Deng Mao, the Yellow Turban Warrior

Zhang Yan gave his disciple an approving glance and nodded. "Good. Resentment alone isn't enough to give birth to a wicked god like this. This wicked god was formed from the resentment of the villagers of Niujia Village, which is itself a kind of fortune. A wicked god born in this way will develop an obsession with revenge from the very instant of its birth."

As he spoke, Zhang Yan watched the wicked god's phantom recede into the distance. "Normally, wicked gods born from the countless stray thoughts in the world have only an instinct to devour living beings from the moment they come into existence. But this one can resist the instinctive temptation to devour living beings and strengthen itself. The only thing it can rely on is that obsession with revenge."

Han Song's eyes lit up. "We don't know who slaughtered Niujia Village or where he's hiding, but the Guardian God of Niujia Village and the villagers who died unjustly must know. This wicked god has locked onto that fiend's aura!"

Zhang Yan surged forward, following close behind the eerie phantom. "Let's go. This wicked god was only just born. Any First Realm cultivator could easily destroy it, so I doubt it'll be a match for that fiend. When the time comes, you and I will have to kill him ourselves. That will also eliminate a major threat to Great River City."

Han Song nodded slightly and followed close behind Zhang Yan. Before long, the wicked god's phantom entered Shun'an Ward. Zhang Yan suddenly heard Han Song speak, his voice tinged with hesitation. "Master, if we keep going, we'll be entering Shun'an Ward."

Almost by reflex, Zhang Yan halted and landed on a rooftop. Frowning at the stretch of buildings veiled by night ahead, he said, "Shun'an Ward!"

Not long ago, Yang Li, the head of Great River Sect, had ordered the sect's disciples not to enter Shun'an Ward unless absolutely necessary.

The lower-ranking disciples didn't know what was going on, but Zhang Yan and Han Song knew that a being with an Emperor's status might be living in seclusion in Shun'an Ward. One careless move could bring disaster upon Great River Sect.

"Master, what should we do?"

Watching the wicked god's figure disappear into Shun'an Ward, Zhang Yan hesitated. At last, he took a deep breath. "That evil thing isn't strong enough to harm the people, who are protected by their divine statues. But that fiend is a great threat to Great River City. We should seize this chance to find him and destroy him."

As he spoke, Zhang Yan turned toward the direction ahead and cupped his hands respectfully. "If that senior learns of this, he surely won't blame us for disturbing him."

His gaze fell on Han Song, whose face was alight with excitement, and Zhang Yan cautioned him, "Remember, Shun'an Ward is where that senior resides. Even if we have to kill the fiend ourselves later, we mustn't make too much noise and disturb his peace."

"Understood, Master," Han Song replied respectfully.

The wicked god's figure was indistinct and phantom-like. Just as Zhang Yan and his disciple had said, driven by its obsession, it locked onto the traces of He Yuan's lingering aura and headed straight for the ruined manor.

Though He Yuan had been reduced to ashes, he had devoured the flesh and souls of every villager in Niujia Village inside that manor, using it as his lair. The aura he had left behind wouldn't dissipate anytime soon.

Meanwhile, Huang Huai waited quietly for the God-Worshipping Incense to burn down. The instant it was consumed, wisps of incense power drifted toward the Yellow Turban Warrior statue. Under Huang Huai's watchful gaze, they sank into the statue, and the earthen figure of the Yellow Turban Warrior instantly transformed into a divine body, its whole form gleaming with the color of ancient bronze.

Huang Huai blinked. Even though he had already seen the Three-Eyed White Lotus Goddess statue worshipped by Great River Sect's Seventh Elder manifest a divine body, and had witnessed Holy Lord Emperor Guan manifest as a deity, seeing the Yellow Turban Warrior manifest still filled him with curiosity.

A clay statue had just turned into a divine body. Who could believe it without seeing it with their own eyes?

Since the Yellow Turban Warrior statue could manifest, Huang Huai was all the more eager to see the statue of Guanyin Bodhisattva. But just as he was about to look toward it, a deep, resonant voice rang out in his mind. "Deng Mao, Yellow Turban Warrior, pays his respects to the High God!"

The moment the voice rang out in his mind, Huang Huai stiffened. He couldn't help slowly raising his head to look at the Yellow Turban Warrior, who had already manifested a divine body before him.

His gaze met the Yellow Turban Warrior's eyes. One look was enough to stir Huang Huai's heart. A faint glimmer of intelligence flickered in the Yellow Turban Warrior's eyes. And that wasn't all—Huang Huai had heard him clearly. The other even had a name of his own and had taken the initiative to pay his respects.

"Deng Mao, Yellow Turban Warrior."

Taking a deep breath and forcing down his astonishment, Huang Huai stared at the Yellow Turban Warrior standing before him. "You say your name is Deng Mao. Does that mean you still have your memories?"

Others might not know, but Huang Huai knew that the Yellow Turban Warrior statue he had brought here had indeed been named Deng Mao at Xunzhen Temple.

When Huang Huai was young and foolish, he had carved words into the Yellow Turban Warrior's foot and been punished by Great Daoist Master. He'd had to burn incense before the Yellow Turban Warrior statue and chant Deng Mao's name with devotion. Huang Huai remembered that name vividly.

With a hint of anticipation, Huang Huai watched the Yellow Turban Warrior understand his question. A look of confusion appeared on his face. He nodded, then shook his head.

Huang Huai was thrilled and astonished. At that moment, Deng Mao looked uncertain, as though struggling to remember. He respectfully addressed Huang Huai. "In reply to the High God, my mind is a jumble. It's as though countless images and voices are telling me something. I can only vaguely remember that I am Deng Mao, a Yellow Turban Warrior under the Great Teacher of Virtue. I seem to have accompanied General Cheng Yuanzhi in attacking Zhuo Commandery, where I fought an enemy general before the lines and died at the hands of Zhang Yide, the Man of Yan. After my death, I returned to the Yellow Heaven. When I awoke again, I saw the High God."

At that moment, Huang Huai's attention was entirely focused on the Yellow Turban Warrior. He didn't notice that when Deng Mao, now manifested in a divine body, mentioned Zhang Yide, the Man of Yan, a faint divine light rippled across the statue of Holy Lord Emperor Guan on the altar table, then vanished in a flash.

"Do you have any other memories? Anything about the Yellow Heaven, perhaps? Or do you remember how you awoke?"

At Huang Huai's question, confusion filled Deng Mao's eyes. He shook his head. "In reply to the High God, my memories are fragmented. Other than my vivid impression of the High God, I only know that the High God awakened me from chaos. I remember nothing else. Please forgive me."

By now, Huang Huai could tell that Deng Mao's memories were clearly incomplete. Aside from knowing he was a Yellow Turban Warrior and remembering his name, he had little else left.

Huang Huai said nothing. He turned Deng Mao's answer over in his mind. Deng Mao said that Huang Huai had awakened him from chaos. What exactly did he mean? Was it because Huang Huai had just offered him incense? Or because, years ago, Huang Huai had spent a whole month chanting his true name before the statue without stopping?

The more he thought about it, the less he understood. Huang Huai frowned in thought, while Deng Mao stood there in a daze.

Suddenly, Huang Huai came back to himself and looked at Deng Mao. "Can you turn back into a statue?"

Deng Mao immediately replied, "In reply to the High God, I only need to expend a mysterious power to maintain my current form. I can return to statue form at any time."

The divine light around Deng Mao, whose divine body had manifested moments earlier, drew back in an instant. He had become the clay Yellow Turban Warrior statue once more.

Looking at the Yellow Turban Warrior statue, which had turned back into clay, Huang Huai found his earlier guess confirmed. Thinking of what Deng Mao had just said, he mused, It must be the effect of Incense and Fire Prayer Power. Deng Mao said his memories were fragmented, as though countless people were speaking to him in his mind. Those must be the countless bits of scattered information carried by the Incense and Fire Prayer Power, as people burn incense and pray. And Deng Mao's ability to think must also be the result of all the information contained in that prayer power coming together.

As he studied the Yellow Turban Warrior statue, a thought suddenly came to Huang Huai. If this statue receives enough Incense and Fire Prayer Power, and absorbs the information contained within it, will Deng Mao's statue then truly cease to be clay and become a real deity with his own memories and understanding—a Yellow Turban Warrior named Deng Mao?

Since Deng Mao, the Yellow Turban Warrior, could manifest with a degree of intelligence, what about Holy Lord Emperor Guan?