Chapter 120: Even Not Half as Pretty as Qingwan!!

Holding the Patriarch’s tablet in his hands, the cold wooden texture gave Lu Yuan’s wildly beating heart a sliver of comfort.

However, invoking the Patriarch's possession was not as simple as calling Gu Qingwan.

For Gu Qingwan’s bone token, Lu Yuan only had to think once and she would come.

But to invite the Patriarch to possess someone, if one has no zhenran inside, various ritual steps must be followed to "summon."

Right now, under these circumstances, there was no way to go through those complicated procedures.

He had to use his zhen to summon the Patriarch.

And at the moment, his zhenran was empty as a void, not even able to muster a breeze.

To summon the Patriarch, he had to wait for the zhenran inside his body to recover.

Fortunately, the zhenran required to invoke the Patriarch was not much,

Only, that newly deified presence high above might not give him even those two minutes.

Moonlight poured like water, spilling across the desolate land of Luo Yan Slope that had just been soaked in blood.

It was no longer a cold, clear radiance, but a viscous, flowing light-liquid converging from all directions toward the towering silhouette in the sky, paying homage.

High above, the being who had just completed her ultimate transformation into a deity stood barefoot upon a nebula of condensed spiritual energy and mist.

Thirty strands of black hair moved as if without wind, trailing ink-colored afterimages behind her.

She bowed her head slightly, eyes like a starry sky looking down at the five people collapsed on the ground.

There was no killing intent in that gaze, no resentment, not even the violent madness common to twisted idols,

only a kind of... pure curiosity chilling to the bone.

On her flawless face, that barely-there, half-smile still lingered,

but the two brows, like distant mountains dusted with ink, arched ever so slightly in an almost imperceptible curve.

She was puzzled.

Why had these five people not turned into porcelain just now?

They showed not even the slightest sign of petrification.

Of course, Lu Yuan and the others didn't turn into porcelain because, inside the illusion formation earlier, the five of them had not been affected.

So naturally they wouldn't transform.

The Deity of Beauty’s gaze lingered on Xu Erxiao for two breaths, then moved to Wang Cheng'an.

These two had the lowest cultivation, and had already been mesmerized.

Her gaze then shifted to Tan Jiji and Shen Shulan, who still retained a sliver of clarity.

Finally, it fixed on Lu Yuan.

Lu Yuan gave no reaction.

Not even a hint of infatuation or fear.

On the Deity of Beauty's immaculate face, for the first time a very faint expression resembling "confusion" appeared.

She blinked.

Her red lips parted.

A voice rang directly into the depths of everyone’s souls,

"Am I beautiful~"

Those three words spilled from those flawless red lips.

It was not merely a voice.

Or rather, not entirely a voice.

It was something more fundamental.

The concept of "beauty" itself vibrating, the rule of "beauty" whispering.

It was the word-spirit formed by countless broken lives’ collective longing and obsession for "beauty."

She had perfected into a god!

She no longer clung to becoming more beautiful.

What she craved now was recognition!

The moment the soundwaves spread, the moonlight on Luo Yan Slope warped.

Moonlight no longer fell evenly, but streamed like water toward the silhouette in the sky.

A soft halo formed around her.

Within the halo, lavish illusions shimmered, faint echoes of celestial music drifted,

and silhouettes of all things most beautiful in the world appeared at their extreme forms.

Peach blossoms at the first blush of spring, the fullest moon of an autumn night, bioluminescent coral in the deep sea, crystals on a mountain that never melt...

This was no longer a ritual method.

It was the "presence" that naturally emanates when the concept of "beauty" becomes incarnate.

The first to collapse was Wang Cheng'an.

He was the closest, had the lowest cultivation, and his spirit had been shaken when he witnessed the Deity of Beauty’s transformation earlier.

When those three words were poured into his ears—no, directly into his soul—

Wang Cheng'an’s whole body lurched.

His limp body, which had been slumped on the ground, slowly straightened.

It was not his will to rise; some force gripped his spine, vertebra by vertebra, "lifting" him out of his limp state.

His eyes stared fixedly at the silhouette in the sky.

His pupils began to dilate.

The Deity of Beauty’s figure kept expanding in his pupils, gradually filling his entire sight, filling his entire consciousness.

"Beau—"

Wang Cheng'an's lips trembled as he uttered the syllable.

His voice had changed.

No longer the loud, crude noise he used to make while swearing, it became soft, intoxicated, carrying a tremulous piety:

"Beau... so beautiful...

The blood and grime on his face, under that invisible divine light, transformed into the paint on a saint's visage.

He shakily raised his hand, reaching into the air as if to touch the hem of that unreachable robe.

"How can... you be so beautiful...

His breathing hitched into spasms, his chest heaving violently; each heartbeat seemed to answer the god's summons with life itself.

"Everything of mine... is yours..."

Wang Cheng'an murmured in a daze, his eyes hollow and fanatical.

Like a devout believer finally beheld the god he had worshipped his whole life.

He whispered, voice growing softer, eyes more infatuated:

"Please... let me... look at you more..."

The second was Xu Erxiao.

He had been clenching his jaw to stay conscious.

But when those three words poured into his mind—

Xu Erxiao froze.

The head he had been turning was forced straight by an invisible giant hand, little by little turning back toward the sky.

His eyes met those starry ones above.

"Fu—"

Xu Erxiao's lips moved, trying to curse.

But that "fuck" got stuck in his throat and could not be finished,

because his brain was being violently washed, overwritten, remolded by another thing.

He saw—not with his eyes, but with a deeper perception violently yanked open—

he saw the starlight flowing from the deity’s hair, saw the faint spiritual vein patterns under her skin.

He saw the countless moments of joy and sorrow contained in the corner of her smile,

those distilled, extreme emotions turning into a kind of heartbreaking beauty.

This beauty transcended gender, transcended desire, even transcended life and death.

It struck the deepest parts of the soul, awakening an organism’s most primitive, most instinctive yearning for "beauty."

Like moths to flame.

Like sunflowers to the sun.

"Goddamn..."

A strange sound escaped Xu Erxiao's throat. He wanted to look away, but his eyes were nailed in place.

His large body began to tremble—not with fear, but with an uncontrollable urge to draw closer.

"Pretty..."

Xu Erxiao's gaze dissolved completely.

He grinned with a foolish smile that did not match his fat face:

"Really pretty..."

"Even... prettier than Wang Er Ya from our village..."

The third was Tan Jiji.

But Tan Jiji did not succumb to this so-called "beauty."

His lips moved, his voice cold, ancient, emotionless,

as if some ancestor of the Punishing the Netherworld Tan Family spoke through him:

"Beauty... is illusory...

"Appearance... will rot."

"Divinity... will also be sullied..."

"The Tan family blood... is not deceived by the surface..."

This was the Tan family bloodline instinctively resisting, using centuries-old inherited "reason" to fight the invasion of "beauty."

However—

High above, the Deity of Beauty tilted her head slightly and looked at Tan Jiji.

A glint of... interest flickered in her starry eyes.

She parted her red lips and uttered two words:

"Really?"

This time, the two words carried a strength of "doubt" that struck directly at the ancestor inside Tan Jiji’s body.

The force pierced into the depths of Tan Jiji’s bloodline,

crack—

there was a sound of the soul fracturing.

Tan Jiji groaned, black blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

That old, cold energy within him vanished instantly, replaced by a more frenzied greed.

"Let me... be clear..."

Tan Jiji stretched out a trembling hand, his fingertips tracing the air as if to copy that flawless outline.

His voice returned to itself, hoarse and mad.

"How did you... become like this...

"Tell me... I want it too..."

The last was Shen Shulan.

Among them, she had the most steadfast Dao-heart.

When the question "Am I beautiful?" rang in her mind, she bit her tongue until it bled, the pain and iron tang keeping her barely lucid.

Her right hand gripped the sword hilt hard, her left hand formed the guarding-heart seal, silently reciting the Heart-Clearing incantation from the Jade Pivot Thunder Scripture.

Yet... it was useless.

That force was not a spell, not an incantation; it was the rule itself.

Like water, it penetrated every pore.

Like wind, it was everywhere.

It did not ask you; it declared the answer directly inside you.

"Am I beautiful~"

Those three words reverberated and amplified within Shen Shulan’s mental world until they resonated.

She heard a voice from the deepest part of herself answering.

"Yes."

It was her own voice.

The most primitive, unvarnished instinctive answer after stripping away all Dao techniques, rules, and reason.

Shen Shulan's face instantly drained of color.

She knew she could not hold on.

Because she could not lie—this was indeed an extreme beauty, beyond her twenty-plus years of cultivation’s cognitive boundary, unimaginable,

a beauty so absolute you could not deny it; a beauty that made you, knowing it was wrong, still unable to help stealing a glance.

This beauty even made you feel denying it was itself a sin.

"No..."

Shen Shulan squeezed the word out between her teeth, the sound as light as a feather.

Her vision blurred; her consciousness peeled away.

The silhouette high above grew hazy and dreamlike under the moonlight, as if it were no longer a physical body,

but the condensation of every prayer about "beauty" in her heart.

She only wanted to embrace that illusion.

"I..."

Shen Shulan’s hand that held the sword went limp.

The long blade clanged and crashed onto the rubble.

She tilted her head back, moonlight lighting her pale cheek and the twin clear tears sliding from the corners of her eyes.

It was the final cry of her reason before it shattered completely.

"Beau—"

She finally whispered the word.

Then, as if all vitality had been drawn out of her, her body slowly pitched forward, knees hitting the ground, hands weakly propping her up.

In a posture almost like prostration, she bowed her proud head to the silhouette above, forehead nearly touching the ground.

Three thousand strands of blue-black hair fell, covering her face.

They covered the last thread of lucidity in her eyes.

Thus—

Xu Erxiao reached out with an idiotic smile, trying to embrace the void.

Wang Cheng'an murmured, willing to give all his soul.

Tan Jiji greedily stared, desiring the secret embodied as beauty.

Shen Shulan knelt and bowed, her Dao-heart utterly collapsed.

All four were ensnared.

Only one remained unfallen.

Lu Yuan looked at the four idiots around him with a baffled expression, then glanced up at that so-called "Deity of Beauty" in the sky.

Honestly...

Lu Yuan truly did not understand why he was unharmed.

Could it be that the Dao heart method was protecting him?

But that couldn’t be right; the small amount of zhenran that had just recovered in his body was all being saved to summon the Patriarch—he hadn’t dared to use any of it.

Was there some treasure secretly helping him?

Lu Yuan checked around but found nothing.

So why?

Lu Yuan truly couldn't figure it out.

But one thing he had understood clearly from start to finish was this:

This "Deity of Beauty"...

Well... wasn't all that great!!

Of course, when Lu Yuan said "not great," he didn’t mean she wasn’t pretty.

She was, of course, beautiful.

Damn near godly beautiful—how could she not be?

But Lu Yuan felt... maybe it was a bit overblown?

That's it?

With this level you can be called the "Deity of Beauty"?

Was his aesthetic sense wrong??

In Lu Yuan's eyes, if you were to name the prettiest person under heaven,

well...

that would have to be Gu Qingwan!

Especially the day Lu Yuan had put a new dress on Gu Qingwan, then set her eyes in place.

The moment Gu Qingwan opened her eyes in front of him...

My sweetie~~

That was the true face-flipping, world-toppling beauty—limitless beauty!

Lu Yuan didn't dare to imagine what Gu Qingwan would look like once fully restored.

The so-called "Deity of Beauty" in front of him…

hmm, not even half as pretty as Gu Qingwan!

So this "Deity of Beauty," in Lu Yuan’s ranking, could come in second?

No!

Big, big mistake!!

On looks alone, the "Deity of Beauty" at best tied with Aunt Qiao'er and Aunt Qin for second place.

But...

only for facial looks!

As for the body...

hmm...

Number three!

Actually, this deity’s body proportions were near perfect, a golden ratio, but maybe Lu Yuan's aesthetic standards were... a bit perverse.

Lu Yuan favored that ultimate fleshy, mature plumpness that verged on lewdity—let’s be blunt!

It had to be like Aunt Qiao'er and Aunt Qin, when they walked their hips swayed and all the beautiful flesh trembled!

This "Deity of Beauty"?!

Nowhere near that!!!!

What is that?!

Moreover, Aunt Qiao'er and Aunt Qin—Lu Yuan had inspected their cards personally!!

On the wedding night, that night—

one red and one purple, two peerless big mares piled on the kang bed.

Aunt Qin below, Aunt Qiao'er on top.

Now that was beauty!!

This "Deity of Beauty" was nothing!!

Lu Yuan did not know whether it was his perverse taste that saved him,

but from the start of this so-called deity’s rise to her use of word-spirit to seek recognition,

Lu Yuan only shook his head faintly.

Talk about infatuation, talk about intoxication?

Give me a break—Lu Yuan had not reacted at all.

If it had been someone else—say Aunt Qiao'er or Aunt Qin on that kang bed—

Lu Yuan would have leapt on long ago!

This "Deity of Beauty"... was just so-so!

At this moment, under the moonlit sky, the Deity of Beauty looked down at Xu Erxiao, Wang Cheng'an, Tan Jiji, and Shen Shulan’s reactions.

Satisfaction overflowed on her flawless face.

Finally, her radiance settled on Lu Yuan.

When she saw Lu Yuan’s bored, even slightly disdainful expression,

for the first time, the Deity of Beauty’s exquisitely carved face showed a puzzled blankness.

She seemed utterly unable to understand why a mortal could be indifferent to "beauty."

"Am I... not beautiful?"

She spoke, a hint of confusion born of divinity in her voice.

At that moment, Lu Yuan suddenly pulled the Patriarch’s tablet from behind him, stared up at the sky, and shouted angrily:

"Not even half as pretty as Qingwan!!"

"You beautiful my ass!! You’re drunk on your own hype!!!"

The next second, the sliver of zhenran that had just returned to his body poured entirely into the Patriarch’s tablet!

He used every ounce of his strength to release an earth-shattering roar:

"Patriarch, save me!!"