Chapter 83 — The Moment the God Awakens
Aurora City Hall · Emergency Conference Room
08:00 AM
The projection screen loops footage from the night before:
A dragon’s silhouette tearing through darkness.
Swordlight cascading like a galaxy across the sky.
A black tide of Fiends being cleaved apart—blow after blow.
The feed shifts to a distant wide shot:
Hundreds of Fiends encircling a solitary black figure.
Vehicles hurled skyward like debris.
Eruptions of black miasma blooming and fading again and again.
“Confirmed fatalities exceed one hundred thousand.
Over ten thousand missing.
Nearly thirty thousand critically injured.”
David Coleman, Deputy Mayor of Emergency Management, lowers his data tablet.
His voice is raw.
“And that’s after YiChen arrived in time.”
Mayor Robert Carter taps his knuckles against the table.
The sound is light—his expression anything but.
“These clips were recorded by civilians,”
he says, voice measured.
“You’ve all heard what they’re shouting.”
“A god has come.”
“YiChen is a god.”
“He saved us.”
The words linger in the air,
fevered, reverent—on the edge of worship.
Carter scans the room slowly.
“YiChen is the protector of this city.
But the question is—how do we keep that power in check?”
He pauses.
Then continues, voice low and precise:
“In the aftermath of this Spiritual Catastrophe,
we must carefully manage how far public deification spreads.
If not, the consequences will spiral out of control.”
He leans forward slightly, the weight of his next words unmistakable:
“What I want to hear now
are not praises.
Not protests.
But solutions.”
“Refugee resettlement protocols.
Narrative control across media channels.
The likelihood of the Church exploiting this through faith-based propaganda—”
Carter’s gaze sharpens as it lands on the head of intelligence.
“And most importantly:
YiChen’s current condition.
His stability.
And the limits of our cooperation with him.”
He rubs his temple briefly, as if thinking aloud:
“This isn’t the end.
This is only the beginning.”
Silence grips the room.
On the projection screen,
a frame of YiChen mid-swing freezes in time—
his blade a streak of light against the darkness.
Someone exhales quietly.
A whisper, almost too soft to catch:
“He really is… too strong.”
————
No. 112 Azure Radiance Street · Two Days Later · 7:00 AM
YiChen drifted through a darkness that felt like immersion in a hot spring distilled from starlight.
Every muscle slackened.
Even his soul seemed to stretch and exhale—
the first real sleep he’d had in what felt like eternity.
When his eyes finally opened, morning light was filtering through gauzy curtains, scattering golden fragments across the ceiling like dust from a dream.
His combat gear was gone.
His body had been carefully tended to—
not even the scent of blood remained.
He turned his head slightly—
—and froze.
Elena was sleeping beside him.
Curled into herself, her slender form barely made a dent in the mattress. Deep-brown hair spilled across the pillow, with a few damp strands clinging to her tear-streaked cheeks.
Unthinking, YiChen lifted a hand—fingers hovering just above her skin—then gently brushed one of those strands aside.
Morning light sculpted her delicate features in glowing detail:
— brows faintly furrowed,
— nose soft and upturned,
— a small oval face still flushed from crying,
— lower lip bruised from where she’d bitten it, again and again.
Too close.
Close enough to count the shadows cast by her lashes.
Close enough to see the lingering moisture clinging to the curve of her lips.
He wanted to brush away the tears.
He wanted to touch her cheek, test her warmth.
“Did you cry… that long?”
His voice came out rough, barely more than a whisper.
His fingers hovered over her face—
He could touch her.
Nothing was stopping him.
Only himself.
?
The Break
“YiChen…?”
Her eyes fluttered open—amber, still hazy with sleep.
Then, in the next heartbeat, her pupils shrank in a jolt of stunned recognition—
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“You’re finally—”
The composure she’d clung to for two long days shattered.
Tears burst forth in silence, falling one after another, darkening the white sheets with spreading circles.
She wanted to ask about his wounds.
Wanted to scream at him for what he’d done to himself.
But in the end, the only sound she could make
was a tiny, broken whimper—
like a small animal, wounded and afraid.
YiChen wrapped her into his arms in one motion, holding her close.
“It’s okay.”
His chin rested atop her head.
His throat moved as he swallowed.
“I’m back.”
Elena suddenly twisted in his arms.
“Your shoulder—”
“It’s already healed.”
Without hesitation, he peeled away the bandages.
New skin, whole and unbroken, had formed.
Only faint traces of divine meridian patterns shimmered beneath—
like light rippling just below the surface of water.
?
Warm fingers traced across his collarbone—
hesitant, feather-light.
YiChen’s body tensed instantly, every muscle tightening as if bracing for impact.
Her nearness was overwhelming.
The warmth of her breath brushed his chest.
A few strands of her hair slipped loose, grazing his skin.
Too close.
Not because of pain.
Because of how easily his composure began to fracture.
A surge of instinct flared—sharp, sudden—
not action, but awareness.
A dangerous, unguarded impulse he did not allow to take shape.
YiChen drew a slow breath and forced it down.
This was not something she should ever have to face.
“I—I’m sorry!”
Elena suddenly recoiled, as if only now realizing how close she was.
Her hand snapped back, eyes wide with panic.
Only then did it register.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt.
Color rushed up her neck, flooding her cheeks and ears in a single heartbeat.
“I—I’ll go make breakfast!”
She scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over her own steps as she fled the room.
The door shut softly behind her.
YiChen remained where he was, unmoving.
Only when the silence settled did he exhale—long, restrained,
as if releasing something that had nearly broken loose.
————
Water streamed over the lean lines of his back, muscles shifting beneath his skin like coiled steel.
YiChen stood beneath the shower, letting the hot spray cascade down his body.
Within him, Spirit Force flowed smoother than it ever had before—
pure, surging, vast as a river of stars.
“Elena is amazing~”
Shixi’s voice echoed lazily within the Consciousness Sea, soft and languid with satisfaction.
“She’s purifying you every three or four hours.
At this rate, I’ll be able to condense Starhalt for you very soon~”
A cold scoff followed.
“Tch. You should let her touch you more,”
Shadowfang murmured darkly.
“Those divine energies converted from faith—this sovereign receives a thirty percent share.”
Water trailed down his chest and abdomen, beading and sliding like light across sculpted marble.
YiChen tilted his head back, eyes closed.
The water struck his face, hot and steady.
From the depths of his throat—
“Elena…”
He said her name quietly—like admitting something he could no longer deny.
?
Morning · Dining Room
Sunlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, coating the long table in warm gold.
Silver cutlery glittered faintly, scattering specks of light like dust over white porcelain plates.
The chef’s breakfast was beautifully prepared:
— soft scrambled eggs,
— crisp, golden bacon,
— pancakes with warm honey drizzled in delicate arcs,
— fresh orange juice, its citrus aroma mingling with the early light.
Bernard stood quietly to the side, as usual, posture refined.
“Doctor Savin came the day before yesterday,”
he reported calmly.
“She confirmed your condition had stabilized and took her leave yesterday afternoon.”
YiChen gave a silent nod.
His gaze drifted—
—to the other side of the table.
Elena sat there, both hands cupped around a mug of warm milk.
She gently rubbed her thumbs along the rim of the cup, eyes slightly downcast.
Faint shadows lingered beneath her eyes—
clear evidence of several sleepless nights.
Yet the moment their eyes met, she lifted her face and smiled.
“I slept really well last night.”
Her voice was soft. Light.
Like a breeze.
YiChen paused slightly as he cut into the bacon.
—She’s lying.
Of course he knew.
For two full days, she hadn’t rested properly.
Shixi had told him everything.
How she had stayed by his side, hour after hour,
burning her Spirit Flame to purify the black thorns in his body.
Even when her fingertips trembled with exhaustion,
she had focused only on him—
gently adjusting his pillow, soothing his fever,
watching over him like breath over embers.
She’d cried, too.
More than once.
But never while he was awake.
He said nothing.
Only lowered his gaze…
and quietly slid the plate with the cut bacon toward her.
“Eat more.”
?
Departure
Breakfast ended just as Leo’s call came through.
“Your parents reached out again,”
Leo’s tone was tinged with dry resignation.
“They wanted to visit, but I told them you’re still recovering.
I managed to stall them—at least for a few more days.”
“They agreed to wait until you’ve rested properly.”
YiChen gave a soft “Mm” and ended the call.
He had planned to return today anyway.
His gaze fell on Elena again.
She was still sitting up straight, still smiling,
but he could see how hard she was forcing herself to stay upright.
“Get some proper rest,”
he said, his voice lower, gentler.
“Don’t run around.”
She nodded obediently and walked him to the door.
Even waved.
Still smiling.
And the moment the black sedan disappeared around the far corner—
Fatigue washed over her like a falling tide.
She barely made it back to her room before collapsing onto the bed, face-first into the pillow, limbs loose.
She didn’t even manage to pull the blanket up.
But this time,
she really did sleep well.
————
Green Street · Maple Villa No. 9
The black sedan eased through the gates of the Green Street luxury district, its tires gliding silently over the paved road.
At last, it came to a smooth stop before No. 9 Maple Street.
A brick-built residence nestled behind manicured gardens, framed by high stone walls.
Every inch of the property reflected discreet, thoughtful luxury—
from the curated landscaping to the imported fixtures.
Even the live-in housekeeper had been selected with utmost care.
This was the home the city had arranged.
Six bedrooms.
Five bathrooms.
More space than most would ever need.
The moment YiChen stepped out of the car, two figures rushed toward him.
“How are your injuries?”
“The news said you—”
Zhang Han and Mark’s faces were clouded with worry.
“They exaggerated,”
YiChen said with a faint smile, rolling his shoulder with deliberate ease.
“Just a few scrapes. I’ve been fine for a while.”
The couple exchanged a glance.
They didn’t believe him.
But they didn’t press.
They never could.
This child had always carried everything alone.
—Except for ChengYu.
The boy came barreling down the steps, eyes wide, grin blazing.
“Brother! Did you really take down hundreds of Fiends by yourself?!
Was the swordlight really like a galaxy?!”
YiChen laughed softly and ruffled his hair, telling only the safest fragments of the story.
ChengYu listened with stars in his eyes, then tugged at him eagerly.
“Come to the backyard! I want to show you what I’ve been practicing!”
Under the midday sun, the teenager took his stance—
feet rooted, blade steady.
As he moved, his aura gathered, unsteady but promising.
A faint echo of Star-River Sword Intent shimmered along the blade’s edge.
Rough. Incomplete.
But undeniably there.
YiChen stood still, watching.
For a fleeting moment—
ChengYu’s silhouette overlapped with that of another boy from a lifetime ago.
The younger brother who always charged ahead.
The ache in YiChen’s chest tightened.
He’s improving too fast.
And in that progress lay danger. Risk.
Paths that could not be turned back from.
If he could choose,
he’d lock ChengYu in a peaceful life, far from death and war.
But he knew better than anyone—
That kind of choice doesn’t exist.
“What do you think?”
ChengYu ran back to him, sheathing the sword with a grin, sweat beading on his brow.
“I’ll be able to fight beside you soon, right?”
YiChen didn’t answer right away.
Then, he raised a hand and gently ruffled his hair.
“Mmh. You’ve improved.”
“It won’t be long now.”
They had lunch together.
His parents said little, hesitating at times, as if something hovered behind their silence.
But in the end, they simply kept piling food onto his plate.
As the sun dipped westward, a message came from Leo.
Emergency meeting. City Hall.
YiChen stood to leave.
But ChengYu grabbed his sleeve, refusing to let go.
“Will you come again tomorrow?”
He paused, then nodded.
“Mmh. I’ll come tomorrow. I promise.”
Even after the sedan disappeared down the tree-lined street,
he could still see his brother in the rearview mirror—
standing at the gate, waving with everything he had.
From somewhere deep within his Spirit Meridians,
a dull ache rose slowly—
and never fully left.
