Zhen Su and Ting Meng were twirling around in sheer delight. One moment they were staring at their own thick, sturdy palms, the next they were pinching each other's shoulders.
Their excitement was so raw they looked like two thick-headed idiots who had not only cheated death but hit the jackpot immediately after.
From Her high vantage point, the Beast God watched them. Her divine light wavered slightly as, for the first time in history, a sliver of self-doubt crept into Her mind: "Did I build the Celestial Ladder too long?"
Look at these two; simply because they reached the finish line and received a name, they were so overjoyed they had forgotten what year it was. The once-solemn temple had been turned by these two jokers into a massive family reunion.
While the Goddess was wondering if She should shorten the Celestial Ladder to reduce construction time in the future, Zhizhi suddenly moved. He pushed away the Golden Loong's protective hand and, step by heavy step, walked toward that majestic divine light.
Zhizhi tilted his head back, staring intensely into that blur of radiance. Ever since he learned from the Golden Loong that The Great Beast God was enduring millions of times the agony for every soul on the BluePlanet, he had longed to see Her clearly. He wanted to see if the face beneath that light could relax even slightly today, to be a little less in pain.
Alas, divine majesty is as vast as the sea; he could see through nothing.
"My Great Goddess, Zhizhi has one request."
Zhizhi's voice was not loud, but in this hushed temple, it was like a fine needle, precisely pricking the ears of every living being. The Beast God lowered Her gaze. In that instant, the air in the hall felt as heavy as a thousand pounds. Her response was brief, yet carried a mercy that saw through all karma: "Speak."
Zhizhi straightened his spine and took a deep breath, his words falling like ice on a jade plate:
"I wish to retain all of Sato's memories."
The moment the words landed, the entire temple fell into a deathly silence.
The SinSeizer, mid-"surgery," stopped Its movements. The Golden Loong, coiled around a distant pillar, saw Its pupils contract violently. Even the animal-humans who had been playing around froze as if struck by a paralysis spell, their faces filled with shock.
None of "them" expected that this small fancy rat—who usually seemed the weakest and loved strawberry cookies most—would make such a self-torturing request.
The Golden Loong's whiskers twitched fiercely. It stared at Zhizhi's back, Its heart jolting—It understood.
Only by remembering those sub-human methods could the blade remain steady when striking down villains. Only by carrying that heavy, foul human karma would he possess the qualification to walk in the sunlight and settle all accounts for TheGreat One.
The news spread through the temple like a plague:
"Did you heard that? That rat wants to keep the memories!"
"Is he mad? Those fragments of dissection, slaughter, and humiliation—to think of them for a second is torture. He wants them etched into his soul?"
"We cannot flee from them fast enough, yet he seeks the 'Hardship' (Nan) head-on?"
The surrounding animals instinctively took half a step back. To them, those memories were filth and festering sores. But Zhizhi stood there, not retreating an inch. The "Hardship" (Nan) he chose was the Nan of disaster, and the Nan of eternal perdition.
The divine light above the temple fluctuated violently as the Beast God looked down. The pressure was like icy seawater, instantly submerging Zhizhi and squeezing every inch of his soul.
"Sato's memories are a calamity unto thee," the Beast God's voice echoed through the hall, cold with the insight of karma. "To retain them means that even within the divine courts, half thy soul shall be forever soaked in a filthy sewer. Art thou certain?"
Hearing this, Zhizhi smiled as if liberated. "Zhizhi was a rat to begin with. I fear no sewer; in fact, the place I know best is right there."
Upon hearing this, several rat-humans in the crowd nodded in deep agreement. One hamster-human even muttered, "True words. Drilling holes is instinct," causing several clean-loving animal-humans nearby to move away in a hurry.
Zhizhi did not look up. His voice was thin but as hard as ice. "The Great One, if I forget the pain, how will I know whom to kill? If I forget the faces of those beasts, how will I guard the gates of this mortal world for Thee?" He paused, a trace of self-deprecation in his tone. "I do not wish to be a pet who only knows how to eat cookies. I wish to be Thy 'Blade'."
The Beast God looked down upon him, a soft sigh escaping the divine light: "I already have a 'Blade'."
"But, I..." Zhizhi started to offer herself, only to feel a sudden coolness upon her forehead.
One of the Beast God's hands had crossed the void to gently stroke her brow with Her thumb. She spoke: "I lack 'Wind.' Art thou willing to be the Wind?"
Zhizhi froze. She had expected rejection, cold mockery, or even to have her memory erased—but she never imagined being granted the authority of the Wind.
"Wind?" The touch on her forehead was cool. The pressure that could have frozen a soul instantly became as gentle as a March breeze. "How does the wind kill?"
"The wind does not kill." The Beast God's voice thundered in her mind, ethereal and vast. "The wind only carries away the dust and blows out the dying embers. A blade can only sever the flesh, but the wind leaves sin nowhere to hide. Art thou willing to accept this duty?"
A sharp pain pierced the space between her brows.
The twenty-plus years of Sato's foul, twisted memories did not explode like a festering sore; instead, they were forcibly compressed and formatted by an incredibly pure power. The pain and the images remained clear, but they were no longer a madness-inducing poison—they became an extension of Zhizhi's senses.
"I am willing!" Zhizhi straightened her back and responded loudly.
"Decreed."
As the Beast God spoke the word, an invisible vortex instantly enveloped Zhizhi.
"This form is not suited for thee."
Divine power reshaped her frantically within the gale. The vain, gloomy male shell belonging to Sato was utterly pulverized, and a will of steel was injected into new meridians.
Under the gaze of all spirits, the vortex dissipated. Standing there was no longer a frail middle-aged man, but a pure and adorable young girl of about thirteen or fourteen. Her eyes were the most uncanny feature—one platinum, one ghostly green, with two tiny atmospheric vortexes slowly rotating in the center of her pupils.
"Henceforth, thy name is 'Fengxi,'" the Beast God's voice carried a hint of expectation. "The meaning of 'the branch where the wind rests'. When the karma of all spirits is settled, I hope thou canst rest for thyself."
Southwest Frontier, A Secret Research Base.
Hidden three hundred meters underground, this place was perfectly shielded from the "collapse of physical constants" affecting the outside world. Every machine and every light here derived its energy from primitive geothermal steam and heavy gear-and-lever transmissions. While the rest of the world panicked in energy shutdowns, this place functioned like the internal organs of a metallic beast.
But this was no refuge for human civilization; it was a pit of sin.
"Progress! I want progress!"
Inside the laboratory, an elderly man in a white coat with sinister eyes slammed a metal table. He was Lin Xiaotian, once a titan of international genetic engineering, now a beast driven mad by fear.
"The B.E.N. has already used the 'Bio-Pump' and produced the first batch of mutant warriors capable of tearing through armor with their bare hands! If we cannot decode the genes of that 'Subject Zero Fancy Rat' before the Beast God completely takes over the Blue Planet, humanity will become nothing more than livestock fodder!"
Lin Xiaotian's roar echoed through the empty lab. Behind him, a mutant dog was strapped to an experimental table. Its spine had been forcibly sliced halfway through, its nerve clusters exposed. To observe self-healing data, the experimenters had not even administered anesthesia. Twisted granulations grew from its wounds due to the forced injections, looking both revolting and pathetic.
These so-called elites, after witnessing the Beast God's power, felt no awe for life—only an extreme madness. They did not seek atonement; they sought to steal divine power and—become gods.
Suddenly, within the laboratory so sealed not even a fly could enter, a light breeze began to blow. It was soft, yet it carried a freshness that did not belong to this cold, underground tomb.
Lin Xiaotian frowned and looked toward the ventilation duct. "Who turned on the fan? Idiots! Shut it off! Don't let outside impurities contaminate the samples!"
An assistant started to rise, only to find his legs felt as though they were filled with lead, unable to move. No, it wasn't just his legs. He felt a coolness at his neck, as if an invisible scalpel was pressed against his carotid artery.
Within that breeze, there was a highly discordant scent.
It was the milky fragrance of strawberry cookies, yet abruptly mixed with a soul-freezing, purest sense of death.
"Were you... looking for me?"
A cold, androgynous voice rang out beside the experimental table.
Lin Xiaotian turned his head in sheer terror. There, standing beside the mutant dog, was a figure draped in an oversized black trench coat that had appeared out of thin air. The hem of the coat billowed without wind, resembling a pair of furled black wings.
The figure extended a hand—fair, almost translucent—and smoothed the mangled fur of the mutant dog with extreme tenderness. As her fingertips brushed the wound, the twisted granulations withered and fell away instantly. The terror in the small dog's eyes vanished, replaced by the serene liberation of a final sleep.
"Who... who are you?" a scientist pointed at her, his finger shaking as if he had a fever.
The dark figure slowly turned and pulled back her hood. It was a face so pure and soft it bordered on the extreme—young, delicate, still carrying a hint of childhood innocence. Yet, the eyes caused everyone present to feel as if they had been plunged into an ice cellar. Her left eye was a sacred gold, her right a profound green, with two tiny atmospheric vortexes rotating slowly in the center of her pupils as if to suck away one's very soul.
"I am Sato, and I am... what you call 'Subject Zero,'" the girl spoke, her soft, sweet voice carrying a metallic resonance. "However, The Great One has bestowed upon me a new name. I am Fengxi."
"Sato? You're Sato!" Lin Xiaotian froze, scanning her up and down in disbelief. Then, a near-manic greed erupted in his gaze. "You've changed... you've evolved! Quick, seize her! All guards, move! This is the ultimate specimen we've been searching for!"
The laboratory's alloy doors slammed shut and locked instantly. Dozens of death-commandos clad in exoskeleton armor and wielding heavy anesthetic crossbows burst into the room.
Fengxi stood her ground, looking at these supposed "embers of civilization" with an expressionless gaze.
"The wind says... the people here have no hearts."
She lightly raised her right hand, her slender fingers making a phantom grasping motion in the air.
WIRRR—!
In an instant, the air in the entire laboratory felt as if it were being sucked dry by an invisible titan. Before the rushing commandos could pull their triggers, they felt the lungs within their chests expand violently.
WHOOSH!
The wind rose.