“Be… become gods?”

Dai Mubai murmured. He exchanged a glance with Zhu Zhuqing beside him; in each other’s eyes they saw shock they couldn’t hide—and a heat, inexpressible, ignited by that earth-shaking opportunity.

They knew their talents, aided by immortal herbs, were no longer what they used to be. Even so, they had never truly dared to covet that distant, legendary seat of godhood.

Oscar’s mouth fell open; the sausage in his hand almost slipped.

God of Food?

A food-type soul master like him could touch a god position? The sheer surprise and disbelief crashed over him.

Ning Rongrong covered her lips with slender fingers. Brilliant light danced in her beautiful eyes. Nine-Colored Goddess… how perfectly that god title matched her Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda.

Ma Hongjun rubbed his hands in excitement, his plump face glowing red. God of the Phoenix—listen to that! So domineering, so fitting for his future heroic self.

Tang San gripped Xiao Wu’s hand tightly, his knuckles paling. His gaze sharpened.

Sea God? Asura God? This pointed out the path for growth and revenge.

His father Tang Hao’s dying injunctions and the blood feud were branded into his heart. He already knew what had happened back then, and of the irreconcilable hatred between their family and Spirit Hall.

So he longed for strength, for the destruction of Spirit Hall, to return to that filthy place and annihilate the Black Evil entity that brought his father’s death.

Sensing the surge of resolve and pain in him, Xiao Wu leaned closer, silently conveying unwavering support and never parting.

Yet not everyone’s reaction was pure joy and exhilaration.

Star Luo Empire’s Crown Prince Dai Weisi, and his fiancée Zhu Zhuyun, changed color the instant they heard that history, waves roaring in their hearts.

Though Xuan Zi hadn’t spelled out the details of the succession struggle, the outcome—Dai Mubai and Zhu Zhuqing both becoming gods—made it crystal clear: in the brutal Star Luo royal inheritance war, they were the losers, without a doubt.

And under Star Luo’s iron-blooded rules, losers often have no future at all.

They become gods, shining eternally… then what of Zhuyun? What of me, Dai Weisi?

On the original history, did we not only lose the throne, but perhaps even our lives…?

At that thought, Dai Weisi clenched his fists so hard his nails nearly dug into his palms.

In the past, though he had been cold to Dai Mubai and even applied pressure in some ways, deep down he retained a sliver of brotherly feeling and royal pride’s restraint; he had even offered support to Dai Mubai in cultivation and spirit.

Zhu Zhuyun as well—of the many hunts she led against Zhu Zhuqing, how often did she truly aim to kill, and how much did she pull her punches? She knew that best.

Otherwise, with Zhu Zhuqing’s strength back then, how could she have escaped again and again, finally crossing the perilous Star Dou Forest to reach Shrek Academy safely?

In this moment, a powerful sense of unwillingness and humiliation surged in Dai Weisi’s chest.

He refused to accept such a fate.

If history could be altered by outsiders, if god positions could be inherited, why couldn’t he, Dai Weisi, do the same?

He was the legitimate crown prince of Star Luo. In talent, character, and statecraft, he did not consider himself inferior to Dai Mubai.

A fierce ambition to seize this opportunity and defy fate flared within him like wildfire, spreading madly.

He looked at Dai Mubai, striving to maintain surface calm, but a flash of coldness, resolve, and a faint trace of envy still flickered in the depths—caught by Dai Yetian on the throne, whose eyes missed nothing.

Yet the Star Luo emperor’s face did not ripple. The royal house had always followed a gu-raising style of competition: the victor is king, the loser outlaw.

If Dai Weisi had the heart to compete, he welcomed it.

Besides, that was merely a parallel world’s history—who could assert this realm would follow the same track?

Heaven Dou’s prince Xue Beng was also surging with emotion, barely able to contain himself.

He had been a fallen prince of a ruined nation, fleeing south in panic, with hopes of restoration as faint as starlight.

But now, Xuan Zi’s words rekindled hope.

If Tang San and the others could become gods and defeat the seemingly invincible Spirit Empire, then he, Xue Beng, as the legitimate bloodline of Heaven Dou, couldn’t he also secure a share in this millennium-rare feast of divinity?

Even if he had no affinity for a god position himself, as long as he clung tightly to the future deities’ thighs, reclaiming Heaven Dou would no longer be an impossible dream.

His gaze turned blazing hot in an instant. His mind raced, calculating how to exploit this foreknowledge to the utmost—how to bind his interests more tightly to Tang San and the others.

Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan’s master, Ning Fengzhi, exchanged a glance with Sword Douluo and Bone Douluo; in each other’s eyes they saw gravity and deep thought.

The clan’s future ties to the God of Food and the Nine-Colored Goddess would of course be a blessing, greatly consolidating their standing.

But Xuan Zi’s words also hinted that they’d suffer grievous losses in the coming calamity.

Now that the future was known, they had to spare no effort, mobilize all resources and connections, to prevent the clan’s tragedy from repeating.

At the same time, ensuring Ning Rongrong successfully obtained the Nine-Colored Goddess god position would become the clan’s core strategy for the future.

This was not only a father’s hope, but the key to a favorable position in the possible new order.

As for Oscar… Ning Fengzhi’s gaze flickered. The boy’s talent and character were excellent, and his relationship with Rongrong was deep—he could be strongly supported. But core resources still needed to tilt toward Rongrong.

Grandmaster Yu Xiaogang was caught between great ecstasy and deep anxiety.

His disciple would in the future reach twin god positions; the others would all become gods too. Such an achievement was the greatest validation of his theoretical research.

How could he not be excited and proud? Yet alongside the ecstasy, unease coiled.

Such godhood-related secrets, enough to shake the continent—why hadn’t Xuan Zi disclosed them privately? Why announce them publicly in a mixed crowd?

He’d placed this irresistible temptation bare before everyone. To what end?

Behind Xuan Zi, the Shrek group from the parallel world were far from calm as well.

Han Ruoruo glanced thoughtfully at Xuan Zi, who kept pouring himself drinks.

They had already concluded this world, though very similar to ten thousand years ago in their recorded history, was not truly their past, but a parallel world—most obvious was the absence of the Ten Great Ferocious Beasts they knew.

But in this world, true god inheritances did exist.

The appearance of the Angel God and the Rakshasa God was ironclad proof.

If Tang San and those ancestral counterparts could pass divine trials to achieve godhood, then… why couldn’t it be them instead?

As for talent, Tang San and company were indeed extraordinary. But was Ma Hongjun’s talent really superior to Ma Xiaotao, who had already evolved true Phoenix Flame? Hardly certain.

Even she, Han Ruoruo, and Xu Sanshi—their talent and strength were certainly not inferior to the likes of Oscar or Ning Rongrong before them.

Not to mention Elder Xuan, already standing at rank 98 Titled Douluo.

If god positions could be inherited, why must they be handed over to these merely analogous ancestors?

They had no true bloodline or legacy ties to this world’s Shrek Seven Devils.

Han Ruoruo did not believe Elder Xuan would willingly give up a once-in-a-lifetime chance at godhood merely because the others were recorded ancestors from millennia ago.

In their world, miracles had not appeared for ten thousand years. If any of them could become gods here, not only would they gain eternal power and life, but upon return, Shrek Academy’s prestige would soar to unprecedented heights, enough to face any crisis.

Whether to find the way home or to contend with the Sun-Moon Empire and Spirit Empire, they needed greater power—and god positions were their only option now.

This thought was not Han Ruoruo’s alone. Exchanged glances among Ma Xiaotao, Xu Sanshi, and the others revealed similar intent.

They were no fools. If Elder Xuan truly intended only to support the first-generation Shrek Seven, with their group’s strength they could have quietly escorted Tang San and company to Sea God Island in secret. Why announce it publicly, placing opportunity under the eyes of all, inviting covetousness?

Meanwhile, Clear Sky Sect master Tang Xiao was already overjoyed.

Tang San—his younger brother Tang Hao’s flesh and blood—had the qualifications for two god positions.

Once Tang San succeeded, the Clear Sky Sect would not only have the chance to avenge themselves, but could cement the unrivaled prestige of the world’s number one sect, no longer fearing the Spirit Empire’s threat.

He was already sketching out how to mobilize the entire sect to aid Tang San in ascending to godhood, then defeat the Spirit Empire and avenge the disciples and kin who died because of Spirit Hall.

Within the great hall, Xuan Zi’s words had stirred far more than shared resolve against a common enemy; undercurrents of ambition, calculation, and longing for the supreme god positions surged as well.

Beneath the surface of cooperation, human desire had been fully ignited.

The Star Luo imperial palace’s conference—determining the continent’s fate, yet rife with hidden tides—finally drew to a close.

All parties departed harboring different thoughts: some elated by the ethereal chance at godhood, others anxious at the Spirit Empire’s dual-god pressure, and still others already setting covert plans into motion.

The news Xuan Zi brought would not be confined to the meeting. It was like a boulder dropped into a tranquil lake; the ripples were quietly altering the fates of countless people and powers.

…

At the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan’s temporary residence in Star Luo City, a secluded, elegant courtyard insulated from the outside clamor, Ning Fengzhi was holding an emergency council with Sword Douluo Chen Xin, Bone Douluo Gu Rong, and his beloved daughter Ning Rongrong.

The information revealed at the meeting was simply too vast. They needed time to digest and to formulate targeted strategies—especially concerning Ning Rongrong’s Nine-Colored Goddess god position; this was paramount.

As the atmosphere grew heavy, light yet clear footsteps sounded outside the courtyard.

The gate disciples did not block the visitors. They recognized them as the two young women who had drawn Ning Fengzhi’s attention at the meeting.

The pair had quietly followed Xuan Zi’s group, who claimed to be visitors from a parallel world. Their bearing was unique, impossible to ignore.

The girl in front wore a tasteful, elegant gown, her posture upright as an orchid, her visage exquisitely beautiful.

Most striking were her limpid, translucent eyes. They not only resembled Ning Fengzhi’s to a startling degree, but also faintly emanated the same glazed radiance as Ning Rongrong’s—only her temperament, compared to Rongrong’s lively charm, carried more composure, wisdom, and an innate nobility beyond her years.

At her side trailed a red-haired girl, tall and athletic, sharp-eyed, with a faint aura of blazing heat about her. Her steps were firm, like the most loyal bodyguard, silently guarding the girl in front.

Ning Fengzhi regarded them gently; his heart already held certain suspicions—especially toward the girl whose temperament felt akin to his own and whose eyes flowed with that familiar light.

“Young ladies, to come at this time—may we ask your advice?”

His voice was calm and soothing, imbued with a comforting affinity, yet also the authority of a sect master.

The leading girl took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for something important.

She stepped forward with graceful solemnity and bowed with an ancient, impeccably standard clan etiquette toward seated Ning Fengzhi, Sword Douluo and Bone Douluo standing at his sides, and the curious Ning Rongrong.

At that ritual, Ning Fengzhi and the two Douluo’s eyes subtly changed.

They knew this rite intimately—it was the ancient ceremony passed among core members of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan. Certain minute gestures and angles could only be known by direct-line disciples; outsiders could never mimic it so precisely.

“Junior Ning Tian.”

The girl raised her head. Her voice was clear and pleasant, tinged with irrepressible excitement and a slight tremor.

“Paying respects to the ancestral sect master, ancestral Sword Douluo, ancestral Bone Douluo.”

She paused, then turned to Ning Rongrong—whose bright, lively eyes brimmed with curiosity and astonishment—and a warm, affectionate, and oddly wondrous smile blossomed on her face.

“And… ancestral Rongrong.”

“Ning Tian?!”

“Ancestral sect master?!”

Ning Rongrong gasped, instinctively covering her lips, her eyes round with disbelief.

She’d been called “ancestor” by a beautiful girl who looked about her age—and whose temperament was even more composed?

The feeling was so strange that she was dazed for a moment.

A keen light flashed in Ning Fengzhi’s eyes, and his suspicions were almost confirmed.

He raised a hand in a gentle “rise” gesture, his tone still even but with growing inquiry:

“Ning Tian… young lady, the ‘ancestors’ you speak of, and that never-outwardly-taught ancient clan rite… Could it be that you have a profound connection to our Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan?”

Though he asked, in his heart he already had the answer. If even Ma Hongjun had descendants at Shrek Academy ten thousand years later, the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan could not lack them.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep