The former Lord of Heaven learned a new, deeply upsetting fact about mortal reincarnation:
Babies cannot run away.
He lay in his cradle while the entire village knelt outside his house like a badly organized religious festival. Incense smoke drifted through the cracks in the door. Someone was crying. Someone else was chanting something that sounded suspiciously improvised.
"This is not my fault," he thought firmly.
His mortal body disagreed by yawning.
Outside, the village head cleared his throat.
"Great… Great One," the old man called, voice shaking. "We humble mortals do not know what offense we have committed, but please accept our offerings…"
The former Lord of Heaven stared at the ceiling beam.
If I ignore them, they'll leave, he reasoned. Mortals get bored easily.
They did not leave.
They stayed.
They stayed so hard that someone lit more incense.
His mother peeked through the window, face pale.
"Why are they bowing to our house?" she whispered to herself.
Excellent question.
The former Lord of Heaven felt a familiar pressure nearby.
A presence.
"…Heaven," he thought flatly.
Heaven's POV — ANXIOUS SUPPORT MODE
Heaven hovered above the village, hands clenched in her sleeves.
"This is not what Master wanted," she muttered.
Master wanted peace. Quiet. Irrelevance.
So why were mortals kneeling?
She replayed the sequence of events.
Cultivator intruder: repelled (good)
Tribulations: restrained (mostly)
Village safety: ensured
Attention level: EXCESSIVE
Heaven winced.
"…Okay," she said, forcing a smile. "Minor miscalculation."
She leaned closer to the mortal house, watching her Master lie there, expression disturbingly blank for a baby.
He looked… unhappy.
Her chest tightened.
"I will fix this," she promised.
She raised her hand.
The laws of coincidence shifted.
The wind blew.
The incense smoke swirled dramatically.
The tribulation clouds dimmed their glow slightly, trying to look less divine and more… overcast.
Heaven nodded.
"There. Less intimidating."
The clouds rumbled.
They sounded unconvinced.
Back at the House
The villagers gasped.
"Did you see that?"
"The clouds moved!"
"He accepted our offering!"
The former Lord of Heaven felt something snap internally.
Why do mortals interpret everything incorrectly?
A basket of fruit slid closer to the doorstep.
Another followed.
Someone placed a chicken very gently on the ground, as if afraid it might explode.
His mother opened the door, hands shaking.
"W-what are you all doing?" she asked.
The village head dropped to his knees even harder.
"Honored Lady!" he cried. "You have raised a divine child! Please intercede for us!"
She froze.
"…What?"
The former Lord of Heaven squeezed his tiny eyes shut.
Oh no.
Heaven's POV — DAMAGE CONTROL (FAILED)
Heaven's smile stiffened.
"…They're involving Master's family."
That was bad.
Very bad.
Master hated collateral responsibility.
Heaven bit her lip.
"I need to reduce their expectations," she murmured.
She waved her hand gently.
A subtle suggestion drifted into the villagers' minds.
The divine one is humble.
The divine one dislikes extravagance.
The divine one wants to be left alone.
The villagers absorbed it instantly.
Then, naturally, did the opposite.
"Oh!" someone exclaimed. "He's a hidden immortal!"
"He dislikes attention because his realm is beyond us!"
"We should be even more respectful!"
They bowed lower.
Heaven stared.
"…Why."
The tribulation clouds rumbled sympathetically.
Back in the Cradle — Existential Fatigue
The former Lord of Heaven had ruled over existence for epochs.
He had extinguished rebellious gods, rewritten broken timelines, and once personally explained causality to Time itself using diagrams.
None of that compared to the sheer exhaustion of this moment.
Fine, he thought. I'll fix it myself.
He focused.
Just a little.
Not power. Not authority.
Just… intent.
Go away.
The air shifted.
The villagers suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to—
—to cry.
Several people burst into tears.
"He's so benevolent!"
"I feel so ashamed!"
"My heart feels cleansed!"
The former Lord of Heaven mentally screamed.
Outside, the village head sobbed openly.
"We will leave! We will leave at once! Please forgive our intrusion!"
They scrambled to their feet, backing away as if afraid the house might chase them.
Within minutes, the square was empty.
Silence returned.
The former Lord of Heaven lay there, stunned.
"…That worked?"
He relaxed slightly.
Then his mother slowly turned around.
She stared at him.
Not fearfully.
Not reverently.
Just… thoughtfully.
"…You're a strange child," she murmured.
She reached out and poked his cheek.
He made a small, involuntary sound.
"Eh."
She smiled.
"That's okay," she said. "You don't have to be special."
His heart—his mortal heart—did something unfamiliar.
It warmed.
Outside, the tribulation clouds froze.
They did not like this sentence.
Heaven's POV — EMOTIONAL CONFLICT
Heaven stared at the woman holding her Master.
She felt something strange.
Jealousy.
That mortal touched Master so casually.
Spoke to him without reverence.
Told him he didn't have to be special.
Heaven clenched her fists.
"…Master is special," she whispered.
The laws trembled.
"No," she corrected herself quickly. "Master wants to be normal."
She inhaled deeply.
"I will support this."
She adjusted fate again.
Nothing dramatic.
Just enough.
The village would forget the details.
They would remember fear, but not why.
They would avoid the house, but not worship it.
Perfect balance.
Heaven nodded proudly.
"I'm doing very well," she said.
The Next Morning
The former Lord of Heaven woke up to birdsong.
No chanting.
No incense.
No kneeling.
Just sunlight through the window.
He smiled faintly.
Maybe this will work after all.
Outside, a passerby glanced at the house, shivered, and hurried on.
Far away, sect elders dreamed of a place they should never approach.
Above the clouds, tribulations dozed lightly, coiled protectively.
Heaven watched everything, hands folded, eyes glowing with quiet devotion.
"Rest well, Master," she whispered.
"This time… I won't overdo it."
The heavens cracked.
Just a little.
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That afternoon, a wandering sect scout arrived at the village edge.
He stared at the sky.
At the land.
At the inexplicable pressure pressing down on his soul.
"…This place," he murmured, terrified and exhilarated,
"is definitely hiding a peerless expert."
Somewhere in a cradle, the former Lord of Heaven sneezed.
And the scout dropped to his knees.