Chapter 322: Cheng Shi

Wang Yang saw Xiao Baoyue frozen like a wooden statue, shook his head, and a sigh escaped his throat, mingling with the crackling of the fire basin on the altar—carrying the weight of centuries, as if a god had descended to the mortal world and grown weary of humanity's folly and forgetfulness:

"Foolish child, two hundred years ago I chose Yidu; a hundred years ago I selected you as my servant. Now the Yidu tribe has appeared, and I have descended—yet you have not awakened even a fraction of your soul's imprint?"

The barbarians stared, dumbfounded; Baoyue listened, stunned.

What... what imprint??

Xiao Baoyue, a noblewoman of a marquis family, had never faced such a scene—she froze solid on the altar!

This was her second brush with death; though terrified and shaken, after last night's battle, she was no longer paralyzed by panic.

She forced herself to calm down, swiftly sorting out the current situation—

She and Wang Yang had been captured by the Yidu barbarians; both were Han, and falling into their hands meant certain death! They were about to be burned alive, and now Wang Yang had staged this act—trying to impersonate Panhu the Divine to save himself! But even if he played the god perfectly, he was still just a mortal—easily exposed!!!

How should I respond...

Where's your cleverness, Xiao Deng?!

Use it!! Why are you just standing there pretending to be thoughtful!!

Wang Yang seethed inwardly, his gaze lifting slightly, his eyes colder than before; his fingers twitched slightly at his side, as if brushing away invisible dust:

"Only a hundred years have passed, yet you've grown this dull. Enough. The mortal body decays; the spirit fades. I shall grant you one more chance."

Wang Yang assumed the posture of Kaxi, hands forming seals, sleeves swirling as he chanted:

"The spirit platform is dust-covered; the soul's light is dim. Divine servant, return to your place—soul seal, summon the truth—OPEN!"

Wang Yang swept his sleeve and pointed straight at Xiao Baoyue's forehead!

Baoyue blinked rapidly, then her body instantly stiffened—as if struck by invisible force—and collapsed outright!

The barbarians erupted in chaos!

Wang Yang exhaled slightly in relief.

Watching Baoyue twitch on the ground, imitating his earlier act: though delayed by half a beat, exaggerated in motion, no rolled eyes, no sound—perhaps fearing her acting was too weak and would backfire? Or perhaps due to her ingrained noblewoman's dignity? Either way, though she tried her best, the performance still felt amateurish, lacking the chilling aura of the divine.

But she had the courage to convulse publicly—she'd thrown caution to the wind.

Seventy points. Passing.

Baoyue's convulsions gradually slowed, then her body stiffened completely, motionless upon the altar. Her chest heaved violently, beads of sweat glistened on her temples, dampening her disheveled hair—but she dared not open her eyes.

She had poured all her strength into mimicking Wang Yang's convulsions, nerves taut the entire time; now she felt utterly drained. But she knew she couldn't stop! After a moment's pause, she forced herself upright, looked at Wang Yang, and wore an expression of stunned joy. She immediately knelt.

Perhaps she could no longer stand—or perhaps the convulsions had shattered her "idol image"—either way, she knelt with startling decisiveness! Bowing low, her body trembling, she discarded all dignity and cried out in a quavering voice:

"Your humble servant Baoyue welcomes the Supreme, Boundless, Holy Panwang, descending upon mortal soil!!!!"

Clang!

A barbarian soldier dropped his spear.

The sound rang out sharply in the deathly silence.

Yet no one glanced at the soldier—not even he himself looked down; all mouths hung open, eyes glazed, staring blankly at the altar, spears still clutched as if nailed to the spot.

Baoyue heard no reaction from below and grew anxious—but the deed was done. She gritted her teeth and pressed on. Whether to reassure herself or because she truly believed in Wang Yang, a ridiculous thought arose in her heart: no matter what happened, as long as Wang Yang was here, there was still hope!

She had never imagined that the petty thief she despised daily had become her last hope in this desperate plight—her only lifeline to reverse certain death!

Kneeling before Wang Yang, she drew a deep breath, bowed her head even lower, and with all her strength steadied her trembling voice to cry out:

"The hundred-year pact has come. We humbly beg Panwang to issue his divine decree: command the divine emissary to assume his station and save the barbarian tribe!"

At the words "divine emissary," the previously silent crowd finally stirred with hushed gasps!

Wang Yang rejoiced inwardly—not because the barbarians reacted, but because Kong Kong Kong Kong Kong Kong Kong Zhangyu had told him: the Yidu barbarians firmly believed Panhu would send a divine emissary to save their tribe. Since no emissary had ever come, they had no leader. So Wang Yang's original plan had been to impersonate the divine emissary!

Directly impersonating the god was too risky—especially among barbarians so devout to Panhu. Without supreme divine power, even a temporary deception would collapse. But a divine emissary was different: he was the god's messenger, yet still human—offering far greater room for maneuver.

Yet simply declaring himself the emissary would be unconvincing and fail to command authority, leaving no time to build momentum. So he had to first "summon" the god, then pretend to be the emissary. Just as he was pondering how to transition naturally into the emissary role, Baoyue had uttered that plea—far better than if he'd said it himself!

Bonus points! Must add points!

Eighty points!

Wang Yang didn't even glance at Baoyue—as if her plea were but a speck of dust, unworthy of the god's notice.

He stepped across the stone altar, walking straight past Baoyue to the front, his aura of supreme disdain for all mortals radiating around him, his eyes like ancient cold stars sweeping over the barbarians.

The barbarians had not yet recovered from this event beyond their comprehension—believers forgot to believe, skeptics forgot to doubt; all held their breath, frozen as ice.

Wang Yang slowly raised his right hand, index finger pointing straight to the heavens:

"Above the heavens, there is a god—only I am supreme."

Then his finger descended, pointing to the earth:

"Below the earth, there is a tribe—only Yidu receives grace."

Wang Yang pointed to himself:

"In between stands the divine emissary—upholding heavenly might, protecting Yidu. Above and below, there is only this one."

Baoyue knew it was all false, yet she grew more terrified with every word.

This aura was too overwhelming—this man won't try to crown himself as king, will he...

As for the barbarians who revered Panwang to the extreme, they were utterly stunned. Even the chief shaman of the entire Yidu tribe had never spoken such fiery, commanding words!

Wang Yang pointed at himself:

"This man, this body, surnamed Wang, named Yang, possesses great fortune—he shall prosper Yidu."

Baoyue was speechless:...

"All he speaks is my will; all he teaches is my Dao. To see this man is to see me; to revere this man is to revere me."

Baoyue whispered: Impressive...

"Revere him, love him, believe in him, obey him—and your tribe shall flourish."

"Doubt him, slander him, scorn him, insult him—and your tribe shall perish."

Baoyue was stunned: This man speaks as if it's truth—he's making me almost believe it... But why say "perish" instead of something worse? Why not say "your tribe shall be utterly annihilated"?

"As long as this man lives, within seven days, Yidu shall receive good tidings."

"If this man dies, within seven days, Yidu shall be exterminated."

Baoyue suddenly understood: Ah, so that's it... If doubting or slandering him meant annihilation, the path would be completely sealed—with no room for compromise. First, impersonating a divine emissary is inherently implausible; doubt and slander are inevitable. If doubt arises and the tribe isn't destroyed, after one or two instances, the people will whisper; after three or four, the god's authority collapses. Too many times, divine warnings become a joke. Second, after doubt arises, they might descend into despair—thinking "we're doomed anyway," they'd rather die together. But Wang Yang's wording makes them dare not harm him... What sharp thinking...

"The divine decree is delivered; the karmic fate is sealed. Your rise or fall rests with you. Act wisely."

Wang Yang finished speaking, his body went limp—as if all his bones had been removed—and collapsed to the ground.

Seeing the barbarians still silent, Baoyue's heart sank half-dead. She thought: I've already played the slave and convulsed—I've lost all dignity. Might as well go all in! Crawling forward on her knees, she pleaded in the most humble, reverent tone:

"Divine Emissary? Divine Emissary!"

She knew Wang Yang was faking unconsciousness—but she couldn't help fearing he might never wake.

Fortunately, Wang Yang opened his eyes the next moment; the stone in Baoyue's chest eased slightly. Then she watched him perform a textbook act: first, his eyes wandered blankly around, as if unaware of his surroundings. Then he pressed his hand to his forehead, brows furrowed, as if suffering a headache—the confusion in his gaze slowly replaced the blankness:

"I... I seem to have seen the Divine Sovereign—"

Here he suddenly paused, as if recalling something, his gaze instantly sharpening!

He struggled to sit up, but his "weakness" made him sway; Baoyue rushed to support him, instinctively adding: "Panwang has departed..."

"No! The Divine Sovereign has not departed!"

Wang Yang's eyes blazed with urgency; he shoved away Baoyue's help, gripped the cold stone surface, and frantically turned his body—as if searching for traces of the god's lingering presence!

Suddenly—

He stopped, gazing westward, imagining the scene of seeing his mother, tears welling in his eyes, voice trembling and hoarse:

"Divine Sovereign! Wang Yang remembers!!!"

Then he nodded repeatedly, choking out "yes yes," "Divine Sovereign, rest assured," "I will," as if conversing with an invisible presence.

Baoyue sighed, utterly awed.

She knew Wang Yang was acting—but she couldn't help being moved by him; an indescribable emotion rose in her chest, making her nose sting. She had performed her own "awakening" with effort, but compared to this, it was pitiful.

She glanced below the altar: the barbarians stirred, bodies trembling, chests heaving, faces flushed, eyes wide—but not a single voice spoke.

Why?

Why no support?

Why no declaration?

Baoyue felt uneasy, but Wang Yang knew: for a group steeped in such superstition, when it came to sacred matters of Panwang, they lacked both the ability and the courage to question. Their silence wasn't due to disbelief—it was due to fear. So now they needed a catalyst: something reasonable, stirring, allowing them to avoid direct commitment while still sweeping them into momentum.

Wang Yang straightened, adjusted his robes, then spread his arms wide like a great goose nesting, and knelt flat upon the ground! His entire upper body pressed against the altar, forehead slamming hard against the stone!

"We humbly bid farewell to Panwang's divine carriage returning to heaven! May our King's divine might endure forever, his sacred Dao flourish eternally!"

Wang Yang's prayer echoed above the altar, like a stone cast into a still pond—after a brief silence, ripples finally spread!

"We humbly bid farewell to Panwang's divine carriage returning to heaven!"

"May our King's divine might endure forever!"

"May his sacred Dao flourish eternally!"

One by one, the barbarians began kneeling with Wang Yang; the chorus swelled. Those deceived most deeply chanted the prayers over and over, many voices breaking into sobs. The undecided were swept along, kneeling and chanting too. The cries merged into a single wave—until even those who doubted or outright disbelieved Wang Yang's words, pressured by the crowd, knelt as well. This didn't mean they believed he was the emissary—it meant Wang Yang's excuse was too perfect—

Who dares not bid farewell to Panwang? Who dares not praise Panwang?

Even the junior shaman gritted his teeth and bowed. Soon, not a single person dared remain standing.

Baoyue witnessed and participated in the entire process, feeling as if she had accomplished some grand, majestic feat—her heart surged with emotion!

She had handled many difficult tasks, participated in great events—but never had any given her this feeling! Not one!

Cheng Shi.

Wang Yang listened to the fervent roar behind him, slowly rose, brushed the dust from his robes, then stood and walked to the center of the altar, raised both hands, and made a gesture to silence.

Soon, the once-fervent roar gradually subsided!

When the last sound faded, Wang Yang lowered his hands, gazed down at the sea of kneeling barbarians below, like a solitary peak awaiting thunder and storm, and spoke coldly:

"Those who believe in me, stand firm. Those who doubt me, step forward."

The barbarian crowd fell silent.

Baoyue—

A sudden thud.

——————

Note: Chapter 218 of "Assuming the Langya Surname": "Their tribes were loosely organized, composed of various clans that jointly worshipped Panhu God, believing that Panhu God would send divine envoys to save the tribe. Without a divine envoy, they had no leader, and governance was shared among the chieftains of the three largest clans. Yet, lacking a universally recognized leader, these three chieftains held little real power and could not control the entire Yidu barbarian tribe."

Chapter 218: "..... The Yidu barbarians are a branch of the Changsha-Changsha Changsha Wuling barbarians (C), who migrated to Jingzhou only during the Later Han dynasty. They had long adopted the Chinese language and script, yet were the most resistant to Han culture! When they captured Han people, they sacrificed them to Panhu God......"

Regarding the Yidu barbarians' belief that Panwang speaks Chinese, see Note ③ of Chapter 327.