The Thirty-Seventh Illustration: The Temptation of the Law

The spatial layers within the Divine Tomb were peculiarly structured; a careless step could send one tumbling into a sub-spatial fault. Though one might eventually climb out, it would waste both time and mental energy. The area was saturated with lingering will left behind by fallen deities; unless one’s purification law had reached the origin level, absorbing such energy was akin to swallowing poison. To replenish one’s spiritual or internal power, only potions or energy crystals could be relied upon.

The Divine Tomb was vast beyond measure. To traverse it by flight was like an ant crawling the length of a continent. Even without time constraints, the supply of energy crystals was limited; a shortcut had to be found.

While flying, Sang Sang observed her surroundings, gradually discerning patterns within the chaotic space. She began attempting to step on spatial nodes to teleport. After falling into spatial faults several times, her speed and range of teleportation improved greatly. She journeyed through the astral river, stars sweeping past her, each carrying a law within reach—simple, clear, and instantly comprehensible, like ripe fruit hanging by the roadside, tempting travelers to stop and pluck them.

Some pressed forward, unmoved by temptation, maintaining their course with unshakable resolve. Others, believing they had ample time, paused to comprehend any law that piqued their interest, only to discover that the guidance of the stardust vanished when they stopped—meaning they lost their chance at an innate attribute’s guidance. Not wishing further loss, they could only continue to study the law before them. Yet what initially seemed instantly graspable now required full immersion, consuming considerable mental energy.

“The first pull of innate attributes is always the best; those three opportunities exist only to test one's character.”

Sang Sang kept Yaslan’s warning firmly in mind. No matter how enticing the passing law-stars were, even if some clung to her like hooks at her sleeve, she did not stop.

She did not know how much time had passed. Again and again, she traversed space by stepping on nodes, finally leaving the outer star river and entering the inner nebula circle. No sign of others could be seen—only countless stone tablets drifting aimlessly in the starry void.

Around each tablet, various laws took on tangible forms: weapons, human figures, trees, household items, birds, beasts, insects, fish… They conversed if they met, sometimes fought, and occasionally greeted Sang Sang.

For example, a seven-colored hydrangea ahead fluttered its petals, casting a rainbow of light as it called out from a distance, “Hey, little human girl, my master was the most beautiful goddess—do you want her legacy?”

“Do not be tempted by these law incarnations. They are not the true source of the laws, but residual thoughts of the fallen gods, manifesting through laws. Heeding their words yields no inheritance, only loss of spiritual vitality, shortening one’s natural life.”

Yaslan’s warning echoed in her mind. Sang Sang ignored the hydrangea and continued forward. Only her afterimage remained where she’d been.

The hydrangea’s glow faded, petals folding in. “Children these days are too clever—has beauty lost its charm for women?”

Sang Sang could resist the lure of inheritances, but not everyone could. Some were drawn by the promise of invincibility; some stopped for ultimate defense; some for mysterious fortune; some for immortality…

Yet, before leaving the Divine Tomb, they would not realize that what they gained by sacrificing half their soul’s vitality was not an inheritance, but an infusion of law. If the residual thoughts did not know that devouring all soul-vitality would bring the Temple’s purification and their own destruction, they would offer only minor boons—enough to survive and slowly strengthen until one day their souls could leave the tomb. For those people, what awaited them was the exhaustion of their vitality and the decay of their souls.

Rather than, for example, the one who chose invincibility receiving supreme sword intent, the one choosing ultimate defense gaining counterattack secrets, the one choosing mysterious fortune mastering the art of seizing destiny, or the one seeking immortality obtaining the method of rebirth from a single drop of blood.

Yet, for these people, even if they understood the truth, they might still be unable to resist temptation, for soul-vitality could always be replenished, but a law to their liking was not so easily found, and once lost, opportunity would not return. Thus, despite myriad traps, countless still vied for the chance, for compared to the outside world’s secret realms—where the death rate could be thirty to fifty percent—the Temple’s fortune at least provided some guarantee of survival.

No one knew how much time passed. The stone tablets around Sang Sang grew sparser, the fluctuations of law calmer; some were barely perceptible, only the tablets themselves drifting along magnetic currents.

She was nearing the tomb’s central core, where those who’d left their tablets had died long ago. The residual thoughts had either already stabilized as soul bodies and departed, or lost the will to persist and slumbered within the stones.

The stardust’s guidance grew ever stronger—the goal was just ahead.

Sang Sang breathed a sigh of relief, confirmed her position one last time, tore open space, and stepped through. The sight before her made her brow furrow.

A massive, jet-black stone loomed ahead, dozens of meters tall, unmarked by any name. Countless patterns writhed across its surface—on closer inspection, they represented the seven emotions and six desires of humanity. As she drew near, a cloying, decadent wind pressed upon her, tempting her toward corruption.

“How could this be?”

Sang Sang examined the stardust, confirming that the law stone corresponding to her innate attribute was indeed this one.

It was not time or space, nor was it control, still less chaos or primordial origin—it was, astonishingly, the human heart, the embodiment of the seven emotions and six desires.

Though the stone’s color did not wholly represent the moral nature of the law, the Tomb’s guide stated that the darker the color, the more sinister the law. This stone was black as ink; the patterns glimmered with myriad hues, but the sinister aura was still heavier.

Could her soul’s innate gift really be so dark?

Should she approach?

Sang Sang hesitated. She took out a vial of energy potion, drank it, and sat cross-legged, restoring her mental strength. When she rose again, her mind was made up.

—Trust the stardust’s choice!

Thinking it over, her mental powers could mimic any attribute she knew; her innate ability allowed her to alter others’ thoughts, control their minds, even invade their bodies and see their thoughts or deeper insights into law. No matter how she considered it, it wasn’t a righteous power.

She had once suspected her gift was a time-space attribute: as the ruler of laws, time-space could command all others. Control did not fully explain her power, but it was close. As for chaos or primordial origin, since all laws arose from chaos, any law could be absorbed into it.

Yet, none of the three most likely possibilities were correct; even Little Gold had analyzed it wrongly.

What attribute was it, truly? She would soon find out.

Sang Sang took a deep breath, sent a thread of mental energy into the stone.

Joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hate, desire; sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, thought—countless images of beings across races, their seven emotions and six desires flickering past, finally dissolving into darkness—soundless, lightless darkness.

“Candidate for Temple Saintess, Sang Hongye, greets the elder,” Sang Sang’s voice echoed through the darkness.

Within the darkness, a light appeared—soft orange-yellow, like the welcoming glow of a lamp lit by family awaiting a traveler’s return. It was profoundly warm.

“How long has it been… that someone could still awaken me…” A magnetic, slightly hoarse voice spoke. In the orange glow, a table appeared, upon it two cups—one eight-tenths full of creamy fruit juice, the other holding tea, which was being raised to delicate pink lips by a slender, perfect hand.