A Pawn's Passage

The shadow upon the sun grew ever darker. It was no longer confined to its edge, rapidly spreading across the entire sun. The wavering dusk finally began giving way to night.

The prophecy of the Guizang Lantern had come true.

Although night had fallen, the sky did not become completely dark.

The darkness was merely a facade. Behind the veil of night lay layer upon layer of karmic fire.

The curtain of night was like a thin sheet of paper, which could never contain fire. The moon had overcome the sun, and night had swallowed the dusk, yet that was not the end. The transformation continued. Before long, the night could no longer contain the boundless karmic flames. Expanding scorched cracks had already appeared in certain places, revealing a crimson glow beneath.

Unfortunately, Qi Xuansu had not heard Chak Chel’s words. Otherwise, he would have truly understood what was meant by the crimson fire that guided Kukulkan.

Qi Xuansu withdrew his gaze and continued retreating.

Meanwhile, Qi Xuansu continued sharing Madam Wu’s senses through the other side.

Ixchel’s Silver Box was not perfectly rectangular. Around its middle, it twisted slightly, as though someone had grasped both ends of the silver box and twisted one clockwise and the other counterclockwise, giving its outline the appearance of an hourglass.

Chak Chel’s Key was inserted through the top of this “hourglass.”

Ixchel’s Silver Box possessed tremendous power. Much like Moral Sovereign, it could invoke the forces of heaven and earth. However, the silver box normally remained dormant and could only be opened using Chak Chel’s Key.

For Ixchel to possess Chak Chel’s Key, the former must have reached some sort of compromise with Chak Chel.

This seemed to confirm that Qi Xuansu’s deductions had been largely correct. Kukulkan had indeed encountered a serious problem, and Chak Chel had indeed betrayed him.

What Qi Xuansu had not expected was that both of his deductions would prove true.

Misfortune had struck Kukulkan from every direction. Not only had he fallen into a crisis himself, but he had also been betrayed by Chak Chel. Under such circumstances, his downfall was inevitable.

When Ixchel fully inserted Chak Chel’s Key into Ixchel’s Silver Box, leaving only the dagger’s hilt exposed, endless moonlight poured out from the box, engulfing everything.

The entire divine kingdom fell into deathly silence.

This was not Ixchel’s moonlight, but the primordial power of the Moon itself.

After the Feathered Serpent God became the Sun God, his body radiated the brilliance of the sun. Yet before the moonlight, he lasted only a brief moment before being swallowed as well.

The essence of a solar eclipse was the moon obscuring the sun. Thus, it was ultimately the moon that dimmed the sun’s radiance.

As the moonlight gradually faded, those protected by Ixchel were completely unharmed. Kukulkan, who had not received her protection, had already lost all ability to resist. He lay sprawled upon the golden platform, unable to move. His enormous serpent head drooped weakly over the edge of the platform, and his golden serpent eyes had grown utterly dim, reflecting only Ixchel’s figure.

Ixchel slowly withdrew the dagger from the silver box.

Originally, Chak Chel’s dagger was dull and unremarkable. Yet once it was drawn from the silver box, it seemed as though the blade had been forged by pure moonlight.

Holding the dagger that was now condensed with boundless lunar radiance, Ixchel stepped forward slowly. “Kukulkan, you were born into this world, revered by countless people, and entrusted with the leadership of the gods. But by what merit have you usurped the highest throne?”

The appearances of the gods of the Southern Continent had undergone tremendous changes. In the past, their appearances had been highly abstract, resembling crude line drawings. They looked strange, wore simple, rough garments, and were often masked.

Now, however, the gods of the Southern Continent had begun adopting the appearance of Daoist Immortals and Buddhist Bodhisattvas. The new murals of the Moon Maiden Ixchel incorporated features of the Daoist Heavenly Empress and the Buddhist Guanyin. She now wore the robes of the Central Plains, with flowing sleeves, wide robes, fluttering ribbons, and auspicious clouds, the only difference was that the halo behind her head had been replaced by a full moon.

An uninformed person from the Central Plains would most likely assume she was some unknown Immortal rather than a deity from the New Continent.

Ixchel’s efforts to align herself with the Daoist Order were unmistakable. The Daoist Order often spoke of uniting with all who could be united, as they believed that the more friends they had, the better. She clearly belonged to the category of those who could become allies.

Ixchel began proclaiming Kukulkan’s crimes. “As the Chief God, you promoted blood sacrifice on a grand scale and showed no love for the people of the world. When faced with foreign enemies, you cowered and hid, seeking only your own survival, clinging to life in cowardice. You never sought to reclaim our lost lands. Instead, you indulged in pleasure, excluded those who disagreed with you, and accomplished nothing of merit. Usurper! Today, I deliver judgment upon you in the name of the gods.”

Over the years, Kukulkan had aggressively devoured the divine authorities of other gods. Within his own territory, he promoted blood sacrifice in pursuit of breaking through to become a First-Tribulation Immortal. At the same time, he had been overly cautious in his war against the Holy Court, accomplishing little of note. Ixchel’s accusations were therefore far from unjust.

Rather than striking Kukulkan, the Chak Chel’s dagger in Ixchel’s hand slashed upward through space itself, tearing open a rift that resembled the Milky Way.

Beyond the rift lay countless crimson clouds of karmic fire.

Ixchel said solemnly, “The crimson fire shall guide you.”

Kukulkan no longer had the strength to cry out. Unable to endure the karmic fire any longer, he was ignited by the flames descending from above.

At the same time, golden flames symbolizing the sun surged from within Kukulkan’s body. They were the sacred flames of the Misir Sun God.

Yet these golden flames were quickly swallowed by the crimson karmic fire. Within the inferno, countless departed souls could be seen wailing in agony. They were the backlash of those who had perished in the blood sacrifices, and they had now become Kukulkan’s death knell.

Some gods were so powerful that they never abandoned their original bodies. Together with their Golden Body, they effectively possessed two bodies. Izanagi was one such example.

Kukulkan had likewise retained his Feathered Serpent body. Thus, the first thing to perish was his Golden Body.

A gigantic golden figure slowly separated itself from Kukulkan as it burned within the karmic fire. This was the Golden Body he had condensed after attaining godhood, his human form.

Though the Golden Body was said to be indestructible, it now melted rapidly within the karmic fire like a sheet of gold leaf.

The karmic fire seemed to achieve a measure of satisfaction. Its fury subsided, countless wisps of black qi drifted away from it, and the tormented souls seemed to have found release, gradually fading into nothingness.

However, Kukulkan had accumulated far too much karmic fire. Great torrents of karmic fire continued pouring down through the rift above, continuing to burn the Feathered Serpent’s body.

Witnessing this scene, the Rain God Chaac and the Death God Ah Puch were petrified, especially Ah Puch, who likewise favored blood sacrifice. Ah Puch, who presided over fear itself, could not help but feel fear at this moment. The power of karmic fire was simply too terrifying. Even Kukulkan, a Quasi-First-Tribulation Immortal, was unable to withstand it. Ordinary gods would fare no better.

This was also why Qi Xuansu believed that he would be capable of challenging Kukulkan if he possessed the cultivation of an Immortal. The key lay in the backlash of karmic fire, which was comparable to cultivation deviation.

Ixchel, on the other hand, appeared relatively at ease. As Qi Xuansu had said, she belonged to the faction among the gods that opposed blood sacrifice. One could even say she was the first among the gods to truly open her eyes to the changing world. The times had changed, and so had the world. The old methods of the past no longer worked. So she acknowledged that sweeping reforms were necessary.

In the past, human blood sacrifice had been commonplace, a loophole that existed because the world itself had not yet fully evolved. But now that the world had entered the Taiji Era, those loopholes no longer existed. It was much like the early days of the Daoist Order, when its lack of experience led to many mistakes. As time passed, however, those flaws were gradually corrected.

The decline of the Ancient Wuist Sect and the rise of the Daoist Order were signs of the abolition of blood sacrifice. The Central Plains had completed the transition from barbarism to civilization nearly 2,000 years ago, whereas the Southern Continent had only reached that point now.

In a sense, the very concept of civilization truly aligned with the will of heaven and the will of the people.

Although Ixchel was by no means spotless or beyond reproach, she had grasped the direction in which the social trend was flowing.

Whether god or emperor, their standards of morality differed from those of ordinary people. Emperor Taizong of Qi Dynasty had launched a palace coup, killed his elder brother, and imprisoned his own father, yet he was still remembered as one of history’s greatest emperors. This showed that public virtue outweighed personal virtue.

By championing the abolition of blood sacrifice, Ixchel had secured the greatest public virtue of all.

Chak Chel had said that the crimson fire would guide Kukulkan, and those words had now come true.

Next came the sacrifice of Kukulkan himself.

The karmic fire began consuming Kukulkan’s flesh. More and more black smoke billowed upward, while countless restless souls continued to fade away.

Karmic fire was no ordinary flame. No water could extinguish it. Aside from an even higher form of power, such as a heavenly tribulation, the only way to extinguish karmic fire was through the sacrifice of a god, and it had to be a god who had practiced blood sacrifice.

Of course, Kukulkan could have extinguished his karmic fire by hunting and sacrificing other gods. However, doing so would undoubtedly have provoked universal outrage. With every deity fearing for their own life, they would inevitably unite to eliminate Kukulkan first. Besides, it would have been extraordinarily difficult. Even the Daoist Order could only destroy one god with their numerical advantage. It was exceedingly difficult to capture one alive, let alone sacrifice one. If driven to the brink, a god could always choose self-destruction.

If the karmic fire could not be eliminated, then even after a god entered the First Death, the karmic fire would continue to linger above the divine kingdom without dispersing, burning for centuries until the divine kingdom itself collapsed.

As the karmic fire began consuming Kukulkan, Qi Xuansu saw that the vast sea of karmic fire hanging overhead was rapidly dimming. Layer upon layer of fiery clouds began to dissipate.

As Kukulkan’s body steadily shrank, the decay within the divine kingdom began to reverse. Green grass sprouted across the barren earth. The ruined palaces regained their luster. Even the birds and beasts that had been covered in festering sores and oozing wounds gradually returned to normal.

It seemed that everything was moving toward the best possible outcome.

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