Chapter 195: Homecoming

Chapter 195: Homecoming

Yilu could not recall how he left the town, entered Pine Mountain, or crossed the dead aura, only that he followed the guidance of his spiritual energy in his brow to find Percy.

He remembered only his rage, his chest, untouched by emotion for millennia, now filled with indignation. All he wanted was to pin Percy down like a human parent would discipline their child, slapping his bottom.

For letting his thoughts run wild, for putting himself at risk, for deciding to die without even a word, causing the deity such sorrow.

But all these emotions vanished the moment he saw Percy.

His most beautiful, most adorable, and most beloved elf—how could he have let himself come to this?

Percy sat—or rather, lay—beneath a pine tree.

Exhausted, his back against the trunk, his body slumped weakly, barely maintaining an upright position. The patterns of the dead aura had spread across his face, and those eyes, once more brilliant than the finest emeralds, were now dull and lifeless.

Even as Yilu approached within ten meters, Percy did not sense his presence.

Elves were a warrior race, capable of locking onto prey from a kilometer away, and the Elven King was among the best. This state could only mean one thing: the dead aura had eroded his senses, starting with his vision, then hearing, smell, taste... until finally, when touch was lost, he would die.

Feifei fluttered about, "What's going on? What happened? Can we save him?"

The deity lowered his silver-white gaze, "No."

At this point, even the deity was powerless.

Yilu knelt beside him, his fingertips brushing against the elf’s cheek. The warmth that once radiated from Percy’s body was gone, colder even than the deity’s own touch.

"But it doesn't matter," Yilu whispered softly. "I will carry his soul back to Pine Mountain, fashion a new, pure, and flawless body for him, and place his soul within. I will not erase his memories; I will allow him to stand by my side for eternity, like the ancient and steadfast Pine Mountain, and I will return to him everything he has lost."

66 paused for a moment, and Ilu's words carried an ancient rhythm. This language was not one of the common tongues on the continent, nor was it in his linguistic repertoire, yet he understood it strangely, as if by instinct.

These were the words of a deity.

In myths, the speech of the ancient gods possessed celestial power; every word they uttered was divine prophecy, and everything they blessed would come to pass.

Now, the deity was making a promise.

As he spoke, the deity’s fingertips caressed the elf’s jawline, tracing down along the collarbone to the heart, intending to extract the elf’s soul—death was a painful process, but Percy did not have to endure such agony.

But just as his fingertips reached the collarbone, they were caught.

The Elven King pushed back with little force, gently holding the deity’s wrist. His eyes, clouded with gray, turned to him, and he asked softly, “Why did you come? It’s dangerous here. I left you a note, did you see it?”

His voice was hoarse but unexpectedly gentle.

The deity was momentarily stunned, the inhuman divinity fading from him, transforming into the appearance of a young bartender.

Ilu pressed his lips together. He supported the Elven King’s swaying body, letting Percy rest his head on the deity’s knee. His downward-moving fingers changed direction, smoothing out the elf king’s disheveled hair: “I felt something was wrong when I sensed the spiritual energy you left between my brows, so I came.”

Percy’s vacant eyes looked at him, and to his surprise, a relieved smile appeared on his face.

He said, “You have great talent, even the most outstanding young elves cannot compare to you. When you grow, you will surely become a formidable person.”

Ilu pressed his lips together.

He didn’t know how to explain to Percy, so he simply didn’t, instead soothingly rubbing Percy’s hair, feeling the cold sweat on his hand.

“Don’t worry, don’t be afraid, you won’t die. The souls of elves return to the Mother Tree, and when that time comes…”

But before the comforting words were fully spoken, Percy suddenly tightened his grip on his arm.

The elf looked up at the sky and murmured, "...return to the Mother Tree?"

Yilu said, "Of course, all elves will return to the Mother Tree."

However, Percy was not comforted at all; his expression grew even more sorrowful, as if he had recalled something terrifying.

Under the threat of death, certain things that Percy had deliberately ignored suddenly surged to the forefront of his mind, burning fiercely within his chest.

He did not want to return to the Mother Tree; he wanted to die outright.

Death was certainly frightening, but for Percy, returning to the Mother Tree was an even greater despair.

Rather than face the gods' inexplicable disdain again, the misunderstanding, estrangement, fear, and isolation from his people, he would rather dissipate completely.

By all rights, he should not have had the chance to return to the Mother Tree. From the day he was exiled by the elven race, from the moment his soul was tainted with gray and black, he had no connection to the Pine Mountain that had nurtured him. But...

But, he had been reborn once.

In his previous life, he died, but he did not dissipate. He returned to Pine Mountain, to the very beginning, reliving his helplessness and despair.

So what about this time?

If he died now, would he dissipate, return to the Mother Tree, or be reborn again?

What had gone wrong?

People become vulnerable in the face of illness and injury, and even the powerful Elf King was no exception. He gripped Yilu's fingertips tightly, trembling slightly, seemingly unable to escape the depths of his despair.

The deity couldn't help but hiss, reaching back to grasp Percy's hand, gently touching the back of it, and asked again, "What's wrong? Are you in great pain? Don't worry, everything will be fine once we return to the Mother Tree."

"..."

The deity failed to perceive the elf's thoughts. He thought that a quick end was better than prolonged suffering, so he decided to act swiftly. Reaching out, he intended to part the clothing to touch the elf king's chest and guide the soul.

Percy's mind was in turmoil, and for a moment, he did not stop him. It wasn't until the fabric loosened halfway, the black robe hanging loosely, that he vaguely thought, "Because it's not dark enough?"

The aura of death had only recently spread across the continent. Although it could indeed disturb the soul, the earliest ancestral teachings of the elves did not include the taint of death as something that would cause the soul to dissipate.

Those sins, should be, murder, arson, robbery, theft... and, indulgence in pleasure.

Murder, arson, robbery, and theft were clearly unacceptable, but pleasure?

Amidst the overwhelming pain, Percy's lips moved slightly, and he could not help but look at the young man.

The young man, besides being a half-elf, was also a half-succubus.

A race born to chase after joy, able to draw power from pleasure, and extremely indulgent.

This was certainly wrong, but on the brink of death, Percy could not control his thoughts, which raced through his mind like a whirlwind.

If he could escape this cycle, if he could pass away smoothly...

On the other side, Ilu failed to successfully remove Percy's clothes. Feeling through the chest, he touched something else.

Soft, yet firm, with a familiar texture.

Ilu took it out; it was a leaf, adorned with radiant golden patterns, symbolizing the essence of the deity.

He was taken aback for a moment.

These were the leaves he had once tossed to Percy, who had brought them out and kept them close to his body.

Yilu felt a mix of heartache and anger as he scolded, "Big fool."

So beautiful and noble, clearly so intelligent, how could he be this foolish?

At this, Percy's originally resisting hands gradually relaxed, allowing the young man to untie his sash. He looked at the youth with a complex, indescribable gaze, "You... really don't want to return to the elven race?"

The youth had mentioned before that he had little interest in returning.

Yilu continued struggling with the sash, responding half-heartedly, "Mm-hmm."

Thus, the last bit of resistance faded away.

Yilu looked at Percy; the Elven King had already closed his eyes, his eyelashes trembling slightly. He seemed to be saying something, but it was too soft to understand.

Yilu: "What?"

Percy's eyelashes trembled even more, but he pressed his lips tightly together, remaining silent.

Yilu stroked his long hair, "What's wrong?"

Deities had the power to read minds, but Yilu lacked the spiritual energy to use it. After some thought, he tore one of Percy's leaves.

A radiant golden essence of divinity escaped, and Yilu dipped his fingertips into it, then drew a complex symbol in the air. Placing the symbol behind his ear, he asked again, "What's wrong?"

Then, he heard the faint heartbeat of the elf.

"Try what?"

... pleasure.

Erlu understood the meaning of pleasure. From the very first day of his divine birth, he naturally knew how plants propagated and animals mated; deities did not need to learn such things, as this knowledge was instinctively granted to him.

He even knew as much as any ordinary succubus.

But Erlu was simply too lazy, content to stay at home without moving, which is why he had never tried it before.

But if Percy wanted to try?

Erlu gave the elf king a troubled look.

His beloved elf lay weakly on his lap, his expression vacant and sorrowful, as if bearing immense pain.

Well, if this could make Percy feel better...

The deity yielded.

Erlu knew that at the end of life, people often pursued things they had never tried. Although what Percy wanted to try was a bit peculiar, it wasn't impossible.

The deity said, "Your current condition doesn't allow for normal methods. Would it be okay if I use my hands?"

The elf king did not respond.

So, the deity's cool fingertips traced down from his chest to his abdomen, finally stopping. He gently massaged, and heard the elf's hoarse intake of breath.

Percy’s voice was hoarse, far from the clear and ringing tone of the Elven King reciting hymns under the tree in Iru’s memory, yet he still found it beautiful.

A beauty different from the sanctity and solemnity of that time.

The deity whispered, “Do you feel better now?”

His movements were clumsy and ineffective, while the Elven King, eroded by the aura of death, had lost almost all his senses except for touch. The deity’s hand was scorchingly warm.

He had abstained for years, and was awkward to the extreme. The sudden breaking of long-standing rules brought about a psychological sensation that surpassed the physical. The accumulated grievances and bitterness from two lifetimes surged to his heart. As his body struggled to survive, his mind lost control in unfamiliar pleasure. Percy turned his face away, tightly closing his eyes, and a tear rolled down from the edge of his lashes.

Iru was taken aback.

Then, he did something he hadn’t expected himself to do.

The deity leaned down and kissed away the tear that was about to fall.

Reproduction was an instinctive knowledge for the deity, but kissing was not. For many years afterward, Iru couldn’t understand why he had leaned down, or why he had placed a kiss on the elf’s eyelid.

The deity murmured, “It’s over, Percy. You’re safe now.”

No response.

In the final moments before consciousness faded, the Elven King felt an unexpected sense of relief.

He thought, “It’s over.”

Now, his soul would turn to ash and blackness, never to be reborn, nor return to the Mother Tree.

Whether it was the responsibility of the elven race or the Mother Goddess’s disdain, from today onward, everything would be buried with this body.

However, Percy would not know that countless points of light were detaching from his body, converging into a palm-sized orb of light. The orb floated in the air, moving up and down, looking around as if it were a lost dandelion.

After wandering aimlessly for a while, it paused in place, pitifully, with a hint of grievance.

Yilu chuckled and beckoned, "Percy, come here, I'll take you home."

Hearing his voice, the orb seemed to have found its place. Though still unconscious and without awareness, it drifted toward Yilu involuntarily, gently touching the god's palm.

It seemed that any sign of reluctance from the god would make it drift away immediately.

Yilu cupped his palm.

Yilu carefully stored the light orb and tore off a few leaves.

The leaves contained the essence of the god, which would diminish the deity's power and should not be used lightly, but Yilu could no longer afford to be cautious.

The god used a spell to create a grave the size of a person at the base of the pine tree, then stood up and called to 66, "Let's go, we need to retrieve Percy's notes, and then return to Pine Mountain."