Showdown

By now, He Lingchuan already knew that due to the barrier between the two realms, real-time communication between celestial gods and mortals was far from easy, even when the mortal was their own devout follower. Otherwise, there would have been no need for the Heavenly Palace's Zhaixing Tower to set up a Celestial Book, upon which a celestial god could only write a few lines at a time. The usual practice was for the believer to rely on a ritual object, praying piously, calling upon the god, relaxing their mind, and waiting for the deity to select them—or rather, waiting for the celestial god's will to project across and converse with them. It was best if the surroundings were quiet and sheltered from the wind, which could save the celestial god a great deal of divine power. He Chunhua calling upon Nailuotian inside a drafty horse paddock was an act of desperation born of having no alternative. He felt backed into a corner, with no choice but to rely on the power of a celestial god. Yet He Lingchuan was remarkably sharp, once again disrupting his calculated plans. No matter how good He Chunhua's patience was, he could no longer hold it together. Moreover, with danger lurking on all sides, he could not afford to stall any longer. Enough was enough. "Chuan'er, Chuan'er!" He gave a miserable laugh. "I kept holding onto wishful thinking, kept refusing to do this. But your behavior, everything you've done... I simply..." Everything He Lingchuan had done since returning from his disappearance was practically handing him a blade. "Father, what do you mean?" He Lingchuan blinked, though internally he thought: *Here it comes. Finally, the showdown.* "You've known where the Dafang Pot was all along, haven't you?" He Chunhua dropped his smile, his gaze fixing deeply on him. "If anyone in this city knew its location from the very beginning, it could only be you." Coming without context or explanation, these words surprised both Qiu Hu and Zhao Qinghe. The soul-snatching mirror squeaked in alarm. "H-h-he actually knows! How in the world does he know?!" It truly had never been able to fathom the train of thought of this father and son. "Huh? Me?" He Lingchuan pointed at his own nose, looking astonished. "Father, have you been scared out of your wits?" *That's right, it is me.* "You stopped being my son long ago!" Any trace of paternal love had vanished from He Chunhua's face. "Before we left the Panlong Ruins last time, you already possessed Chuan'er through that broken saber, didn't you?" He Lingchuan looked astounded. "What are you talking about? Who possessed me?" "The evil spirit from the Dafang Pot!" He Chunhua practically ground his teeth. "After returning home from the Panlong Desert, Chuan'er changed. With that personality and those methods, how could you possibly be my son?!" He Lingchuan did not know whether to laugh or cry. "Father, are you complaining that I got better, or that I got worse?" He Chunhua's face shifted between green and white, filled with mixed emotions and fury. After leaving the Panlong Desert last time, his eldest son had grown remarkably promising. Not only did he train diligently in martial arts, his interpersonal conduct had matured greatly, and he had even saved He Chunhua's life multiple times in major battles! He could even charm his stepmother; whenever Hongchan spoke of this eldest son, she would actually be beaming with joy! No one knew better than He Chunhua what kind of character his son had possessed. At the time, these changes had emerged gradually, and He Chunhua had been swamped with one major affair after another, spinning like a top with no time to think things through. Only after his eldest son was swept away by the floodwaters did he slowly reflect over the subsequent year and a half—and the more he pondered, the more wrong it seemed. And on this journey, his eldest son had suddenly returned with the status of the Mount Rong special envoy, no longer concealing his speech and conduct, even opposing him tit for tat. If he, He Chunhua, still couldn't see through it, he would truly be blind! Not to mention, the brat seemed extraordinarily familiar with Panlong Ancient City, even leading the Blackwater City troops through its streets and alleys. Blinding wind and snow, eerily identical alleys in the desolate city, monsters hot on their heels... all of these were severe hindrances. If he were not intimately familiar with this place, how could He Lingchuan have navigated without taking a single wrong turn? Someone this capable couldn't possibly be his son, He Lingchuan! "You vanished for so long, only to suddenly return and seek me out. Wasn't it just to enter the Panlong Ruins?" He Chunhua stared at him unblinkingly. "Why haven't you revealed your true form yet? Or could it be—" He pointed his other hand toward the east. "—you want to get into the Dafang Pot as soon as possible, don't you? You want to return to your own territory!" The soul-snatching mirror exclaimed in admiration, "Oho! Right again!" "Father, you've gone mad." He Lingchuan shook his head. "I never wanted to come to the Panlong Desert this time. You were the one who insisted on dragging me along." "You were retreating only to advance!" He Chunhua snapped harshly. "You are Zhong Shengguang! When you were reduced to ash before our eyes back then, it was nothing but a fake death! Everything you said was a lie—claiming the Dafang Pot had fused into Panlong City! It was all just to trick us into leaving the Panlong Ruins because you wanted to return to the mortal world!" "Father, this is nothing more than your self-absolution." He Lingchuan looked down at him, his eyes filled with piercing clarity and pity. "As long as you convince yourself that I'm an evil spirit, that I'm not your son, then offering me up in a deity blood sacrifice becomes completely justified, and your conscience remains clear. Isn't that right?" Ever since entering the Panlong Ruins, despite He Chunhua's efforts to conceal it, He Lingchuan could still sense his agony and internal struggle. This convenient father of his had been vacillating back and forth on whether to make the blood sacrifice. Now that his attitude had taken a sharp turn and he was suddenly shouting accusations at He Lingchuan, it could only mean he had finally made up his mind to plead for Nailuotian's divine descent! The words "deity blood sacrifice" struck the most secretive corner of He Chunhua's heart without warning. He shuddered involuntarily, as if whipped. "Wh-what did you say?" He Lingchuan pointed to his temple. "Inside my sea of consciousness, there is a divine imprint mark left by Nailuotian. That is the method celestial gods use to mark a vessel. Father—" A cold gleam surfaced in his eyes as he spoke, word by word, "Don't you dare say this has nothing to do with you!" The moment for the showdown had finally arrived! Now that the facade of a loving father and filial son had been torn to shreds, neither of them had to pretend any longer! It was time to lay all their cards on the table. He Chunhua parted his lips, struck dumb for a moment. He Lingchuan's words struck like a thunderbolt, setting his head buzzing. His son knew. He actually knew! In that instant, countless thoughts surged into his mind: shock, unease, guilt, regret, and of course, fear. The terror of being seen through from inside out, unable to conceal a shred of his secrets or ambition! Yet he immediately came to his senses—such a secret was something his eldest son could never have known! The fact that He Lingchuan could name Nailuotian's divine imprint mark on the spot only proved he wasn't Chuan'er at all! Yes, this thing was not Chuan'er, not his son. If so, what did he have left to agonize over? "I know why you came back to the Panlong Desert, and why you're so desperate to get into the Dafang Pot!" Reinvigorated, a sharp gleam shone in He Chunhua's eyes. "You want to erase the god's mark, don't you? You don't want the vessel you worked so hard to obtain stolen away by Nailuotian, do you?" He Lingchuan raised an eyebrow at him. How had this convenient father of his managed to derive the correct conclusion from an entirely wrong premise? He Lingchuan was not Zhong Shengguang in the slightest; on that point, He Chunhua was utterly mistaken. Yet He Lingchuan truly had come to erase the mark! Against his chest, the soul-snatching mirror trembled slightly in excitement: this drama of father and son turning on each other was simply magnificent. To watch it without even buying a ticket—what a bargain, what a bargain! "Last time, the Panlong illusion devoured the avatar of the celestial god that Sun Fuping summoned." The light in He Chunhua's eyes grew brighter and brighter, clearly having worked it out. "You want to repeat the trick and devour Nailuotian's avatar too, don't you? No wonder—no wonder you were in such a hurry to rush back to the Panlong Desert!" "What a pity—" He couldn't help bursting into laughter. "Right before the final step, I saw right through you!" Once this monster dove into the red light or the Dafang Pot, he would have no way to deal with it! But right now, everyone was still in the Panlong Ruins, still in reality. There was no way this evil spirit could withstand the might of a celestial god! He Lingchuan sighed. "Father, you really have lost your mind! Even assuming everything you said is right—just assuming—if I were to abandon you and dash to the eastern district to find the Dafang Pot, could you stop me?" Beside He Chunhua was only Zhao Qinghe. The scales of combat strength were tipped overwhelmingly in He Lingchuan's favor. Yet He Chunhua spread his hands and stepped back pace by pace, his face unabashedly smug: "It's too late. You won't make it in." He Lingchuan suddenly felt something amiss. He flipped his wrist to look— Without his noticing, several lines of runes had been imprinted on his wrist. Each character was as tiny as a fly's head, and he didn't recognize a single one. Yet now, these characters were all shimmering with a faint light. He rubbed at them vigorously several times, but to no avail. They could not be wiped away. That was it. Earlier, when He Chunhua had missed a step while coming down the stairs, He Lingchuan had naturally reached out to support him. He Chunhua's seemingly reflexive grab of his wrist had actually been him quietly imprinting the spoken incantation upon it. The effect of putting a spoken incantation onto paper was much like a talisman, saving spellcasting time so that divine arts could be unleashed as quickly as possible. By imprinting the spoken incantation onto He Lingchuan's wrist, He Chunhua saved himself the time needed to chant it word by word for it to take effect. One had to know that chanting the entire passage would take at least forty breaths of time. This son's martial prowess had grown far too rapidly, turning the tables to form an overwhelming advantage over him. He Chunhua had feared he wouldn't have the chance to finish reciting the incantation to his face, so he had taken a clever shortcut instead. Simply put, he had circumvented the cumbersome summoning ritual. "This is the divine language used to summon Nailuotian!" He Chunhua turned his palm, revealing a small figurine. Smeared across the figurine was fresh blood—blood he had secretly cut his own palm to smear upon it. "Unlike the method Sun Fuping used, I don't need to chant. As long as I strike the spoken incantation onto your body, it activates on its own!" The ritual to summon Nailuotian's divine descent had begun long ago! Earlier, he had stalled desperately just to buy time for the talismanic incantation to take effect! He was getting closer and closer to his goal, yet the monsters pursued ever more fiercely, with an apex leader lurking who knew where. He had to take the initiative to summon Nailuotian down first! That was his ultimate trump card to seize the Dafang Pot and escape the Panlong Ruins alive. He had long realized that the dangers in this place were far beyond mortal power to resist. Right now, only the power of a celestial god could help him break through the impasse! "You really went through immense pains." He Lingchuan did not fly into a rage out of shame as He Chunhua had expected. He merely looked at him with sorrowful eyes. "Sacrificing your own flesh and blood to a god—don't you feel even a shred of guilt?" These words were spoken with heartfelt sincerity and raw emotion. For this was the single sentence He Lingchuan's original self had brooded over incessantly ever since learning the truth! Without questioning him to his face, that lingering spirit could never find peace! Even Zhong Shengguang, who had sacrificed his own daughter back then for the sake of Panlong City, had suffered the torment of conscience day and night thereafter. What about He Chunhua? What did he truly think?