Side Story 7: The Beginning (7)

 Si Ming had waited a very long time for this day—the day Si Qing would truly be born. He had prepared for it extensively, wanting to give Si Qing an unparalleled celebration, a coronation for his birth.

 After Si Qing left, Si Ming busied himself with the preparations and didn’t finalize everything until daybreak.

 There were still two hours left before Si Qing usually arrived, yet Si Ming’s heart had already grown restless.

 Or perhaps it had never been calm to begin with.

 His heartbeat raced like never before. Soon, he would see Si Qing—the real Si Qing, not some fleeting, intangible shadow.

 Si Ming was no saint. How could he remain unmoved with the one he loved so close? How could he strictly abide by propriety? Yet he had no choice but to restrain himself. A god who had not yet fully manifested was far too fragile. Even staying near him for too long could affect his formation.

 That was the reason Si Ming often disappeared.

 But now, that would no longer be the case. Si Qing was about to be truly born.

 Si Ming’s expression remained as detached as ever, as though nothing could stir him. Yet, uncharacteristically, he straightened his dark robes—a gesture completely at odds with his usual demeanor.

 But the next moment, he paused abruptly, recalling something Si Qing had once said offhandedly:

 “Teacher, black doesn’t suit you. You always wear head-to-toe black—it feels a little unlucky.”

 Black was the color of Si Ming’s power and divine nature. It had always been the color he found most pleasing, and even his original temple was built in dark shades.

 Yet now, his thin lips pressed tightly together as he stared at his own robes, finding the black somewhat displeasing. It really did seem a little unlucky.

 So Si Ming shed the black he had worn for millennia. But choosing a different color left him hesitant—he had never worn anything else.

 He tried on every color imaginable, yet still couldn’t decide on one that satisfied him. In the end, he settled on the most festive shade: bright red.

 Si Ming’s features were strikingly handsome, his face sharply defined as though carved by a blade. His expression was as aloof as ever, and he exuded an air of detachment—a coldness that seemed to emanate from his very bones.

 But now, that aloofness was softened by the vibrant red robes. His ever-impassive face seemed gentler, the oppressive aura around him faded, and there was even a hint of indescribable allure about him.

 With everything prepared, all that remained was to wait.

 For a higher deity, time was but a number. Yet Si Ming had never found it so hard to endure. If Si Qing’s world could have withstood his descent, he would have gone to him directly long ago.

 But for now, he could only wait with what patience he could muster.

 Soon, it was the time when Si Qing usually arrived.

 Si Ming's heart began to beat a little faster again. His hand tightened slightly beneath his robe as he stood waiting in the garden before the temple, a trace of nervousness and anticipation appearing in his usually indifferent eyes.

 However, Si Qing had not yet come.

 Si Ming lowered his gaze to look at the flowers in the planter that Si Qing liked, reasoning that the time of his manifestation must be different from usual, so it was normal for him not to be here yet.

 Si Ming could only continue to wait, from morning until noon, and then from noon until afternoon.

 Suddenly, a slight ripple came from the space behind him—the kind of fluctuation that only occurred when someone was arriving.

 Si Ming's eyes widened, a flash of excitement passing through them. He quickly turned to look at the source of the spatial disturbance, even taking a few involuntary steps forward.

 In the next second, however, Si Ming resumed his expression of aloof indifference.

 It wasn't him.

 The person who had arrived was not Si Qing, but Yan Xi, one of the higher deities.

 Yan Xi was startled the moment he arrived. Seeing Si Ming dressed in bright red, his first thought was that his spatial positioning must have been wrong.

 But it was unmistakably him.

 "What, are you getting married? Dressed so—" Yan Xi's face was a picture of shock and disbelief. It took him a long moment to finish his sentence, "...so flamboyant."

 Flamboyant was an understatement. He thought Si Ming was dressed like a peacock in full display, practically spelling out the words "courtship ritual" on his face.

 It would make sense if he were getting married, but the problem was, none of them had received any notice.

 Seeing that the visitor was Yan Xi, the excitement in Si Ming's eyes had long since vanished. He swept a cool, indifferent glance over him.

 "No."

 Hearing this, Yan Xi's mouth twitched. Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, he said, "If not, then why are you wearing bright red? You're dressed like a peacock in heat."

 "Anyone would think you're getting married today."

 Under normal circumstances, Si Ming would never respond to such comments, but this time, he lowered his head to glance at his own robes.

 "Does it not look good?"

 Yan Xi hadn't expected Si Ming to ask such a question. The look of shock on his face intensified, his expression seeming to suggest that the Si Ming before him was an imposter.

 The problem is, no one would dare to impersonate a higher deity, nor would anyone be capable of it. The aura of power emanating from the person before him was unmistakably that of Si Ming.

 Yan Xi was so shocked it took him a long moment to find his voice. He stammered in reply, "It's good-looking, sure, but it's just a bit..."

 "Too flashy."

 Si Ming frowned slightly. Too flashy?

 He hadn’t thought so before Yan Xi mentioned it, but now that it was pointed out, he had to agree—the bright red was indeed rather bold and seemed somewhat frivolous and undignified.

 Si Ming changed into another set of robes and even asked for Yan Xi’s opinion—an unprecedentedly receptive attitude.

 Yan Xi quickly guessed the reason. They had all heard that Si Ming had taken on a student, but...

 This was hardly just picking up a student. This was clearly more like picking up a wife.

 Yan Xi’s expression was complicated. Watching Si Ming change into another outfit and wait for his feedback, he finally offered his opinion.

 "The color combination isn’t very harmonious."

 "It’s too eye-catching."

 Si Ming was very open to suggestions. Upon hearing this, he changed into yet another set of robes. By now, Yan Xi’s expression had shifted from troubled to completely numb.

 After nearly an hour, Si Ming finally settled on a set of robes he was satisfied with. It was only then that he seemed to remember something. He turned to Yan Xi and spoke indifferently.

 "Why are you here?"

 Yan Xi rolled his eyes, somewhat exasperated. "...I received orders from that person. We have a mission to carry out together."

 But it was clear Si Ming was in no mood for a mission. Yan Xi understood completely—today was likely the day this old freak planned to propose to his student.

 The mission wasn’t urgent anyway, so Yan Xi had no intention of leaving. He decided to stay and watch the proposal unfold.

 But as time passed, no second guest arrived at Si Ming’s divine hall. The entire temple fell into an eerily dead silence.

 Yan Xi began to sense that something was wrong. He glanced sideways at Si Ming and said tactfully, "You don’t think... he’s not coming because he found out about the proposal, do you?"

 If he knew but chose not to come, it would clearly be a polite rejection of Si Ming.

 The long wait had already stirred a vague unease in Si Ming’s heart—a discomfort, as if an invisible hand were gripping it tightly.

 But after hearing Yan Xi’s words, he froze. His eyes darkened, shadowed with a thick, turbulent intensity. After nearly ten thousand years together, he knew all too well just how clever Si Qing was.

 He was intelligent enough to likely realize that He had initially wanted to kill him. Intelligent enough to have been deceiving Him from the very start, all for the sake of escaping from Him.

 He knew he was capable of it.

 Si Qing was indeed kind, but his kindness was never foolish, and he was never some simple, harmless existence.

 Si Ming pressed his thin lips together, suppressing the trace of unease in his heart, his deep eyes dark and unreadable.

 It didn't matter.

 Whether he loved Him or not, he would belong to Him.

 A cold aura radiating from his entire being, Si Ming's figure vanished on the spot.

 Yan Xi, seeing this, was startled and immediately gave chase.

 ...

 Si Qing was not running away as Yan Xi had guessed. After learning the extent of the Teacher's power, he had long since abandoned any thought of escape.

 The Teacher was a supreme deity, with all realms under His control. Fleeing to the ends of the earth would be useless; resisting Him was nothing but a futile struggle.

 But it was also true that... he could no longer keep their appointment.

 Si Qing's premonition had not been wrong; today was indeed the day of his birth.

 After being born, he immediately tried to use the Teacher's teleportation array to go to Him, but he found he could no longer pass through.

 The Teacher's array was designed for his previous state. Now that he had truly been born, possessing a physical form and a divine spark, he could no longer set foot in the array.

 This was clearly a form of protection for him.

 If he were accidentally discovered by other entities, he could immediately use the array to reach the Teacher, while other beings could not use it to pursue him.

 However, this same rule now restricted him as well.

 Si Qing was not discouraged. He knew the spatial coordinates of the Teacher's world. Traveling through a spatial rift would achieve the same result; it would just take a little more time.

 He left the heart of his world and, without hesitation, prepared to depart. He wanted to share the joy of his birth with the Teacher at the earliest possible moment.

 But just one second before Si Qing left, he froze.

 An endless chorus of wails and mournful cries echoed in his mind, mixed with the sounds of tremendous collapse and explosion.

 The sounds were coming from behind him.

 Si Qing turned around, dazed, just in time to see the skyscrapers topple before his eyes. It happened so fast he couldn't process it.

 A cloud of dust blotted out the sky from the collapsing buildings, yet it couldn't obscure the vivid red bloodstains or the countless severed limbs.

 Cries, pleas for help, and screams welled up incessantly, conveying an unspeakable pain and despair—a despair so profound it could infect even those who merely heard it.

 Si Qing was utterly stunned. He stared blankly at his own world.

 His world was nothing like any of the ones his teacher had shown him. There were no singing birds or fragrant flowers; it wasn't beautiful like a fairy-tale paradise. Instead, everything was stained a glaring red.

 It was a red dyed by the blood of countless living beings. The entire world was shrouded in despair and death.

 "Ahhh!!!"

 "The ground here is going to give way! Run!"

 "Help me!"

 "Somebody save me! I don't want to die!!!"

 The ground cracked like shattering glass, fissures rapidly spreading in all directions as it began to shake.

 Creatures on the surface screamed and scrambled to escape, but the ground split apart too quickly. Those who couldn't get away in time plummeted into the chasms.

 Below flowed rivers of magma. Those who fell were swallowed by the molten rock before they could even make a sound.

 A mother, running slowly, heard the ground splitting open behind her. Clutching her child in terror, she poured every last bit of her strength into running forward.

 She was already nearly exhausted, her face streaked with tears, but she refused to give up.

 Her own death didn't matter, but her child was not even a year old, hadn't even had a chance to see this world.

 But it was too late.

 The fissure had reached her.

 The woman realized it. So did the man running just ahead of her.

 The man clearly knew her. He stretched out his hand, trying to pull her to safety.

 But the distance between them was just too far. She couldn't reach his hand. In terror, she looked down at the chasm at her feet, then at the child in her arms. Finally, a look of grim resolution settled on her face.

 In the moment she fell into the fissure, she threw the child to the man, passing on the hope of life to her child, while she herself plunged into the magma.

 Yet, she did not know that neither the man who caught the child, nor her child, would survive.

 Escaping the fissure only meant clinging to life for a few more minutes.

 This world was undergoing restructuring due to collapse—a means of self-repair for the world itself.

 Living beings, driven by desire and greed, had relentlessly damaged the world, reshaping it according to their own will, without ever considering its capacity to endure.

 The causes they sowed would inevitably bear their consequences.

 The world was already riddled with flaws, having reached a point where restructuring was the only option, and living beings were now suffering the consequences.

 After Si Qing perceived this chain of cause and effect, he stood there in stunned silence, his expression dazed as he took in the scene before him. A trace of fragile vulnerability crossed his exquisitely delicate face.

 This was his first time confronting death, his first exposure to the negative emotions of living beings.

 He could save no one.

 He was merely a newly born deity, unable to even cultivate before his birth, utterly incapable of saving this world.

 His teacher could have done it, but reaching his teacher through the spatial rift would take several hours, and this world was on the verge of destruction.

 It would not last long enough for his teacher to arrive.

 When living beings are plunged into despair, devoid of even a glimmer of hope, they often place their faith in elusive, intangible gods—much like how the walls of a hospital often bear witness to the most devout prayers.

 With the protection of the world's essence gone, countless pleas for help echoed in Si Qing's mind, the voices of millions of living beings.

 They were begging him to save them, even though they had no idea whether he truly existed.

 The negative emotions of one person are enough to affect another, let alone the collective despair and suffering of thousands. The weight of it all nearly suffocated Si Qing.

 A deity could unilaterally sever their connection to the world's perceptions, and few gods ever chose to attune themselves to the world's suffering.

 But Si Qing did nothing. He walked slowly along the road, watching this dying world, his beautiful eyes filled with an indescribable emotion.

 It seemed like sorrow, like tenderness, like detachment.

 He truly did prefer the worlds his teacher had shown him. It was a pity, it seemed, that he would not have the chance to see them for himself.

 Faint, pure white specks of light drifted from his form, merging into the earth, into the surrounding structures, into the entire world.

 His own form grew increasingly faint.

 He possessed little power of his own, but his divine status did not.

 The cost, however, was his life.

 Today was the first day of his existence, and also the last.

 Si Qing's figure faded until it was almost invisible. He came to a halt, turned, and gazed with profound tenderness toward a certain point in the void.

 I'm sorry, Teacher.

 Si Qing… is going to break our promise.

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