A few days later, Ye Yu and Xiao Bai wandered through the Divine Realm.
After the Yang Keqiang incident, Ye Yu knew all too well that his dream-fusion talent was far too conspicuous. If he recklessly produced numerous unusual fusion creations, he would easily draw the attention of those with ill intent. Therefore, until his strength had fully matured, it was better to keep a low profile. Even if there were items that absolutely required fusion, he would handle them as secretly as possible so that no one would notice. In short, his guiding principle was to develop steadily and avoid recklessness.
Xiao Bai, however, remained fixated on that box. Since following Ye Yu, it had never encountered anything it could not smash—yet on the very day it became a Divine Beast, it suffered its Waterloo at the hands of this box. How could it bear that? Even now it brooded over it, ceaselessly exploring ways to force the box open.
Of course, Ye Yu was equally curious. What could be inside that box? Human curiosity knew no bounds: the more something was hidden, the more one longed to see it. Even gods were no exception. Yet he could not devote all his attention to this. He still needed to find opportunities to grow stronger. Ideally, he would seek out as many divine arts as possible and secretly fuse them—that was the true path.
To that end, his first choice was to join a divine alliance. Each alliance had obvious pros and cons. The advantage was that their resources and divine arts were well established. Even as a newcomer, he could access basic techniques—which would be more than sufficient, since he could fuse those fundamentals into high-end creations. The drawback lay in the unclear restraints the alliance might impose on its deities. If he joined a lax alliance, all would be well. But if the alliance was overly controlling—assigning endless tasks and strict attendance requirements—he would become little more than a divine workhorse. Choosing the right alliance was therefore crucial.
After careful consideration, Ye Yu immediately began gathering information on various alliances. To his surprise, Wuzhong Mountain best fit his needs. He was not unfamiliar with this alliance; in his previous dream he had encountered their deities. Their black lotus emblem on their collars had stood out as one of their marks. They claimed to be the guardians of the Divine Realm, tasked with eradicating evil gods and inner demonic threats—but they often did strange things. That description, delivered by the Bone Maiden, had stayed with him.
At the time he had found it odd that such an alliance existed. But now, on reflection, one adjective perfectly described Wuzhong Mountain: chuunibyou zealots. Yes—pubescent delusionals. No normal god would shout such slogans. Having ascended to divinity, how could they remain so immature? A second-rate alliance without top-tier power, «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» yet they claimed to be the realm’s guardians? Merely slaying evil gods and inner demons? Existence justified their presence: where there was light, darkness must follow. Moreover, evil gods—upgraded versions of mortals’ dark cultivators and celestial fiends—had endured innumerable hardships to reach the Divine Realm. They held no grudge against you, yet you attacked them? What grudge could justify that? Insolent fools.
This chuunibyou zealot label also worked to Ye Yu’s advantage. He could play the part and show himself as one of them, urging acceptance. Armed with this belief, he went to Wuzhong Mountain and applied for membership. After proudly proclaiming, “I shall harbor eternal hatred for evil gods,” Ye Yu unlocked a new identity in the Divine Realm—as a member of Wuzhong Mountain. He also received a black standard-issue robe with the same black lotus embroidered on the collar.
To his surprise, it was a low-grade divine artifact. Was Wuzhong Mountain truly this generous? The alliance’s recruiter, Zheng Gudao, earnestly explained, “We of Wuzhong Mountain risk our lives battling evil gods, so our equipment must keep pace. Work hard: once you slay enough evil gods and become an alliance elder, you will receive more artifact rewards.” He added that their alliance housed the Cangtian Pavilion, a seven-tier repository of divine arts. New deities could only enter the first tier; based on their contribution from slaying evil gods, they could unlock higher floors.
Hearing this, Ye Yu could barely contain his smile—he had indeed come to the right place. In the following days, he remained within the first floor of Cangtian Pavilion. He did not bother to eradicate evil gods or inner demons; Wuzhong Mountain supported such behavior. After all, as a newly ascended deity, he needed to grow in strength before attempting such tasks. Otherwise, it would be suicide.
In light of this, Wuzhong Mountain even opened a “New God Aid Pack,” providing many pills and divine herbs necessary for cultivation. Only then did Ye Yu truly understand the meaning of that saying: “Choice surpasses effort.” It was so true that he felt like proclaiming his loyalty on the spot.
A few days later, within the Cangtian Pavilion:
Ye Yu closed the divine art scroll in his hand and placed it back on the shelf. By now he had reviewed every technique on the first floor. As expected, free access offered little of real value. Of thirty-eight divine arts, only seven were offensive; the rest were all supportive—true chicken ribs, of little use either way. It was clear that to find truly reliable techniques, he would have to ascend further.
Ye Yu looked up at the partition above and prepared to return and fuse some arts, hoping for a surprise. At that moment, a goddess of fair features and broad benevolence blocked his path. “Do you recognize me?” she asked.
Her question left Ye Yu puzzled. He studied her carefully for a long moment yet could not recall having met her before. Tentatively he asked, “Have we really met before?”
“We haven’t before—but we have now. I am Kong Ying. What is your name?”
The goddess was poised and her voice melodious. Ye Yu raised an eyebrow. Had he just been approached?
