Chapter 122: Whispers of Discontent
In the vast, empty hall, Bai Lizhao sat on her golden throne, the splendor of her surroundings failing to lift her spirits. Her brow was furrowed, her expression troubled.
She looked up at the portraits of the Flower Goddess adorning the walls, each one depicting a different emotion: joy, anger, sorrow, happiness.
Before the goddess had revealed herself, these portraits had been a symbol of Bai Lizhao’s confinement, a constant reminder of the power she lacked. Now, with the goddess’s presence confirmed, the invisible chains had become tangible, her fear intensifying.
A soft knock echoed through the hall, its sound irritating her. She grabbed the inkstone from her desk, flinging it at the wall. It shattered upon impact, staining the wall with ink.
“I said no interruptions!” she roared. “Do you have a death wish?!”
“Mother, it’s me.”
Hearing the First Princess’s voice, her anger subsided slightly, replaced by a weary resignation. “Enter,” she said.
The door opened, revealing the First Princess, bathed in the morning sunlight, the cheerful chirping of birds accompanying her arrival. Bai Lizhao stared at her, her vision blurring for a moment, her thoughts drifting to the past.
Dwelling on the past was a dangerous habit. She was the Emperor now. She quickly composed herself, her voice cold. “What is it?”
The First Princess, accustomed to her mother’s harsh tone, bowed respectfully. After all, she wasn’t Bai Lizhao’s biological daughter. She had endured much worse for the sake of the throne.
“You seem troubled, Mother,” she said. “Allow me to massage your shoulders.”
Bai Lizhao waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t bother,” she said. “That might have worked on your father, but it won’t work on me. If you truly want to help, then find a solution to this… situation.”
The mention of her father silenced the First Princess. She knew better than to argue.
Bai Lizhao’s surname hadn’t always been Bai. She had entered the palace at a young age, her childhood spent with the late Emperor. They had been childhood sweethearts. She had become Empress the moment she had come of age.
She had been a playful child, indulged by her family. Unlike the other noblewomen, she hadn’t been bound by rules and expectations. She had seen countless impoverished families offer their last morsels of food to the Flower Goddess.
She had seen beggars, their clothes ragged, clearing the snow from around the goddess’s statues, then placing their own meager garments on the statues, freezing to death in the snow.
These sights had made her question the Flower Goddess’s benevolence. And once she had gained a measure of power, she had tried to change things.
But her attempts to challenge the goddess’s authority had earned her the Emperor’s displeasure. He had grown to resent her, even considering deposing her, then eliminating her entirely.
But she had won. The Emperor’s reign had been short-lived, his life ended by his own Empress.
She had ascended the throne, but the Flower Goddess’s influence had only grown stronger, her power a threat to Bai Lizhao’s own authority.
Her frustration growing, she waved a hand dismissively. “Leave me,” she said to the First Princess.
The First Princess, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes, but her expression carefully neutral, bowed her head and left.
Bai Lizhao was alone again. The statue hanging above her throne began to sway, and she looked up at it, then closed her eyes.
She had finally resorted to prayer.
The statues, their gazes fixed on her, their lips curving into smiles, their expressions a mixture of amusement and disdain, seemed to approve.
In the forest, flowers of different seasons bloomed simultaneously, their buds swelling, their petals unfurling.
Bai Jingxue, watching this, her brow furrowed, grabbed Lü Qingyan’s hand and returned to their room.
A sparrow swooped down, landing gracefully on the windowsill, then transformed into Qu Ying.
Her face was pale, her voice filled with alarm. “The earth is cracking,” she said. “Just like with the evil god.”
Bai Jingxue nodded, her voice calm. “We know.”
Luo Nianshang and the Demon Lord, sitting opposite each other, had overheard their conversation. They hadn’t expected the evil god’s influence to spread so quickly.
Although Cang Xi wasn’t under the Ejian Sect’s protection, Luo Nianshang couldn’t ignore this threat.
She grabbed her sword, preparing to leave, but the Demon Lord’s hand on her wrist stopped her.
“Don’t be impulsive,” the Demon Lord said, her voice soft.
Luo Nianshang paused, her anger subsiding, then she sat back down.
Bai Jingxue, observing their interaction, was surprised. Luo Nianshang seemed unusually obedient.
But this wasn’t the time for such thoughts. She nodded, her voice firm. “There must be a reason for the evil god’s sudden surge in power,” she said. “We need to find the source and weaken her influence.”
The best solution would be to allow the evil god to grow stronger, to reveal her true, destructive nature, then rescue the people of Cang Xi.
But they were powerless in this realm. They couldn’t save everyone. That would be too cruel.
Luo Nianshang would never agree to such a plan. She had tried to approach the royal family, hoping to influence them.
The Demon Lord understood Luo Nianshang’s nature. Such kindness and compassion were rare in the cultivation world. But it wasn’t a weakness.
If Luo Nianshang hadn’t been so kind, she wouldn’t have survived those years of being a medicine slave.
The atmosphere grew heavy, and the Demon Lord, forcing a smile, said, “If you don’t want to harm anyone, then talk to Bai Zhao. Or simply overthrow the current dynasty and install a more… cooperative ruler.”
“Then, we can gradually dismantle the Flower Goddess’s influence. We can even install a new god, if necessary.”
As she spoke the words “new god,” her gaze met Luo Nianshang’s, then she quickly looked away.
Bai Jingxue, watching them, their interaction awkward, but agreeing with the Demon Lord’s suggestion, nodded.
They decided to infiltrate the palace and gauge Bai Zhao’s intentions.
They hadn’t excluded Qu Ying from their discussion. Qu Ying, hearing their plan, seemed worried, but she was the weakest among them, and she had only just met them. She had no say in the matter.
She quietly left the room, heading towards the stream, where she tossed stones into the water, watching the ripples spread.
This was how she coped with boredom and negative emotions. Once her mood had improved, she would simply return to her hut and take a nap.
But not today.
“Are you unhappy?”
Bai Jingxue’s voice, soft and gentle, yet distant, startled her.
Qu Ying, too tired to be annoyed, simply picked up another stone, tossing it into the stream. The splash seemed to carry away some of her frustration.
A small smile curved her lips. She patted the rock beside her, inviting Bai Jingxue to sit.
Bai Jingxue declined, then said, “You can talk to me if something’s bothering you.”
Qu Ying, after spending several days with Bai Jingxue, had realized how awkward she was.
She saw a reflection of herself in Bai Jingxue, and she had been reflecting on her own behavior, realizing that she hadn’t always been kind.
Like now, in the past, she would have simply denied it, her pride preventing her from showing vulnerability. But now, she felt like she could share her burdens.
She turned to Bai Jingxue, her voice quiet. “You’re perceptive,” she said. “I am unhappy.”
“Why?” Bai Jingxue asked.
Qu Ying watched a line of ants marching across the ground. “Honestly,” she said, “I’m still grateful to that… deity. So hearing you talk about eliminating her… it’s unsettling.”
This was also something Bai Jingxue had been wondering about. She had no memories of any gods from her past life.
Before Bai Jingxue could ask, Qu Ying continued, her voice laced with a hint of guilt. “I know I shouldn’t feel this way. Sometimes, I wonder if I simply mistook someone else for her.”
Qu Ying’s experience mirrored Bai Jingxue’s. They had both been facing terminal illnesses, they had both been involved in car accidents, they had both broken up with their girlfriends before the accident, and they had even looked similar.
The only difference was that Qu Ying had had a loving family. She had clung to life.
After losing consciousness in the water, she had woken to find herself surrounded by a soft, white light, the water gone.
A woman in ancient clothing, her arms filled with flowers, her face ordinary, yet somehow blinding, had been standing before her.
The woman, who had called herself Er Ya, had offered her a flower, her voice echoing, her tone gentle. “You might not recognize me now,” she had said, “but I’m here to fulfill a promise. We meet again.”
Qu Ying had been confused. “You know me?”
Er Ya had nodded. “Yes,” she had said. “But I don’t have much time. You can make one wish.”
Qu Ying, assuming she was dreaming, or perhaps experiencing a near-death hallucination, had said, her voice filled with a weary longing, “I want to live.”
The deity had seemed puzzled. “Is that all you want?”
Qu Ying had nodded.
Her wish had been granted. She had lived, but she hadn’t understood this world, this strange land of Cang Xi. She had wandered the streets, her mind filled with a childlike wonder.
She had passed a statue of the Flower Goddess and had stopped to express her gratitude, but the moment her hands had clasped together in prayer, the statue’s light had struck her, forcing her back into her bird form. She had been forced to flee.
Bai Jingxue, listening, was now certain that the deity had been Er Ya, an Er Ya who possessed memories of their world.
Had Er Ya brought them to this world? But Er Ya had died a thousand years ago.
Bai Jingxue was confused, then a thought struck her, a theory so outlandish, yet so plausible, that it made her heart pound.
Could the gods of this world transcend time and space?
Perhaps Er Ya, from a thousand years ago, had traveled to their world and brought them here.
Even if her theory was wrong, it highlighted a flaw in her thinking. She had been too focused on the linear progression of time.
Qu Ying, having finished her story, her mood lifting slightly, stood up, stretching. “Well,” she said, “it’s complicated, but it’s not my problem. I’ll be going now.”
Bai Jingxue watched her leave, then she went to find Luo Nianshang.
Luo Nianshang, after listening to Bai Jingxue’s theory, her brow furrowed in thought, nodded. “Gods do possess such abilities,” she said.
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