Chapter 23: An unexpectedly dull ending
In mythology, the world where the gods reside always experiences time differently than the human world. Sayings like "one day in heaven equals ten years on earth" are commonplace.
But Hikigaya thought that must be because the protagonist had too much fun playing with the gods—after all, time passes easily when you're with a deity.
For instance, he had no idea how long he had been fighting with Di Jun. The power of the celestial deity had reached the extreme of natural force in every possible way, seemingly inexhaustible. As a result, after countless rounds of battle, Hikigaya couldn't even remember how long they'd been fighting.
This wasn't a battle of divine powers—it was a contest of willpower.
Man and god were now just two streaks of flowing light, darting through the sky. The sea of light around Mount Phoenix had already vanished in the fierce fighting, and the land itself was so destroyed it was unrecognizable.
Life had withered here, brilliance had faded, and disease and death filled every inch of land.
Even the Fusang tree drooped. Though it was the only source of light and Di Jun's ten suns roosted and burned among its branches, its light could no longer reach far. Thick black clouds pressed from the heavens, and cold rain fell in drizzles. Both the sound and the scene weighed heavily on the heart.
But Hikigaya had no time to dwell on that. He had been looking for a chance to approach Di Jun's ten suns—clearly, Di Jun was far more cautious than Hou Yi had been. He wasn't stupid enough to leave the ten suns, which essentially embodied his divine status and celestial identity, casually out in the open. Around the Fusang tree, his spatial divine power filled the surroundings—after all, as the Supreme Celestial Deity, he was the master of the space above the earth.
For someone like Hikigaya, who was determined to "harvest the rice of the ten suns," this behavior was annoyingly frustrating.
So he dashed in all directions—but it was futile. Di Jun pursued him relentlessly.
"God Slayer, where are you going?" Once again pushed away from the Fusang tree by Di Jun's spatial power, Hikigaya heard the deity's voice from behind. "Xia and Shang both followed my will, thus I gave birth to the people and established their kings. You should do the same."
Upon hearing this, Hikigaya immediately thought of something ominous.
"God Slayer, head to the land of the dead."
With Di Jun's words, he felt it—his life force was beginning to drain away.
So it really was the power of the Mandate of Heaven.
The Mandate of Heaven arose in the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties and became the early form of the Heavenly Dao doctrine. Originally, it meant the command of the supreme god "Heaven." If the sun, moon, wind, thunder, and rain were the visible divine powers of the Celestial Emperor, then the Mandate of Heaven was the unseen but deeper embodiment of his authority.
In Chinese history, the theory of the Mandate of Heaven became refined and systematized by the Zhou dynasty. Heavenly gods had the power to appoint mortal kings and determine the rise and fall of dynasties. By the Eastern Zhou period, this power had extended from royalty to lords and nobles. The power of the gods had also expanded to determine individual lifespan and even personal fate.
Only such a force could so easily strike Hikigaya, who had already simulated the power of Di Jun's ten suns. Clearly, Di Jun was growing impatient. But the more he tried to assert his divine authority, the more he exposed his weaknesses to Hikigaya.
Thus, at this very moment, that sharp power became the opportunity Hikigaya had long been waiting for.
Following the flow of his draining life force, Hikigaya found the "path" to the Fusang tree.
Transformed into the mysterious black bird, he let out a cheerful cry and turned into a flash of light, charging into this "bright path."
The world around him twisted and distorted, but the Fusang tree became increasingly clear. Hikigaya could even feel the surging heat waves coming from the end of the "path."
In the distance, he saw that the sun-god birds formed from the ten suns had all opened their eyes. Ten pairs of violent eyes turned to look straight at him.
Their gaze became tangible, shooting across space as red arrows aiming straight for Hikigaya.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The sound of arrows piercing flesh rang out—Hikigaya didn't dodge a single one. He took them all.
Then those arrows turned into light and were absorbed by him—What's this about the god of arrows being shot to death by arrows? Don't be ridiculous!
But this scene seemed to anger the ten suns on the Fusang tree. They flapped their wings and rose into the air.
Compared to Di Jun, these guys were much easier to provoke...
A cold snort came from the sky, and in the next moment, blinding light pierced the darkness and entered the space—Di Jun was in pursuit again.
The world Hikigaya stood in had changed. The land was charred, and underground fire erupted from the cracked ground. The sky was fire-red, with no moisture in the air. At the end of the land stood the solitary sun tree, and the chaotic light of the suns radiated in all directions from it.
The space between Hikigaya and the ten suns was now fully connected, while Di Jun lingered at the other end.
There was only one chance. In this moment, the victor between Hikigaya and Di Jun would be decided. Hikigaya had no interest in dying and reviving again.
He pushed his speed to the limit. Ahead, the ten brilliant sun wheels from the Fusang tree charged straight toward him.
The appearance of all ten suns together—chaos of time and disorder of the suns—was originally a fragment of a cosmic disaster from the creation myths of the Shang dynasty before it was split into the myth of shooting down the suns in the Eastern Yi myths. It represented the most violent side of the sun in the Eastern Yi people's view and a state of complete disorder in cosmic order.
When Hikigaya truly faced this scene, he finally understood its power.
His eyes could see nothing but light and fire. All visible things in the world were burned, destroyed, and led to death under this force. Even though Hikigaya had simulated Di Jun's divine authority, his body and soul trembled uncontrollably.
"Damn, that's terrifying! Shoot them down already!"
Although it sounded casual, killing gods was just that—a matter of seizing the moment, exploiting the opponent's weakness before they could react, and landing a fatal blow. Whoever did it first won.
It wasn't about a fair fight where one side wins cleanly and the other dies honorably with last words.
Even getting killed without understanding what happened wasn't surprising. At least, that's how Hikigaya saw it.
At this moment, he returned to human form, holding the divine bow and arrow stolen from Hou Yi.
Hikigaya had never learned archery, but with the power of the god of arrows, he didn't need to aim. Just by completing the action of shooting, he could naturally hit the target.
He pulled an arrow, nocked it, leaned into the bow, and infused it with power—drawing the string.
As he pulled, the white divine arrow emitted a cold light, while the bow itself became scorching hot.
The act of shooting down the sun appeared not only in the myth of Hou Yi but also in ancient Chinese rituals for saving the sun during eclipses. Ancient people believed that monstrous birds often devoured the sun and moon. Whenever celestial phenomena went awry, they would use "sun-saving bows" and "moon-saving arrows" to shoot the monsters. According to the Zhou Rites, if no visible bird or beast appeared, one would shoot at night using the sun-saving bow and moon-saving arrows; if the culprit was divine, one would use the great yin bow and bent arrows.
The bow and arrows Di Jun gave to Hou Yi were like the sun—powerful and fiery—but the arrows were like the moon—strong yet gentle.
As Hikigaya drew the bow, the sun-bird transformed from one of the ten suns came roaring toward him with blazing solar fire.
Thanks to his divine power, Hikigaya's vision wasn't blinded by the fire. He accurately locked onto a single sun-bird.
He loosed the arrow.
A very quiet scene unfolded before him.
The sunset arrow turned into a white streak, slicing through fire, piercing through the sun's brilliance, and silently hitting the bird in the chest.
The next moment, without a sound, the bird burst into flames in midair and fell to the sea of fire below.
Almost simultaneously, Hikigaya felt the heat in the space drop significantly.
He also heard Di Jun's furious roar. He could even feel a sting on his back—Di Jun was enraged.
But thanks to the chaotic complexity of this space Di Jun had created, the god couldn't arrive immediately. Had Hikigaya not followed the path of his draining life force, he might never have found the ten suns.
Now that Di Jun wasn't present, what reason did Hikigaya have not to fire the rest? What kind of isekai protagonist would he be if he didn't?
Without hesitation, he shot the remaining nine divine arrows one after another.
Just after firing the last arrow, he transformed once more into the mysterious black bird and charged forward, barely dodging a beam of light that slashed down from above.
Di Jun had finally arrived—but it was too late. Hikigaya had already seen it: in the sky, nine fireballs were streaking across the heavens, falling to the earth!
He dropped all defenses and released the black bird transformation, falling to the ground with the dying suns.
He felt the weight descend on him again, just like when he killed Kuafu.
Without a doubt, Di Jun was the strongest god Hikigaya had encountered so far—but from the very beginning, he had been a complete mess. The fight started in chaos, ended in chaos, and was fought in chaos.
But in the end, Hikigaya had successfully kicked this shameless divine reputation farmer onto the last train home. Whether Di Jun was happy about it wasn't his concern.
With mind and body finally at ease, Hikigaya closed his eyes, listening to the wind pass by his ears, filled with a sense of fulfillment.
Then suddenly, he remembered something—or rather, felt like he'd forgotten something important...