Quinn Shepherd once again donned the face of Mark Shepherd, striding along the Celestial River, his pace growing ever faster.
The Dragon-Han Era, at the height of its splendor, was beginning its decline.
He looked down and saw that in the Earth-Mother Origin World below, countless divine kingdoms had arisen, where powerful demigods were toppling the statues of the ancient gods.
Those colossal statues were symbols of the ancient gods' authority and power—towering, majestic, some carved directly from entire divine mountains, others forged from divine metals and iron, extravagant beyond measure.
In years past, commoners of all races would come to worship and offer sacrifices, presenting jewels and their children to the ancient gods who ruled from on high, praying for gentle weather and the avoidance of disaster.
Now the ancient gods had departed, leaving Heavenly Court empty of power. Demigods seized the chance to rise, usurping authority. The ancient gods became the old gods—their statues naturally had to be toppled, their altars smashed.
Yet Quinn saw that after the powerful demigods destroyed the statues and altars of the ancient gods, they enslaved the commoners of all races to toil, and promptly built new altars in the same places.
Upon these new altars, the statues of the powerful demigods were erected.
Unconsciously, Quinn walked down from the Celestial River, drawing ever closer to the mortal world. Everywhere he looked, the same pattern played out—old gods torn down, new gods raised up, while commoners of all races remained enslaved, their lives worse than death.
The newly empowered gods reveled, celebrating their victory and rise to power, enjoying the beauties and delicacies offered by the common folk, surrounded by mountains of treasure.
They drank and feasted in pleasure palaces, roaring with laughter, reveling without restraint.
Beneath their towering forms, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of ordinary folk grovelled, trembling, heads buried low, kowtowing as if pounding garlic.
“Ah, this is the mortal world.”
Only now did Quinn awaken to the truth: before, walking high above on the Celestial River, he’d seen too far, too wide, and never truly glimpsed the beings of the Earth-Mother Origin World.
Ah, this is the mortal world.
He’d only just woken up to this: yes, this is the mortal world. Not only have people failed to shatter the gods in their hearts, they haven’t broken the idols in their temples, nor the new and old gods who lord above.
Power, once loosed from its cage, is hard to lock away again.
Once slavish habits are called forth, it’s hard for spines and knees to straighten again.
Why is it that, even after the Heavenly Emperor is overthrown and the rule of the ancient gods swept away, people’s lives remain unchanged—just as numb as before?
Why have the old gods already left this world, only for a new batch of gods to be born?
Shouldn't all of this have changed?
Is this Dragon-Han revolution really unrelated to mortals?
Yes, this Dragon-Han revolution is far from complete. All it has overthrown are the Heavenly Emperor and the ancient gods, merely replacing the old ruling class with a new one. The Dragon-Han revolution is false, hypocritical.
He felt somewhat lost and murmured, "Cloud-Venerable, do you see this? Don't dwell too high or too far away. If you do, you'll lose sight of the suffering of the people, lose your motivation, and forget your original intention."
He walked among the towering divine mountains of the Origin World, watching the demigods celebrate and seeing the masses suffering just as before.
From Dragon-Han to Chiming, from Supreme Sovereign to Kaihuang, and on to Everpeace, generations of idealists have fought not for personal power or desire, but for a simple faith: to break the gods in the heart, to break the gods in the temple.
Night descended; the curtain of darkness fell, shrouding the Origin World.
His heart surged. He traveled by lantern-light through the night, his emotions churning like the waves of the Celestial River.
He was like a traveler carrying a lantern, stepping into the ancient darkness of history, searching for the footprints left by predecessors, seeking the spirit that burned like candlelight in the night.
It was a spirit branded into the blood of ordinary people—simple, yet stirring, making one tear up and feel their blood boil on contact.
That pure, honest spirit is deeply imprinted on the dark sky of history.
When future travelers walk into the darkness of history with lanterns, their light will illuminate the night, and that spirit will shine like a constellation, inspiring those who come after.
Quinn did not stop walking. In the darkness came the long roars of ancient gods and demons, while distant divine mountains crouched like giant beasts.
In the darkness, a demigod deity spotted him and called out, "Shepherd Heavenly Venerable—"
Quinn froze, suddenly remembering he still wore the face of Mark Shepherd.
He avoided those demigods who tried to hunt him, changing his form to look like one of them.
He journeyed from night to dawn, from day to darkness, gradually approaching the human territories.
At dawn, he arrived at the human lands of the Dragon-Han Era. Sunlight spilled down, illuminating his travel-worn face.
He smiled, seeing people working the fields, spotting a village not far away, and some cultivators teaching children how to open their divine treasuries and become warriors.
In the distance, there were human cities, and industrious caravans had already set out, planning to trade goods with nearby postnatal races.
Here was peace and harmony; curling smoke rose from the village chimneys as people lived and worked contentedly.