Seeing that it had finally responded, Qin He waited expectantly for it to speak.
Yet after quite a while, the Moth Ancestor's corpse remained silent.
"It could at least chat a little in the cave, but the moment it came out, the damn thing turned mute." Qin He grumbled inwardly. Being stared at by those two hollow eye sockets was no pleasant experience.
"Are you an immortal?" Qin He could not hold back any longer and asked directly.
If I got it right, then fucking nod. Otherwise, why am I following you around? Might as well burn you to ashes.
"An immortal?"
The Moth Ancestor's corpse finally spoke. A strange expression appeared on its face as it said, "Gods are gods, immortals are immortals. How can they be lumped together?"
"Hm?"
Qin He paused. "What is the difference between gods and immortals?"
"Gods are primordial spirits of creation, born standing above the Heavenly Dao. They neither age nor decay, neither die nor perish. They are the masters of the laws of Dao," said the Moth Ancestor's corpse.
Qin He fell silent for a moment, then asked again, "What about demons?"
"Demons..."
The hollow pupils of the Moth Ancestor's corpse seemed to sink into distant memories. It was silent for a long while before slowly saying, "Demons are... immortals who stand against the gods."
"In the Mythological Era, demons and immortals were two sides of the same coin?" Qin He found this rather astonishing.
It reminded him of the legend of the Shore Flower. It was a flower that had willingly cast itself into hell, only to be sent back by the demons. From then on, it took root upon the banks of the Nether River between the Yin-Yang Realms.
There was one strange phrase in that story: sent back by