Origin
Chapter 668: First meeting
The mirror shattered into pieces.
Amidst the collapsing glass fragments, endless dark golden shadows surged out.
“Heh… hehe… hehehe,” beneath the lightless sky, the old woman leaned on her copper cane, standing askew. A bizarre laughter emanated from beneath her mask, “Young people… always so naive.”
“Do you think He can understand your words?”
No one understood the Shaman God they had served for a millennia better than them.
He would not act according to the logical standards of normal humans. He cared nothing for good or evil, nor did He care about reasons. The grace of light He bestowed also possessed the cruelty and volatility of a raging fire.
Watching the imprisoned shadow break free from the depths of the mirror-made cage, the crowd stumbled backward. Genuine terror and despair surfaced on everyone’s faces.
In the dead silence, only the old woman’s rough, eerie laughter echoed under the sky.
“To such an existence, you are no different from us. We are all mere insects.”
Yet at this very moment, insignificant insects were attempting to strip Him of His power…
The god would indiscriminately rain down His fury and kill everyone!
Whether it was the betrayers or the savior.
As if to prove the old woman’s words, Wen Jianyan, who was closest to the mirror, was violently thrown backward, as if slammed to the ground by some irresistible, colossal force.
The furious golden shadow flared up like fire, swallowing him in the blink of an eye.
“You think you’d be spared just because you saved Him…?”
Through the mask, the old woman looked at him with pity. Her withered lips trembled, letting out a muffled laugh.
What a self-righteous, pitiful worm.
“No, you will be the first one to lose your life—”
But in the next second, her voice came to an abrupt halt.
Within that overwhelmingly massive shadow, a humanoid figure gradually condensed.
Wen Jianyan lay on the ground, his ears ringing. He felt as if all sounds were fading away from him; even the old hag’s unpleasant laughter turned into distant, blurry white noise in the background.
He inhaled sharply, raised his head, and suddenly realized those blazing golden pupils were right in front of him.
“…”
Time seemed to stagnate for a moment.
Suddenly, those eyes disappeared without warning.
“Mmph!”
Wen Jianyan only felt something ice-cold approach his ear. It was very light, very ticklish, like a feather brushing against his skin, bringing about a strange shiver. He shrank his neck and took two seconds to realize—it was the other party’s nose.
The tip of the nose hovered intimately close, first touching the side of his ear, then brushing past his jawline, lingering on his neck and collarbone… as if getting to know and familiarizing itself with his scent.
So ticklish.
“Ugh…”
Wen Jianyan took a small breath.
Amidst the chaotic light and shadow, the human’s blood-drenched fingertips curled slightly, leaving clear bloody trails on His marble-like shoulders and back.
The world fell silent for a moment.
A light that seemed capable of burning one’s eyes suddenly flared up. The light came without warning, and the intense, stinging pain forced everyone to look away.
A few seconds later, the surroundings dimmed again.
When the crowd looked over once more, the two figures—one blurry, one clear—had completely vanished before everyone’s eyes, leaving only a floor full of shattered mirror pieces and an empty new grave.
“………………”
Everyone stared at this scene in dumbfounded silence.
The old woman stood motionless in place. Beneath the mask, her aged, shriveled facial skin trembled in astonishment. Her cloudy eyes were full of shock and doubt, almost unable to believe everything she had just seen. Her voice had abruptly stopped the moment Wu Zhu appeared, as if a wooden stake had been driven through her wide-open mouth, knocking all her words back down her throat, and finally pinning her body firmly to the ground.
What had happened before their eyes far exceeded anyone’s imagination.
This…
How was this possible?!
Seemingly unable to adapt to the rapid spatial shift, the human in His arms began to struggle violently.
He hesitated for a moment and decided to stop.
As soon as they landed, the human young man—who had been resting obediently in His arms just a moment ago—used both his hands and feet to break free from His grasp, then stumbled and staggered away.
Immediately after, he leaned against a nearby grave, bent over, and threw up until the sky spun and the earth went dark, making a total mess.
He stood in place, watching the human whose back was turned to Him, deep in thought, unsure of the reason why He had done this.
The man arched his back; his distinct shoulder blades protruded beneath his shirt, trembling pitifully. Half of his neck was drenched in cold sweat, and his pitch-black hair stuck messily to his pale skin.
Logically speaking, He should snap this neck.
The human finished throwing up and shakily straightened up.
He turned his head; tears still welled in his eyes, making his irises look incredibly bright.
Logically speaking, He should gouge out these eyes.
“That was so disgusting…” he said weakly. “More nauseating than riding a rollercoaster eight hundred times in a row… Don’t ever do that again.”
He shook his dizzy head groggily, then walked over with unsteady steps. “But then again, it really is a good way to escape. At least it’s much faster than running on foot.”
Logically speaking, He should have killed everyone in sight the moment He broke free, indiscriminately venting His fury in all directions, rather than being inexplicably captivated by this human, so much so that He threw everything else to the back of His mind… Why? He couldn’t figure it out.
“But what about you…”
The young man drew closer, his eyelashes lifting. A pair of light-colored eyes looked up at Him very seriously. His tone was casual, as if just asking in passing, but in the depths of his eyes—He looked deeply into those eyes He had only caught a glimpse of inside the mirror—was genuine, heartfelt concern and worry.
“Are you okay?”
Seemingly feeling that He had been silent for too long, the other’s worry became more apparent, swaying in the depths of his eyes like a pool of clear light.
“Hey, say something.”
He leaned even closer. Warm fingers, still carrying the scent of blood, cupped His face, shaking it side to side rather disrespectfully, as if shaking a jar without knowing if it was full or not.
He should…
In short…
He found it a bit difficult to think any deeper.
“Could it be that those people did something else to you?”
Seeming to have thought of something, a fierce, angry light flared up in the young man’s eyes.
“Damn it, I held back when I set those fires earlier,” he gritted his teeth, furious. “A bunch of ungrateful things, shameless idiots! I should have burned their entire town to the ground!”
“…”
Cute.
Before His thoughts could keep up, His hands moved first.
In the next second, that warm human body was pressed tightly against His chest, leaving no gap.
He lowered His head, sniffing with double the seriousness.
“Hey!” The other was startled by His sudden movement, his shoulders and back tensing for a moment, but he quickly relaxed, as if long accustomed to this kind of sudden ambush. He tilted his head, caught between tears and laughter, his anger that had just rushed to his head now stuck awkwardly halfway.
“You… why are you doing this again?”
“Didn’t you just sniff me? Haven’t you had enough?”
He indeed hadn’t.
The warm, sweet scent evaporating from the body heat was like touching solidified sunlight, solid yet soft.
Very unfamiliar.
Yet inexplicably somewhat familiar.
In His mind, images that didn’t seem to belong to Him began to struggle.
This posture was maintained for a bit too long. The embraced young man hesitated for a moment, then slowly raised his hand and patted His shoulder. His fingers lingered tentatively for only two seconds before nervously retreating, leaving behind a brief and awkward comfort:
“Hey…”
He took a deep breath, once, twice.
This time, he hesitated even longer.
However, he finally spoke again, his voice very low, his tone carrying a cautious, unpracticed gentleness:
“It’s okay now.”
He paused, turned His head, and looked at the young man’s face.
The young man lowered his eyes, seemingly deliberately keeping his face devoid of expression, but his tight lips and tucked-in corners of his mouth revealed a subconscious nervousness.
Like some soft little animal afraid of the light, actively leaving its hard shell for the first time, then timidly and carefully reaching out to touch Him.
“Aren’t I here now?”
The young man turned his head, his lips quickly brushing against the other’s cheekbone, then rapidly retreated as if he had been burned.
His voice was very soft, audible only to the two of them.
“It’s alright.”
It was clearly just a simple word of comfort, yet it was spoken with such stuttering difficulty, as if bearing the weight of a thousand pounds. It was as if the speaker had suddenly forgotten all of his eloquence and sharp wit.
“…”
He stared blankly, feeling as if some fluffy, warm little creature was lying deep against His chest. Deep within His tranquil, dead-silent chest cavity, something was beating erratically, thump, thump, lively wanting to break free from its restraints.
Like.
He lowered His head, His arms suddenly tightening. Following the inexplicably expanding desire in His heart, He viciously pressed down on those two lips.
“Ugh!” Caught off guard, the other’s entire upper body was forced to lean back, a gasp rolling out of his throat, “You…”
The muffled voice was swallowed by lips belonging to who knows whom, turning into the wet sounds of an intense, entangled kiss.
So much like.
He kissed the other’s lips over and over again, as if He could never get enough, wishing He could meticulously chew up the other’s flesh and bones bit by bit, swallow it all, and merge it with Himself, never to separate again.
However, in His heart, there was always some unfamiliar voice stopping Him—
Don’t do that.
He will hurt.
Only after it repeated many times did He realize… that it was His own voice.
…Fine.
…Then fine.
Thus, He had no choice but to kiss the other’s lips with double the force, attempting to make up for His loss through this method.
Wen Jianyan felt as if he was going to be crushed by that tempestuous kiss. His ears were filled with suggestive, ambiguous wet sounds. Both his lips and the tip of his tongue were sucked numb. Chaotic, rapid pants echoed in the narrow space, and his body temperature rose along with it, as if to melt him down entirely until not a single drop remained.
He couldn’t catch his breath, so he could only instinctively grip the other’s arms, but the wound on his palm suddenly stung sharply.
“…Mmh.” Wen Jianyan’s brow furrowed tightly, letting out a muffled groan from his throat.
Even though the sound was very light, the other abruptly stopped.
He raised His head, His eyes very bright, like a fierce beast that had caught its prey. His aggressive gaze swept over Wen Jianyan’s thoroughly kissed lips, but then quickly shifted downwards.
“Hey, you…” Wen Jianyan panted messily, his head seemingly still dizzy. But the moment his hand was pulled over, he seemed to have subconsciously guessed what the other was going to do. He couldn’t help but shudder and hoarsely try to stop Him, “Don’t…”
The man lowered his head, and his lips, still carrying the warmth of their bodies, brushed against his palm.
Wen Jianyan only felt an itch in his palm, and the damaged skin healed at a speed visible to the naked eye. When he curled his fingers, the wound was still there, but by the time his fingertips touched his palm, what he felt was already intact skin.
“You didn’t transfer my wound to yourself again, did you?”
Wen Jianyan’s brow twitched. He quickly stepped forward and backhandedly gripped Wu Zhu’s hand.
If it were a normal wound, it would be fine, but the problem was, the wound on his right hand was caused by that mirror shard—this kind of injury didn’t matter to a human, but for Wu Zhu, who was naturally suppressed by mirrors, the consequences could be unimaginable.
Just as he was anxious, the other looked completely unbothered.
“Trans-fer?” He repeated.
He spoke very slowly, his syllables somewhat bizarre, as if He wasn’t quite used to conversing using human language yet.
He opened His hand, revealing an intact palm, and intertwined fingers with Wen Jianyan’s healed hand. That newly formed skin was sensitive and fragile. The sensation when it was rubbed was very hard to describe; Wen Jianyan trembled and reflexively tried to pull away, but was firmly caught by the other, unable to move.
As He spoke, His proficiency improved at a speed visible to the naked eye.
“No need.”
Wen Jianyan was stunned, and his tense shoulders relaxed.
True…
Right now, the Nightmare had not yet descended, and Wu Zhu had not yet been divided and suppressed. To Him, there naturally weren’t that many restrictions. Being only able to transfer wounds rather than heal them was something that happened after He was divided and suppressed by the Nightmare.
After realizing this, the nerves Wen Jianyan had kept taut for who knows how long finally loosened. He went weak at the knees, seeing stars. The exhaustion accumulated over many days surged out all at once like a flood breaking through a dam. He stumbled and only barely steadied himself by leaning on Wu Zhu’s shoulders.
“That’s great,” he mumbled.
He hugged the human young man in His arms and began to think deeply.
“Wu Zhu,” He said slowly.
“What?” Wen Jianyan paused and looked up.
“Name,” the powerful alien god said seriously and slowly.
Wen Jianyan froze, finally realizing that the other was introducing Himself to him, and he couldn’t help but feel caught between tears and laughter.
During that silence just now, was He actually trying to figure out how to pronounce His own name in the human language?
He was the “anchor point.” As long as they stayed together long enough, even if it was a different fragment of Wu Zhu, He could possess all the memories of the main body—however, how much time this process required, and whether this process would be different for a complete Wu Zhu, Wen Jianyan didn’t know.
“Wu Zhu.” He said it again.
“I know, I know.” Wen Jianyan nodded helplessly.
“Wu Zhu.” He stubbornly repeated it again, as if insisting on hearing His own name from Wen Jianyan’s mouth.
Alright then.
Wen Jianyan sighed and satisfied the other’s small request: “Wu Zhu.”
“Mhm.” The black-haired, golden-eyed man lowered his head and leaned close, looking very satisfied with the sound of his name being spoken by the other’s mouth.
Out of courtesy, Wen Jianyan pointed to himself:
“Wen Jianyan.”
“Wen…” Wu Zhu studied the pronunciation slowly and seriously.
Wen Jianyan taught him patiently, his lips curling naturally, his jaw slightly closed. Between his teeth, the tip of his tongue lightly pressed against his palate, “…Jian-yan.”
Wu Zhu leaned down, the tip of his nose brushing against Wen Jianyan’s nose. Nuzzling against him, he repeated with an exceptionally serious attitude:
“Wen Jianyan.”
“That’s right, that’s right,” Seeing the other’s solemn appearance, Wen Jianyan couldn’t help but laugh out loud. As he laughed, he made a show of reaching out, took the other’s hand, and shook it very formally, “Nice to meet you. Please take care of me.”
This time, it was a first meeting without the Nightmare, without suffering, without blood, and without death.
So sweet