light as a feather but as heavy as a mountain.

“What you are willing to die for isn’t me, but something far more difficult and strange.” The man reached out and adjusted the girl’s expensive silk robe. Wherever his fingers touched, the scarlet blood vanished, and left only soft, dry cloth. “Is being a god really that desirable?”

The girl’s eyebrows shot up like two sharp swords. She glared at him, her eyes no longer filled with infatuation, but with a coldness so intense it could make one shiver to death.

“Yes,” she replied sharply. However, after she answered, regret washed over her. She felt she had lost the upper hand because she had responded to the Immortal’s question, which made her seem weak.

She let out an unwilling shriek, transformed into a fierce wind, and fled from the Immortal’s side.

The Immortal smiled as he gazed at the eastern sky, where the light of dawn was beginning to appear.

Several days later, the sick lined up around the mountain, some seeking financial aid, others hoping for a smile, a word, or a touch from the Immortal. The God of Many Faces’ defeat had brought peace and joy to the believers.

“I seek help,” groaned a gravely ill person, his skin the color of the dark sea at twilight. “Immortal, please save me. No earthly herb can ease my pain, so I can only turn to you.”

The immortal looked at him with sympathy.

“I see crows, they are already hovering over your shoulders,” the Immortal said. “Death is inevitable. There is nothing in this world worth delaying it for.”

The patient gasped in surprise, and after a long pause, he began to weep bitterly.

“What, you!” He clutched the Immortal’s white robe tightly. “Will you abandon your servant? I have heard your story. You once vowed to gain more followers than there are drops of water in the sea, so you could become a True Immortal and live as long as the sun and moon. If death is inevitable, how will you fulfill your vow?”

The Immortal slowly exhaled and said, “Whether god or immortal, their final fate is already sealed. Mountains collapse onto plains, plains crack into deep valleys, water fills the valleys, and eventually, a sea rises. Past glories will sooner or later turn into tales that drift like dust, and even the tales will fade and disappear.”

He bowed his head, and smiled apologetically. “I am sorry, but I am not an all-powerful god. After all, even gods are not perfect, nor can they act entirely as they wish. I have seen false gods, cruel gods, gods devoid of compassion, and I have also seen gods in pain, gods who weep, gods who cannot obtain what they desire, and gods who cry in sorrow, just like the most fragile mortals.”

“Go now,” the Immortal said finally. “Die today and be reborn tomorrow. The test you place upon me now is but a rehearsal for your own eventual fate.”

The weak patient’s expression darkened, and he suddenly became fierce and roared, “Arrogant fool! How many gods have you seen? I will make you regret this.”

The God of Many Faces left in a rage, and the Immortal smiled as he looked at the distant, stretching mountains.

“One,” he said. “There is only one god left in the world.”

After that, the God of Many Faces returned many times.

He became a priest, a monk, a high noble, even a thief, a pig farmer, and a ragged beggar. His form changed constantly – sometimes noble, sometimes lowly, sometimes powerful and arrogant, sometimes weak and humble.

However, no matter what form He took, the Immortal could always accurately recognize Him. The God of Many Faces grew increasingly frustrated, and thought that perhaps a different approach was needed. He planned to use brutal force to gouge out the Immortal’s eyes and tongue, and render him blind and mute.

One evening, a mist slowly descended to the ground, and the sunset dimmed. Spiral-shaped clouds filled the sky, and flowed like a dream.

The Immortal sat beneath the ginkgo tree. There were no pilgrims seeking an audience, only an old man leaning on a cane, who shook as he emerged from the mist.

“I do not believe in you,” the old man said bluntly. “You are not my god.”

The Immortal raised his eyes and looked at him kindly.

“Ah, please, let us not argue,” the Immortal said. “Believe in whoever you wish, and walk into their embrace. If you believe in no one, you still have your own feet to measure your life.”

The old man’s gaze darkened further, and he asked directly, “What witchcraft or trickery have you used to make fools worship you? Men and women alike adore you. Without speaking, gold and silver roll to your feet like the tide. Yet you live in a shabby shrine without luxurious garments or a grand statue.” He sneered disdainfully.

“What a feat your seductive magic has achieved,” the old man said harshly. “Blinding and deluding so many fools.”

The Immortal gently placed a ginkgo leaf aside. “Man, woman, what difference does it make?” he asked. “As long as they long for warmth and yearn to be loved, they will never escape my grasp. Humans are like moths, drawn to the light.”

He sighed, “I am supreme goodness.”

The old man’s face turned iron-blue, and he remained silent.

“You have asked me many questions,” the Immortal said. “Now, I too would like to ask you one.”

The God of Many Faces responded with anger and an intense stare.

The Immortal continued, “You have assumed many forms, trying to distinguish yourself from me, among which were your own people. You became a beggar, a farmer who lost his child, a destitute widow, and a prisoner oppressed by cruel officials…You have exploited their suffering in an attempt to deceive me. However, knowing what they have endured, why do you remain indifferent?”

The God of Many Faces looked at him fixedly, then answered the question with another question.

“Are you seeking my love on their behalf?” The God of Many Faces laughed heartily. “Are you a humble prostitute begging for divine favor? The path to becoming a god is so narrow, it only allows one to pass. Your naivety may stem from the fact that you have never tasted the bitterness of falling into the dust, of sinking into degradation.”

Despite such humiliation, the Immortal wasn’t angry but remained calmly contemplative.

“I once fell into the longest and darkest abyss in the world.” He nodded briefly. “The suffering I endured there was so terrifying it made my heart race. It was so vivid, it felt like it happened yesterday. I have not forgotten a single day, even though I very much wish I could.”

“Perhaps my innocence will never be erased,” he said. “It may be some day, but not now.”

The God of Many Faces revealed an immense divine form, as He roared in fury. He pressed down with a palm as wide as mountains and seas, intent on crushing the Immortal.

“I will become a god,” His voice echoed through all things. “When that time comes, I will no longer be the God of Many Faces, I will be a myriad of faces, countless faces. Every person in every world will be me. I will be each and every one, neither born nor dead, neither transformed nor destroyed. I will clutch the throat of reincarnation with my left hand and imprison the pulse of time with my right. I will make the sun, moon, and stars tremble and shiver for me!”

The Immortal contemplated that. “Perhaps, in some sense, you are more naive than I.”

The God of Many Faces grew increasingly enraged, and vowed to use overwhelming violence to make the Immortal kneel and submit.

“You are flawed,” the deity judged decisively. “A heartless, bodiless Evil One, and more importantly, a falsehood. Opposing me is seeking your own doom.”

The Immortal’s white robe fluttered in the swirling mist. He leaped from the altar, and a very faint, crisp “pop” sounded in the air as he transformed into a slender white egret, and flew away from the God of Many Faces’ palm.

The egret glided through the mist, avoided the deity’s fingers which were as thick as rivers, reached His steep hand and then crossed the deep, mountain-like veins. The egret soared towards the sky. Its wings parted the clouds like a small silver boat cutting through the waves, as it appeared and disappeared in the snowy sea. The God of Many Faces frantically searched for its figure, but His towering form was too large, and the egret’s slender neck and delicate red legs were so tiny in comparison.

The egret deftly alighted on the shoulder of the God of Many Faces, then flew towards the deity’s golden ear as if traversing a smooth, mirror-like plain. The landscape was barren, illuminated only by the years of accumulated gold, extracted from countless worshippers, which glowed lonely and faint.

It reached the edge of His ear, and nimbly perched on a massive gem that dangled from an earring. 

“I’m here,” it said playfully. The egret elegantly fluttered its wings and made a duck-like quacking sound. “Are you looking for me?”

The God of Many Faces roared furiously and slapped at His own ear. His hand generated a maelstrom of wind and a cacophony of thunderous slaps. However the egret, as delicate as a willow leaf, although buffeted by the fierce wind, managed to remain perched on the enormous, cracked gem.

“I’m still here!” it crowed mischievously. “If you weren’t so huge, perhaps you’d find me more easily.”

The deity’s rage was uncontrollable. No matter what method He devised to capture the cunning and elusive bird, it deftly evaded every attempt, and stayed unharmed as it proudly flapped its tiny body, and made loud and annoying noises.

“Come out and face me,” the God of Many Faces roared. “Act like a worthy opponent, not a despicable nuisance!”

“What worthiness do I possess?” the egret asked. “At this moment, I am merely a bird, and every bird has its own reasons for its actions.”

With that, the egret abandoned the fruitless game and dove into the deity’s ear. Inside, a single breath felt like a hurricane, and even a gentle cough echoed like thunder in a gloomy valley.

“You shall not become a god!” the egret proclaimed loudly. “You shall not become a god!”

It hopped around, a natural sprite, like a twinkling star.

“You shall not become a god!” the egret sang in a high-pitched tone. “You shall not become a god!”

The God of Many Faces was driven to madness. He covered His ears as golden blood flowed from them. The sound was so resolute and piercing that it struck directly at His divine soul, like a heavy bronze bell.

The egret swiftly flew out, landed on a treetop and gleefully cawed, “You shall not become a god! You shall not become a god!”

Gradually, all things awakened their eyes, grew their ears, and the winds from all directions carried the message across the world. Flowers swayed, plants rustled, birds sang melodiously, beasts roared, rocks and streams combined into a resounding mantra, clouds surged, and the twilight glowed with brilliance. The earth trembled, and the sky could find no peace.

The world resonated in unison, and people stepped out of their homes, to involuntarily utter those five words of great defiance:

 – You shall not become a god.

The God of Many Faces was submerged in the sea, drowning in the turbulent mire.

The God of Many Faces reached out with His arms, but found no shore to cling to. He extended His legs but could find no stone to support Him. He could only sink further and further into the abyss, endlessly descending.

Countless temples collapsed, and the fat priests were buried under the ruins. The monks who served the old god scattered in panic. The paradise rotted in an instant, and the rivers that once flowed with milk and honey now gushed forth with blood and tears.

The egret descended from the branch and transformed once more into the serene, white-robed Immortal.

The black dragon emerged from His sleeve, and became a towering figure who stood behind the Immortal, like a deeply rooted shadow—forever following, yet never able to fully embrace the one He admired.

“It’s done,” the black dragon said. “Shall we leave now?”

The Immortal nodded.

“Yes, we leave now,” He replied, as he gazed at the earth, the mountains and rivers. “Although I am concerned that without the support of that soul, this place will be in chaos for a long time.”

The black dragon followed His gaze. The night was deep, the stars shimmering in the sky, both real and illusionary.

“They will be fine,” the black dragon said. “Haven’t you taught them enough about valuing the things around them?”

The Immortal smiled. The black dragon returned to his true form, lowering his proud head and requesting the Immortal’s presence.

As they soared into the sky, moving further from the world below, the black dragon suddenly said, “In truth, the false god was right. A Supreme Evil without heart and body is indeed very hollow and not truly real.”

The Immortal was silent for a moment.

“Discussing who the true Supreme Evil is, what significance does it hold?” He asked. “What matters is who stands by the side of the Supreme Good.”

On the other side of the earth, the burning sun was rising, carrying the Immortal’s black dragon, like the vanishing mist and all mysterious legends, disappearing from everyone’s sight.

 

At the foot of the Jiajiang Mountains, the ginkgo trees still grew, yielding golden leaves year after year.