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March 1 - March 8, 2024
Thus, he descended to the Mortal Realm without looking back. Naturally, the whole nation of Xianle rejoiced. However, ever since ancient times there had been one truth the people always spoke of in the human world: there would never be a good outcome when gods descended to the Mortal Realm without permission.
When the people call you a god, you are a god. If they call you crap, you are crap. You are whatever they say you are. It had always been thus.
It was unthinkable that things would reach this point, where now, if one was to say “the son you gave birth to is the crown prince of Xianle,” it would be a curse more malicious than “may you die without sons.”
“Congratulations, you have won first place on the chart of ‘Heavenly Official Most Hoped to be Banished Down to the Mortal Realm’ of this calendar cycle.”
General Xuan Zhen was the Martial God of the Southwest who possessed seven thousand temples; his name in the human world was considerably distinguished, and this General Xuan Zhen’s real name was Mu Qing. Eight hundred years ago, he was a deputy general at the Xianle Palace of the Crown Prince.
However, when the Kingdom of Xianle fell and Xie Lian was banished to the mortal world, Mu Qing didn’t follow him. Not only did he not follow, he never even spoke a word in Xie Lian’s favor. Either way, the crown prince was gone, so he was free.
In the past, one was in the heavens and one on earth. Now, there was still one in the heavens and one on earth—it was simply that their positions had switched completely, that’s all.
Nan Yang-zhenjun was the Martial God of the Southeast. He possessed eight thousand temples and was incredibly loved by the people. His real name was Feng Xin, and eight hundred years ago, he was the number one heavenly general of the Xianle Palace of the Crown Prince.
He grew up with Xie Lian; they entered the heavens together, were banished together, and drifted together. Unfortunately, they couldn’t endure all eight hundred years together. In the end, it was an unhappy separation as each went their own way, never to meet again.
But the truth was thus: he was just the type who could pick up the single poisoned cup in a thousand cups of wine.