Chapter 125 God's Garden and He Jianzhu
The clock ticked.
Uncle Yun returned to the kitchen to continue working. Xia Feng gazed at the withered jasmine outside the window for a moment before turning back and blinking.
"If we don't worship the gods, we'll be punished by them. Do you think we should worship the gods?"
Mu Qingtong shook her head. "In a high-risk disaster scenario like this, where the information is highly questionable, we only need to follow one principle: 'surface safety must come with greater hidden dangers.' There's nothing more to discuss."
"Oh, that." Xia Feng rubbed his forehead. He had expected Mu Qingtong to elaborate, but her reasoning was blunt and straightforward. Still, it made sense.
Even if they didn't know whether the Sky God was a disaster beast or a neutral entity governing this place, worshiping it supposedly granted protection and avoided divine wrath. If that were true, why complicate things?
Might as well proceed without hesitation.
"Speaking of which, you're here to investigate your mother's whereabouts. Where do you plan to start?" Xia Feng transmitted his question silently.
The reply came instantly: "Let it be."
"?" Xia Feng was speechless. Was this woman truly here to find He Jianzhu? Her indifference was baffling.
Before he could press further, Mu Qingtong's voice echoed in his mind again.
"That old man and Xiaowen, who hasn't come downstairs, are both 'orphans.' But this middle-aged man isn't."
Halfway through her words, Xia Feng understood her implication. She intended to kill Uncle Yun outright, then use a spirit weapon to hypnotize his soul for interrogation.
It was a ruthlessly efficient method. After all, the rules only prohibited attacking orphans.
At that moment, Uncle Yun emerged from the kitchen carrying a steaming bowl of chicken soup.
His earlier enthusiasm returned as he smiled warmly. "Honored guests, please try my mother's chicken soup. It's delicious."
He ladled out two bowls and handed them spoons and chopsticks, his face creased with hospitality. "Make yourselves at home. No need to stand on ceremony."
"..."
Xia Feng and Mu Qingtong stared at the rich, golden broth before them.
"Oh, right." Uncle Yun's wrinkled eyes gleamed with a knowing smile. "You've been sitting here for so long. Haven't you worshiped the gods yet?"
Xia Feng smirked but avoided a direct answer. Instead, he pointed at the dark red shrine near the toilet. "Uncle Yun, why is there an apple tree on the altar?"
The shrine held no statue—only a half-meter-tall miniature tree bearing two crisp red fruits resembling apples.
"That's not an apple tree." Uncle Yun's expression turned solemn. "It's the Tree of Grace. After you worship, the Sky God will imbue the fruits with divine favor. Each of you may then pluck one. Those who eat the blessed fruit will gain the God's protection and no longer incur divine wrath."
"Oh, I see." Xia Feng grinned. "Sounds impressive."
"So, honored guests, it's almost noon. I suggest you hurry. Even the Sky God dislikes tardy worshippers."
Your excuse for rushing us is… creative. Xia Feng's grin widened as he fixed the middle-aged man with a piercing stare. "But what if we refuse to worship?"
The man's humble smile remained, but as Xia Feng's gaze bore into him, his lips gradually stiffened.
"Refuse… to worship?"
The dining room's dim ceiling light flickered.
A heavy silence lingered for two seconds before the middle-aged man slowly lowered his head. Shadows concealed the cold cunning twisting his lips.
"Hehe~ Well then, honored guests, you'll bow whether you want to or not!"
The moment he finished speaking, Xia Feng and Mu Qingtong's bodies went limp, collapsing onto their chairs.
[You have been attacked by the D-grade spirit weapon: Hand of the Dead Chicken.]
[Replicable spirit weapon detected: Hand of the Dead Chicken.]
"How shameless." Uncle Yun's voice turned icy as he rose, cracking his neck with indifference. "Those two outsiders earlier were easy to fool. You two are far more troublesome."
Slumped in their chairs, Xia Feng and Mu Qingtong remained eerily calm, their eyes devoid of panic.
[Replication successful—]
[D. Hand of the Dead Chicken: The scent of cooked chicken becomes your weapon. It can induce paralysis or even unconsciousness. The richer the aroma, the stronger the effect. If the target inhales the scent for over six hours, you may directly paralyze and damage their brain nerves, resulting in death.]
"..."
What kind of absurd spirit weapon is this? Xia Feng nearly choked. The abilities of these artifacts never ceased to amaze him.
"Old woman, get out here and help!" Uncle Yun barked toward the kitchen. The expressionless old woman shuffled out slowly.
"Drag these fools to the altar. If they won't worship willingly, we'll force them." The middle-aged man sneered, stepping toward Xia Feng—only to freeze abruptly, his pupils dilating in shock. "Wha—"
His mouth gaped before he collapsed face-first, horror twisting his features. This was… his own spirit weapon's power?
"Tsk tsk, not bad. Strange name, but the effect's decent." Xia Feng reclined in his chair, chuckling.
The old woman by the kitchen door paled as her son dropped. Trembling, she staggered back, her clouded eyes filled with dread.
"Damn—old hag! Guess I can't spare you either." The middle-aged man's venomous growl rose from the floor. The old woman shut her eyes, as if resigned to death.
Yet after two seconds, no paralyzing agony came. She cracked her eyelids open in confusion—only to see the man motionless, his eye sockets hollowed by golden crosses, his snarling expression frozen mid-snarl.
Her legs gave way. She slid down the wall, her voice a broken whisper. "A sin… This is a sin..."
Xia Feng observed coldly. Clearly, the old woman had inhaled the chicken's scent for too long. A mere thought from the middle-aged man could've killed her. Had she died, he'd have become an orphan—untouchable by outsiders.
The man had tried to exploit the rule: 'Do not harm orphans.'
But unfortunately, in the face of absolute strength, any plan was futile.
Though her body remained paralyzed, Mu Qingtong used her spirit weapon's power to force herself upright. She walked slowly to the middle-aged man, then drew a blade across his throat, cleanly severing his head from his neck.
The man's spirit hovered in the air, its eyes vacant.
Mu Qingtong ignored his lingering soul. Instead, she turned to the old woman slumped on the ground, her gaze icy. "Tell me everything you know."
"..."
The old woman stared silently at her son's corpse for a long time. No grief twisted her features—only a gradual dimming of her eyes before she finally sighed. "You must have guessed already. The idea that worship grants protection is a lie."
"Worshiping the gods doesn't bring safety. It scatters your soul, and the Tree of Grace devours it."
Her murky eyes fixed on the small apple tree atop the altar, her expression unreadable. "Do you see those two red fruits, girl? They were two people my son tricked last year."
"The God of the Sky promised that once the tree bears five fruits, the one who contributed most could leave this place. They'd enter the Garden of Gods, where every desire is fulfilled."
Xia Feng studied the "gift fruits," a chill creeping down his spine. So these were humans? Flesh transformed into fruit?
"The Garden of Gods?" Mu Qingtong's eyes narrowed. "Has anyone actually entered it?"
"Of course." The old woman's voice dropped. "I arrived here ten years ago, but this place became a disaster zone long before that. Every month, a few meet the quota. By now, hundreds—maybe thousands—have supposedly entered the Garden."
"But let's be honest—no one knows if it's real. Those who fulfill the quota vanish without a trace. No one sees where they go."
Probably dead. And if not, their fate's hardly better. Xia Feng kept the thought to himself.
"You've been here ten years?" Mu Qingtong pressed. "Then do you know He Jianzhu?"
"He Jianzhu?" The old woman paused, her gaze shifting oddly. "I don't know that name… but I do recall a female doctor surnamed He."
(End of Chapter)