Chapter 112: You Can't Make Promises to Deities Lightly

"It seems you've noticed too!"

Noticing Feng Xue's expression, the Weather Goddess nodded lightly, her face wearing an "I knew it" look, and raised one finger.

"To be honest, I'm not entirely sure—I only know his physical condition doesn't match having drifted at sea for ten days; in terms of hunger, he's been starving for at most three days, and his injuries don't resemble storm damage or collisions. Though he tried to conceal them, they look more like deliberate human infliction."

"So this man was rescued, then beaten up, and finally escaped back?"

Though Feng Xue already had a more plausible theory in mind, he still tested with a slightly naive guess.

After all, this was a deity born from a "cross-domain voice linkage"—who knew if her logic was even sane? At this moment, Feng Xue had already decided: if the Weather Goddess so much as nodded, he'd leave immediately—no matter what reward she offered, he'd walk out even through the storm!

"Really? Do I really have to say it out loud?" The Weather Goddess made a painfully meme-like expression of distress, then sighed; her previously vibrant, youthful face turned solemn.

If not for the fact that just a second ago she'd been utterly innocent and carefree, Feng Xue would've sworn she'd switched bodies!

But after switching states, the Weather Goddess no longer maintained her cute act—she spoke with perfect seriousness:

"When this believer underwent the examination, his faith was chaotic—fear, anxiety, strong malice, and intense anticipation. As his guardian deity, I cannot harshly judge a follower who just survived a shipwreck over such fluctuations in faith; he may simply harbor resentment for not receiving my protection during the disaster. But I can't explain this to other believers, for their devout faith would only trigger unnecessary complications."

Hearing this, Feng Xue finally exhaled in relief—but he didn't immediately accept or refuse. Instead, he pressed:

"What's your real demand? To warn the islanders of approaching enemies without linking it to the survivor? Or to quietly eliminate him?"

"No need! If I confirm he truly betrayed me and the island, I'll strike him down with divine punishment myself!"

The Weather Goddess shook her head gently, then spoke in a faint, timid voice:

"The real problem isn't the believer's betrayal—it's the outsiders he brought. I just used my divine power to scatter a band of pirates. This storm is troublesome; I might not have enough strength to spare. To reduce casualties among my followers, I need your help."

"I'm an outsider too. Are you sure I'll side with you?" Feng Xue's tone was calm, as if speaking to no more than an ordinary person—but the Weather Goddess didn't take offense. She simply nodded:

"You've secretly used my divine power, yet never harbored malice toward me, nor shown greed toward this island. If everyone were like you… sigh! I've already altered the surrounding currents and trade winds—why do ships still keep coming? Is this tiny island really that tempting?"

As she spoke, she suddenly seemed to recall something, extended her hand, and condensed a glowing orb of faith-energy in her palm. If you listened closely, you could faintly hear thunder rumbling inside the orb:

"You seem interested in divine power—I noticed you electrocuted fish earlier. How about this storm energy as a down payment? If you help resolve the coming trouble, I'll allow you to 'ascend the mountain for pilgrimage'! I've got many relics left behind by past worshippers. Aside from my favorite juicer, you can pick any one to take with you!"

Feng Xue had nearly moved to seize the faith-energy when her words made him freeze. After a brief pause, he shook his head:

"I can only guarantee I won't become your enemy or your followers' enemy. If the threat is too strong, I'll leave."

Feng Xue made no grand promises, nor outright refusal. The Weather Goddess wasn't surprised by this reply—she simply extended the storm-energy orb toward him:

"Then it's settled! It's only three days—once this storm passes, no matter how many come, I won't fear them! But since you won't be going all out, I'll reward you according to your actual contribution."

"Perfect," Feng Xue nodded lightly, not correcting her misstatement—"not unwilling to go all out," when he meant "unwilling to act at all." Oddly, the Weather Goddess puffed out her cheeks like a devout follower, then turned and left the tent.

Only after the goddess had vanished did Sara suddenly speak:

"She's really the Weather Goddess?"

Feng Xue merely rolled his eyes. Seeing she got no reply, Sara didn't mind and continued:

"Do you believe her?"

"About one-third," Feng Xue shook his head. "Except for the fact that the believer is suspicious, everything else—her need to fight the storm, her lack of power—is pure lies."

"How do you know that?" Sara ran her database, but found no basis for Feng Xue's deductions.

"Call it instinct. She came here solely to confirm my stance, using feigned weakness as a warning. By mentioning she 'detected issues in the believer's thoughts,' 'sensed you using her divine power,' and 'noticed you using electricity to fish,' she's reminding me she's been monitoring your every move. As for whether you have malice—she probably only judged that once she got close enough."

Feng Xue offered no concrete proof, but after hearing him, Sara nodded:

"So you're saying all this openly? Isn't that risky?"

"It's fine," Feng Xue lightly squeezed the faith-energy orb, pulled out a blue jade tablet, and slipped it inside. Then he explained:

"This isn't just a down payment—it's a spiritual covenant. You can't make promises to deities lightly; once made, you must fulfill them. But conversely, as long as you honor the pact, the deity can't break the rules. She tried to trick me into uttering words that would let her rewrite the covenant—but failed. Now the contract is sealed; I don't need to worry about her finding fault. By the way, can you check what this little wind chime is from? I feel like her character design might be more complicated than it seems."

Sara solemnly scanned her database, then shook her dog head: "Regrettably, my database has no record of this IP."

(End of Chapter)