Behind him was the hissing sound of raging flames meeting water, and the pungent smell of burning thatch was so strong it could drift out ten miles away.

The young man sat calmly upwind, using the mountain spring water to simply wash up. He then sat cross-legged facing the water to braid his hair, treating the mountain fire and villagers' cries as unrelated background noise.

"One" had no understanding of human feelings or reason. He just sat beside the youth, picking up the sash that had fallen on the stream rocks, holding it in his palms for the young man, hoping to firmly hold onto him with this sash, so that he wouldn't suddenly appear and disappear again like when he came.

The youth finished washing up, cupped his face, using the water as a mirror, and sincerely praised, "Ah, truly peerlessly handsome."

Having said that, he turned his head and his gaze collided with the plainly dressed child behind him.

He scratched his ear, thinking the child was concerned about the fire he set. But his expression showed no guilt, just calmly explaining, "It won't burn anyone to death. When I snuck over from the back mountain, I checked each household. They were all attending the sacrificial ceremony, no one was home. I released the chickens, ducks, cows and horses too, so the losses won't be too great."

"One" didn't understand what he was saying, single-mindedly grasping his waist sash.

The youth didn't notice. He got up on his own, but the sash was completely pulled away as he stood up, instantly leaving him in loose-fitting clothes.

The young man sighed but didn't scold the child's rude behavior. "You like my sash?"

"One" held the item in his hands as if it was a part of the youth's body, gripping it tightly, unwilling to return it.

The young man squatted down and patted his head. "Alright, then don't move around."

With that said, he took the two loose ends of the sash, looped it around, and swiftly tied the child's hands and feet in front of him.

The sash material was quite soft, and the youth intentionally avoided letting the decorations chafe the child's skin.

After tying a neat bow, the young man made sure he wouldn't run around. He then picked him up horizontally and carried him to a dry spot sheltered from the wind and sun, placing him together with another unconscious little sacrificial offering. "Sit here obediently, don't move around or shout."

"One" didn't quite understand what the youth was saying.

But indeed, he wouldn't shout.

He was always quiet. Even when the children went wild together, imitating animals howling at the moonlight outside the window, he would just sit silently to the side hugging his knees, observing them.

Now, "One" was staring at the young man with eyes so clear they didn't seem human.

The youth pondered for a moment, rummaged in his storage pouch, took out a piece of crisp candy, and placed it in "One's" palm.

"One" held the candy, played with it for a while, then looked up at the youth again.

The young man made a motion of putting it in his mouth. "One" then tried to stuff the entire candy, still wrapped in thick paper, into his mouth.

The youth sighed and swiftly intercepted his movement. He propped his chin in thought for a moment, then took another identical piece of crisp candy himself and peeled off the wrapper.

"One" dazedly followed suit.

The young man raised the unwrapped candy to his lips and licked it.

"One" also used the tip of his tongue to lightly touch the candy, tasting an exceptionally special flavor. He felt his mouth water, sweet and delicious.

Without the youth teaching further, he licked at the candy in small mouthfuls like a little wild animal.

Seeing "One" was indeed obedient, the young man rubbed his soft forehead hair. He took a new light cyan sash and with a few swift motions tied it into a sharp and slim waist. He pressed on the sword at his waist, flashed "One" another dazzling smile, tossed the candy in his hand into the air, caught it in his mouth, then strode towards the village where the flames were about to die out.

Later, after a very long time, "One" finally understood. While he was slowly eating the candy waiting for the youth to return, the young man had done something shocking in that small village.

The youth didn't hurry back to the mountain village.

He hid in the shadows, focused his energy, and used the art of voice projection to spread a bell-like "divine decree" throughout the mountains:

"My people, my children, my divine power has greatly increased. Mere children are no longer enough as offerings. I require thirty grown, strong men each year to be sacrificed in the usual way. Only then can I ensure your peace and safety. This fire is a lesson for your disobedience."

Over the past dozen or so years, the "God" had always conveyed "divine decrees" to the temple priest, who then relayed them to the people.

Many villagers were hearing the God's voice for the first time. For a moment, they were both shocked and confused. They looked at each other's soot-blackened faces, all seeing bewilderment and anger in the other's eyes.

They were very puzzled. They clearly made offerings every year, so why did the God suddenly turn hostile and set fire to their homes?

The "God" seemed to know their doubts and leisurely said, "I already informed the temple priest. Could it be that you colluded with him, planning to deceive me?"

The temple priest was scared to death. Before he could defend himself, he was surrounded by the villagers who were exceptionally angry over the loss of their property.

The villagers raised their rakes and hoes, knocking the priest to the ground. The priest's head was instantly bleeding as he lay on the ground moaning in pain.

And the few words the "God" spoke, along with the sky-high flames, also stirred the villagers' doubts about this "God".

These mountain folk who rarely read books always had very straightforward thinking:

Before, as long as they sacrificed children each year, they could get a bountiful harvest. This was certainly a worthwhile trade, because to them, having more little brats was as easy as they wanted.

Children wouldn't defend themselves or protest. Even if they wanted to resist, they were weak and alone.

But if they had to sacrifice thirty men each year by slitting their throats, the situation would be a bit different.

The adult men present were frightened beyond words. In their minds surfaced a question that hadn't emerged in the decades since the divine sacrifices began:

...Just what kind of "God" was this?

The fact is, once disaster befalls oneself, it's easy to start having doubts.

The temple priest, barely breathing, was grabbed by the villagers again to be interrogated, demanding to know the "God's" origins.

This man had only read a few books, not even enough to be considered a poor scholar. He was chosen by the "God" only because he knew some words and was obedient.

He had been pampered and supported by the villagers for a long time. His skin was delicate and his flesh tender. After being hit twice, he cried for his parents, waving his hands and sobbing that he knew nothing.

The villagers grew even angrier, feeling they had been fooled. They were also afraid others would submit to the "God", ultimately letting the disaster of throat-slitting sacrifices fall on their own heads. Each one was exceptionally eager, grabbing farming tools and rushing straight to the temple, smashing and destroying.

Gold foil littered the ground and the God's bones turned to ash.

Looking at the peeling paint and shattered clay figures scattered on the ground, hearing the panicked screams of the imprisoned children in the inner chamber, the people blinded by anger gradually realized that the situation was not good.

Not to mention, the divine power of this "god" was real.

They had smashed the golden body of the "god", and once they incurred retribution...

A few reckless youths shouted that if it dared to come, they would teach it a lesson, but most people were terrified in their hearts. They stepped on the mess on the ground, their faces dazed and ashen.

While everyone was feeling uneasy, suddenly an unfamiliar voice sounded outside the temple: "Excuse me, may I ask..."

Hundreds of long and short farm tools were pointed at the entrance. Who would have thought the visitor was actually a delicate and graceful young man with a slender figure, wearing a veil that obscured his face.

A bold person shouted: "Who is it? Don't fucking play tricks!"

The young man lifted the black veil on his head with great poise: "Dear uncles, I am a wandering Daoist priest. Passing by your precious place, I saw billowing smoke on the mountain and suspected a demon was causing trouble, so I came up the mountain to take a look. I apologize for the disturbance..."

People always respect the robe before the person. Moreover, the young man before them had a refined and dignified appearance, with the bearing of a noble son, seeming more like an immortal descending to the world than the elusive, man-eating evil god they had never met.

Upon seeing his face, the villagers instantly dispelled their doubts. Hearing he was a Daoist priest was like a long-awaited rain after a drought. They surrounded him and recounted the whole story from beginning to end, begging the "little immortal" to lend a helping hand.

The arsonist who had openly set fire in the village was clearly right in front of them, but the villagers were completely unaware.

The young man listened attentively, nodding solemnly from time to time, showing impeccable manners.

After listening, he surveyed the weeping villagers, pressed his sword and bowed: "I am Fengling Sect's Chang Boning, willing to relieve your worries and difficulties."

Before long, outside there was a commotion of sand and stones, as if the Heavenly Lord was enraged. The sky flashed with lightning, restless and ominous.