"Is it possible that—"
The moment Shen Tang heard Jimò Qiu say that, she knew there was a trap.
"I just lost my memories. I didn't lose my mind."
As long as her intelligence hadn't been forcibly reduced to zero—or even plunged into the negatives—Shen Tang figured she ought to be able to see through schemes and plots. She sympathized with the suffering he'd endured at the hands of those mischievous brats, but that didn't mean she'd obediently jump into a pit just because he'd dug one for her, right?
Jimò Qiu's expression shifted again, ever so slightly.
Shen Tang asked him, "What did the other party say this time?"
Jimò Qiu replied, "Lure the tiger from the mountain."
Shen Tang: "???"
Jimò Qiu continued, "Use the Son of Heaven to command the Vassal Lords."
Put plainly, Shen Tang could choose not to jump into the pit, but he wouldn't easily let go of the special targets among the group of mischievous brats either. He did hate to part with those little fleas, but their zeal for courting death had made him grit his teeth and give them up.
Shen Tang irritably grabbed her hair. Gongxi Chou, standing nearby, was getting a little annoyed listening to all this. He said indifferently, "What happens if you go back on your word now?"
Jimò Qiu replied, "A Saint's Promise weighs less than the nine heavens."
The price of going back on it would be even greater.
Mortals couldn't make promises lightly to others, especially to gods; gods couldn't make promises lightly to the Heavenly Dao, either. From the day countless worlds, large and small, came into being, each had its own rules. The two were like opposite sides of the same coin, inseparable. Ordinary living beings couldn't sense their existence, but beings