Chapter 242-The Manga Pariah's Guide to Self-Salvation
"Wu Shu."
Ye Zheng's voice drifted into her ears like a whisper. Startled, Wu Shu ventured a tentative question: "Ye Zheng?"
"It's me."
Wu Shu quickly recalled that Ye Zheng had used this same mysterious method of communication during the Ability Tournament. Whether it was an ability or some miraculous gadget, she didn't know—Ye Zheng always had a few tricks up her sleeve.
"The column is resting in the South District and plans to launch an offensive against Sierra tomorrow." Wu Shu leaned against a wall as she reported. "But… their arrangements are sloppy—no one's really taking this seriously. Those guys your Sei Curia sent probably won't even leave the hotel tomorrow."
"Also, Percy's teammate Roy might be carrying some kind of secret mission. I'll keep watching."
"At this rate, not only might we fail to take Sierra down—we could get beaten badly."
"Ye Zheng, is this part of your plan too?"
Wu Shu asked with a grin.
"Even trains derail sometimes. A deviation along the way doesn't matter, as long as we still reach the destination."
"There is no fixed track. What I can guarantee is that no matter which direction the train goes, it will arrive at a satisfying terminal."
"Who knows—an unexpected detour might turn out to be a shortcut."
The voice from far away was slightly distorted, as though filtered through frosted glass. Ye Zheng's usually warm tone came through lower and huskier, carrying a magnetic quality that made the ears tingle.
Wu Shu lowered her gaze in thought. She understood what Ye Zheng meant: variables would always exist—better to harness them than resist them.
"Tomorrow, a friend of mine will enter the South District. Assist her with a task."
"And lastly—stay safe. I'll be in touch."
After ending the connection, Ye Zheng rose and left her office. Under cover of darkness, she slipped silently to the deserted training grounds and smiled at the bright, clear moon.
Wu Shu's report confirmed it: the Emperor had been playing the same game she had—feigning agreement to deal with Sierra first while actually scheming behind her back, hoping to catch her off guard.
The existence of those Dragon-Bodied Humans was a secret she had fought hard to keep. On one hand, she feared the panic it would cause among the populace and the Empire's inevitable crackdown.
On the other hand, before she had learned the truth about the demon dragon, she herself harbored reservations about their power—afraid others would harm them, and afraid they might harm others.
But now, it was time to go all in.
In the hazy moonlight, Ye Zheng spread her arms wide. Gentle currents of water flowed between her palms, then cascaded downward like a waterfall, seeping into the hard ground.
The gray surface darkened steadily, like paper being soaked through. Radiating outward from where Ye Zheng stood, the dark stain spread in every direction, as if an invisible downpour had struck—the ground silently seething.
Ye Zheng lifted her right arm and flung it skyward. A torrent of water burst from the earth and surged toward the night sky—dazzling and breathtaking, like a river of stars flowing in reverse!
The young woman tilted her head back. Moonlight filtered through the surging water, and her face looked like a serene idol resting at the bottom of a still pool.
The sinuous streams reached their apex and scattered like fireworks, dissolving into a fine drizzle that nourished the new growth of spring.
Through days of relentless practice, she had gradually mastered the art of wielding [Stream] and [Mother of All Things] simultaneously.
Originally, [Mother of All Things] required her right hand to make physical contact with the target. Now, as [Mother of All Things] and [Stream] gradually merged, she could channel [Mother of All Things] through the water itself to reach a target.
Water was far more agile and covert than her hand. [Stream]'s core form could draw on [Mother of All Things]' power to absorb surrounding water faster, and once it grew, it could carry [Mother of All Things]' reach even farther.
The fusion of the two was no mere one-plus-one. Even Ye Zheng herself could not imagine their upper limit.
*
A silent shadow snaked along the cold wall. Bai Yi waited quietly outside. The Imperial Palace's reception room had been busy these past two days. The door opened, and the old patriarch of the Colonna family stepped out, greeting him in passing.
Bai Yi's gaze darkened. His Majesty had been meeting frequently with people from the Sei Curia lately—likely seeking to rally internal allies and dethrone Ye Zheng from the papal seat.
He sighed and pushed open the door.
A short while later, amid the yawns of the guards at the entrance, the door swung open again and Bai Yi emerged, his expression grave.
His steps grew heavy on the way home, the Emperor's words echoing ceaselessly in his mind.
"Give it a little more time, and this nation will no longer need the Sei Curia—or the God of Hope. Prepare to absorb the Sei Curia."
A conflicted, agonized look twisted his face, his thick brows knotting together. The Sei Curia's corruption and obsolescence were plain for all to see; those people had long since lost any genuine faith in the God of Hope—but what did "no longer needing the God of Hope" mean?
The God of Hope was more than just the nation's faith—it was the ideal they aspired to. He had grown up listening to tales of the God of Hope, then retold those divine stories to his own children just as his father had done for him, generation after generation.
The Emperor had personally told him that Percy was the true bearer of the Divine Sword—chosen by the god. He had been shocked and overjoyed, pouring a lifetime of experience into training the boy.
Since childhood, he had dreamed of becoming a hero like the God of Hope. Even if he couldn't achieve it himself, even if his children couldn't—if his student could become that great, he would have no regrets.
His Majesty must have been driven to distraction by Ye Zheng. Aston XIV, the greatest monarch in history, held the honorific "Guardian of the God of Hope." As a descendant of that great sovereign, how could His Majesty possibly not believe in the God of Hope?
If His Majesty wished to use military force to purge the Sei Curia, Bai Yi would support him to the end. After all, the Aston Royal Family were the nation's true divine proxies—its guardians.
And Ye Zheng knew nothing. She was merely an ignorant girl who brought chaos and catastrophe—a companion of the demon dragon who had betrayed humanity, just like the traitor five hundred years ago who had leaked the contents of the God of Hope's secret conference with the Royal Family to the demon dragon. She was destined to be nailed to history's pillar of shame.
The moment he stepped onto the estate grounds, Bai Yi detected an unusual energy fluctuation. He halted and turned in another direction.
A slender figure stood in the vast training ground. The purity of her white was almost blinding against the night sky.
"Bai Muqing, you should be in bed at this hour."
Bai Yi stepped onto the training ground—then stopped, sensing something off. He looked down. The weathered surface, ordinarily scarred with years of gouges and pits, had become perfectly smooth.
On closer inspection, every single paving stone across the entire field had been flipped over.
Before coming, he had asked the training-ground sentries. None of them had heard a thing.
"Muqing, you…"
Bai Yi let out a heavy sigh. He had once been proud of Bai Muqing's talent, but now he could no longer tell whether that gift was a divine blessing or a curse.
Without it, perhaps Bai Muqing would have lived like most upper-district noblewomen—like her mother—spending a peaceful, happy life under the shelter of the Bai family name.
"…I'm sorry."
Bai Yi said abruptly, a flash of sorrow crossing his eyes.
"Father, I'm glad you can recognize your mistakes—so does that mean I'm allowed to go out?"
Bai Muqing's clear, cool voice carried a note of curiosity as she walked slowly toward him.
Bai Yi choked. "And what do you plan to do if you go out? Last time you talked back to His Majesty, and the fact that he didn't punish your insolence was already extremely generous."
His voice dropped low. "If anyone else had learned those secrets and dared to object—if you weren't my child… you'd already be dead."
"The Crown Prince is a creation of Dragon Bone. The real Dragon Bone is buried in the Middle District and the lower district. And he wants to kill Ye Zheng."
"None of those are secrets."
"Also—if Ye Zheng hadn't killed Sykes, I might have died in that chaos."
Bai Muqing spoke slowly, word by word.
"I tried to stop you—you're the one who barged in!"
"You're blaming me, your father? Look at yourself—how selfish you are as my daughter!"
"Bai Muqing, haven't we been good enough to you? You didn't want to marry, so we abandoned our plans to ally with the Royal Family and sent you to the monastery instead. You wanted experience and exposure, so I got you into the Royal Knight Order…"
"Your brother's property deeds and land titles—we've matched every single one for you. In all the upper district, could you find a father who loves his daughter more than I do?"
Bai Yi looked at her with disappointment, his voice weary.
"What on earth do you want?"
"…So I still can't go out?"
Bai Muqing's response left the middle-aged man utterly speechless. He stormed off in silence, his retreating figure radiating barely contained fury.
Sensing Bai Yi's departure, Bai Muqing lifted her face. She couldn't see the moon, but she could feel its gentle light caressing her cheek.
Her mother had warned her: if she left the Bai estate without permission, her father would disown her—strike her name from the family register, confiscate her assets. She would no longer be their child.
Bai Muqing recalled her earliest years, when her father would sit at her bedside and recite the legends of the God of Hope—her favorite bedtime story.
From that time on, her adoration of her father had taken root alongside the God of Hope's great deeds. She wanted to become the kind of hero her father spoke of with such reverence—to uphold justice and banish darkness, just like the God of Hope. To that end, she had been determined to become a Holy Maiden of the Sei Curia.
And then she met Ye Zheng.
A girl who didn't even believe in the gods had become the Holy Maiden she had longed to be. For fourteen-year-old Bai Muqing, it was quite possibly the worst thing that had ever happened to her.
But looking back now, it might have been the luckiest thing of all.
Her father said Ye Zheng had deceived her. Bai Muqing knew she had always had minor disagreements with Ye Zheng's views, and she didn't endorse everything Ye Zheng did.
What Ye Zheng had taught her was one crucial thing—it upended her seemingly happy life and set her on a painful yet resolute path.
Everyone in this world played a "role," as if in a rehearsed play. Bai Yi played "the good father," "the wise head of the Bai family," "the loyal Imperial general." She herself played "the prodigy," "the daughter," "the believer."
As though only by performing the role the world expected of you did you earn the right to put down roots—to squeeze into that crowded flowerbed.
But Ye Zheng had shown her, through action: you can step out of the flowerbed. You don't have to play the role others expect of you.
Bai Muqing's lashes trembled, as if a wisp of white light flickered and shook loose the cool moonlight.
Now, she no longer cared whether the family cast her out or whether the register bore her name.
If shedding the roles of "daughter" and "member of the Bai family" meant her relatives would stop loving her—then what had they ever loved? Bai Muqing herself? Or were they merely fulfilling their own roles, loving the hollow shell labeled "daughter" and "kin"?
A cool drop landed beneath her eye. Bai Muqing reached up.
Was it raining?
The rain was light and fleeting—so brief one might mistake it for a gust of damp wind.
The sting in her eyes faded with the puzzlement. Bai Muqing closed her pale eyes, and with a thought, the vast expanse of paving stones flipped silently back to their original position.
Might as well make the most of the training ground before being disowned—large, empty, and solidly built. She wouldn't find anything this good outside.
Ever since that encounter with the Emperor, Bai Muqing had felt a powerful premonition urging her to grow stronger, fast.
*
Today, a fine drizzle fell over the South District of the lower district.
The column had rested for a day. After extensive scouting and layers of deliberation, they finally launched their offensive, targeting Sierra and her Disciples at the border of the South District.
The rain was unexpected, but mercifully light—more mist than drizzle, cool and almost refreshing on the skin.
Percy, however, hated it.
He knew Ye Zheng couldn't possibly be in the South District, and this light rain couldn't suddenly turn into razor-thin water slicing through him—yet deep down, he had developed an instinctive wariness and revulsion toward rain and water.
He forced the unease down and steadied himself.
According to reports, Sierra had also brought over a hundred terrifying creatures—Percy knew what they were.
Ye Zheng had failed to deliver on her promise to protect both the Fallen Ones and ordinary civilians. Once Sierra lost control, those Fallen Ones would inevitably attack innocent people. To stop her, they would have no choice but to fight them.
…Ye Zheng had merely postponed the West District's crisis to the present. She hadn't changed a thing.
In that moment, Percy almost wished Ye Zheng were here—to witness her own mistakes with her own eyes. She couldn't possibly control everything!
If Ye Zheng hadn't let Sierra take them away, Sierra wouldn't have grown so powerful so quickly—she wouldn't have turned around and threatened Ye Zheng's own authority. And those women who had sacrificed everything would have been forced to become Sierra's weapons of conquest, denied true rest.
Percy clenched his fists and looked at the column ahead. They were about to leave the city.
The West District's mistakes. Ye Zheng's mistakes… He would hesitate no more. He would set everything right.
Percy fixed his gaze forward, too focused to notice the look Roy cast his way—a complicated expression that vanished as quickly as it appeared.
This campaign was tangled with too many hidden agendas. It was destined to defy everyone's expectations.
*
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