Super God Academy: Kabuto

The scenery shifts, no longer an absolute "nothingness," but an incredibly tranquil landscape. Distant mountains, like dark eyebrows, are shrouded in a thin, almost imperceptible mist. Nearby, a stream murmurs, its clear, melodious sound strangely not noisy, but rather highlighting the serenity of the world. Beside the stream, a simple log cabin is built, with a few clumps of bamboo, a stone table, and two cushions beside it.

Lingyue—no longer that flowing, abstract color—appeared beside the bamboo grove. She took two steps forward and looked at the old man leisurely pouring tea by the stone table. The old man wore the simplest gray robe, his beard and hair were all white, but his face was ruddy and peaceful, and his eyes were as gentle as a deep pool of ancient well, reflecting the light of the sky and the shadows of the clouds.

"Father," Lingyue said, her voice still possessing that ethereal and unique layered melody, but seemingly carrying a subtle, lighthearted quality characteristic of a "child returning home," "I'm back."

The old man's hand, steady as a rock, poured tea without even lifting his eyelids. He simply hummed softly and pushed one of the cups towards the empty cushion: "Sit down." Only then did he raise his eyes, his gaze falling on Lingyue. His gaze seemed to pierce through all appearances, reaching her very essence. He scrutinized her for a moment, a hint of understanding and a faint sigh flashing in his eyes: "You've changed a lot."

Lingyue sat down on the futon as instructed, her posture completely unrestrained. Hearing the old man's words, the naturally flowing, seven-colored light emanating from her seemed to flicker with a lively energy. Her voice carried a hint of pride, almost like a coquettish murmur: "Hehe, isn't this what Father taught me? Letting things flow freely, seeing the world, seeing all living beings, only then can you see yourself." She rested her chin on her hand, gazing at the seemingly unchanging mountain scenery in the distance, her tone becoming distant and melodious. "On this trip, I saw so many interesting things. The love and hate, the rise and fall of civilizations, the struggles for survival in those small worlds… more vibrant than the most complex color palette, and more profound than the deepest monochrome."

He paused, as if organizing his thoughts, then continued with the tone of sharing a new discovery: "I also gave myself a name, 'Lingyue' (泠月). It feels quite fitting; clear and cool like the moon, illuminating all things, yet standing alone." Then, a complex and enigmatic emotion crept into His voice, "I also made a... friend. He's very capable, able to exist on different 'strings' simultaneously, facing the deepest 'abyss' without flinching. However, he's also incredibly stubborn; once he's made up his mind, ten... well, according to them, ten star whales couldn't sway him."

The light emanating from Lingyue dimmed slightly for a moment: "He seems to have changed a lot. He's stained with an indelible 'blackness,' and there's something in his eyes that I can't understand... But at the same time, he seems to have never changed. That stubbornness in his bones, willing to do anything for the people and the world he cares about, is exactly the same as that figure I first glimpsed on the edge of 'recording.'" He chattered on and on, like a true traveler returning home telling his elders about his journey.

The old man listened with a smile, occasionally sipping his tea, as if savoring the myriad worlds conveyed in Lingyue's words. Upon hearing the name "Lingyue," his smile deepened, and he nodded. "Lingyue… a very beautiful name, clear and expansive, possessing both reflective power and a sense of solitude. It resonates somewhat with your current state." He set down his teacup, looking at Lingyue, his gentle gaze suddenly becoming more profound, as if he could see through every little thought. "You, you still try to play tricks on me. After going around in circles, talking about your experiences and making friends, what you really wanted to say was that last sentence, 'He hasn't changed,' wasn't it? Is it worry, or reluctance?"

The light emanating from Lingyue faltered slightly, and she did not answer immediately.

The old man didn't press further, but simply smiled and shook his head, extending his withered yet steady hand to gently wave at Lingyue.

There was no earth-shattering display, but the naturally flowing, seemingly innate, seven-colored light surrounding Lingyue underwent a wondrous change with the old man's wave of his hand. The light no longer merely enveloped or radiated, but began to condense and take shape inward.

At first, the seven-colored rays of light floated and swirled around like the finest veil of mist, ethereal and dreamlike. As if they possessed life, they began to rotate and dance gracefully, gently converging from the edges towards the center, as if being patiently combed and woven by an invisible yet loving and skillful hand.

The scattered bands of color attracted and blended together. A fiery crimson settled, transforming into a breathtakingly vibrant hue on the lips; a deep indigo serenely merged, settling into the most mysterious pool in the eyes; glittering gold transformed into delicate streaks of light, outlining the flowing strands of hair and the shimmering light of fluttering garments; a vibrant turquoise slowly diffused, spreading across the hem of the skirt like a lush early spring field…

The light in the entire space seemed to soften, even the wind seemed to slow its pace, as if holding its breath in anticipation of something. The light grew richer, the outlines clearer—first a hazy, soft silhouette, then the smooth, graceful lines of shoulders and neck emerged, followed by long, trembling eyelashes that appeared to be adorned with fragments of rainbow light…

Finally, all the light suddenly converged and solidified inward!

It was as if the universe had gently exhaled at this moment, completing its final, exquisite transformation.

As the light faded, a woman stood silently where the light and shadow had once danced. A faint, iridescent aura still lingered around her, as if gently peeled away and solidified from an eternal rainbow. She wasn't wearing these colors; rather, they grew from the very core of her being, flowing naturally into her form and her spirit. Her beauty transcended concrete features; she was more like a tranquil poem, born of pure light and concept, imbued with life.

She looked down with a touch of curiosity at her own firm hands, then twirled gently, her skirt rippling like emerald waves. She looked up at the old man, her eyes, shimmering with indigo, filled with pure joy and gratitude: "Thank you, Father."

Looking at the radiant and lifelike "daughter" before him, the old man's smile grew even more kind and warm, as if a craftsman had finally seen his most satisfying work come to fruition. He stroked his beard and said slowly, "In this form, traveling in the other world will be much easier."

He changed the subject, returning to the previous topic, his tone calm yet carrying an undeniable certainty: "As for that 'stubborn little fellow' you mentioned... I know him." A glint of ancient wisdom flashed in the old man's eyes. "Don't worry, he'll be fine."

He refilled Lingyue's teacup, and wisps of steam rose, the aroma of tea mingling with the fresh scent of bamboo leaves, filling this tranquil, otherworldly place.

"Now that you have a name, an appearance, and people and things you want to protect," the old man said gently, "then do what you want to do, Lingyue. Remember the colors and warmth in your heart right now. Perhaps this is one of the reasons why he chose to entrust you with his mission."

Lingyue (at this moment) picked up the teacup, feeling the warmth from her palm. Gazing at her own clear, new face reflected in the cup, and at the unchanging concern and curiosity for the world deep in her eyes, she nodded solemnly. She knew that her father's "nothing will happen" was not just simple comfort, but a judgment based on a higher level of understanding. This eased a weight in her heart.

However, she also understood that the road ahead would never be smooth, neither for the "friend" who had stepped into the "Abyss" nor for herself, who had decided to intervene and protect.