Chapter 37: From Now On, Its Object of Faith Will Only Be Him.
Chapter 37: From Now On, Its Object of Faith Will Only Be Him.
Chapter 37 From now on, its devotion would belong to him alone.
Yi Fengchu felt as though he had fallen into a dreamscape.
Ripples spread before his eyes, revealing towering mountain peaks, an endless frozen expanse, and a cascade of snow and ice crashing down like collapsing mountains.
—It was an avalanche.
The serpent stretched its long body along the mountainside, comfortably soaking its midsection in the warm magma of a volcano, its tail casually resting atop a domed peak.
An avalanche, to humans, was death's gleaming scythe—but to it, it was merely a "massage" to cleanse its scales.
After the roaring descent of snow and rocks, its scales felt buffeted to a brighter sheen, reflecting a near-blinding, divine radiance under the clear sky.
The climber it had incidentally saved lay beneath its tail for a long time, limbs splayed out, motionless—so much so that it almost thought the person had still succumbed to death.
Finally, the mountaineer pushed herself up with the help of a climbing pole and slowly approached it.
It cast a disinterested glance downward—a young human woman, with a few curly black locks peeking out from beneath her hat and snow goggles.
Though her face was obscured, her lips that seemed perpetually curved beneath the mask gave the impression of someone cheerful and fond of laughter.
But Yi Fengchu only thought she was a strange person…
To climb to such heights alone was verging on suicidal.
The young mountaineer looked up at its massive form, breathing an awestruck exclamation.
"Could a serpent of this magnitude truly exist in the world? Are you the mountain god of these peaks? Could the world-encircling 'Jörmungandr' be real?"
"It was a god who saved me. I thought I would die in that avalanche—though, truthfully, I came here seeking death."
"A pilgrimage toward death sounds poetic, doesn’t it? But my condition is decidedly unromantic. A tumor… Would a mountain deity even understand what a tumor is?"
Perhaps because her time was already running out, the mountaineer showed little fear or reverence.
She gazed upward, as if beholding a deity, and unburdened all her lingering fixations before death.
All that sorrow, anger, and unwillingness.
Yi Fengchu listened quietly, his golden eyes like still pools.
The serpent lowered its gaze from the mountaintop, reflected in the mountaineer’s dark eyes like twin embers in the dark.
After a long silence, the mountaineer spoke again—but this time, not about herself.
"Have you always been alone—well, not alone, but a lone serpent—in these mountains?"
"……" The great serpent did not answer.
Its figure vanished into the mist, blending seamlessly with the rolling snow peaks from afar—as if part of nature itself, or perhaps something already beyond it.
The mountaineer said, "I sense a melancholy and confusion in you. You seem utterly detached from the world, finding no reason to remain or anchor to hold."
"Your being is majestic and mighty, far beyond anyone’s imagination, yet you are also trapped in a solitude—bound to these peaks."
Hearing this, the serpent gradually lowered its upper body, its head stopping just meters away from the mountaineer. Had it breathed, it might have stirred another blizzard.
From this angle, the mountaineer seemed a breath away from being swallowed whole—yet she steeled herself and spoke from the heart:
"They say some mountain deities can only leave the wilderness if invited by humans. Of course, I believe you are far beyond the constrained 'gods' of legends—you are far more mysterious and powerful…"
"But I still want to ask: Would you like to leave with me?"
"……"
Yi Fengchu did not dream of how he responded. The dream rippled apart like disturbed waters, dissolving rapidly.
—He awoke.
Sitting up, he saw his mother’s medical file still on the nightstand. After a long stare, he locked the papers away in a drawer.
His phone sounded almost surprised. "You’re not going to call your mother and ask about this?"
Yi Fengchu locked the drawer and shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Whether I ask or not, she’s still my mom."
"—She’s the one who brought me into this world," he said with unusual certainty.
The phone: "...True."
A moment later, a payment notification appeared on his phone.
This was his "stipend" from the Anomalous Affairs Bureau—though, given that Yi Fengchu had hardly done any work, "tribute" might be a more accurate term.
Thinking about it, Yi Fengchu couldn’t help but marvel at power's peculiar nature—
It could make an unassuming person instantly stand out, catapulted into prominence.
But absolute power could also make everyone collectively "blind," turning a blind eye to all of Yi Fengchu’s anomalies and maintaining collective silence.
The Anomalous Affairs Bureau wouldn't dare meddle in affairs between a True God and his scion, but neither could they ignore it entirely, allowing Yi Fengchu to wander beneath the watch of the "Narrator" behind him.
After days of debate, the Bureau settled on a solution:
They proposed offering Yi Fengchu a generous retainer and benefits, retaining him as a nominal "consultant," symbolizing their friendly stance.
Apart from payday, the Bureau adhered to a strict policy of no contact, no questions, no interference.
Thus, Yi Fengchu was assigned no mandatory tasks, had no chain of command above him, and could enjoy occasional supplemental income.
"……"
When the contract was signed, Yi Fengchu fell silent for a long moment before asking, "You’ve listed the benefits. But what do you want from me?"
The Bureau's Ability User representative froze at the question, flustered.
—Who were they to make demands of Yi Fengchu?
After some hushed discussion, the representative cautiously suggested that should he find himself at leisure, he could visit their facilities occasionally.
Yi Fengchu’s eyes lit up immediately: Bored? He was very bored!
He'd long harbored curiosity about the Bureau’s intelligence on the superiors of various factions…
That very afternoon, under the nervous gazes of those in the know, he arrived at the branch near A University, making unhurried rounds.
Initially, many uninformed staff members had reservations about this unvetted appointee—
Until Yi Fengchu passed by the archives room. The usually chaotic, knowledge-pollution-ridden archives suddenly fell silent.
Due to the dangerous knowledge recorded in the files, the archives room has always been classified alongside the equipment vault as one of the Anomalous Affairs Bureau's high-security zones.
The usual scene in the archives room involves words wriggling like earthworms, papers uttering demonic whispers, and shadowy apparitions emerging between the shelves, beckoning to passersby...
It’s common for staff on rotation to be lured, harmed, or even brutally killed, making archive management one of the most perilous jobs within the Bureau.
Even though this branch in City A holds far fewer records than the headquarters, staff casualties still occur regularly.
Yet when Yi Fengchu merely walked past, the archives room went completely silent!
All auditory and visual hallucinations vanished. The papers and words reverted to their original forms, lying quietly on the shelves—so unnervingly docile that it seemed surreal.
At that point, none of the staff had any objections left.
In fact, when Yi Fengchu was about to leave, they even pleaded with him to stay, hoping he’d drop by more often, whether for business or not.
"Mr. Yi, please visit us whenever you’re free! The A City branch will always be your safe haven," the staff said with tears in their eyes, shaking his hands with fervent enthusiasm.
Meng Siyou, Jiang You, and other insiders: "..."
Truly, blessed are the ignorant!
Could it be that what effortlessly suppresses forbidden knowledge is something even more forbidden and dangerous?
But regardless of their thoughts, Yi Fengchu was now getting paid without working while gaining access to the archives, and the Bureau had reached an unspoken truce with the "Divine Son" they speculated him to be—both sides had achieved their goals.
Everyone won.
Yi Fengchu glanced at the payment notification and murmured contentedly, "I can tell Mom to stop sending me living expenses now. Someone else is covering my expenses."
His phone, amazed at how fast he adjusted, remarked, "So, you’re just letting them assume you’re your own son?"
"Doesn’t matter. What they think has nothing to do with me."
Shrugging casually, Yi Fengchu stretched lazily. "Christian doctrine has the Holy Trinity of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. If pretending to be my own offspring brings convenience—I have no qualms."
"Besides, I’ve never openly confirmed these rumors anyway."
"Tch. Word games," the phone retorted.
The clock on the wall ticked steadily, soon marking noon.
As usual, Yi Fengchu stepped into the kitchen, only to frown at the fridge packed with food.
Having devoured a Moth God, it seemed his digestion would take a while—like a hibernating snake, he had no appetite these days.
Just then, a wavering, broken prayer suddenly reached his ears.
"Great Priest of Fate... Peacock Plume that sees tomorrow..."
"Our kin persist in dire straits, begging for your return..."
Yi Fengchu’s first reaction was confusion over who could be calling him.
Then he realized—this was a completely unknown honorific, and the "peacock feather" wasn't referring to him.
He was a snake... no, a human.
The prayer must have reached him solely because it mentioned "fate."
Driven by curiosity, Yi Fengchu focused intently, listening closely to the plea.
As the voice grew clearer, an image gradually unfolded before him—
First, an aerial view of a distant, alien world spreading beneath his gaze.
The terrain was uncanny, with chasms cutting across the land, dividing it into neat checkerboard patterns—like a colossal chessboard.
Most of these squares were shrouded in an ominous, lethal dusk, where all things seemed to wither under the wan light, leaving no trace of life.
The perspective descended, moving toward the sole surviving area beyond the twilight, finally settling on a temple built from bleached stone.
Passing between lonely, soaring columns, Yi Fengchu’s vision landed on a figure with wings of pristine white cascading down its back, their feather tips adorned with "eyes" outlined in gleaming gilt—resembling the plumage of a white peacock.
This being both woman and bird knelt before an altar, eyes closed in pious concentration, repeating its plea for heavenly intervention.
Yi Fengchu watched it for a while, listening as its voice turned ragged yet never ceased, as if it would pray forever—until it could utter no more sound.
In the end, Yi Fengchu magnanimously resolved—
Though the one it worshipped and prayed to might not be him, since this prayer had reached his ears, he would answer it.
Wrong god? Irrelevant.
From now on, its worship would be his alone.