Chapter 242: The Shift of Divine Power

Chapter 242: The Transition of Divine Power

The imperial capital of Sombera still bore traces of its former prosperity. Shops on both sides of the streets remained open, with large fruits inside kept fresh and unspoiled, as if people could return at any moment.

But Yifengchu knew all too well that no one else was here anymore.

He held a lantern and walked alone through the silent, deserted streets.

Occasionally, a type of pitch-black bird would flap its wings, perching in rows on tree branches or window sills. They preened their feathers while lifting their crimson eyes to curiously observe Yifengchu.

These birds were larger than ordinary crows, with strong, slender beaks that gave them a raptor-like appearance. Their jet-black feathers absorbed all surrounding light, casting a faint shadow over the environment, making it seem dimmer.

They had three legs and five toes, with sharp claws that clung tightly to branches, allowing them to stand firmly while still having a free claw to groom themselves.

Yifengchu sensed a faint gaze and turned his head with a half-smile, his eyes gently sweeping over the flock of crows.

As soon as their eyes met, the flock immediately turned away, their crimson eyes looking into the distance, pretending to be indifferent and not watching him.

But the fine down at the edges of their wings fluffed up in alarm, revealing their owners' agitated state.

Hmm... This is somewhat amusing.

Thus, during the monotonous journey, Yifengchu deliberately turned his head several times, startling the crows who were secretly observing him, causing their feathers to stand on end.

Yifengchu did not drive them away but continued walking as if nothing had happened.

Only his phone knew that for a moment, the corners of his lips curled slightly before quickly returning to a straight line.

"..."

Its Majesty, what peculiar tastes.

"What race are these birds?"

Yi Fengchu spoke aloud, conversing with the phone hidden in his mind, while to the flock of crows, it seemed this mysterious young man was talking to himself out of nowhere...

His voice echoed softly on the empty road, sounding somewhat eerie.

"They are the favored of the Goddess of Misfortune, children of the Mother of Shadows, and maintainers of order in the Shadow Realm—the Shadow Crows."

The phone explained: "Shadow Crows dwell in the Shadow Realm for long periods but sometimes rise to approach the material world, flying within the shadows of intelligent beings. As they are drawn to the aura of misfortune, they are often seen by those who are unlucky, leading them to become symbols of ill fortune over time."

"In truth, Shadow Crows might kindly help remove misfortune... However, this does not change people's wariness of these dark, strange birds."

"So, the bad reputation of crows is partly due to their association with Shadow Crows..."

Yi Fengchu murmured thoughtfully.

Not far away, the Shadow Crows croaked a few times, seemingly communicating with each other, then flapped their wings in unison, flying away like a rising cloud of darkness.

The phone was now hidden in Yi Fengchu's consciousness, so the Shadow Crows couldn't hear its responses. They found this messenger of fate somewhat eccentric and genuinely frightening.

Of course, there was another possibility:

Perhaps he was truly conversing with an unknown presence they could not perceive...

But in the mysterious world, such a scenario would be even more terrifying.

The Shadow Crows preferred to believe that he was simply imagining an invisible companion and talking to himself.

Before long, Yi Fengchu crossed the street and arrived before the magnificent palace.

The golden spires of the palace soared into the clouds, like an eternal, brilliant afterglow, reflecting streaks of light as fine as golden threads.

As Yi Fengchu ascended the steps, he shed his pale, thin cloak, delicate as moth wings.

During this time, the Cloak of Deception was restless.

It clung persistently to Yi Fengchu's skin, trying to merge with him, but was silently rejected each time.

The hem of the Cloak of Deception fluttered without wind, moving aimlessly.

Though it lacked independent consciousness, it seemed instinctively puzzled—

Until now, it had only witnessed the Moth God or the Father of Cursed Woes vying for the power of the curse at all costs;

But now, why would an existence reject such easily attainable power, unwilling to control it?

This far exceeded its comprehension.

It seemed to be something... beyond rational measurement and analysis.

In the end, Yi Fengchu forcefully tore off the Cloak of Deception.

At the moment of separation, the cloak flapped violently in the wind, like a faint sigh.

The flawless, pale garment slipped gently down, and Yi Fengchu meticulously folded it, smoothing out every crease, and carried it neatly in the crook of his arm.

With one hand holding the S-rank "Crucible of Rebirth" and the other the Cloak of Deception that condensed divine authority, even if Yi Fengchu were just an ordinary person, he was terrifyingly powerful.

Shadows of crows circled in the sky, watching him from afar, hesitating to approach.

Yi Fengchu entered the grand hall, where a weathered sigh reached his ears.

"You have come, Messenger of Fate... sooner than I had anticipated."

Following the voice, a hunched old woman slowly emerged from the shadows, moving with deliberate slowness toward Yi Fengchu.

The old woman wore a long black robe, the fabric exuding a silky sheen.

Her head was full of silver hair, her face etched with wrinkles and lines, her features unremarkable except for a few black feathers growing near her ears, making her look like any ordinary elder on the street.

Only her eyes stood out, unusually youthful, clear and bright without a hint of cloudiness.

These contrasting age traits strangely merged on the same face, making the old woman resemble a crudely crafted statue, the more one looked, the more it evoked a sense of unnatural dread.

Yi Fengchu watched her silently and identified her: "Goddess of Misfortune."

The old woman nodded casually, a smile playing on her lips: "So you are the fabled only child of Fate? It's truly rare to see such a young, lively, and vibrant presence in the Shadow Realm."

"Your journey here has quite frightened my children," the Goddess of Misfortune said in a nearly kind tone, chiding the shadow crows, "They spend their days here keeping me company, naturally curious about unfamiliar faces. I hope their gazes did not offend you."

Yi Fengchu was not bothered by the Goddess of Misfortune’s amiable elder tone.

In fact, the age of Misfortune far surpassed that of Yi Fengchu—according to legend, She was an ancient deity born in the same era as the Fate Black Goat.

At this moment, the ancient deity chattered on, engaging Yi Fengchu in aimless conversation for a while before suddenly remembering something and sighed:

"What a pity that your father god did not come in person; otherwise, I would have asked Him—how does the taste of my kin compare?"

"Would the black goat feel pain before death? Did it wail in sorrow? Was its blood as red as any other? Would the flesh taste warm and sweet with a hint of iron? ……"

"I want to know all this. After all, He and I were once inseparable kin."

As she spoke, the old woman’s pace quickened, her eyes gleaming with fantasies and excitement, as if beneath her aged and benevolent exterior resided a spirited and deranged soul.

Yi Fengchu suddenly realized why Misfortune had chosen to collaborate with him.

For She harbored a twisted concern and hatred towards Her irrational kin—the Fate Black Goat.

The newborn Fate had killed the black goat, so the Goddess of Misfortune desired to cooperate with Him, indirectly partaking in the scalding blood.

"… These questions, you can ask your father when you return. He should not mind sharing them with you."

The Goddess of Misfortune licked her lips, a low laugh escaping her: "If we meet again, I hope you can relay the answers to me… let me share in the joy brought by the black goat's death."

Yi Fengchu nodded, unwilling to linger on irrelevant topics.

He straightforwardly threw the Garment of Deception towards the Goddess of Misfortune.

The Garment of Deception hovered before the old woman, who extended her fingers, as withered as dead branches. The moment they touched the garment, the robe symbolizing the "curse" disintegrated into countless threads, their whispers overlapping, filled with chilling malice.

These pale threads climbed up the old woman’s arm, creeping into her dark robe, transforming into writhing white patterns that adorned the originally pitch-black fabric.

The Goddess of Misfortune caressed the white patterns, her expression one of nostalgia: "The 'curse' was once the greatest power that aided me. It has been too long."

"When the Fate Black Goat and I emerged from the same egg, constantly at risk of being devoured by our stronger kin, struggling to form our consciousness amidst pain… without mastering the 'curse,' I would have become His nourishment."

The Goddess of Misfortune seemed like an ancient deity fond of telling stories to her juniors, or perhaps Her isolation in the shadow realm for so long had made Her talkative and peculiar.

From His words, Yi Fengchu suddenly understood—

why the phone had once said that the Fate Black Goat was an “incomplete god of fate.”

For the original power of fate had accidentally given rise to two consciousnesses, causing two divine embryos to squeeze into the same egg, like two saplings sharing the same root system, forced to compete for nutrients, devour each other, and try to merge back into one, becoming whole again.

The victor of such a merger would be the complete, natural-born god of fate.

In the struggle, the Goddess of Misfortune was clearly at a disadvantage; she would have become the nourishment to be devoured and assimilated.

"Thus, I used all my strength to curse my kin—"

"I cursed Him to forever be muddled, possessing power but lacking reason, trapped in an endless slumber."

"I cursed Him to never break free from the egg, forever stuck in the embryonic stage, lying at the end of the river of fate."

"I cursed Him to eventually be killed, with His blood raining down, and a new god rising from the blood rain."

The Goddess of Misfortune smiled and said, "I thought only the first two curses had succeeded... until one day, the last one came true as well."

Yi Fengchu pondered and said, "I thought you would prefer to control fate yourself, after all, you've had a very long time to try."

"I tried... but [Fate] did not agree," the Goddess of Misfortune shook her head and sighed. "Ever since the original [Fate] was torn in two by me and the black goat, they have been separated for too long, diverging into two independently governed realms."

"Over the long years, I gradually realized—perhaps the true master of [Fate] has never been me or the black goat; we were both abandoned."

"Fate is so wondrous, silently manipulating all existence."

"Sometimes I even wonder, did I manage to survive against all odds and successfully curse the black goat, or was I pushed to do so by the tide of fate? I don't know, and I no longer wish to think about it... at my age, you will understand that not everything needs to be known."

Misfortune lowered its eyes, evoking in Yi Fengchu the image of devout elders praying in temples:

"Only your father wields control over fate, while the rest of us... must only revere it."

Yi Fengchu said coolly, "Perhaps that's why you can't control fate."

After all, how could one who fears fate ever tame it?

Misfortune raised its eyes in surprise, paused for a moment, and then smiled, "Perhaps so."

The old woman lifted her arm, and a curtain of shadow behind her slowly parted, revealing an arrow floating in mid-air.

The arrow had no color; only the distorted light around it faintly outlined its shape—straight and slender, with a long, triangular tip that glinted sharply.

It resembled a needle.

More astonishingly, the length of the arrow was constantly growing, as if advancing at a steady and slow pace until it pierced its target.

As Yi Fengchu observed the arrow, Misfortune’s weathered voice spoke softly in his ear:

"This is the scepter your father left behind—the Arrow of Time."

"Time flies... time flies."

"It is an arrow that grows and advances ceaselessly, destined to pierce the chest of every living being."