Yunchuan stepped down from the carriage, his every move strikingly calm and poised. Before him, hundreds of villagers still knelt, their weak and bloodless bodies trembling, their eyes gripped by hope and desperation.
Yet upon seeing him—his expression warm, serene, and suffused with compassion as flawless as his appearance—the atmosphere shifted. It was like watching an angel step down from the clouds to witness the suffering of humanity.
"Everyone… please, stand."
His voice was soft—but it echoed with power.
Smooth, yet resonant. Gentle, yet commanding. It didn't demand—it invited. It soothed.
It was the kind of voice that made you want to obey.
The villagers, almost instinctively, began standing. Their bodies responded before their minds could even form the thought. Every fiber told them the same thing:
They could trust him.
This was the effect of a maxed-out [Charm] attribute.
With that alone, Yunchuan could quell riots or lead revolutions. If he ever defected and founded a religion of his own, he might just surpass Spirit Hall itself.
This, among many reasons, was why Bibi Dong had named him the Holy Son—a symbol of benevolence, a living miracle.
A face. A faith. A future.
But it wasn't just looks.
His Martial Soul.
That mattered too.
His second spirit—originally called the "Plant Goddess"—had undergone six years of development, experimentation, and mastery. Now, it had a name worthy of its capabilities:
Plant Sovereign: Goddess of Life.
The renaming wasn't cosmetic. The abilities had advanced. The name now reflected function and scale.
Forget "Blue Lightning," "Clear Sky Hammer," or "Seven Treasures Glazed Tile."
"Plant Sovereign. Goddess of Life."
That name alone demanded reverence.
Yunchuan looked at the villagers—all now on their feet.
He nodded slightly, satisfied. As someone raised in a modern mindset, he had always disliked traditions that enforced blind kneeling. Here, everyone stood as equals under the sky.
"I will begin treatment now."
He crossed his arms before his chest, forming a distinctive and elegant posture:
Thumbs linked, index fingers touching, the remaining six fingers fanned to mimic a six-winged shape.
And then—
A dazzling white glow began to radiate from his body.
Light concentrated behind him, forming beams that soon shaped into majestic white wings—purely made of light, fanning gently behind him in a gentle rhythm.
In this moment, he no longer looked like a person.
He looked like a myth.
A divine being descended for salvation.
The angelic radiance scattered over the dusty village, chasing away cloud and shadow. Everyone fell silent, eyes trembling, hearts thumping.
Then they began to pray.
Closed eyes.
Silent lips.
Peace.
The villagers were no longer trembling from fear—but from overwhelming relief.
As the wings behind Yunchuan beat slowly in the air, a deeper glow began rising—gentle green light whispered into existence above his head.
And then she appeared.
Gracefully taking form: the image of a divine goddess holding a stalk of Blue Silver Grass.
Not just a Plant Goddess anymore.
A Goddess of Life.
In one smooth gesture, the ethereal figure raised the plant in her hand. It shimmered—and emerald stardust poured out of the stalk, scattering through the white light and seeping into the bodies of everyone present.
Where it touched, healing followed.
The villagers' pale skin reddened. Their weak frames straightened. Their trembling limbs steadied.
Lost vitality… was being restored.
It had taken years of secret study, but Yunchuan had eventually discovered the hidden potential of this Martial Soul: the ability to harvest primal life energy from plants—storing it within the spirit itself.
When wielded externally, that essence could be channeled into others—reconstructing what had been drained.
After making this breakthrough, there was no need for him to soak in medicinal baths anymore. He simply used stored life energy to recover fully after training.
Efficiency. Purity. Control.
He considered it his best-kept secret.
Because this wasn't just healing.
True life force—at its root—carried a potentially game-changing property:
Longer life.
Regeneration.
Rebirth.
In theory, Yunchuan could already grant immortality—not just for himself, but others.
But.
Only a handful knew the truth of that power—Bibi Dong… Qian Renxue… Hu Liena.
To the world?
It was healing. Restoration.
That was all.
Exposing the full truth would make him a target. Until he could defend this gift with overwhelming power, the secret would remain locked away.
And so, under the soft glow of divinity, hundreds of villagers stood wrapped in healing warmth.
The aura of the Goddess of Life slowly diminished.
Yunchuan's angelic wings faded.
The white light dispersed.
This was the soul skill he classified as Saint Radiance.
Not designed for damage—but for miracles.
It calmed the mind, dispelled fear, and cleansed trauma. A soul skill born from the light attribute of his Supreme Clear Sky Hammer—and one of dozens of self-created skills he had developed by mastering both of his spirits over the last six years.
It had become one of his most effective "tools of faith."
In another world, they might call it divine magic.
Here?
It was hope.
(End of Chapter)