The fake heiress loves to act? The max-level boss isn't interested in playing along.

Having experienced the ups and downs of three illusory human relationships—family, mentorship, and friendship—

Fu Hua's fourth world is located in an ancient, primitive tribe in an unknown dynasty, isolated from the outside world.

In this life, she was still born blind, with her vision blocked.

Having undergone three lifetimes of refinement, Fu Hua's sense of touch, smell, and taste are already far more acute than those of ordinary people.

This desolate mountain forest completely awakened her dormant hearing.

The sound of wind, rustling leaves, flowing water, chirping insects, footsteps, breathing, distant roars of beasts, whispers among people...

Countless subtle sounds, clear and distinct, all entered her ears.

This is the first time she has heard the world again.

She cannot see light and shadow, nor can she see the faces of people's hearts.

We can only rely on our ears to hear good and evil, on our touch to distinguish between cold and warm, and on our sense of smell to differentiate between truth and falsehood.

The tribe has lived deep in the mountains for generations, isolated from the outside world.

The clan members have been simple and honest for generations, with a deep reverence for heaven, earth, and the gods.

The elders in the tribe say that girls born blind are untouched by the dust of the world; they are goddesses and saints sent by heaven, and auspicious omens that protect the tribe.

From the day Fu Hua was born, the entire tribe devoted everything to worshipping her as a goddess.

This pampering and respect was something Fu Hua had never experienced before.

The tribe was poor in resources and relied entirely on hunting and gathering fruits for survival, but the best of everything was always given to Fu Hua first.

The tribesmen returned from hunting, bringing the tenderest meat and the most prized parts.

They were not distributed to the clan chief, shaman, children, or the elderly and children; they were sent to the goddess's abode immediately.

The sweetest wild fruits ripened in the mountains, the cleanest spring water, and the softest animal hides were all offered to her.

Everyone in the tribe, young and old, protects, respects, and cherishes her.

When she was a child, some children were ignorant and accidentally bumped into Fu Hua, and were scolded by their elders in public.

"How dare you! The goddess is sacred and cannot be touched by you! From this day forward, you are forbidden to approach the goddess's abode!"

Normally, when her people walk near her, they do so quietly, afraid that the sound of their footsteps will disturb her.

During the cold winter, members of the clan take turns staying outside to keep warm by burning firewood.

In the height of summer, people pick leaves from trees every day to ward off mosquitoes for her.

Everyone's face was filled with piety, and everyone's words were filled with reverence.

"With the goddess present, our tribe enjoys peace and stability year after year."

"May the goddess be merciful and bless us with favorable weather and abundant harvests."

"We will do everything in our power to protect the goddess and ensure her safety for all eternity."

Fu Hua listened quietly to all the respectful words, feeling the gentle and careful touches of her clansmen.

The air was filled with the clean scents of grass, trees, and animal meat, while the taste of wild fruits lingered on the tongue.

She was aloof and indifferent, and never took advantage of being favored.

She never truly considered herself a goddess.

There are no gods in this world; so-called auspicious omens are merely people's self-comforting illusions.

She enjoyed the utmost offerings and care from her entire clan.

One day, the world will bestow upon you this supreme honor, but it will also demand an equivalent responsibility from you.

To enjoy the offerings of thousands of people, one must bear the burden of destiny for them.

This overwhelmingly adored tenderness is not a free favor, but a heavy shackle.

As she grew older, Fu Hua turned sixteen.

Unlike other girls in the tribe, they don't have to be the ones delivering goods.

No need for pregnancy and childbirth, no need for working day and night.

She didn't need to do anything; she only needed to listen to the devout prayers of her people.

This is the most terrible.

Fu Hua has grown up and is capable of protecting herself.

She didn't want to be bound by the divine position, nor did she want to be confined to a small tribe.

I am unwilling to bear the fate and fortune of a group of strangers.

She ran away.

Taking advantage of a rainy night, the tribesmen hid in a cave to rest.

Fu Hua knocked out the two men guarding her, used her hearing and touch to navigate, and quietly left the tribe where she had lived for fifteen years.

The mountains and forests were vast and dark, devoid of the warm voices of the tribes and the familiar scents of grass and trees.

As soon as she stepped out of the mountain forest barrier, countless unfamiliar, fierce, and violent roars of beasts suddenly filled her ears.

Low growls, howls, and the sound of shuffling footsteps, along with the heavy breathing of wild beasts, surrounded them from all directions.

She couldn't see the fangs and claws of the beasts, but she could hear the approaching sounds of death and sense the approaching danger through the vibrations in the air.

In the desolate mountains and wilderness, where poisonous insects and ferocious beasts roam freely, without the protection of her tribe, she was the most vulnerable prey.

She's been eaten by wild beasts before, and death won't make her back down.

During her escape, Fu Hua was chased by wild beasts. Unable to dodge in time, her flesh was torn apart by sharp claws, leaving her covered in wounds and in excruciating pain.

There's something very strange about it.

The farther she goes from the tribe's territory, the faster her recently recovered hearing will weaken, become dull, and become blurry.

It seems that only when she is within the tribe can her hearing be clear, sharp, and extremely acute.

This tribe was both a barrier to her hearing and a cage that imprisoned her.

Finally, Fu Hua, covered in wounds and exhausted, was found by her tribespeople who had gone out to look for her.

When the tribesmen saw the goddess covered in blood, disheveled and weak, they were all terrified, feeling both heartache and fear.

"Goddess, why did you leave the mountain without permission? The mountains are dangerous; they almost cost you your life!"

"Thank God for protecting us! Thank goodness!"

No one blamed her for running away, and no one complained that she caused trouble.

Everyone was filled with lingering fear and carefully escorted her back, taking turns tending to her wounds throughout the night.

They cook the tenderest game meat, simmer the warmest broth, and serve the animals with utmost care, never leaving their side.

After this experience, Fu Hua realized that she could not escape for the time being.

Her hearing has not fully recovered, and she needs to rely on the tribe.

She could only remain in the tribe for the time being, trapped on the altar, receiving offerings from everyone, and waiting for the unknown price to pay.

Fu Hua returned to her tribe two years ago, at the age of seventeen.

A catastrophic natural disaster suddenly struck.

For three hundred consecutive days, not a drop of rain fell from the sky.

The scorching sun beat down on the mountains, the grass and trees withered and turned yellow, the mountain springs dried up, and the land was so dry that you could stuff your fingers into it.

The once lush forests have withered and the once vibrant streams have dried up completely.

The entire ancient tribe was plunged into dire straits.

Prey has disappeared, wild fruits have dried up, water sources have dried up, and food is in dire need.

This would have been impossible in the past.

The elderly, unable to withstand the scorching heat and thirst, fell ill one after another.

The child cried every day from hunger, his breath weak.

Even the able-bodied members of the clan are becoming increasingly haggard, their faces turning sallow.

The entire tribe was deathly still, and cries of sorrow filled the air.

With nowhere else to turn, the clan chief summoned all the clan members to hold a grand ceremony to pray for rain.

The white-haired clan chief knelt on the altar, facing the parched sky, his voice hoarse and aged:

"May Heaven have mercy and protect my tribe! A hundred days of drought have brought untold suffering to all living beings. We beg for rain to save our people!"

After kneeling and bowing, the clan chief stood up, turned to face Fu Hua, who was standing quietly to the side, and bowed deeply.

All the tribesmen bowed down in unison.

Countless pairs of eyes, filled with longing, despair, and anticipation, all fell upon Fu Hua.

They couldn't see her cool, indifferent eyes; they only believed she was a goddess.

He is the only person who can connect heaven and earth and move the heavens.

The chieftain pleaded earnestly, "Goddess, the lives of our entire tribe depend on you. We beg you to have mercy and pray for rain to save us, to save the countless young and old of our tribe!"

All around, there were cries of choked pleas.

"Goddess, please save my child! My child is dying of thirst!"

The woman, holding her shriveled baby, knelt on the ground and wept bitterly.

"Goddess, have mercy! Our tribe has revered, protected, and worshipped you for generations. We beg for your protection just this once!"

The elderly man sighed repeatedly.

"Please, goddess, pray for rain! May the heavens send down sweet dew!"

The pleading voices, dense and numerous, all pierced into Fu Hua's ears.

That day has come.

Fu Hua is cold-hearted and sees through the vanity of the world.

She was just a mortal, with no power to reach the heavens. If the sky didn't rain, the gods couldn't change it, and she was powerless to do anything about it.

However, the faint cries and gasps of a child could be heard.

Hearing the old man's weak sigh,

Hearing the despair of the entire clan facing imminent annihilation.

She was worshipped by the tribe, ate their best meat, wore their best skin, and enjoyed their utmost respect.

Those who live off the salaries of others must ultimately bear the burdens of those same people.

Left with no other choice, Fu Hua could only nod in agreement.

She stood atop the high altar, following the ancient rituals of the tribe.

They copied the pattern, pretending to kneel and pray for rain.

No miracle occurred.

There was no dramatic upheaval.

Not a single raindrop fell.

The scorching sun continued to bake the earth, and the drought worsened.

Several days passed, and Fu Hua continued to dance and pray for rain day and night.

Not a drop of water fell.

A month has passed, and it still hasn't rained.

Gradually, everyone lost patience.

The piety and respect in their eyes slowly turned into indifference and coldness.

The casualties among the tribe were becoming increasingly severe, with tribesmen falling silently on the cracked earth every day, never to rise again.

People were filled with fear and their faith began to crumble.

Just then, the tribe's reclusive shaman stepped forward.

The witch doctor was over fifty years old and had always remained hidden in the shadows.

He, who had never sought fame or fortune in the past, now stood in the center of the crowd, making a loud and assertive judgment.

"Gentlemen, I now know why the heavens have not sent down rain!"

"It's not that Heaven is heartless, it's that the goddess is unlucky."

"The goddess was born blind, never seeing the light of day; she is inherently incomplete. She appears auspicious, but in reality, she is a calamity!"

"A hundred days of drought, tribal calamity, and countless deaths—all are the calamities she brought!"

"She occupied a position on the altar, blocking the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, thus angering the heavens and bringing disaster upon the entire clan!"

His words spread like wildfire, instantly engulfing the entire desperate tribe.

People need an outlet for their emotions.

In dire straits, people never reflect on the capriciousness of fate; they only frantically search for scapegoats.

The more devout and reverent they were once, the more insane and resentful they are now.

"So it was her! It was the goddess who brought this disaster!"

"No wonder the rain prayers were ineffective; she's an unlucky person!"

"We've worshipped her for so many years, only to nurture a source of trouble!"

All tenderness, favoritism, and reverence were shattered in an instant.

Yesterday, the whole nation hailed her as a goddess; today, the whole nation is pushing her into hell.

No one remembers who elevated her to a divine status.

No one remembers that she never asked for a single penny.

No one remembers that she danced to pray for rain until her legs swelled up and she couldn't walk.

Her clansmen swarmed forward, roughly grabbing her arms and forcibly restraining her.

The person who once carefully protected her is now cold and brutal.

She was confined to a dilapidated stone house and forbidden from going out even a step.

The shaman took the place of the goddess, stood on the altar, prayed for rain every day, and received the worship of the entire tribe.

She solemnly assured her people, "If my sincerity reaches the heavens, within three days a great rain will fall, washing away the calamity that befell our tribe!"

But three, five, or ten days passed.

The sky remained clear and blue, the sun blazed down, and not a drop of rain fell.

More and more members of the tribe died, cries of agony filled the air, and the land was devastated.

The witch doctor, realizing he could no longer hide the truth, panicked completely.

Under the cover of night, he abandoned the Manchu people in their desperate situation and secretly fled the remote mountain tribe alone.

The tribesmen were plunged into utter despair and madness.

Someone roared, "The witch doctor ran away, it's useless, the disaster is still here!"

"It must be that the ominous goddess has committed too many sins, and Heaven's wrath is unbearable!"

"Only by sacrificing the goddess, burning ourselves in flames, and appeasing the wrath of heaven, can our entire race be saved!"

Everyone echoed this sentiment wildly, their resentment reaching its peak.

"Burn at the stake, sacrifice the goddess!"

"Only by burning her to death will Heaven send rain."

"Burn the unlucky ones to save our lives!"

Without further hesitation, the crowd rushed into the stone house, dragged Fu Hua, and hoisted her onto the high stake.

Dry firewood was piled up in layers, and torches were raised high, awaiting only the command to set the fire ablaze.

Just as the torch was about to fall,

The once cloudless sky was suddenly filled with rolling dark clouds.

A thunderous roar shook the heavens and the earth!

One deafening thunderclap after another resounded throughout the deep mountains, accompanied by howling winds and a change in the color of the sky and earth.

That was the sound of Heaven's wrath, awe-inspiring to the insignificant and ignorant masses.

All the tribesmen were instantly terrified, their legs went weak, and their whole bodies trembled.

They all dropped their torches, collapsed to their knees, and trembled with fear.

"God is angry!"

"We have offended the Emperor!"

The chieftain shouted, "Stop immediately! Sacrifice is forbidden!"

Everyone was terrified and dared not attempt the burning at the stake again.

He hastily untied the restraints, yet dared not relinquish Fu Hua's freedom.

They could only lock her back in the stone house and keep her under strict guard.

Everyone was restless and anxious, living in constant fear.

During this desperate period of imprisonment, Fu Hua unlocked a new space deep within her consciousness.

The space we once knew is back!

But once again, it was empty, devoid of any buildings, objects, flowers, or grass.

Only one spring, its waters flowing continuously, clear and sweet, quietly surges forth.

The spring water is pure and inexhaustible, the only hope for life in a desperate situation.

Fu Hua stood quietly in the empty stone house, listening to the weak breathing of her clansmen, the faint cries of children, and the wails of the dying outside.

A silent struggle begins in my heart, one that no one knows about.

To save, or not to save.

save……

These people sent her to be burned at the stake, regarding her as a calamity, discarding her like worn-out shoes; they were foolish, cold-hearted, and ungrateful.

No saving...

The innocent Manchu people, young and old, will be implicated, and countless children and the elderly will die of thirst, sunburn, or starvation, leading to their complete annihilation.

She was cold-blooded and indifferent, and could have stood by and watched, letting things fend for themselves.

But having lived through four lifetimes, she came to understand the warmth of family, the gratitude between teachers and students, the sweetness of friendship, and the suffering of all living beings.

She was once human; her genes made the choices for her.

The next day, Fu Hua used her hearing to orient herself and groped her way out of the stone house in the dark.

Using their sense of touch to explore the mountains and terrain, they found the source of the tribe's main stream, which had long since dried up.

She lightly touched the earth with her fingertips, quietly drawing out the spiritual spring in the space, which flowed continuously into the parched stream.

The dried-up riverbed was revived, and the sweet, moist water vapor instantly filled the mountains and forests.

As long as the spring water spreads throughout the tribe along the stream, everyone can survive, and the drought crisis will be completely resolved.

She quietly bestowed her kindness, not seeking recognition, gratitude, or forgiveness.

She drew water from the spring, creating the miracle of water from the ground with her fingertips.

It happened to be witnessed by a clansman who came to kneel in devout worship and secretly repent.

The tribesmen watched from afar as the parched earth cracked open, yet water flowed forth at the touch, a miraculous feat of defying the heavens.

He was instantly terrified, his body stiffened, his pupils shrank, and his face was filled with extreme fear.

He had never seen such a bizarre, terrifying, and otherworldly power.

The man stumbled and crawled back to the tribe, acting erratically, and roared to tell everyone:

"She...she's not a mortal goddess, she's a demon, a monster!"

"The land has been parched for a hundred years, yet water springs forth from the touch of her fingertips. This is sorcery, evil power—it's terrifying!"

"We've provoked a monster. She possesses immense power and could wipe out our entire tribe at any moment!"

The moment those words were spoken, the entire clan was in uproar.

They followed the tribesman and witnessed firsthand the continuous flow of water from Fu Hua's fingertips.

Compared to gratitude for being saved, extreme fear instantly overwhelmed everyone's minds.

The clansmen who had just been filled with awe and repentance are now filled with a deep-seated fear.

They once loved her, respected her, doted on her, and worshipped her as a goddess.

It's because she is gentle, harmless, clean, and pure, and can become their stable spiritual support.

But when they discovered that the goddess they worshipped...

When they possess power that they cannot control, understand, or that transcends all living beings.

All reverence turned into fear.

Everyone avoided it, everyone trembled with fear, everyone was wary.

As Fu Hua approached, everyone hurriedly retreated.

They huddled together, their eyes filled with fear, not daring to get any closer.

"Stay away from us."

"That's terrifying! Her power is frightening!"

"She can create water, and she can destroy an entire clan! We have no control over her!"

At that moment, Fu Hua immediately realized what had happened.

The ultimate truth about humanity and faith is that people have never needed a real goddess or a real god.

What people need is never protection or salvation, nor do they need a true god with supernatural powers.

What the world needs is simply someone docile, obedient, clean, and controllable.

A nihilistic faith that can be pushed out to take the blame at any time and can be sacrificed unconditionally for all living beings.

When the weather is favorable, you will be elevated to a divine status, enjoying the utmost reverence and worship.

In times of natural disaster and despair, you will be made a scapegoat, your self-immolation used to appease the wrath of heaven.

You are gentle and harmless, therefore you are an auspicious goddess.

If you possess divine power, then you are a demon or monster.

Faith is never salvation; it is a cowardly refuge for humanity, a shackle of selfishness, and an excuse for the weak to escape their fate.

They never respected her; they respected the title of "goddess".

They never loved her; they loved the illusory hope that could protect their safety.

Kindness is useless, redemption is useless, sacrifice is useless, compassion is useless.

The masses are ignorant, people's hearts are cold, and their beliefs are illusory; this is generally the case.

In the moment she understood everything, the last trace of compassion for all living beings in Fu Hua's heart completely vanished.

She saved the lives of her entire tribe, but in return, she instilled extreme fear and alienation in them.

Fate and karma are always in a cycle.

The spring water flows gently, nourishing the entire parched mountain forest.

The tribe's dire situation was resolved, and everyone could survive.

But she had no lingering attachment whatsoever.

Hearing the trembling whispers of his tribesmen behind him, and feeling the pervasive fear that everyone avoided,

Fu Hua spoke in a cool, indifferent voice, devoid of any emotion, neither sad nor happy:

"I know what you think, and I know what you fear."

"You don't need a true God, just a secure obsession."

"I have given you life today, and from now on, we are even."

As soon as she finished speaking, she raised her hand, drew her hunting knife, and brought it to her neck.

The blade was slightly cool to the touch and felt sharp.

Without hesitation, without doubt, without resentment.

A solitary figure stands by the water's edge, aloof and cold, raising his hand to wield his knife.

A decisive moment, and the dust settled.

Four generations in the human world, four kinds of true feelings.

Touch allows us to understand the gains and losses of family ties, smell allows us to understand the bond between teachers and students, taste allows us to understand the gathering and scattering of friendships, and hearing allows us to understand the vanity of all living beings.

At this point, hearing was fully restored.

She had heard the most sincere reverence from humanity.

I have also heard the most vicious slander in the world.

Having heard the sincere prayers of all beings,

I have also heard of the fear caused by the indifference of the masses.

She finally understood completely that faith is the most illusory, selfish, and fragile thing in the world.

The love and respect of the people can vanish in an instant, and the gratitude of all beings is extremely fragile.

Ordinary people need faith to survive, but faith can never save the human heart.

Ultimately, a person can only save themselves; they cannot save all living beings…