"Did you partner with He Chunhua because you wanted to borrow the Lu family's dynastic fortune?"
"Of course!" Nailuotian's avatar answered readily. "And you were a one-in-a-million vessel. I couldn't think of any reason to refuse."
The consciousness of his original self had already dissipated; He Lingchuan felt not a ripple in his heart.
He switched to another question—one that had troubled him for a long time:
"Why are the celestial gods of Lingxu City so obsessed with the Dafang Pot?"
The Dafang Pot naturally would not give him an answer. He had also tried asking General Red in the Panlong World, but every time he was about to open his mouth, one thing or another would happen to interrupt him.
Nailuotian's avatar, however, began playing coy. "That is a secret—a secret known only to a handful of orthodox gods! Keep me alive first, and then I'll tell you."
It had answered enough questions and demonstrated sincerity about cooperating; now it was He Lingchuan's turn.
He Lingchuan smiled. "Truly worthy of Bilu—able to bend and adapt as needed."
He had seen Mitian and Miaozhantian. Both celestial gods were aloof and haughty, nothing like this amenable avatar of Nailuotian.
It showed just how desperately it longed to survive.
Having its consciousness erased was tantamount to losing its life.
Speaking of which, over a century ago, Nailuotian had been a minor deity just like Shi Nan. Their attitudes toward mortals were both very... flexible.
The red netting shifted again, constricting even tighter than before. Enduring the pain, Nailuotian's avatar cried out:
"Spare me, and all the secrets of the celestial gods will be open to you!"
He Lingchuan wore a look of hesitation.
Seeing this, Nailuotian's avatar hastily cast out another lure: "A little over forty days from now, the Emperor's Flowing Dew will descend—and two showers in succession! As long as I am alive, you will have intelligence and always stay one step ahead of everyone else!"
Forty days? He Lingchuan's eyes flickered slightly. "Yet you're already trapped inside the Dafang Pot. Even if another god falls from the heavens, you won't know."
"I cannot leave, but I can teach you how to gather intelligence! You alone cannot stand against the gods. Spare my life, and I can lend you a hand!"
He Lingchuan's expression shifted. "You want to stand against the gods too?"
"The gods of Lingxu are our common enemy, and time is running out..." The netting abruptly tightened, and Nailuotian's avatar could no longer maintain its human form, collapsing back into a silhouette of green light. "Save me!"
"My apologies, I shouldn't have given you false hope." He Lingchuan spread his hands toward it with a helpless expression. "You were right all along—no one can control the Dafang Pot."
With that, he deliberately snapped his fingers twice. "Hey, let it go."
The netting paid him no heed at all, constricting the green glow further until it was the size of a goose egg.
"See? It doesn't listen to me at all."
The celestial god's avatar roared.
From within the netting came its final curse, despairing and venomous:
"You will be consumed by destiny's backlash, consumed by the Dafang Pot! Your end will surely be far more wretched than mine!"
After that, there was only silence.
Once it shrank to the size of a chestnut, its shape stabilized and ceased changing.
Just then, the sky grew faintly bright.
He Lingchuan could not spot where the light came from, but this bit of illumination had dispelled the darkness, sufficient for him to take in his surroundings:
He was actually standing in the midst of a wasteland. Beneath his feet lay gravel and sand; as far as the eye could see stretched only stony desert, leaving nothing between heaven and earth but an expanse of vast silence.
He Lingchuan listened intently. Beneath the ground, there was not the slightest rustle of crawling insects or ants, nor was there any trace of birds in the sky. There was only the wind blowing from the distant mountains, weaving freely through an open patch of woods.
The woods were not large, yet every tree flourished with verdant boughs and lush leaves, forming a striking contrast with the harsh natural environment all around.
He Lingchuan looked down and discovered that the pond at his feet was even smaller than it had appeared in the dark, its water clear and shallow.
The glowing green orb was gone. He Lingchuan peered closely and only then noticed a solitary, glossy green acorn resting at the bottom of the pond.
Was this... Nailuotian's avatar?
Right before his eyes, the acorn turned from green to brown and suddenly stirred.
He Lingchuan was slightly startled, thinking the avatar of Nailuotian was up to some new trick. Yet something swelled and pushed up beneath the acorn, slowly breaking the surface of the water.
A tiny seedling.
What was going on? He Lingchuan couldn't help taking two steps back.
The flow of time seemed to have accelerated dozens of times over. Right before his eyes, the seedling grew larger and thicker, its trunk branching out and its branches unfurling leaves...
In less than a quarter of an hour, it had grown into an oak tree over a zhang tall. He Lingchuan had to tilt his head back to gaze up at its canopy.
Nestled among the branches and leaves were numerous freshly grown acorns.
*Plop.* Another acorn dropped to the ground.
He Lingchuan dared not touch it.
An avatar of a celestial god, turned into a tree in the blink of an eye. Even having witnessed it from start to finish, he still found it hard to believe.
How on earth did this happen?
He drew his saber and tapped the trunk; it indeed felt like ordinary wood.
And the oak gave no response whatsoever... no different from any other tree.
Casual as could be, he carved an equilateral triangle into the trunk.
Wood shavings fluttered down.
"So, from now on, you're just a tree?"
Counting from when the colossal red silhouette, Hundun, had captured Nailuotian's avatar, more than three months had passed. What was happening now was likely the Dafang Pot's final step in digesting its spoils. Was it mere coincidence? He had just happened to arrive in time to see Nailuotian's avatar off on its final journey, and had even managed to ask a few questions along the way.
When the wind blew, the leaves rustled and hissed. Listening to it, He Lingchuan couldn't shake the feeling that it sounded like Nailuotian's avatar cursing at him.
He suddenly thought of Master Sanshui.
After Master Sanshui passed away, the Qianling Treasure Lid had absorbed his remnant soul and remodeled him into the leader of the Que beasts.
After merging with the Qianling Treasure Lid, had the Dafang Pot acquired and inherited this ability as well?
In other words, it had forcibly crushed the celestial god avatar's consciousness to pieces and then remodeled it into a tree?
Existing, yet devoid of consciousness.
Unannihilated, yet brimming with vitality.
Only the form of a tree simultaneously met He Lingchuan's requirements and ensured that Nailuotian's avatar could never break free of the Dafang Pot's control.
Otherwise, a conscious, scheming avatar of a celestial god that sought every second to escape would surely consume the Dafang Pot's power to keep suppressed, wouldn't it?
Who knew how many bizarre tricks Nailuotian's avatar might yet pull? The methods of celestial gods were ever-shifting and unpredictable.
Even the Dafang Pot would instinctively seek out the path of least resistance.
He Lingchuan gave a wry laugh and muttered to himself:
"Who dare say that possessing a spirit makes one superior to having none? You're far smarter than humans."
What a pity that all those secrets still harbored inside Nailuotian's avatar had been crushed to pieces along with its consciousness.
He Lingchuan merely sighed in passing; he didn't truly find it regrettable.
Nailuotian was the deity that harbored the greatest malice toward him. Who knew how much truth lay in the secrets it uttered? Who knew whether it was digging a pit for him to fall into—
Most likely, it was.
He Lingchuan had wanted to extract its secrets, while it had wanted to seize He Lingchuan's vessel. Keeping an information source whose claims were impossible to verify was utterly pointless.
The acorn that had fallen to the ground seemed about to take root and sprout as well.
Just what kind of place was this? Was it a second realm following the Panlong Realm?
He had intended to sheathe his saber and leave, but gazing out at the sparse woodland before him, an abrupt thought struck him:
Could these trees all be...
The moment the thought arose, a chill ran down his spine.
Chapter 886