Chapter 3: The Divine Attendant's Awe-Inspiring Presence
Shen Xianyu released the fish, letting it swim away, and found herself utterly bewildered.
What on earth was happening?
“Could it be... a fish raised by my great-great-grandfather?” she muttered to herself. “What kind of goldfish can speak human language?”
“This is no ordinary goldfish,” came a sudden, cool, low male voice. “It is a Wish Fish, formed from the collective wishes of the three thousand worlds. It can convey the voices of prayers.”
Startled, Shen Xianyu turned around to see, to her astonishment, a figure had appeared on the ground without her noticing.
A very small man!
No bigger than her palm, clad in ancient wide-sleeved robes, his attire immaculate as fresh snow, hair tied high, his refined and handsome face bearing a stern, unsmiling coldness, and a veil of hazy white light enveloped him.
He was the very picture of grace and divinity—clear and ethereal, like a god!
He drifted slowly in front of Shen Xianyu, and up close, his face was as flawless as jade, his eyes sharp as icy stars.
She was stunned by his aura and, still dazed, watched as he hovered in midair and performed a formal salute—
“Little God pays respects to the Yuanjun.”
Shen Xianyu: “???”
What was going on?
She remained silent, and so did he, holding his salute motionlessly.
Shen Xianyu pursed her lips, then blurted out without thinking, “You’re so tiny...”
Realizing her rudeness, she hurriedly corrected herself, “Ah, no, that’s not what I meant...”
“Little God is indeed small at present,” he replied, straightening up, expressionless. “I am a servant deity of the Celestial Palace. With the palace’s spiritual energy depleted, my spirit body has weakened. Appearing before Yuanjun in this form is already the extent of my strength.”
Shen Xianyu: “…………”
It was the first time she’d met a boy who admitted to being small—though, truthfully, he was... not large.
He seemed oblivious to her thoughts, continuing in a measured tone, “Since Yuanjun has arrived here, you must have heard the prayers from the three thousand worlds. Now, with the Celestial Palace’s spiritual energy waning, only limited prayers can be heard. I hope Yuanjun will fulfill these wishes, gather the world’s wish power, and restore the palace’s former glory.”
So much information poured out, Shen Xianyu felt completely muddled. Hearing him repeatedly mention the “Celestial Palace,” curiosity got the better of her. “Did you say this is the Celestial Palace?”
This pitch-black basement? Really?
She’d believe it was a cellar, a dungeon, or a pit—but to call it a palace? The environment hardly inspired faith!
The refined and aloof servant god lifted his eyes slightly and gazed at her. “The decline of the Celestial Palace was not wrought overnight. In the past hundred years, spiritual depletion has been especially severe. The previous Celestial Lord was inept at handling prayers, merely consuming spiritual energy without gathering wish power. Over time, the palace was reduced to...”
He turned leisurely, landing on a white tile that clearly differed from its surroundings, finishing his thought, “...reduced to this.”
Shen Xianyu was dumbstruck. “Are you saying... the Celestial Palace is down to a single tile?”
The servant god’s tone was cold and detached. “The previous Celestial Lord suffered an incurable illness. To prolong his life, he squandered the palace’s spiritual energy, forcibly extending his lifespan to one hundred and twenty-nine years. By then, the palace retained but a single tile and brick, with no spiritual energy remaining for him.”
She sensed he was describing her great-great-grandfather.
How absurd...
“If he was immortal, how could he suffer from an incurable disease?” she asked, puzzled.
The servant god heard her, his long brows twitching slightly, yet his demeanor remained stately and noble. “Celestial Lord is a title, not literal divinity. The last Celestial Lord was born of a union between immortal and mortal. Once spiritual energy runs out, he is no different from ordinary flesh—aging, sickness, and death are inevitable.”
Shen Xianyu: “Then why do you call me Yuanjun...”
The servant god saluted again, calmly stating, “The previous Celestial Lord has passed, and as his descendant, Yuanjun is heir to the Celestial Palace.”
Shen Xianyu: “But I, too, have an incurable illness.”
The servant god: “…………”
She could see a hint of stiffness on that handsome, cold face.
Feeling a bit guilty, she said awkwardly, “Sorry... I regret the palace’s current state, but... I really can’t help much...”
He was silent for a moment, then replied, “Yuanjun need not apologize. Little God serves the Celestial Palace; whatever Yuanjun decides, I shall obey.”
His words were humble, but his tone was chilly and unyielding. Shen Xianyu couldn’t help wondering if he bore a grudge against her, blaming her for his diminutive state.
She explained, troubled, “I... my grandfather, and his grandfather, we all had the will but not the power. We aren’t real immortals, after all. Those prayers are too difficult for us to fulfill—we really can’t help.”
The servant god remained impassive. “It matters not. If Yuanjun finds it daunting, you may begin with simpler wishes. As long as a wish is fulfilled, you can absorb the wish power and convert it to spiritual energy. In time, Yuanjun’s lifespan may also be extended.”
“But every wish is so hard!” Shen Xianyu burst out. “One wants a son, another seeks the real culprit, and someone’s even praying for rain—it’s all too absurd!”
He pondered briefly. “Yuanjun speaks truly. Yet, precisely because mortals cannot achieve these things, they turn to the gods. The prayer for rain likely requires water. If Yuanjun can provide enough water, the wish may be fulfilled.”
Shen Xianyu was taken aback. “...Will tap water do?”
The servant god nodded slightly. “It’s worth a try.”
She stared in astonishment; she had spoken offhand, but could it really work? Incredible—truly incredible! If his logic held, perhaps her cancer could be cured!
“Wait for me!”
She suddenly called out, dashed out of the basement, and soon returned carrying a bucket brimming with water, struggling down the stone steps to the servant god—
“Well... I couldn’t find the pipes, only this bucket,” she said, setting it down, cheeks flushed. “Can we try it?”
The servant god hovered in midair, watching her quietly for a moment, then bowed. “Little God obeys.”
As soon as he spoke, the goldfish chanting “Dragon God, bring rain” swam over, circling the two—
With each circuit, watery ripples shimmered in the air, and as the ripples spread, the surroundings shifted and changed. Gradually, Shen Xianyu saw a dried-up river, a few withered trees, and vast fields cracked with drought.
She felt embarrassed—this place was parched to such a degree, and she’d brought only a bucket of water. Yet she’d dared to ask the servant god to try?
The goldfish kept swimming, its circles widening, and the scene expanded further—
She saw a well appear in her view, surrounded by villagers in ancient attire, from toddlers of three or five to elders over sixty. They drew murky, yellow water from the well, tinged with mud, sipping cautiously in tiny mouthfuls, cherishing every precious drop.