Chapter 86
"Y-you… you are the God of the Vast Cosmos?" Huan Zheng whispered, his voice no longer lazy, no longer flat, but broken, trembling like a harp string snapping in the middle of the most beautiful melody.
For the first time in his long and indolent life, his knees weakened, his chest tightened as if crushed by an invisible giant hand, and everything he had believed for thousands of years—that he, The Singer, and The Silent One were brothers who would always stand together against the world, that the Harmony Conflict was an irreparable mistake but at least understandable, that the deaths of the violated goddesses were the result of humanity's bloodthirsty depravity—collapsed in an instant, like a house of cards blown by the wind, like a sandcastle struck by waves, like a dream that was never truly real yet felt so beautiful while it lasted.
"No," said the Silent One, and for a moment, his voice trembled.
Not out of fear—for the God of the Vast Cosmos knew no fear—but because of something akin to sorrow, a sorrow born from the realization that his former identity, as the protector of the gods and goddesses, as the supreme entity whose former power dwarfed even the three Wheels of Cultivation, had now become a burden he could not shed no matter how desperately he tried.
"I am not the God of the Vast Cosmos, Lazy One. I am The Silent One. Or at least, I used to be The Silent One—before the soul of the God of the Vast Cosmos possessed me, before I lost control of my own body and mind, before I became a puppet dancing upon a stage he had designed since the defeat of the gods and goddesses was declared.
The Singer, upon hearing that The Silent One had been possessed by the soul of the God of the Vast Cosmos—that her brother, her companion, the being who once sat beside her in the bamboo pavilion at the edge of the universe, who listened to her songs without complaint, who tended to her wounds when she returned from the battlefield, was in truth a victim of a force older, stronger, and more absolute than anything she had ever imagined—felt her chest tighten.
Not from disgust, as when she had heard of the violation of the goddesses, but from pain—a pain born from the realization that she had hated the wrong person, that she had mistaken a monster for her brother while her real brother had already been a victim long before she could save him.
"Then the God of the Vast Cosmos choosing to detonate himself…" The Singer whispered, her voice nearly drowned out by swirling dust and the black flames beginning to reignite, "that was the reason behind the defeat of the gods and goddesses? Not because they were weak, not because humanity was powerful, but because… because he sacrificed himself on purpose? But why? What was his goal?"
Fhoooh!!
The Silent One—or rather, the soul of the God of the Vast Cosmos now speaking through his mouth with a heavy, deep voice, like a gravestone sinking into the bottom of a bottomless well—let out a long breath, a breath that seemed to swallow all memories of the time when he was whole, when he was still the protector of the gods and goddesses, when he still had a body fully under his control, without having to share it with an uninvited soul.
"Before I decided to detonate myself, The Singer—and you as well, The Lazy One, and you, Ling Xu—I had a plan. A plan I believed to be perfect, a plan that would ensure I would not truly die, that I would rise again in the future, that I would avenge the Gods and Goddesses you slaughtered in the most brutal way," he said, his dark blazing eyes staring blankly at the ceiling of the artificial hell, now cracking in several places, like someone watching shadows of a past that would never return, like someone mourning a loss that could never be repaired even with ten thousand years.
"I planned to divide my soul and body into a single reincarnated vessel thousands of years later. Not just any vessel, not a weak and fragile one, but a vessel that would inherit all my power, all my knowledge, all my hatred toward humanity that destroyed everything I loved. I would sleep, The Singer. A long sleep, a peaceful sleep, a dreamless sleep free from visions of death, blood, and fire. And when I awoke, I would be reborn as a new being—one that no one could ever defeat, not even the three Wheels of Cultivation, not even the entire Second Divine army gathered in their golden palaces, not even the universe itself if it dared to stand in my way."
He paused, closing his eyes—not out of exhaustion, for the soul of the God of the Vast Cosmos knew no fatigue, but because he could not bear to look at the reflection of his failure clearly written on Huan Zheng's pale face, on The Singer's tear-streaked face, on Ling Xu's glowing third eye radiating its grayish-green light without end.
"But my plan failed. Completely failed. Not because of miscalculation, not because my enemies were smarter, not because of cruel fate that sides with no one—but because of the Cancer plague. The same plague that now resides within Ling Xu, the plague that once made the entire universe tremble, the plague that does not care about cultivation level, that does not care whether you are a god, a human, or something in between—it cares only for one thing: hunger. The Cancer plague spread, The Singer. It infected entire civilizations without discrimination. The Gods and Goddesses who survived the Harmony Conflict, the human soldiers who celebrated their victory with wine, laughter, and severed heads, even the cycle of reincarnation itself—everything was infected, everything disrupted, everything destroyed by a plague that no one could ever stop."
He opened his eyes, and within those dark blazing eyes, for the first time that night, shone something Huan Zheng, the Singer, and Ling Xu had never seen before: regret.
A regret so deep, so ancient, so absolute that it felt like an open wound in the chest of the universe itself—a wound that would never heal, never be closed by time, prayer, or tears, because it was born from the realization that everything he had done—his self-destruction, the division of his soul and body, the intricate reincarnation plan—had all been meaningless, had all become nothing more than a spectacle for the Cancer plague laughing behind the curtain, enjoying the chaos it created without lifting a finger, without drawing a breath, without ever losing its satisfied smile.
To be continued…