Chapter 192

"I am no longer the weak Hebe I once was, the one who could only scheme against you in the shadows."

She has already stood at the forefront of history, completed the historical Closed Loop in the present world, and thwarted Eris's schemes time and time again.

If the principle of the Secret History has a ruler, then it must be between Hebe and Eris.

And naturally, she had no room to back down.

Hebe recalled what Joan of Arc had said to her one night, "Anyone who resorts to intrigue and trickery and dares not stand upright in the sunlight will never achieve anything great."

Along the way, it wasn't just Hebe who changed them, but they also changed Hebe.

"I am right here, ready to face you head-on and see who prevails," Hebe said softly.

Kama saw the sage under the Bodhi Tree, whose face had been veiled by clouds and mist, reveal his true form once more.

She saw Hebe sitting cross-legged in the clouds, casting a deep gaze at her.

She heard Hebe's voice in her ear.

"Kama! Kama! Kama!"

"Come here," Hebe beckoned to Kama. "Right now, the sages are leading Kullong's army toward Mohenjo-daro. Although I kept Kullong conscious for a time, he will inevitably be consumed by wrath again due to the influence of fate."

"Go and tell the inhabitants of Mohenjo-daro to flee in all directions!"

Kama clasped his hands together, looking troubled. "World Honored One! But what if someone doesn't believe me?"

"Say it again, but don't say it a third time," Hebe said gently. "Heaven helps those who help themselves. If they don't want to leave, there's nothing I can do."

As soon as she finished speaking, Hebe reached out and grabbed to her side.

A verdant wooden staff flew out of thin air and landed in Kama's palm.

"I'll lend you this staff for now to protect yourself," Hebe said. "If you encounter any obstacles, feel free to swing it."

"Go!"

Hebe reached out and pushed Kama, causing the clouds to surge and instantly push her out of Fangcun Mountain.

Go save them.

265 Wishing you happiness

"Narayana! Narayana!"

A plump immortal with a flower wreath around his neck played a clay pipa, his expression serene and joyful.

Kashyapa Immortal followed beside the fat sage, leaning on his cane in a daze, seemingly still not recovered from the shock of the sages' mass deaths.

The Bharata priests followed closely behind the two sages.

The Aryans army followed at a steady pace, and in the heart of the army was Kullong, who was trying his best to stay conscious.

"Narada Immortal, what are you doing with the Aryans?" Kashyapa lowered his voice and leaned closer to the fat man holding the earthen lute. "You are the brother of the Progenitor Daksha."

The fat immortal chuckled and plucked the strings twice, "Oh dear, I'm not siding with the Aryans, I'm only siding with the faith in my heart. And right now, my Lord is descending upon the Aryans."

That's why he appeared among the Aryans.

Kashyapa Immortal was speechless.

The reason lies in a distant past.

At that time, Progenitor Daksha had a large number of children. He was working hard to govern and wanted to send his sons out one by one to develop civilization and help him govern Bharata.

Progenitor Daksha devised a very good blueprint.

But his brother Narada, the fat man, used his silver tongue to persuade all of Daksha's sons to become monks and ascetics.

They were seduced by Narada and made a vow to renounce the world and not marry or have children.

Since Daksha himself had made a solemn oath, in a sense, his blood ties with his biological son were severed.

This caused Daksha to be separated from the earth by fire, and he cursed Narada to be homeless from then on, and to constantly chant the name of Vishnu.

But Narada was never idle, and he worshipped Vishnu so much that this Bewitching Immortal was not ashamed but proud of it.

On the other hand, even among the entire group of immortals, this fat man can be considered quite unconventional.

Because at that time, most sages revered Brahma as their supreme ruler. Kashyapa Immortal was no exception.

Of course, Kashyapa Immortal knew that with the arrival of the Vedic Age and the Dharma Age, there would be differentiation among the sages.

There will be sages who worship Shiva, and naturally there will be sages who praise Indra... but the age of Vishnu is still far from coming.

In other words, the sages who worshipped Vishnu at this time were the most futuristic of all.

Everyone understands your faith in Shiva —after all, the Aryans are about to invade, so it's not unreasonable for you to embroider a flag overnight.

Vishnu may not appear for a long time, so whether you practice asceticism or seek anything there, you will not receive any reward. What is the point of doing that?

"Alas..." Kashyapa Immortal sighed with deep regret.

Who would have thought that Narada Immortal who was ridiculed by everyone at the time, was actually a true sage; while the seemingly all-powerful Progenitor Daksha died because of his own foolishness!

Even if you were to surrender now, you wouldn't have arrived as early as this fat guy; it's like being caught in the act before the dust is even hot...

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but ask, "Narada Immortal! How did you discover that the 'Narayana' worshipped by the Aryans is the 'Vishnu' in our prophecy?"

The immortals had long known from Brahma's prophecy that Dharma called "Vishnu" would descend upon the world in the future.

But apart from that, there is no other information about "Vishnu".

In this situation, who could possibly associate the so-called "Narayana" with Vishnu...? What was this fat guy thinking that made such a bet?

"Hehe." The Bewitching Immortal plucked the earthen pipa a few times, and his face immediately lit up with interest in conversation.

Kashyapa Immortal knew something was wrong, but then he saw the fat man in front of him begin to play his beloved earthen pipa and sing a ballad.

"Oh, what a beautiful heart, how could it have turned into a pile of mud? Oh, what a devout hymn, how could it have turned into irony?"

"What I wanted to say, the sages have already said; what I wanted to do, the Lords of Life have already done. The fairness the Bharata desire is nothing but an unjust fabrication—"

The singing never stopped, and since the audience was slow to react, Kashyapa was able to sing to his Bewitching Immortal's content, with one folk song after another.

Finally, taking advantage of the opportunity while the Bewitching Immortal, Kashyapa Immortal quickly found a topic to talk about.

"Narada Immortal, aren't we supposed to be guides for the Aryans?" Kashyapa Immortal gestured slightly backward. "But it seems we're taking a longer route."

Upon hearing this question, the fat man finally stopped playing.

"Hey, Kashyapa Immortal, that's a good question." The fat man's smile faded slightly. "Then let me ask you, once they reach Mohenjo-daro, will they start fighting?"

"So you..."

"So taking these people on a longer route, with such a big commotion, the people in the city should have noticed by now!" the fat man replied. "But I can't delay for more than a few minutes, otherwise the Wrathful Lord's wrath will be uncontrollable!"

Upon hearing this, the Kashyapa Immortal trembled and glanced back tentatively, half out of fear and half out of curiosity.

Upon seeing Kullong with his head bowed and the rising blue flames above his head, the Kashyapa Immortal shuddered in fright.

—The Wrathful Lord is almost unable to contain himself.

Whether influenced by fear or driven by a competitive spirit, the Kashyapa Immortal's mind was unusually clear.

He remembered what Dasha had told him before.

The supreme leader of this group of immortals... Daksha can do it, but I Kashyapa, cannot?

The Bewitching Immortal merely glanced at him secretly, then continued plucking the strings, murmuring, "Narayana, Narayana ~"

Kama rushed into the quiet Mohenjo-daro like a gust of wind.

She went from house to house, knocking on every sleeping door, telling them about the Aryans, the betrayal of the immortals, the evil schemes of the Progenitor Daksha, and the impending war... Finally, she told everyone, "Run!"

Run!

Mohenjo-daro could no longer muster any resistance army.

Even becoming an untouchable Dalit is better than having one's descendants become enslaved outcasts for generations.

Fleeing is the most silent form of resistance for ordinary people.

Kama was prepared to be distrusted, even attacked. But he wasn't.

These ordinary people silently shed tears, packed their belongings, and left the houses where they had lived for decades.

Having gone through a life-or-death ordeal, Kama's appearance has changed a lot compared to before.

But these commoners could still recognize that the girl wreathed in flames was their Kamadiya.

A faint white mist had somehow enveloped the common people, sheltering them as they fled deeper into the wild mountains and rivers.

Kama continued onward.

She walked through the now deserted city and arrived at the district where the priests lived.

In fact, Kama could see that whether it was during night school or during the grand ceremony of mass sacrifice, the priests always looked at the common people with contempt, disdain, and incomprehension.

They just kept it very well hidden and never revealed it.

Not only that, the priests also used all sorts of rules to tell the common people that they "should make offerings to the guru", "should be as obedient as cattle and sheep", "should devoutly give alms"... There were so many "shoulds"! But there was never a "should hate"!

Kama finally realized that it was never about "not daring to hate"; on the contrary, she should hate.

She walked forward along the clean bluestone path without any intention of speaking.

Aren't these priests boasting that they've sold Bharata for a good price and already looking forward to a brighter future?

Let them enjoy it themselves.

This was Kama's revenge.

Here, only Parvati is worth saving.

Kama came to the end of the road and pushed open the door of the temple.

Parvati, who was scattering spices by the fire, looked up in astonishment.

When Kama saw the servants surrounding Parvati and scattering flower petals, he knew that she too would be sent on the flower-decorated carriage to become the "wife" of the Wrathful Lord... or rather, a sacrifice!

She strode forward without even touching the White Deer Staff that Hebe had given her.

Kama has figured out how to use the flames on his body; how can these priests possibly withstand it?

She grabbed Parvati's wrist, whispered "Come with me," and led her out of the magnificent temple.

Kama felt incredibly free and joyful.

Parvati, who was being pulled along as they ran, looked at Kama's retreating figure and felt a sense of unfamiliarity, even fear...

They ran for nearly a hundred meters when Parvati suddenly exerted her strength and shook off Kama's hand.

"Kama, what's wrong? Why haven't I seen you for the past two days? Why have you suddenly turned into this? Where are my father and uncles? Where have they gone?"

"This..."

She hesitated for only a moment before telling Parvati almost everything.

Then, Kama saw Parvati's exquisite face instantly drain of color. "Impossible... This is impossible! My father would never betray his country, my uncles would never die like this—you're joking, aren't you? Kama, this joke is not funny at all..."

"I'm not lying to you, Sati!" Kama stared at Parvati. "The Aryans, they're about to enter the city. By the time they do, it will be too late!"

"Aren't there still civilians in the city? Call them up to resist!" Parvati glared hysterically. "Everything will be alright when Father returns!"

"Daksha is dead!" Kama gritted his teeth. "He personally sent army after army to the battlefield, and he personally sent those good warriors to hell—without weapons, without armor, without supplies, without anything! Those warriors thought they were protecting their families, but in reality, their families had long since starved to death in the rear!"

"You told me a few days ago about the fisherman's family who drowned in the middle of the river. You thought they were bewitched by a water ghost, but actually they were starving."

"And these priests..." Kama's gaze swept coldly over the priests hiding behind the doors and windows, "They eat milk curds, milk balls, and honey, and waste it so carelessly... (Bharata's profanity), how many people can this wasted food save?"

"I'll tell you all about these things later." Kama took Parvati's arm. "Anyway, Sati, run with me—there's still time!"

But Parvati simply shook off her hand.

Her eyes were cold and unfamiliar.

Kama had no idea how Parvati perceived him at that moment.

Along the way, it was as if she had shed the last piece of cumbersome clothing. Everything that had bound her for the past fifteen years had now vanished in the flames.

In Parvati's eyes, Kama at this moment was radiant, exuding a vibrant and fiery life force.

The Kama she knew was not this kind of person who dared to love and hate. This image made Parvati feel as if she were seeing the night sky, or touching flames.