CHAPTER 37 — The Silence Between Prayers (Part One)
The golden light vanished without warning.
No explosion.
No final threat.
The messenger dissolved like mist touched by wind, the scripture-rings collapsing into nothing. The seam in the sky sealed itself, leaving only pale morning clouds drifting as if nothing had happened.
Falling Petal Valley grew still.
Too still.
Lian was the first to move. She staggered upright, breathing hard, eyes scanning the sky like she expected it to split open again.
"It retreated…" she whispered.
Not defeated.
Not destroyed.
Retreated.
Zheng Wen Te remained on his knees.
His body felt heavy, but not from spiritual pressure.
From something else.
Expectation.
He waited.
He didn't know what he was waiting for.
A voice.
A command.
A reassurance.
Anything.
Shangdi had spoken to him before. Through giants. Through revelation. Through unbearable spectacle that covered the world.
When the messenger descended, Zheng Wen Te had felt it — that same divine presence watching.
So now he waited for it to speak again.
To explain.
To protect.
To say:
This is part of the plan.
But nothing came.
No warmth in his chest.
No whisper in his mind.
Only the wind moving through fallen petals.
The girl stood a few steps away, her breathing finally uneven.
She was staring at him.
Not with accusation.
Not even with sorrow.
But with understanding.
"You felt it too," she said quietly.
Zheng Wen Te lifted his head.
"Felt what?"
"The pause."
He frowned.
"The moment it decided not to interfere."
Lian looked between them. "Interfere? It just tried to drag him into speaking your sealed name."
The girl shook her head slightly.
"No. That was the messenger."
Her eyes settled on Zheng Wen Te again.
"I'm talking about the one you believe in."
A faint chill moved through him.
"You're wrong," he said automatically.
But the words lacked weight.
Because when the messenger forced his mouth open…
When the scripture-ring twisted the air…
When Heaven tried to use him like a mouthpiece—
Shangdi had done nothing.
No shield.
No interruption.
No resistance.
Just silence.
The girl stepped closer.
"Tell me," she asked gently.
"When the world was shown your despair… did you ask for that?"
His breath caught.
Memories flickered.
The global light-screen. His lowest moments exposed. His shame broadcast.
"No," he said.
"And yet," she continued softly, "it happened."
Lian stiffened. "Careful."
But Zheng Wen Te wasn't listening anymore.
Because something uncomfortable was forming inside him.
A question he had not dared to ask.
If he was chosen…
Why was he never consulted?
The wind passed through the valley again.
And for the first time since the apocalypse began—
Zheng Wen Te did not feel guided.
He felt observed.