Chapter 244: The Cause and Effect of History, and the Rediscovery of the Gods

Chapter 244: The Causality of History and the God's Recovery

Its consciousness gradually cleared, facing a chaotic and viscous void.

The surroundings could not be described with words like darkness, for at this moment, there was no concept of color or light; only a turbid, flowing fluid enveloped it, akin to the amniotic fluid in which new life is nurtured.

Nothing existed here—not even the concepts of space and time, which would only emerge far into the future. Within its perception lay nothing but boundless emptiness.

It turned a few times, discovering that it had no form, seemingly just a wandering wisp of soul.

This wouldn't do.

It thought that it should choose a form for itself, something distinct from the surrounding void.

With this thought, it gradually developed a crude body, an oval head, and a long body that tapered to a fine point, forming a flexible tail tip covered in beautiful scales.

—Yes, it should be like this!

The little snake nodded in satisfaction, feeling familiar and comfortable with the form it had constructed.

But the joy did not last long. Coiled in the void, it soon felt lost and lonely.

It had an innate, precise premonition that it would take a very, very long time—perhaps until its consciousness faded completely and merged with the void—before another consciousness emerged to keep it company.

The little snake coiled itself up, drowsily waiting.

But at a certain moment, a spark of inspiration flashed through its mind, and the little snake wondered:

Why should it wait passively?

Could it try to accelerate the birth of another consciousness in the void, just as it had tried to create its own body?

Moreover, the little snake wished this consciousness to possess the power of "destruction," sufficient to annihilate the boundless void and welcome new changes.

Under the influence of this thought, the little snake unconsciously nudged the initial probabilities of the world.

It did not wait long before a speck of crimson starlight was conceived in the void, like magma surging from a fissure in the earth, like the raging fire that consumes forests, harboring the power to destroy all things.

At first, the starlight flickered like an ethereal firefly, dimming and brightening, and the little snake carefully shielded it with its tail, fearing that the starlight might suddenly extinguish.

Fortunately, the crimson starlight grew smoothly, and the forces of "destruction" and "catastrophe" soon filled the entire void, stirring the initially barren amniotic fluid of spacetime, causing chaos to twist and collapse until it reached its extreme, triggering destructive waves and explosions.

Amid the thunderous roar—

The void became uneven, gradually stratifying into layers based on mass, eventually settling into nine levels, giving rise to the concept of space.

Nine dimensions were born.

That crimson starlight came to be regarded by later generations as one of the three primordial deities, the Sovereign of Catastrophe. He symbolized the inherent tendency towards destruction present from the moment of creation.

But no one could conclusively determine which domain the first-born divine authority belonged to.

For a little snake that should not have existed at this point in time had swum away, its tail swaying.

Each time it swam, it entered a different point in time, as if trapped deep within an immensely vast and utterly unpredictable labyrinth, unable to predict what it would see the next time it opened its eyes after swimming.

Infinite spacetime, abundant information, everything enveloped the little snake, trying to make it lose its way.

Yet the little snake remained unflustered, always curious, gliding along unhurriedly.

Occasionally, it would pause, for it was very fond of the world after the great explosion.

Grains of sand coalesced into a resplendent starry sky, and life, like fluffy moss, clung to the surfaces of various worlds, thriving.

The little snake saw the first cluster of flames light up from the darkness, countless civilizations originating from fire, enduring terrifying nights, creating scripts, and forging tools.

It had also witnessed myriad colossal beasts of diverse forms galloping across the plains, these marvels generated, sustained, and recombined through billions of genes, advancing alongside it through time.

Some lives emitted their final wails, falling along the way;

Others were born anew from the bones of those who fell, continuing to race forward...

So beautiful, so splendid.

But where was its true place to rest?

...

The little snake kept swimming forward, drawn to a massive egg.

The egg emitted a familiar and kindred aura, yet the curved-horned black goat and the black crow within it felt alien to it.

Circling the egg once, the little snake inexplicably found the black goat particularly loathsome.

It tilted its head, noticing the crow being continuously devoured by its kin.

The crow gradually weakened, while the black goat grew larger, occupying most of the space inside the egg, absorbing the flesh and even the souls of its kin to grow.

If this continued, the one destined to hatch would be the black goat.

The hooves of the black goat shall tread upon the river of fate, casting its terrifying shadow over all beings.

The little snake flicked its tail, amplifying the probability that the crow could develop self-awareness and wisdom under the stimulation of pain.

Waves of destiny surged, and the crow opened its blood-red eyes, beginning to ponder methods of survival.

He clutched the scepter of "curse," his claws reflecting cold light as they tore through the black goat's skin, deeply piercing into the flesh of his kin.

The crow's voice was low and hoarse, and its first words in this world were a curse upon the black goat:

"I curse my kin to eternal stupor, to fall into an endless slumber..."

The little snake took one last look at the egg, as if foreseeing the outcome of the struggle between the twins.

It turned again and slithered away.

The little snake vaguely remembered it should have a similar egg—nestled on its most beloved planet.

It needed to find its egg.

...

But time here was too chaotic, making it difficult for the little snake to decide where and when to land.

Once more, the little snake was swept into an unknown point in time.

It had intended to leave but was suddenly captivated by a gentle prayer:

"An assembly of all symbols of fate and reincarnation."

"The King of the Silver Serpents, the World Serpent that encircles the earth, the eternal Ouroboros, the Master of Prophecy, the Lord of Chaos, the God who plucks the strings of fate's discord..."

"May you grant this child good fortune, guide her path into a life of happiness, peace, and joy."

The little serpent felt inexplicably immobilized.

As if the object of their prayers... was pointing directly at it.

Unable to help itself, the little serpent cast its gaze, only to see a grand and sacred cathedral. The Cardinal in red gently lifted the newborn infant, devoutly reciting the prayer under the witness of the statue of the Serpent Deity, bestowing blessings upon the infant.

Sunlight filtered through the rose window at the cathedral’s dome, casting a kaleidoscope of colors that kissed the infant’s fair skin.

The infant reached out, trying to grasp the colorful light, cooing softly, with clear black eyes turning occasionally toward the direction where the little serpent was.

Their gazes met, even though only the little serpent knew it.

On the infant’s innocent face, a carefree smile bloomed, as if smiling at the little serpent.

The little serpent was stunned.

It, its form was so different from the infant’s; it had no dexterous limbs, no fair skin, only hard scales and a slender serpent body...

Yet at this moment, the little serpent suddenly felt that it and the infant—these humans—should be of the same kind.

It should have black eyes, soft smooth skin, lips that could smile...

It should be born like this, and grow slowly in the embrace of its mother.

After a moment’s hesitation, the little serpent cautiously extended its tail, touching the infant’s waving hand, the tip of its tail curling slightly, gently hooking the infant’s tiny finger.

In an instant, the statue of the deity in the church emitted a faint silver glow, the light spots falling like an intangible rain upon the people.

"It's the Lord!"

The bishop was the most moved, immediately kneeling before the statue, his voice trembling: "Praise be to fate, which has personally responded to this blessing ceremony—this child will surely have a life of prosperity and happiness!"

The young mother held the infant, their foreheads touching, tears of joy streaming down her face.

Seeing the peaceful scene before it, the little snake did not linger, but continued on its way.

It thought that it must have a mother too.

It would go find her.

...

Inspired by the infant, the little snake gradually began to consciously form a human shape.

It wandered through vast stretches of time, its tail gradually splitting into two legs, its serpent body transforming into the outline of a human, growing symmetrical arms and ten fingers at the ends of those arms.

It also conjured a long robe, draping it over itself, its gait becoming more adept as it ran through time.

Adapting to the human body, the little snake ran past a certain point in time, suddenly entering a hospital room permeated with the smell of disinfectant.

A woman with disheveled black curly hair sat on the bed, lost in thought, with several medical reports scattered beside her hand.

Feeling an inexplicable closeness to the woman, the little snake couldn't help but stop and move closer to examine the reports, recognizing that the woman's surname was Yi, diagnosed with malignant tumors, with a slim chance of recovery.

She remained silent for a long time, seemingly exhausted from the relentless pursuit of her illness, too drained to speak.

At that moment, the woman felt a gentle breeze brush against her forehead, as if a cool, tender hand had reached out to soothe her.

Young E Meishan suddenly looked up, but saw nothing, only the usual monotonous white walls of the hospital. Yet, a faint voice echoed in her heart:

"Go to the snow mountain."

"…Mom."

The last two words were too soft for E Meishan to hear clearly.

But she remembered the first sentence, which led her to make a wild and romantic decision.

Yes, she wanted to go to the snow mountain again—to the purest, most biting place on earth, to await death.

Of course, perhaps there were unknown surprises waiting for her there… Who knew what the future held?

E Meishan clutched her medical records, feeling an inexplicable sense of anticipation. The gloom on her face lifted, and a faint smile appeared.

The little snake gazed at its mother for a moment, and its lips curved slightly, though somewhat awkwardly.

It… no, he.

He remembered his name.

His name was Yi Fengchu.

This name seemed to symbolize a kind of cycle—his reunion with his mother, his return to the world, both a first meeting and a reconnection.

Yi Fengchu did not linger at this moment, setting off once again.

This time, he was no longer aimlessly wandering through time. Layer upon layer of prayers and calls pierced through the infinite expanse of space and time, resonating in his ears and suddenly giving him a clearer direction.

Someone within the instance held up their phone, respectfully addressing him as "Mr. Narrator," engaging in a brief conversation with an unknown entity;

Someone pored over ancient texts, reading about his legend, murmuring the revered name "King of the Silver Serpents";

Countless people in churches, at dining tables, and by candlelight devoutly recited long passages from holy scriptures and prayers;

There were also his relatives and friends: Luo Shengle abruptly looked up at the opposite door, remembering that Yi Xuedi lived there, but not having seen him for days, unsure if he had gone out; Meng Siyou suddenly picked up his phone, puzzled why he had forgotten to send a message to Yi Fengchu; and his mother abroad, who suddenly woke her disoriented travel companions, laughing and crying, oblivious to the stares of those who thought she was mad.

"I remember! My son is called Yi Fengchu... I have to bring him back, just like before!"

These voices coalesced into a silver-white meteor, trailing a long tail, guiding Yi Fengchu through the chaotic and unordered time.

Yi Fengchu ran faster and faster, a white light gradually appearing before his eyes.

As he pursued and drew closer, the light expanded, eventually filling his entire field of vision.

In the blinding light, Yi Fengchu followed his instincts and reached out into the depths of the light—grabbing an arrow.

He escaped the labyrinth of time and seized "time" with his own hands.

The arrow trembled violently in Yi Fengchu's palm, constantly drawing on the power of space and time, trying to escape, but the chaotic space and time could no longer confuse Yi Fengchu.

Once, a hundred times, a thousand times...

No matter how many times time tried to expel him, no matter where or when it cast Yi Fengchu, he always found a way out through extraordinary luck, patience, and perseverance, navigating through layers of time and space.

Before this, time could trap all beings;

But at this moment, it had to admit—it could not confine Yi Fengchu.

Yi Fengchu, however, could bind it tightly.

The arrow tried to break free but was held fast by the deity. Endless symbols, like ethereal silver chains, coiled around the shaft, ensuring that no matter where or when it tried to escape, it would always return to its starting point.

In the end, the arrow emitted a metallic hum, akin to a sigh of resignation, or perhaps a pledge of submission.

"Time" truly bowed to the master of fate, as the power within the arrow flowed and transformed into a scepter in the deity’s hand.

Crowned with the destiny’s diadem and holding the scepter of time, Yi Fengchu finally arrived at the true "present."

The day of the egg’s breaking, the hour of coronation, has come.