Chapter 297 The Wife of the Water God

When the water god Tian Wu completely dissipated and left.

Even Gonggong didn't speak. The murals on the walls slowly lit up, but then began to dim little by little, eventually returning to complete annihilation. Those stories once recorded here, from five thousand years ago, or even longer, the past between humans and gods, their initial acquaintance, thousands of years of companionship, were finally beginning to dissipate.

And then, this area where the water god had once lingered, different from the human world, also began to collapse.

Water poured in from all directions, wanting to submerge all traces of this place.

The water god Gonggong subconsciously raised his hand.

The vast torrent of water stagnated in an instant, stopping its infiltration into the cracks.

But soon, He withdrew his hand. As the master of the water veins of Shenzhou, He quietly watched the last trace of the celestial god who, when making a choice, chose humanity and betrayed the gods, return to the rivers and seas. A farewell witnessed by the master of all waters might ultimately be a fitting end for a god.

At this moment, the woman holding the umbrella opened her mouth, slowly regaining her senses. Only then, it seemed, did she perceive the pain, as if even that emotion couldn't catch up to her just now.

She opened her mouth, but couldn't utter a single sound. Finally, she let out a sobbing cry, a cry that seemed to shatter her very soul, desperate and piercing. Gonggong withdrew his gaze and simply waved his sleeve, taking Wei Yuan and the woman away from the place where Tian Wu had been.

At this time, both Wei Yuan and Gonggong were very clear about the experience of the umbrella-holding woman before them.

She was chosen by a tribe to become a living sacrifice, offered to a certain river god.

But she was saved by Tian Wu, who was in that river at that time.

Although she died, she lived on as a member of the water god's retinue. When Tian Wu was gradually forgotten by the world and gradually weakened and disappeared, only she was still trying her best to revive Him. Weak as she was, she could not understand the relationship between humans and gods.

She could only try every possible way, hoping that the movement of the Jiangnan water system could nourish Tian Wu.

Gonggong's expression was slightly somber. Finally, he glanced at the distraught woman:

"Her… what should be done with her?"

Wei Yuan exhaled and said, "She planned to completely disrupt the Jiangnan water system with sorcery."

"Although she didn't cause a real disaster, we can't just let her go like this… there's also a karmic entanglement and grievance from a thousand years ago to deal with. Afterwards, I should take her to Longhu Mountain to see how the Celestial Masters handle it. Let them have a headache over such things."

"However, the best outcome is probably to be eternally suppressed in Longhu."

Gonggong raised an eyebrow and chuckled: "Eternally suppressed?"

Wei Yuan: "…………"

Okay, he couldn't mention this in front of this one.

If he angered Him and got hammered, Curator Wei would probably turn into Wei Yuan paste.

He said without changing his expression: "Saying eternally suppressed, it should also have a time limit, but…"

Wei Yuan's voice paused, he sighed, and looked at the distraught umbrella-holding woman, and said:

"A thousand years and eternal suppression… for a being transformed from a human, what difference is there?"

They took the distraught woman back under the waves of the East Sea.

And the grievances of a thousand years ago, in the end, neither the White Snake nor Yuanjue were the most qualified to respond. The White Snake still had a thousand years ahead, just waiting for an opportunity to transform into a dragon; Fahai was reincarnated as Yuanjue, a shami bhiksu, walking on the land of Shenzhou; only one person, died and his soul scattered, leaving only a wisp of obsession.

At Jinshan Temple, Wei Yuan brought the umbrella-holding woman to the old tree.

But he didn't expect that he would return here so quickly.

Under the old tree, because this woman guided the flood to Jinshan Temple that year, he completely lost everything—he no longer had the medical clinic left by his parents, he could no longer be a master of painting, he lost his marriage, and finally, the monk who had been lonely for a thousand years looked at the woman, and gently put down the broom in his hand.

Xu Xian knew everything that happened that year.

He raised his hand.

The woman lowered her head, awaiting her death.

In the end, the old monk's wrinkled palm pressed on the woman's head. After a long time, he just said calmly:

"Amitabha."

"…This poor monk forgives you."

The umbrella-holding woman's body trembled, and she raised her eyes in disbelief.

The monk in gray robes had already turned around, still holding the broom, slowly sweeping the fallen leaves that seemed to never be swept away under the old tree. Life has eighteen thousand miseries, why not let go? If you can't let go, it doesn't matter, sweep slowly, carry it in your arms and keep it, maybe one day, looking at the beautiful sunlight, you will suddenly let go.

The old monk's brow was peaceful.

He no longer pursued the grievances of the past, but he didn't say anything more.

No one knows what Xu Xian thought in his heart, perhaps he felt that a thousand years had passed, it didn't matter whether he let go or held on; perhaps it was because the monk's heart was mellow and transcendent, surpassing his own thoughts and grievances, and instead overlooking everything in the world, only feeling that all living beings were suffering.

Or perhaps, this wisp of thought now only contained the Buddha and that touch of white clothes.

Nothing else could fit in.

Wei Yuan bid farewell to the monk who would disappear and return to heaven and earth at any time.

He heard the sound of footsteps coming from the foot of the mountain. When he turned his head, he saw a group of Daoist monks and Buddhist practitioners arriving together. Each of them carried a considerable amount of cultivation aura. These were the real elites of the Special Operations Group. After Wei Yuan told Longhu Mountain about capturing the woman, Zhang Ruosu had the nearby members of the Operations Group rush over as soon as possible.

"Then, this person will be handed over to us."

The young Daoist from Longhu Mountain looked at the woman who had no intention of resisting, and spoke to Wei Yuan. After receiving his nod of agreement, he took out all kinds of talismans and magical instruments to trap the woman, brought her to the car. Several cars in front and behind drove towards Longhu Mountain.

Wei Yuan sat in the last car.

Looking at the scenery flashing past on both sides of the window, he thought in his heart.

Afterwards, what awaits that woman may be a thousand years of suppression.

Or perhaps a dark and hopeless punishment.

All the Daoists were very vigilant along the way, because they had been warned that this was the root cause of the Jiangnan disaster. Even if she was sealed, even with Wei Yuan's secret escort, they couldn't relax their vigilance in the slightest.

Facing such an existence, relaxing their vigilance, one wrong step could be a catastrophe.

Jinshan Temple is on the Zhenjiang side. Now, coming down the mountain, the car took a small road, and this area near Jiangnan Road was originally full of rivers. Coupled with the previous rainstorm, the water level had risen sharply. When the car was driving on a small road with a river on one side, the umbrella-holding woman raised her eyes, her voice soft and peaceful:

"Can you stop for a moment?"

Many Daoist monks and Buddhist practitioners subconsciously tensed up.

They circulated their Qi to resist, and then they heard themselves say something they could never have said:

"Okay."

The monk driving the car felt a chill down his spine. He wanted to draw his sword but couldn't control himself at all. He suddenly turned the steering wheel. The car, which had been blessed and was almost equivalent to a small sealing formation, turned directly towards the river. The cars behind quickly accelerated.

Wei Yuan's eyes were calm. When they caught up with the car in front, the car was parked on the side of the road, the monks inside were in a coma, and there was no major problem. The umbrella-holding woman was walking forward, already far away.

The other monks accelerated to chase after her.

Wei Yuan held his sword, leaning against the tree, and finally did not take action, just slowly walking behind.

The woman who had once been abandoned by humans, the woman who had been used as a living sacrifice by her relatives and clansmen, took off the wide cloak outside. Inside, she had changed into an elaborate dress at some point. She held an umbrella in her hand, and stepped towards the turbulent river.

Back then, no one had asked her if she wanted to live.

And now, no one asked her this question either.

Amidst a burst of exclamations, Wei Yuan held his sword and leaned against the tree, silent.

A melodious chant came from behind, as if from a distant past, the voice was clear and devout, and the sound of the water seemed to be in her ears.

The Daoist disciples treated their fellow disciples, and couldn't help but look up.

The woman in a red dress spread her arms and embraced the river. The water seemed to be embracing her too. This was not an attempt to escape, because in that instant, the soul that had lived for more than a thousand years dissipated, like spring snow under the sun, leaving no trace.

Every living being wants to live, and the feeling of death must be painful for her.

But her expression at this time was very peaceful.

The umbrella fell down and was swallowed by the water.

The sacrifice who was once obsessed with not wanting to die, finally embraced death in that dress, because the gods who loved humans and were accompanied by them for a long time, and the sacrifices who were abandoned by humans and saved by the gods, Wei Yuan quietly watched this scene—regardless of grievances or karma, or even disasters and sins, at least at this moment, the determination when rushing to death, the red clothes flying.

Made her seem really like the name of that cruel sacrifice—

The wife of the water god.

ps: Third update today… buffer chapter, two thousand eight hundred words.

The number of words is definitely less, there is no way.

Sleep, sleep, always say go to bed early, but always encounter this kind of situation, lying down… try to adjust the schedule, adjust the schedule…