Tai He’s left hand was with him—the hand that had been severed by the demonic enchantress. After falling into the mortal world, it had passed through many cycles of reincarnation and had become the sacred relic of the Fox Clan, merging with their bloodline and taking on its own destiny. The man before her was merely fortunate enough to inherit it. As a god, she had arrogantly awaited his natural death, so she could retrieve Tai He’s left hand.
Yes, Tai He is still waiting. He lost his left hand, his divine power is fading, and he’s sealed within the Divine Crystal. If she doesn’t act soon, he will fall and disappear like the other gods, a fate she dreads more than anything.
In the end, no matter what she did, Tai He disapproved and disliked it. But now, while he sleeps, she can finally do something for him. She had waited alone for five thousand years, all for this moment.
Tan Yin closed her eyes, avoiding the sight of Yuan Zhong’s gruesome wounds. Whether or not Han Nu had a hand in this, the ultimate goal had been reached: she was waiting for this man to die slowly so that she could take his left hand.
A quiet voice echoed in her mind: You were never meant to protect him. You aren’t the one killing him, so there’s no need to worry about your godhood falling. Just wait peacefully and take his left hand. Isn’t that easier?
Yet she had still protected him, acting on pure instinct. When the blade came down on him, she hadn’t even thought—she shielded him without hesitation.
No, that wasn’t it. She probably just didn’t want to see that left hand get cut off. Once, a god had lost a hand in the mortal realm, and as their divine power waned, they descended to retrieve it. They found the hand’s new owner and tore it from them, but rather than restoring their power, they disintegrated into golden light the moment the hand rejoined them. It was the consequence of disrupting the natural order.
She couldn’t allow Tai He to suffer the same fate. She had come to the mortal world to find the new owner of the left hand, waiting for him to die naturally so she could return the hand to Tai He without defying fate.
Now Yuan Zhong was about to die, and this was what she had been waiting for. She should feel relieved.
Tan Yin stood up, restless. Something felt wrong, but she didn’t want to think about it. She couldn’t stay here any longer. The thick fragrance of blood was giving her a splitting headache. She needed to leave and wait elsewhere, away from the sight of him dying before her eyes.
Suddenly, a hand gently tugged at her sleeve. Startled, Tan Yin tensed up like a frightened bird, looking down in alarm. Yuan Zhong had woken up at some point, his dark eyes quietly watching her.
“…Where are you going?” His voice was weak, as though he was on the verge of death.
Tan Yin, terrible at lying, stammered and broke into a sweat, struggling to come up with an excuse. “You... you’re seriously injured. I’m going to... to find a doctor…”
He smiled faintly, slowly letting go of her sleeve, his voice as light as a breeze. “…Come back soon. Don’t wander too far. It’s dangerous outside.”
He slipped back into unconsciousness, the blood having soaked through the bedding. In less than an hour—no, half an hour—he would die completely, even as an immortal.
Tan Yin’s throat tightened, as if something was pulling at it from deep within.
The indifferent voice in her mind urged her to leave, but it was growing fainter, eventually fading to nothing.
Han Nu was calling her. Tai He was in trouble, and he was still waiting. If she didn’t retrieve the left hand soon, he would disappear entirely. Tan Yin began to tremble, her vision blurring. By the time she realized what she was doing, she had already released her divine power, using it to heal Yuan Zhong’s body.
Tears streamed down her face as she healed him, sobbing like a lost child, unsure if she was crying for Tai He or for the dying Grand Monk lying before her. For the first time in five thousand years, she couldn’t stop the tears, and it terrified her.
The pain from the healing process woke Yuan Zhong several times. Each time, his dim eyes locked onto hers, and finally, he grasped her tightly, so hard that his knuckles cracked, making an agonizing sound.
“…Am I dreaming?” He was delirious, barely conscious. Those eyes—black as gemstones—were they a dream? Or not? After all these years of searching, of praying, here they were before him. He could never forget those eyes—cold, yet filled with a burning intensity that could sear one’s soul. They couldn’t be the eyes of a god.
“Look at me… look at me…” he begged.
Her eyes darted away, but eventually, she met his gaze quietly.
Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he mumbled, “Where is Ji Tan Yin? Where did she go?”
No one answered him. His vision darkened, and he quickly sank back into unconsciousness.
Healing an immortal’s body required much effort. By the time Yuan Zhong’s wounds were fully healed, the sky had brightened with the dawn.
Tan Yin touched his forehead. He was safe now, but it would take five or six hours of sleep before he woke. She let out a long sigh, feeling utterly drained.
Outside, the air buzzed with excitement. All the immortals, demons, and even the mortals were fervently discussing the appearance of the god last night.
Irritated, Tan Yin closed the window. A faint glow appeared on her fingertip, and she lightly flicked it into Yuan Zhong’s brow—a marking. If anything unusual happened to him, she would know immediately. After some thought, she also took the last piece of golden nanmu wood from her Qiankun bag and used the light to carve out another automaton, placing it by his bedside for protection.
Now, she could leave. She needed to find Han Nu and discuss what had happened last night.
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