Original God Zhongli BG Xiao Qinglong traveled through time

The stone steps of Tianheng Mountain loomed in the morning mist, winding their way deep into the lush green forest. The moist mist, like a soft, white veil, lingered around the waist of the indigo mountain, framing the distant peaks in a hazy and mysterious light. The lingering warmth of the fire in the Hanfeng Ironworks shop still lingered on the hem of my clothes, while the crisp mountain air, infused with the fragrance of grass, trees, and cold dew, punctuated by the faint clinking of metal from a distant forge, felt like the slow, powerful pulse of the ancient mountain.

Old Zhang's rough, hoarse words still linger in my ears: "The Star-Breaking Iron Ore...needs to resonate with the Eye of God...The 'Secret Hua Stone' is even more ethereal. Only the ancient secrets passed down deep within Tianheng Mountain may reveal its traces..."

Paimon flew in front, his tiny body practically burrowing into the cracks of the rocks, trying to discern the hidden mineral veins in each rough stone. "Wow... sounds so complicated! Does that 'Secret Stone' really exist?"

Yun Jin's steps were light, like water caressing bluestone. Her wide, water-colored sleeves gently brushed against the dew-soaked grass by the roadside, creating a subtle rustling sound. "When I first visited this mountain as a child with my father, I felt it was too high to climb. My legs felt so weak when I reached the summit that I felt like I was no longer in the mountains." She smiled, her eyes wandering as she took in the surrounding emerald peaks and gurgling streams. "Now, looking back, the overlapping peaks and cascading springs are truly like the immortal paradises praised in operas. No wonder it gave rise to such a moving legend as 'The Goddess Splits the View'."

Her voice was clear and gentle, each word falling like pearls on a silver plate. However, when the words "Goddess Splits the View" slipped quietly from her lips, the air around them seemed to freeze for a moment.

The cat, Xizhi, which had been perched peacefully on Shen He's shoulder, undulated its cloud-like silver-gray fur with an almost imperceptible movement. Its vertical pupils, previously half-closed with a warm, beeswax-like sheen, suddenly opened, clearly reflecting the fragmented yet pure light of heaven filtering through the gaps between the leaves. The low, steady purring in its throat, like the deep pulse of the earth, had quietly ceased. It lifted its small head slightly, its gaze passing over Shen He's cool, graceful earlobes to the renowned opera artist reciting his story. Its eyes, stripped of their usual carefree indifference, were now imbued with an indescribable focus, even... a hint of deep melancholy.

Paimon, however, was ignited by the word "hero" and flew around Yunjin excitedly: "Hero! Paimon loves to hear stories about heroes! What happened next? What happened next?"

A warm smile played on Yun Jin's lips, but her gaze pierced the misty air, reaching out to the distant shores of time. "...A demon ravaged the village, forcing the villagers to sacrifice their children. In this perilous moment, a young girl bravely stepped forward, armed with a sharp exorcist blade, and alone, she delved into the demon's lair. After a brutal and bitter battle, she ultimately defeated the evil spirit. Later, due to her deep connection with the immortals, she was accepted into the fold of a celestial family. However..." She paused, then softly recited the verdict, her voice tinged with a distant melancholy, "From then on, the paths of immortality and mortal life diverged, and the cause and effect of the mortal world vanished into thin air."

The mountain wind blew through the ancient rock crevices, making a low, sobbing sound, as if echoing the resolute sacrifice and eternal separation in the story, quietly injecting an invisible heaviness into the flowing mist.

In the shuddering silence, Shen He's voice, as clear and cool as an icy spring rinsing over a rock, echoed: "I love this story." She paused slightly, her icy blue eyes gazing at the ever-shifting clouds across the valley. Her voice was so soft, it felt like she was mumbling to herself: "However, in my eyes, the young woman in the opera... may not be as fearless as she's often portrayed. Perhaps... she doesn't deserve such a high reputation."

Her words were like a crystal clear stone dropped into a quiet pool, stirring up layers of invisible ripples.

Yun Jin's long eyelashes trembled slightly, revealing a hint of surprise, which then transformed into the artist's unique tolerance and insight: "Opera creation always requires a certain degree of refinement and interpretation. When my father wrote it, he must have hoped that through the image of the 'goddess', he would inspire righteousness in the world and pass on a noble spirit."

"Hmm." Shen He replied softly. Against the backdrop of the misty mountain, his profile was almost translucent white, like a sculpture of ice and jade. "This is a very good story. A... ideal story in my mind."

Without anyone noticing, the silver-gray cat on her shoulder shifted ever so slowly, almost imperceptibly. It buried its soft, warm cheek deeper and deeper into the cool, smooth skin of Shen He's neck, a silent yet loving embrace and comfort. Deep within its savvy eyes, a flicker of profound understanding and... a vast, gentle compassion. It understood, completely, the unspoken implications of Shen He's words—the heavy burden of being "propelled to the status of a hero," the fear and uncertainty that might lurk beneath the dazzling halo. Memories of blood and fire beneath the abyss, the eternal regret of not being able to say goodbye to a close friend and elder brother before their death... those pains, buried deep by time, now resonated distantly and profoundly with the ancient legend of the mountains.

Its gaze gently shifted from Shen He, passing through the swirling milky white mist and quietly reaching Yun Jin. Its gaze was calm and gentle, not a trace of offense or displeasure, but rather a profound gratitude. Thankful for her graceful and powerful way of transforming a cruel past, perhaps drenched in blood, tears, and struggle, into an inspiring torch, imbuing it with near-sacred significance. It understood that this wasn't a distortion of the truth, but rather a deeper, human compassion and elevation.

Ying keenly picked up on these subtle shifts in emotion. Her gaze flickered quietly between the silent Shen He, the gentle Yun Jin, and the unusually quiet cat on her shoulder. She spoke at the perfect moment, her clear voice like sunlight breaking through the mist, dispelling the excessive silence. "It seems our journey isn't just about searching for minerals, but also about salvaging a past lost in time."

Paimon's attention was immediately drawn, and he nodded vigorously, his face full of anticipation: "Yes, yes, yes! Maybe when we find those shiny ores, we can also dig out more secrets about that 'goddess'!"

Yun Jin nodded with a smile, her eyes once again gleaming with a lively brilliance. "In that case, this journey is more like a cultural pilgrimage in search of its origins." She raised her sleeve, gesturing deep into the mist. "I remember there seem to be the ruins of an ancient sacrificial site up ahead. Perhaps they hold some clues. Why don't we go and explore?"

The team set off again. Shen He walked silently, her sleeves fluttering as she carried an air of purity, untainted by the mundane. Xizhimao lay quietly on her shoulder, its long tail drooping softly, the silver tip, like the moonlight, occasionally twitching ever so slightly, as if silently smoothing out some invisible wrinkle.

Only the most attentive observer might have glimpsed that, deep within its cat-like pupils, reflecting the light of the sky and the shadows of the clouds, a trace of indelible sorrow, as profound and distant as a thousand-year-old rock, lingered. It wasn't anger; it was simply that the story had struck a chord with the equally deep seabed within its heart—where the anchors of "sacrifice," "parting," and "fate" lay.

A mountain breeze picked up, ruffling everyone's hair and clothes, quietly dispelling the moment's solemnity. Only that furry, silver-gray creature, radiating the warmth of life, remained clinging to Shen He, like a tiny, silent guardian spirit. Amidst the lush greenery of the mountains and the ethereal legends, they silently conveyed a profound comfort that only they could understand. The road ahead was still long, with mineral veins and secret methods hidden deep within the mists. And some deeper emotions and truths, like the "Secret Stone," awaited the moment they resonated with a particular soul, quietly revealing themselves to the world.