Tan Yin had always felt that she didn’t truly understand Han Nu, nor Tai He. She immersed herself so deeply in her craft, often working day and night, that while she could create exquisite masterpieces, her understanding of people’s hearts was blurry at best.
Han Nu had become a goddess two hundred years after Tan Yin. She was skilled in embroidery, and the flowers, birds, insects, and fish she stitched often became living spirits. This talent, however, led to divine punishment, and she died young.
Unlike the primordial gods, those like them—bestowed godhood after being mortals—were quite different. Most of them had lived difficult lives before becoming gods, and even after receiving their divinity, they often retained certain peculiarities. Tan Yin herself wasn’t particularly sociable and preferred to focus on honing her craftsmanship.
But Han Nu was different. In her mortal life, she had been frail and sickly, slandered as a witch, and nearly burned at the stake. Yet, after becoming a goddess, her temperament was remarkably kind. She smiled warmly at everyone, always gentle and caring, without a trace of the oddities that usually clung to those who had suffered as mortals.
For a time, Tan Yin admired Han Nu greatly. She was like an elder sister, someone Tan Yin could confide in about anything. During that period, Tai He often treated Tan Yin with a cold and unpredictable attitude, and it was thanks to Han Nu’s intervention that they managed to maintain peace.
Then, the war between gods and demons began. As the world’s most unparalleled craftsman, Tan Yin couldn’t stand by idly. She had to stop creating the small, amusing items she loved and instead began studying how to forge powerful, destructive artifacts.
Tai He’s hand was the first divine weapon she ever created.
She spent an exceedingly long time painstakingly carving divine symbols and infusing the essence of freezing cold from the Heavenly River into Tai He’s left hand, one cut at a time. It was her first time working directly on a person’s body, and she couldn’t control her divine power well. As a result, Tai He frequently suffered severe backlash from the freezing essence, writhing in agony. This distressed Tan Yin greatly. She worked tirelessly, day and night, experimenting on wooden hands, hoping to lessen Tai He’s pain.
One day, she finally succeeded in sealing the freezing essence completely into a wooden hand. Overjoyed, she immediately went to find Tai He to finish sealing his left hand. On the way, she encountered Han Nu, who looked grief-stricken.
“Tai He fainted. You should go check on him,” Han Nu said.
Alarmed, Tan Yin rushed to Tai He’s hall, and sure enough, he had been overwhelmed by the freezing essence. Half of his body was encased in ice, and his eyes were tightly shut. No matter how much she called out to him, he couldn’t open his eyes.
With tears in her eyes, Han Nu sighed and said, “It’s inevitable for the first attempt at sealing the essence to go wrong. You shouldn’t blame yourself. But with the war so pressing, perhaps you should try sealing another god’s power?”
Han Nu’s words sparked an idea in Tan Yin. She found another god and sealed the Solar Sands into their right hand. This time, the carving went smoothly, and there was no backlash.
However, when she went back to see Tai He, he never smiled again. No matter how much the freezing essence hurt him before, no matter how much pain he endured, he had always smiled at her.
Tan Yin completed the remaining seals, then looked up at Tai He, wanting to say something. But Tai He merely lowered his sleeve, covering his dark red left hand, and said, “Thank you.”
He never smiled at her again.
Han Nu tried to comfort her, “Tai He is likely just worried about the war. Don’t think too much of it. The demons are rampant, and many gods have fallen to their claws. You should focus on studying how to make more divine weapons. You are, after all, the world’s unparalleled craftsman.”
Yes, she was the world’s unparalleled craftsman. But before, she had only enjoyed making small, whimsical things that served little purpose. She had no idea how to create powerful weapons. The one time she tried making a seal for Tai He’s left hand, it only caused him immense suffering.
If she were more skilled, perhaps Tai He would have smiled more.
Tan Yin spent fifty years creating the Soul Lantern.
This terrifying, wildly destructive artifact caused dark clouds to gather and thunder to roar as soon as it was completed, and the gods fell into silence.
The Divine Dragon of Mount Yinshan lit four human souls on the lantern, and it collected every demonic soul and evil spirit in the world. The war between gods and demons ended quickly and without suspense.
Tan Yin proudly went to find Tai He, but he refused to see her. After three days, he finally opened his door, with Han Nu standing behind him, her smile gentle and captivating.
The moment Tan Yin saw Tai He, she was stunned. His left arm was empty—the very hand she had painstakingly sealed with divine symbols and the essence of freezing cold had been severed, likely by some demon. His divine power, like gold dust, shimmered faintly around the stump of his arm.
“You shouldn’t have disturbed us,” Tai He said indifferently, his tone strange. “You’re being unreasonable.”
Tan Yin stared, dumbfounded, first at Tai He’s missing hand, then at the hand he was holding with Han Nu. She couldn’t find her voice.
“Is there something you need?” Tai He asked.
Tan Yin’s chest tightened, and after a long moment, she finally forced out some words: “Your… your left hand…”
Tai He’s expression remained calm, and his voice was even calmer: “It was severed by a demon. I’m sorry, the divine weapon you made for me couldn’t be preserved.”
Her mind felt foggy, as if she were in a dream. The words she spoke felt like they were floating: “And… and you and… Han Nu…”
“We’re together now,” he interrupted, a touch of impatience in his voice.
Tan Yin abruptly shut her mouth, nearly biting her tongue. The sharp pain jolted her back to reality. Lowering her head, she murmured after a long pause, “Congratulations.”
Tai He nodded, then walked past her with Han Nu on his arm. As Han Nu passed by, she reached out and patted Tan Yin’s head, her voice soft and kind: “Wu Shuang, your hair is messy again. You’ve always been bad at taking care of yourself.”
Instinctively, Tan Yin stepped back, unwilling to let Han Nu touch her. Han Nu’s hand hung awkwardly in the air for a moment before she withdrew it, smiling gently as if nothing had happened.
“The Soul Lantern you created is truly impressive,” Han Nu praised with admiration. “The war is finally over, all thanks to you.”
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