Chapter 62: The God’s Favorite Offering

He stood up slowly, the sash sliding onto the bluestone floor and letting out a soft sound, which seemed exceptionally loud in the absolute silence of the room.

Pei Liu didn’t care about the sash. Clutching his collar, he bent over and crept toward the shrine step by step.

Finally, he saw the shrine clearly. The wood was a deep color, close to reddish-black, carved with intricate patterns. In front of it sat a row of large and small censers, the incense burned halfway, with curls of smoke rising. By all appearances, they should have held this deity in high regard, yet strangely, he didn’t see any offerings. Logically, the freshest and most abundant offerings should be replaced daily…

Thinking of this, Pei Liu suddenly realized that on the sedan chair earlier, he had heard the old woman say he was a sacrifice for the deity. Could it be… he was the offering?

Pei Liu suddenly felt like a fool who had willingly walked into a tiger’s den. He hurriedly tried to back away, but when his gaze inadvertently fell on the deity statue, he discovered the deity’s face looked very familiar—it was clearly Xie Wuyu.

In an instant, Pei Liu relaxed, even reaching out to touch the statue and letting out a sigh of relief.

This ancient room was spacious and dark, with only a few dim candles on the offering table illuminating a small area. The open doors let in gusts of cold wind.

Pei Liu couldn’t control himself from imagining many terrifying scenarios.

He shivered, walked over, closed the doors, and quickly ran back, pulling the soft cushion in front of the offering table before sitting down again.

With these movements, the loose wedding garments on his body became even more disheveled. The outer robe slid down, hanging over his arms like a sash, and his inner shirt shifted slightly, revealing his delicate collarbones and a patch of skin so white it caught the eye.

Perhaps due to the drug, Pei Liu was exhausted. He couldn’t help but yawn, his eyes half-closed from sleepiness. After hesitating for a moment, he took off his outer robe to cover himself and lay down on the cushion.

Curled up, the vibrant red of the wedding garments made his cheeks look flushed. Enveloping him layer upon layer, he looked like a blooming flower—delicate and beautiful.

The candlelight flickered, casting a soft glow on his face.

A tall, dark shadow stepped out from the shrine and stood beside Pei Liu, expressionless, staring down at him in silence.

He knew another sacrifice would be delivered today. No matter how he refused, no one would listen to him. They only wanted him to devour the sacrifices so that he would have the power to grant their wishes.

The offerings had graduated from fruits to sheep and cattle, and finally to living humans.

Wishes grew larger and greed knew no bounds.

When he didn’t grant their wishes, they assumed the offerings were insufficient, buying, kidnapping, and tricking living people born in negative years, months, and days to deliver to him. If he threw one out, they would claim it was because they had angered the deity, killing them and sending another. If he ignored the person and didn’t grant the wish, the sacrifice would still be killed. And if he did grant the wish, they would believe all the more that this method worked, only worsening their behavior.

This was already the seventh one.

Xie Wuyu had gradually grown numb, not wanting to care anymore; what did the lives of these people have to do with him?

He watched coldly as the pitiful sacrifice panted rapidly, almost choking from the tightness of the sash. He watched him untie the sash clumsily and anxiously, and then walk toward him, boldly and offensively touching his statue.

He clearly touched an icy statue, but Xie Wuyu actually felt a soft, warm sensation fall on his body.

For once, a trace of confusion rose in Xie Wuyu’s heart. His gaze was instinctively drawn to Pei Liu, staring at him for a long time.

His gaze was tangible, slowly roaming over every inch of Pei Liu’s body, carving it clearly into his mind.

At this moment, Pei Liu frowned, suddenly letting out a soft, affectionate murmur: “…Deity.”

His voice was very small.

But Xie Wuyu still heard it. Instantly, his body went stiff, and the black mist surged uncontrollably, like a massive net covering the sky and earth, rushing toward Pei Liu on the floor, attempting to wrap tightly around the sacrifice and devour him.

But just as the black mist bound him, Xie Wuyu suddenly snapped out of it, and the black mist had to retreat slowly back into his body.

In the second half of the night, Pei Liu slept fitfully. When he rolled over, the outer robe covering him fell off. Wearing only a few thin layers of inner clothing, he curled into a ball, shivering from the cold.

A bony hand picked up the outer robe and covered him with it once again.

The temperature in the room also rose slightly, and Pei Liu stopped feeling cold or shivering, his furrowed brows relaxing slowly as he fell into a deeper sleep.

***

The next day.

The sky brightened bit by bit, the light driving away and replacing the darkness. However, the sunlight still couldn’t penetrate the gloomy, ancient ancestral hall.

Pei Liu was woken up not by the sun, but by hunger.

The room was cool and dim, without a shred of sunlight, and he only knew it was morning because he saw the sky outside brighten through the doors.

The drug’s effect had worn off, and he had regained some strength.

He climbed up from the cushion—since he hadn’t slept in a bed, his body was slightly stiff—and stretched. He put on his outer robe, tied the sash, and greeted the deity statue before stepping out of the room.

Pei Liu was completely oblivious, or rather, had already accustomed himself to this. Stepping onto the bluestone path, the details were much clearer during the day.

A deep courtyard, dark walls, pitch-black tiles, and green moss.

Although it was bright daylight, it remained cold and silent here, devoid of any human presence or even the aura of living creatures.

A complete, dead silence.

Pei Liu instinctively softened his breathing, the soles of his shoes making a slight scraping sound against the stone path. Aside from the main room where the deity was enshrined, he had checked the surrounding rooms; they were completely empty, containing nothing.

He walked all the way to the heavy vermilion doors. He had entered through here yesterday.

He pushed the doors hard, but unfortunately, they didn’t budge.

Pei Liu let out a sigh, patting his stomach, feeling miserable from hunger. If he were at home, he would have definitely been eating a hearty breakfast meticulously prepared by Xie Wuyu by now.

He took two steps back, looking up at the high walls, contemplating the possibility of climbing over.

Just then, a gentle breeze brushed past, as if caressing his face.

The door opened a crack.

Pei Liu was surprised, instinctively looking back, suspecting Xie Wuyu was helping him.

But in the next second, the gap in the door continued to widen, and two people walked in. Their faces were familiar to Pei Liu—Qin Wu and the monk. But of course, they currently didn’t know Pei Liu.

Qin Wu’s eyes widened in disbelief: “Why are you still here?!”

Pei Liu was even more confused: “I was delivered here last night.”

“I know that, but didn’t the previous sacrifices always…” They were thrown inside, and none had ever survived the night.

Qin Wu was completely baffled. He sized Pei Liu up from head to toe, feeling that aside from being good-looking, there was nothing special about him. Why had he received the deity’s favor?

The monk let out a cough. Qin Wu snapped out of his daze, stopped looking at Pei Liu, and instead carried the box in his hand, lowering his head and bowing as he entered the room. He swept away the dust, lit new incense, placed them respectfully into the censer, and knelt on the cushion, kowtowing properly with his forehead touching the floor.

Of course, they both noticed the cushion, which should have been at a distance from the shrine, had been moved in front of the offering table. Last night there had only been this one sacrifice here, so besides him, no one else would have moved the cushion.

Qin Wu felt it was very bizarre, almost unable to suppress the subtle expression on his face. He stealthily glanced at Ming Kong beside him, only to find him very calm, as if he hadn’t seen anything.

So he thought that perhaps he was overreacting; the deity might have just pitied the sacrifice for a moment.

Just as he thought this, the deity’s voice echoed in his mind, and he instantly tensed up, listening carefully to the instructions.

Then, Qin Wu heard the deity tell him to prepare food for him.

Him? Who? The sacrifice?!

He walked out with a dazed expression, hearing Ming Kong speak, wanting to lead Pei Liu to have some food.

The three of them walked to the side room on the other side, which was where the god-servants lived, and where they also cooked. The food served was plain vegetarian food.

White tofu, fresh bamboo shoots, mushrooms, and a small plate of pickled vegetables.

There was no meat, and the taste was average, but the ingredients were fresh, and since Pei Liu was hungry, he quickly finished a bowl of rice.

Qin Wu kept looking as if he wanted to say something, glancing at him frequently.

Pei Liu put down his bowl and asked: “What do you want to say?”

Qin Wu finally couldn’t hold it in, asking bluntly about many things: like the cushion shouldn’t be moved, he had to kneel and bow respectfully, he shouldn’t disrespect the deity, and so on. In short, he wanted him to keep his identity as a sacrifice firmly in mind—that he had willingly offered himself to the deity.

Willingly?

Pei Liu: “I was drugged and delivered here forcefully.”

Qin Wu didn’t believe him: “Sacrifices are all people who have committed crimes, offered to the deity to atone for their sins. You people are always good at sweet-talking; I won’t be fooled.”

Pei Liu let out an “Oh,” “Whatever you say.”

He lowered his head and continued eating.

Qin Wu was frustrated and displeased, turning to look at Ming Kong, only to find him also focused entirely on eating, completely unmoved by the outside world.

Qin Wu was even angrier.

***

After the meal, Pei Liu strolled around the courtyard, wanting to try and find out about Xie Wuyu’s past. That voice had told him to look at Xie Wuyu’s true nature, and the words clearly held a provocative meaning. Pei Liu was naturally repulsed by this; he had eyes and a brain, and he could judge whether someone was good or bad to him, not needing someone to dictate what he should do with a high-and-mighty attitude.

An unknown deity, and a close partner he had spent so much time with—it was obvious who his heart favored.

Moreover, he felt Xie Wuyu wouldn’t let him stay here for too long either. Before Xie Wuyu arrived, Pei Liu wanted to witness his past with his own eyes.

Pei Liu stood in the courtyard, chatting with Ming Kong, but the other was either naturally cautious or taciturn, barely speaking, at most uttering a few words.

Pei Liu pondered for a few seconds. Remembering the future Ming Kong always had milk tea in his hand, he asked to borrow the kitchen and made a simple version of milk tea. The taste was naturally not as rich or layered as in the future, but for an ancient ancestral hall deep in the mountains, it was considered a novel and rare sight.

The severe milk tea addict Ming Kong tasted a sip, and his eyes lit up instantly. He began chugging it down, his distant expression melted away by the milk tea, and the gaze he directed at Pei Liu held a bit more admiration and closeness.

Qin Wu took a sip, frowning and complaining about what kind of weird thing this was. Then, he took another sip, and another, and before he knew it, he had finished the entire cup.

This time, when Pei Liu asked Ming Kong questions, his attitude was different.

He learned that Xie Wuyu wasn’t born a deity, but had a mortal body. When he was born, an anomaly occurred—the sky was filled with rosy clouds, and white cranes circled the roof several times, reluctant to leave. Such an extraordinary sight drew a kind-faced Daoist priest, who said the young master had an extraordinary destiny and would eventually become a god. Overjoyed, Xie’s father built a temple and statue according to the priest’s instructions, sent his young son there, arranged many servants to care for him, offered incense meticulously, and made him copy scriptures and read books daily, cutting off all mortal ties and forbidding him from contacting anyone. Years passed, and an unusual light genuinely appeared around Xie Wuyu, and he possessed divine power. Xie Wuyu sat on a high platform, and his father knelt below, praying for promotions, wealth, recovery from illness, and misfortune for his rivals…

All were realized one by one. Slowly, Xie Wuyu became the deity of the clan, and all clan members had to offer sincere worship to obtain his protection.

Ming Kong said: “This is the deity’s compassion, descending to bestow blessings.”

Qin Wu immediately added: “Therefore, we must offer incense devoutly and revere the deity.”

He cast a warning glance at Pei Liu.

But Pei Liu didn’t receive his look, lowering his eyes to think. These words sounded beautiful, but stripping away the deity’s packaging, wasn’t this practically imprisoning and exploiting a child? From start to finish, who was the true beneficiary?

This matter was actually very bizarre, and Pei Liu had noticed it as soon as he heard it. But Qin Wu and the others had accepted it naturally, and didn’t think there was anything wrong when talking about it, looking like robots whose minds had been brainwashed, only living to serve the deity and obey instructions.

Pei Liu asked: “Can only the Xie clan members pray? Can others not?”

Qin Wu immediately frowned, “What do you want to do? Do you want to pray to the deity to fulfill your wish? Forget it. Praying requires an important ritual process: bathing, burning incense, fasting for seven days beforehand, copying scriptures, and offering a large number of gifts. Only then might the deity listen. How could you just kneel, pray a couple of sentences, and have it granted? Don’t dream.”

He spoke a long paragraph, but Pei Liu only extracted what he wanted to hear: “So, the deity doesn’t only protect the Xie family.”

Ming Kong nodded, mentioning that someone had once wandered into the ancestral hall to pray for his terminally ill mother. The deity gave him a packet of medicine, and after he took it back, brewed it, and fed it to his mother, she recovered.

Pei Liu was thoughtful, suddenly feeling his ankle touched by something, startling him into standing up immediately and retreating straight backward.

Noticing his terrified look, Ming Kong smiled and said calmly: “It’s just the flower vines in the yard; they won’t hurt anyone. Occasionally, we also use this to guess the deity’s mood. For example, quietly sunbathing is calm, while turning black or even withering is anger and displeasure.”

“What do the flower vines have to do with the deity?” Pei Liu asked.

“This is based on our years of experience serving the deity; it’s basically accurate.” Qin Wu raised his chin, his tone somewhat proud, “The deity is omnipotent, and his divine sense can naturally go anywhere.”

Pei Liu realized that this was probably an outward expression of his mood, like a cat’s tail.

Just as he thought this, a flower vine dropped down and slid into his back collar, making him shiver from the tickling sensation and nearly whimpering, hurriedly reaching out to grab it.

Pulling the flower vine out, the end of the vine curled up, wrapping around his fingers and rubbing against them clingily.

A small flower dropped, rolling down his collar and finally stopped by his sash, resting between the skin of his lower back and his inner shirt.

With every movement Pei Liu made, the petals rubbed against his skin, its presence exceptionally strong, making him highly uncomfortable. Even some pollen seemed to have gotten onto his body, making him feel even itchier, a subtle electrical current of tingling creeping down his spine.

“What’s wrong?” Ming Kong asked in confusion, noticing his unnatural expression.

Pei Liu shook his head stiffly: “…Nothing.”