PD -Chapter 173 I’ll Be in Your Debt for a Lifetime

“You know… how gods are born, don’t you?” Di Ting sat down in a chair. Instead of answering my question directly, he posed one of his own.

I froze for a moment. Truthfully, I had never given much thought to things like that. After thinking for a while, all that came to mind were the plots from modern novels and TV dramas.

“The Investiture of the Gods?” I ventured.

The moment the words left my mouth, I realized how shallow I sounded.

Di Ting did not laugh at my answer. He merely shook his head slightly and continued, “The Investiture of the Gods did happen, but what ordinary people know is mostly later dramatizations. Besides, gods already existed before the Investiture.”

“Laozi said in the Tao Te Ching: There was something formless and complete, born before heaven and earth. Silent and void, it stands alone and unchanging, moving in cycles without end. It may be regarded as the mother of all under heaven. I do not know its name, so I call it the Tao.”

Di Ting spoke slowly.

Although I had never read the Tao Te Ching from cover to cover, I had at least heard some of its core ideas. What he was referring to was Laozi’s explanation of the origin of all things—the source of the Tao itself.

But that could be considered the origin of Daoism, or at least Daoist thought.

What did it have to do with the birth of gods?

Carrying that question in my mind, I listened carefully as Di Ting continued.

“The Tao gave birth to One, One gave birth to Two, Two gave birth to Three, and Three gave birth to all things. During this process of creation from nothingness into existence, something invisible and intangible emerged—consciousness.”

Di Ting paused and looked at me.

“This self-awareness is divine consciousness.”

“As divine consciousness continued to grow, Yang transformed into the Innate Deities, while Yin transformed into the Acquired Deities. The Innate Deities govern creation itself, while the Acquired Deities govern all things that were created.”

“Heaven and earth operate according to countless interconnected laws. The gods did not create humanity on a whim. Even beings as powerful as they are have needs.”

“That need,” Di Ting said deliberately, “is the power of faith.”

At that moment, I finally understood what he was trying to tell me.

The relationship between humans and gods was actually symbiotic.

Humans needed the protection of gods, while gods required the power generated by human faith.

Di Ting’s meaning was obvious: the existence of gods and the strength of their divine power both depended upon faith.

But in this era…

“But in this era,” Di Ting continued, “modern technology advances at an incredible pace. People’s spiritual and material lives have become richer than ever before. The divine authority that once dominated everything has been defeated by concepts such as freedom and equality. As a result, faith grows weaker and weaker. Over the past several centuries, the divine power of the gods has continuously diminished.”

His words perfectly confirmed my suspicions.

Religion still existed in the modern world, but fewer and fewer people truly possessed faith.

To ordinary people, there was nothing wrong with that.

To the Divine Realm, however, it was catastrophic.

A lack of faith could very well make it impossible for the Divine Realm to function. The various gods, deprived of the faith that sustained them, could barely take care of themselves.

Perhaps that was also why not a single god had stepped forward during this crisis of the Three Realms.

As I thought about it, I suddenly felt as though I had overlooked something. Frowning, I looked Di Ting up and down.

“I am not a god,” Di Ting said, apparently seeing through my thoughts. He shook his head.

“I was originally a spirit beast born from nature itself. Later, I cultivated under Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva, listening to his teachings. What I cultivate is the power of nature. In truth, I am no different from human cultivators. I am not considered a god.”

“Your friend’s ancestor, Liu Bowen, was a mortal who cultivated the Dao and ascended after attaining enlightenment. Though he joined the ranks of the immortals, he is still different from a true god.”

“We are not affected by the power of faith. However, our cultivation is countless times more difficult than that of actual gods.”

Hearing this, I suddenly understood.

Ordinary people spoke only of “gods and immortals” as though they were the same thing.

But in reality, gods and immortals were fundamentally different.

“So that’s why you said that everything in the human world can only depend on us now?” I asked.

Di Ting sighed and nodded.

After a long silence, he finally said, “Although this incident has been resolved, no one knows how many things escaped into the human world through that rift.”

“And with the Divine Realm currently going through a special period… that is also why I joined Bureau 507.”

A serious expression appeared on his face.

“I’m afraid the crisis facing the human world has only just begun…”

With those words, Di Ting rose from his chair, turned around, and walked out of my room.

I was left alone.

Lying on the hospital bed, I stared at the ceiling, thinking about our conversation and everything that had happened before.

Only after a long time did I finally come back to myself.

Slowly feeling my way out of bed, I slipped on a pair of slippers and walked out of the ward.

Di Ting had said this place belonged to Research Institute 507.

After stepping outside and looking around, however, I found nothing particularly unusual about it. The layout was much like any ordinary hospital: a long corridor lined with private rooms on both sides.

I walked down the hallway, hoping to find Liu Xiaopeng and Tang Shanshan’s rooms and check on their condition.

Before I had taken more than a few steps, a plump nurse from the nurses’ station spotted me.

Frowning, she marched toward me aggressively, looking as though she intended to drag me straight back to my room.

Fortunately, I kept my composure.

Greeting her with a smile, I explained that I only wanted to ask about my friends.

After thinking for a moment, the nurse led me back to the nurses’ station, checked the records, and told me which rooms Tang Shanshan and Liu Xiaopeng were in.

I thanked her profusely before leaving and making my way to Tang Shanshan’s room.

Grasping the doorknob, I peered through the small glass window.

Tang Shanshan was lying on the bed with her eyes closed.

Her face wore a peace and tranquility I had not seen in a very long time.

Yet her slightly pale complexion and the bandages wrapped around her leg made my heart ache.

I stood outside the room for quite a while.

Then, Tang Shanshan suddenly shifted slightly in bed and slowly opened her eyes, looking toward the door.

For some reason, I instinctively ducked to the side.

An indescribable feeling welled up inside me.

“Come in. I already saw you.”

Her familiar voice drifted through the door.

I couldn’t quite tell what emotion it carried.

After hesitating for a moment, I finally straightened up, pushed open the door, and walked inside.

Scratching the back of my head, I stole glances at her.

She was trying to sit up, but her injured leg made it difficult.

I hurried over, propped a pillow behind her back, and carefully helped her sit upright.

Looking at her familiar face, I remained silent for a long time before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry. You suffered so much because of me.”

“You should know that!” Tang Shanshan rolled her eyes.

Picking up an orange from the bedside table, she tossed it at me.

“I’m keeping this debt on the books. You won’t be able to repay it even in a lifetime.”

I looked up at her.

The more she spoke, the more she smiled.

A faint blush gradually spread across her cheeks.

My nose suddenly stung.

I didn’t know where the courage came from, but I took a step forward and wrapped my arms around her.

And the moment I pulled Tang Shanshan’s delicate body into my embrace—

Something strange happened.