Who would sculpt a divine statue in their own likeness, then burn incense and worship themselves every day? Whether in his previous life or this one, that was an extremely ill-omened thing to do.
After all, only gods could receive the incense offerings of the living, couldn't they?
No, not just gods. There were also those heretical beings, evil spirits, and other unclean things.
These days, even within the Outer City, many households enshrined all sorts of inexplicable things, seeking comfort for their souls.
If one day this divine statue really takes on my appearance, what would offering incense to myself even count as?
Zhou Chen muttered inwardly.
Some folk legends from his previous life went like this: if you disliked someone, you could enshrine their portrait or spirit tablet on an altar, offering incense and bowing to it every day. Unable to bear those offerings, that person would instead become entangled in resentment. At best, they would fall gravely ill; at worst, they would drop dead.
Zhou Chen carefully studied the divine statue's face.
Before, only its expression had borne a slight resemblance to his. Looking again now, he felt that its eyebrows had already begun to resemble his own.
Where exactly did this divine statue come from? Why does it look more like me the more people I kill?
Zhou Chen could make neither heads nor tails of it.
Since he couldn't figure it out, he simply stopped thinking about it.
For now, at least, the benefits the divine statue brought him were real and tangible.
If there truly were any harmful consequences, those were matters for the future, and Zhou Chen had never been one to fret over what would happen after he was gone.
Then he settled his mind and concentrated on absorbing the medicinal power