Godhood Inheritance!

A tear fell from the angel's eye.

That tear was pure white, so clean that it held not the slightest impurity.

It drifted slowly down from the heavens, passing through layers of clouds before silently scattering beneath the upturned gazes of everyone below.

White light surged like a tide from where the tear shattered, pouring down in a roaring cascade and wrapping the entire city within it.

When the light fell upon people, it carried neither scorching heat nor the slightest sting. Instead, it was warm.

It was the kind of warmth that felt like returning to a mother's embrace.

The old soldier kneeling on the ground froze.

He lowered his head and looked at the wound where his arm had been severed. It had festered for years, causing him such pain that he could not sleep at night.

Yet at that moment, a numb, itchy sensation came from the wound.

Using his one remaining hand, he lifted his clothes. White light flowed over the wound like water, and the rotten flesh and pus-filled blood visibly began to recede.

The old soldier's hand shook violently. It was not fear. In more than forty years of life, this was the first time he felt that perhaps Heaven truly had eyes.

"It's not hot anymore... My forehead isn't hot anymore..."

The father leaning against his son suddenly murmured. He touched his face, then his neck, before turning to his son in disbelief. "Son, feel it. Feel your father's forehead. Isn't the fever gone?"

The son stretched out his hand, his fingertips trembling. The instant he touched his father's forehead, all strength seemed to leave his body. He dropped to his knees before his father, wrapped his arms around his waist, and burst into loud sobs.

"It's not hot anymore... Father, it really isn't hot anymore..."

In a house across the street, a young woman stumbled outside with a tightly swaddled child in her arms.

She knelt in the middle of the street, untied the swaddling clothes, and revealed the child's small face, flushed red with fever.

White light fell upon the child. The feverish redness gradually faded from the little face, the furrowed brows slowly relaxed, and the breathing gradually steadied.

The woman pressed her face against the child's forehead and felt the burning heat slowly subside.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but found that something seemed lodged in her throat. Not a single word came out.

All she could do was stroke the child's face again and again as large tears crashed onto the swaddling clothes.

"Mother, my stomach doesn't hurt anymore." A boy of seven or eight squatted in the corner, slowly loosening the hand that had clutched his stomach for days. He looked up at the elderly woman beside him, his eyes shining. "Mother, it really doesn't hurt anymore!"

The old woman wrapped the boy tightly in her trembling arms, resting her chin atop his head. Tears streamed down the wrinkles on her face and dripped into his hair.

"The Angel God is merciful... The Angel God is merciful..."

She repeated those words over and over, unable to stop.

More and more people began to notice the changes in their bodies.

Those who had coughed nonstop for ten days or half a month suddenly found that their throats no longer itched, their chests no longer felt tight, and they could breathe as smoothly as if they had inhaled all the crisp autumn air into their lungs.

Those whose entire bodies ached so badly that they could not even stand slowly regained strength in their legs, as if their missing bones had been put back in place.

Those who had vomited and suffered diarrhea until they were badly dehydrated gradually felt the nausea in their stomachs subside. Even the cracked dead skin on their dry lips slowly healed beneath the white light's nourishment.

They tried to stand and took two steps, only to find that their heads no longer spun.

They raised their hands and watched the bloody cracks around their nails, torn open from vomiting, slowly vanish. Their eyes were full of shock.

"Oh, heavens... Oh, heavens..."

A gray-haired old man stood trembling in his doorway. He was the only physician in the city willing to remain behind.

Over the past few days, he had watched helplessly as the number of patients grew while medicine dwindled. By the time he himself began to run a fever and cough, he had already prepared to die.

Yet now, standing amid the white light and feeling his symptoms disappear bit by bit, he felt as though he were soaking in warm water. Every joint and every inch of skin was being gently caressed.

He had lived for most of his life and had seen enough partings and deaths to believe he had long since become numb. Yet when he raised a hand to wipe away the tears on his face, he realized that his hand had been shaking all along.

"This is a miracle..." he murmured, with a reverence he himself had not noticed in his voice. "A true miracle..."

On this day, the cries in the city changed completely.

They were no longer cries of despair, resignation, and waiting for death to descend, but heartrending sobs of surviving disaster, regaining what had been lost, and utter disbelief.

They knelt on the ground, smashing their foreheads against the bluestone pavement until they bled, yet refusing to stop.

People in the distance stared at the enormous phantom of an angel, unable to speak.

Qian Daoliu, who had rushed over in haste, stood utterly still as though stunned by what he saw.

Was this a miracle?

They did not know what to say, nor did they know whom to thank. They only felt as if something had filled their chests to the brim, swelling painfully within them until their tears would not stop.

Ye Xunfeng floated in midair, his eyes tightly shut.

White light poured ceaselessly from his body, enveloping the entire city.

Ye Xunfeng vaguely sensed the circulation of Soul Power within his body.

The Wishing Angel Spirit quietly spread its wings behind him. Its eight wings did not flap, yet they steadily held him aloft in the air.

He could feel something surging toward him from all directions, flowing into his body and into his spirit.

That was not Soul Power. It was Power of Faith.

Suddenly, Ye Xunfeng felt as though an indescribable force had pulled his soul from his body. That force seemed brimming with vitality, yet he could sense that it was clearly on a level far above the Soul Power he wielded.

Ye Xunfeng's soul trembled, and then he arrived in a world of lush green nature.

"Little one, come here." A gentle woman called softly.

Ye Xunfeng bit his lower lip. It felt so real. Was this the God Realm?

"Little one, I mean you no harm," the woman said gently, mistaking his reaction for fear.

Ye Xunfeng took several steps forward, looking somewhat puzzled at the woman standing beneath an enormous tree.

This should be the Goddess of Life...

"Child, from the God Realm, I witnessed you use the Tear of Compassion to save all living beings in the city. Your Heart of Prayer is the true essence of life."

"I am the God of Life of the God Realm. Seeing your rare talent and excellent character, I shall pass my Godhood to you today. May you protect the living beings of this world with compassion," the Goddess of Life said gently.

Ye Xunfeng lowered his eyes, a flash of disbelief and indescribable excitement passing through them.

Godhood!

Mother could be saved!

"I... I am willing to inherit your Godhood. If I inherit your Godhood, can I revive my mother?" Ye Xunfeng asked excitedly.