Chapter 215
The little girl's father sighed heavily, walked back, and said to Sita, "Please don't cause us any trouble, okay?"
"You may have the ability and the skill. But I've already taken money from the palace. We don't want to be homeless. Please."
The dark-skinned man reached up and clasped his hands above his head in a gesture of respect to Sita, then hurried home.
Sita returned to his dwelling, he saw Hanuman lighting candles.
"Senior brother."
"You've already decided to go save that child named 'Gouwei'?"
Hanuman said calmly, "Of course, this is your own decision, and I support you in doing so, but what about afterwards? This family, this child... what will become of him?"
"I don't know," Sita replied. "Perhaps we could let him live in our village, or perhaps we could let him come with us, or perhaps we could let him go to Ayodhya ... It's better than him being burned alive. As long as he's alive, there is hope; but if he's dead, there is nothing left."
"Well said," Hanuman said, pleased. "So, what do you intend to do?"
"Rush into the palace and rescue the child." Sita replied matter-of-factly, "I have the power, so I should do what is worthy of that power."
The tyrant who ruled this city-state seemed quite eager in some respects.
When the next morning arrived, he had already prepared the altar and various offerings, and respectfully invited the Immortal Zhongyou to preside over the sacrifice.
These offerings are all quite good, more than enough to serve as materials for a regular fire ritual, but that's not the point.
The main offering in the Ashvamedha is a horse, so as a substitute ritual, there should also be a main offering.
The Immortal Zhongyou walked up the high platform step by step, and saw a little boy with slightly dark skin kneeling on the edge of the sacrificial fire, his brows slightly furrowed.
He had little prejudice against the poor, but a sacrifice was a sacrifice.
"What about the offerings?" The Immortal Zhongyou turned to the tyrant. "And are you planning to have a Shudra as an assistant sacrifice?"
"A sacrificial deacon? Indra, you must be joking!" The tyrant stretched out his hands in disbelief. "He's not a sacrificial deacon at all. This boy is the offering I'm going to make to Agni, the god of fire, in place of the white horse!"
Human sacrifice?
The Immortal Zhongyou took a step back in astonishment.
He turned his head and looked at the little boy who was still kneeling with his head down, his eyes twitching uncontrollably.
Human sacrifice was certainly widespread in this era.
Furthermore, the identity, race, origin, age, and gender of the offerings must be carefully selected.
For example, the Brahmin in Hebe's simulation is an excellent offering, suitable for any deity. Moreover, the Brahmin's head can be used to make Kapala bowl, the brow bone can be carved into a rosary, the arm and leg bones can be made into a flute-like ritual instrument, and the internal organs can be made into various offerings.
However, this practice is often seen in various sects that believe in Shiva.
These ascetic yogis not only specifically lured and captured Brahmin to make ritual implements, but also performed corresponding sacrifices for the poor.
The poor are not afraid of this; on the contrary, they are very enthusiastic about it.
This is because the ashe-covered yogis of the Shaivism filled the void in the faith and spiritual emptiness of the poor.
Originally, the rituals belonged only to Brahmin and Kshatriya, but now yogis have broken the monopoly of faith in the name of God.
This is truly the most ridiculous thing in the world—human sacrifice is already a sign of sufficient ignorance and backwardness.
But at this time in the land of Bharata, human sacrifice actually showed progress!
The Immortal Zhongyou opened their mouths.
He suddenly found it somewhat ridiculous.
Although this probably had nothing to do with his identity, he couldn't help but let his mind wander—was it because he believed in Shiva that this tyrant thought he was a master at performing human sacrifices?
The Immortal Zhongyou helped the little boy up; they had decided to save this innocent child.
Before he could say anything, a sharp whooshing sound came from afar.
"Careful!"
The Immortal Zhongyou pulled the little boy away and shielded him behind them.
The cane beside it seemed to fly into the air as if it were alive, and collided directly with the Golden Ring that was breaking through the air.
Smack
The Golden Ring swirled and disappeared into the clouds.
The Immortal Zhongyou reached out and caught the wooden staff, their expressions filled with doubt and uncertainty.
What's going on? An enemy has appeared from the sky?
But then two roars erupted from the ground. It turned out to be the two young heroes who were guarding the city. The son of the Vayu a howl and was about to ride the gale to the sky.
But a hairy hand pressed down on his shoulder, causing him to lose all his strength.
"Hey, is it that old man's bloodline again Vayu?" Hanuman grabbed the young man's shoulder and slammed him to the ground with ease.
The soldiers and officers around them retreated in panic.
They had long witnessed the wonders of heroes in battle—summoning raging winds that could dam rivers, or unleashing arrows that could cover an entire army.
This is a rare sight, a legend to boast about for a lifetime, but one must survive to have the right to boast.
The aftershocks of the heroes' duel were enough to tear mortals apart.
Therefore, even in war, as soon as heroes decide to fight one-on-one, ordinary people will immediately leave the battlefield to the heroes who are fighting, so as not to be accidentally injured.
To everyone's horror, before they could even retreat completely, the Child of God who guarded the city was thrown to the ground by a monkey-like savage.
"How dare you insult my father—"
"Your father?" Hanuman's eyes blazed with barely concealed fire. He grabbed the young man by the collar and yanked him off the ground.
Hanuman did not argue with the young man on this issue, knowing that in human society, conceiving through intuition is a sacred way of being born.
While the Vayu did not bring Hanuman any benefit, things are different in human society.
The once impoverished family will be instantly transformed. This Child of God will enjoy treatment comparable to that of a king. His entire family will be worshipped by the inhabitants of the city-state.
But these things had nothing to do with Hanuman, so he didn't waste any words and simply beat his "brother" to his knees.
In just five or six seconds, when Hanuman released his grip, the once spirited Child of God was already barely breathing, collapsing to the ground covered in blood.
Another hero of this city-state was the son of Agni, the god of fire.
The reason he didn't go to rescue his partner wasn't because he didn't want to, but because he had encountered a more formidable enemy.
—Sita.
She wasn't wearing her light blue sari today, but when she descended from the clouds on her Wind Fire Wheels, no one dared to look at her.
In the eyes of this group of people, she was no longer a "woman", but a "goddess".
Even in later Bharata, women were of low status, yet the goddess "Sakti" became the mainstream of the faith.
The Red Ribbon stretched out behind them in a fluttering motion, like a blazing flame.
Sita glanced at the Immortal Zhongyou, and the Golden Ring reappeared behind her head, but this time it did not strike the sages, but instead hit the head of the son of Agni, the god of fire.
Snap!
Like smashing a rotten watermelon, the majestic Child of God was instantly reduced to a headless corpse.
Sita landed on his wind and fire wheels, and threw the corpse into the sacrificial fire. The flames instantly rose several meters high, emitting a bright light.
"Who are you?!" The tyrant of the city-state finally realized.
He roared at Sita, his voice hoarse, "I don't even know you! Why are you disrupting my ritual? Do you know what this ritual means?"
"This city-state will receive more divine favor, and we will have more heroes! What have we done wrong that you treat us like this!"
"Revered Brahmin Master!" the tyrant cried out to the Immortal Zhongyou, "Please have mercy! These two villains have disrupted the ritual you are presiding over and deserve to be punished!"
Do you want to curse me?
Sita looked coldly at her friends. She recognized them as the old man she had met by chance in the teahouse that day, but she was not afraid at all.
So what if it's a grave sin of Brahminicide?
With his Golden Ring and longsword, he could definitely shred him like chicken giblets before the curse could even be cast.
"With such abilities, you couldn't possibly be an unknown person," the Immortal Zhongyou said with a complex expression. "Rest assured, I also have no intention of performing a human sacrifice, and besides..."
He glanced at the blazing fire, and his tone became complicated.
"Besides, this ritual already has offerings, doesn't it?"
Offerings to the fire god included his offspring.
But Agni, the god of fire, was not angry; in fact, he seemed to feel a hidden joy.
"Me?" Sita twitched the corner of her mouth.
She looked at the tyrant who was still howling and spoke in a cold voice.
The Golden Ring slipped off her arm and hung in mid-air.
"Didn't you want a reason? Well, I'll tell you now."
"I am Rama, the Dasharatha, the Rama of Ayodhya," Sita said, uttering the excuse he had already prepared. "I will not allow the sacrifice you are about to perform."
283 Even if we met again, we would not recognize each other.
Sita had long considered calling himself "Rama."
Hebe had long ago taught her that if she were to accomplish great deeds, she must first leave her mark on the world. Since she was to inherit Rama's mandate, she had to act and follow the laws in Rama's name.
Similarly, if one wants to return to Ayodhya and inherit the throne of Dasharatha, then one must possess a prestigious reputation in any way.
Sita knew that he had to become a king, and that the road back to the country to ascend the throne would not be smooth.
Dasharatha, the ruler of Ayodhya. It would be best if he could acknowledge his identity.
However, according to the Ramayana that the patriarch had shown him, Dasharatha was a wise but indecisive ruler who was initially shrewd but later became mediocre. He would be influenced by his consorts and emotionally overturn the decisions he had made.
Rather than doing nothing and waiting for things to develop, we should...
It would be better to use his prestige to return to Ayodhya and force Dasharatha to abdicate.
Hanuman also agreed with Sita's idea.
However, the Immortal Zhongyou stared wide-eyed.
No one knows what kind of turmoil is churning in his heart at this moment.
Rama. Rama, son of Dasharatha. Rama, the most legitimate heir to the Ayodhya. Rama, who should have become his disciple, was implicated and killed in the rebellion of King Dasharatha...
He is dead.
It took the Immortal Zhongyou a long time to leave the Kurukshetra.
The reason lies not only in the severe blow he suffered, but also in the fact that the vow he made has since fallen apart.
Rama died, and the disciple who could have inherited his will and mantle died. From then on, he had no face to see Dasharatha.
What truly nearly broke Immortal Zhongyou was not his physical disability, but the fact that everything he had worked so far had no future.
This was a blow to him no less severe than watching his sons perish under Jiyu's curse.
Although the Immortal Zhongyou eventually rallied, he knew his life was already as fragile as a candle flickering in the wind.
The reason for all this is that he ultimately broke his own vow.
—He was neither able to personally kill the Ravana, nor able to raise Rama to adulthood.
Regardless of his true intentions, breaking a vow will inevitably come at a price.
Of course, like all immortals.
The Immortal Zhongyou also knew many techniques for prolonging life.
He knew that this was against the Dharma law, but as long as he failed to pass on his mantle and eradicate the great scourge of the Demon King, the old man would not rest in peace.
However, everything Sita said almost made the Immortal Zhongyou roar involuntarily.
Could this girl before me be the reincarnation of Prince Rama?
Could it be that the legend of reincarnation is not just a myth, but a real phenomenon?
Ahhh... Ahhh!