Many years later, the Holy Mother will be sitting in a café inside a luxury mall built on the former site of Holy Mother Primary School. Sipping coffee, she will reminisce about the distant past, recalling a little girl named Wang Rong, who once gazed at her with eyes full of passion and trust, for just a fleeting moment.
Wang Rong is dead.
When she died, she was still Mrs. Bai. Bai Shikun could only bury her in an inconspicuous corner of the family cemetery.
“O Lord, with heavy hearts, we come before You to pray for our departed sister, Wang Rong...”
At the funeral, while Bai Shikun listened to the priest praying for the deceased, his mind was on Long’er—planning how, after giving her a formal title, he could orchestrate her public ascension to the rightful Mrs. Bai.
“We earnestly ask You to welcome Sister Wang Rong back into Your embrace and grant her eternal rest.”
When the priest recited these words, Old Bai finally heard them. He raised his brows and stifled a cold laugh, thinking: Could someone like her really rest in the Lord? Where should the truly kind souls go?
He found it amusing, because he knew Wang Rong’s soul actually lay in the Holy Mother’s hands.
A day after Wang Rong’s death, he received a dream from the Holy Mother instructing him to make a white statue, so that Wang Rong’s soul could be placed within it. The statue’s expression and posture were clearly shown in the dream. It was a simple task; he promptly complied. The funeral was held in the morning, and by afternoon, he was already at Holy Mother Primary School presiding over the unveiling ceremony for Wang Rong’s statue.
Old Bai neither knew nor cared how the Holy Mother would put a person’s soul into a statue; in any case, once everything was arranged, the name Wang Rong vanished from his mind entirely.
When Wang Rong regained consciousness, she did not realize she was dead.
All she knew was that the first thing she saw upon waking was a crowd of women’s faces, jostling together. Some faces were beautiful, some ugly, some old, some young, but all shared the same look of eager anticipation. The whole space was filled with women’s chattering voices.
“Holy Lady, please grant me a good husband this year!”
“Holy Lady, I’m begging for my daughter. She always meets terrible men. Please give her a good man, even if he’s not rich!”
“Holy Lady, my boyfriend refuses to divorce his wife. Please make his wife leave quickly so he can marry me! You yourself were once a mistress who became the main wife, so you must grant my wish, right?”
Hey! Enough! What on earth are you all doing? When did I become a holy lady?
Wang Rong yelled, but found she couldn’t hear her own voice. Then she realized she couldn’t feel her body at all.
No… More precisely, she could “sense” herself kneeling, hands together in prayer, but there was no real sensation. The scene before her was like watching a TV screen—clear, but she “felt” an immense distance, as if she and these women were not in the same space.
A nameless fear surged in her heart, made worse by the fact that she couldn’t feel a heartbeat from nervousness or fear.
That’s when she remembered the Holy Mother’s words before she lost consciousness.
“After you die, I’ll have Bai Shikun canonize you as the Holy Lady of the Holy Mother Society…”
They… they are all calling me Holy Lady. Could it be that I… am really dead?
“Yes, Wang Rong, you are already dead.”
As soon as the thought formed, the Holy Mother’s voice rang clearly in her ears. The scene before her changed instantly.
“I have sealed your soul inside this statue. From now on, night and day, you will face me, bow your head, kneel with your hands together in prayer.”
A new image appeared: a delicate Roman-style pavilion, with a round marble fountain underneath. In the center, on a pure white marble pedestal, stood a life-sized female statue, also carved from pure white marble.
As the Holy Mother had said, the statue knelt facing the Holy Mother Chapel of the primary school, head bowed, hands together, with a submissive smile. The statue’s features were almost identical to Wang Rong’s—masterfully crafted.
Dozens of women surrounded the statue, separated by the fountain, vying to offer flowers and make wishes.
“This is your destiny from now on. From today until eternity. Do you like it? Ha ha…” The Holy Mother’s voice faded away with laughter.
No! I don’t want this!
You wretched old woman!
Let me out! Let me out!
Wang Rong cried out in her heart, but got no response.
The faces of those women appeared before her once again.
Help me! Save me! Save me!
Wang Rong pleaded with the women before her, but they couldn’t hear her desperate screams, and continued to pour out their wishes to Wang Rong.
Tonight, there are no stars, only the moon—a dark red moon, its upper half still shrouded in shadow.
On such a strange, eerie night, Wang Rong, dressed in a white long dress, secretly crawled out from the statue.
Afraid of being discovered by the Holy Mother, she lay flat on the ground and crawled like a snake. The distance from her pavilion to the Holy Mother Chapel was short. Reaching the foot of the wall, she climbed upward like a spider—she didn’t know how she could do it, but she just did.
Reaching the chapel’s upper window, Wang Rong peered inside. She urgently needed to know the Holy Mother’s current situation.
But wasn’t Wang Rong’s soul sealed inside the statue by the Holy Mother? How did she escape?
There was no way around it—Wang Rong had always been a formidable woman, even in life.
She was dead, and imprisoned. After a brief panic, Wang Rong quickly regained her composure and accepted the truth.
She understood that if she didn’t save herself, she would lose her freedom forever. But how?
First, she observed her situation and summarized a few key points:
First, she could clearly hear the prayers of the female devotees, no matter how many gathered around or how chaotic the noise, she could hear every word.
Through the devotees’ conversations, she learned several important things:
Holy Mother Primary School’s chapel no longer accepted worshippers. Instead, the new “Holy Lady Wang Rong” replaced the Holy Mother to receive prayers and wishes from believers. Due to strong demand, what was originally supposed to be open only on holiday mornings was now open every day until dusk.
Second, Wang Rong soon realized she could see things in death she couldn’t in life. Every woman who came to pray, and every person she saw, had a ball of white light on their foreheads.
The size and brightness of these lights varied. Watching these balls of light, and listening to the devotees’ conversations and wishes, Wang Rong concluded: the white light represented a person’s luck or fortune.
The larger and brighter the ball, the luckier the person, and vice versa.
Because countless devotees visited every day, Wang Rong also noticed that among those with large, bright balls of light—a minority—an even smaller group’s lights flashed with gold.
At first, she didn’t understand. Until, by chance, Old Bai visited the school for a ceremony and passed by the chapel, allowing her to see—on his forehead was a blinding ball of golden light! She deduced that those with golden light were destined for extraordinary fortune and immense wealth!
Those whose white light occasionally flashed gold likely had a chance for dramatic opportunity in the future.
Third, and most importantly, Wang Rong discovered these balls of luck could be “absorbed” and “manipulated.”
At first, she didn’t find them appealing, but after a few days, they became irresistibly tempting—like a table of delicacies to a starving person.
Whenever she had the thought “I really want this,” the balls of light on the women’s foreheads would emit flecks of white light, drifting toward and merging with her “inside.” Though she had no body, she could feel the dots of light merge with her, making her feel more “substantial,” stronger, and closer to the outside world.
Wang Rong soon mastered the technique of granting wishes: she would target those already with large, bright balls of light, and use her mind to channel luck collected from others into the target’s ball of light.
She saw flecks of white light leave her and merge into the “target’s” ball, making it even larger and brighter, sometimes even flashing gold.
Soon, when those favored devotees returned, they would rejoice, thanking the Holy Lady for granting their wishes, and bring more worshippers. The more they believed in the Holy Lady’s miracles, the more sincere they became.
Wang Rong also realized: the more devout the worshipper, the easier and more abundant the transfer of luck.
So, to quickly strengthen herself and break the seal, it was most worthwhile to help those already lucky. But isn’t this just taking from the less fortunate to give to those who have? Sigh, the Holy Mother is no different from people, Wang Rong sneered inwardly.
Most importantly, though the Holy Mother said she would seal her forever, the seal had been weakening over the months. Conversely, Wang Rong’s own strength grew. A month ago, her soul could already leave the statue and wander near the pavilion, though she didn’t dare go far, lest the Holy Mother notice.
Wang Rong was always looking for a chance to secretly observe the Holy Mother’s current state, to plan her next move.
Tonight, she decided to sneak into the chapel and investigate.
She had noticed that the golden aura that once enveloped the chapel day and night had faded rapidly this month, while a glimmer of hope rose in her heart.
Tonight, the golden light had disappeared completely!
Tonight, a blood-red moon rose in the sky, like a bloodshot eye gazing down at the world… Could the disappearance of the golden light be related?
Like a lone wolf, Wang Rong coldly watched the goddess’s palace under the blood moon, calculating ruthlessly: Something must have happened to the Holy Mother—and it certainly wasn’t good.
She knew she could not simply escape; the only way to truly regain her freedom was to deal with the Holy Mother.
If Wang Rong still had a body, she would now be wearing a most sinister smile, for as she gazed at the red moon, she felt a mysterious power streaming through the statue, entering her.
Immediately, she felt a heat circulating deeply within her, eventually gathering into a small furnace, throbbing with force.
To her joy, Wang Rong realized she had regained the sensation of a body.
With a thought, she found herself collapsed on the ground. She had emerged from the statue.
And she had her body back.
She quickly suppressed her excitement—now was not the time for celebration.
Having climbed to the rooftop window, Wang Rong peered into the Holy Mother Chapel like a ghost.
The sight before her made her eyes narrow in focus, and she thought:
It’s time.
What she saw was a hollow, dim chapel. The vast square hall was paved in a checkerboard of black and white tiles; a Roman-style pavilion still stood in the center—that was where the Holy Mother resided.
This palace was a domain Wang Rong knew intimately. Countless nights in life, she had knelt before the Holy Mother’s statue here, praying devoutly, sharing with her the ups and downs, fears, and hopes of her life.
Estranged from her mother, distant from her husband, with no true friends, the white statue had been her only confidante.
Thus Wang Rong immediately noticed the subtle changes in the chapel.
Before the pavilion, facing the main doors, stood a wooden bench, now covered in dust. Even the black-and-white tiles were layered in thick gray, the white parts now a dingy gray. The row of mercury spotlights that once illuminated the pavilion day and night had all failed. No wonder the space was so dark and eerie tonight.
Yes, she could see. This new body gave Wang Rong eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. She could even see dust motes swirling in the blood-red air, sparkling faintly in the moonlight.
She focused on the central pavilion, also covered in dust. More surprising was the ring of lilies around the Holy Mother’s statue had been replaced with roses—all of which had wilted and decayed, deepening the atmosphere of desolation.
It seemed that after her death, Bai Shikun had only switched lilies for roses and added a bench, but never returned, nor did he have anyone clean or maintain the place, Wang Rong mused.
She couldn’t help but feel a chill—though the Holy Mother sealed her, she herself had been imprisoned by Bai Shikun. The Holy Mother could no longer absorb mortal luck, so it was no wonder the golden aura around the chapel grew weaker and weaker.
Wang Rong’s hearing had also become incredibly sharp, so she heard a faint sobbing coming from inside the pavilion, breaking the silence.
“Wuu… wuu… Bai Shikun, you bastard! I helped you achieve your wish, and now you throw me away… You locked me up, won’t let anyone worship me… Look what I’ve become…!” The Holy Mother sobbed and raged, beating the floor weakly with her small hand. “Ugh… you bastard… not only did you imprison me, you let Wang Rong receive worship… I can barely hold her back… and tonight of all nights, it has to be the blood moon…” She wept, pounding the floor.
“Heavens! How did you end up like this?” Her self-pity was interrupted by a shocked cry. She turned with a start.
“Wang Rong! It’s you!” Seeing the beautiful woman with long hair and a white dress, the Holy Mother trembled as she spoke her name.
Wang Rong herself hadn’t expected that, when meeting her enemy, shock would outweigh hatred.
She never imagined that the goddess she had worshipped so devoutly would fall so low.
Of course, the Holy Mother was not standing in the pavilion, but collapsed on the floor, still curled up and weeping. Her once-pure white robe was ragged and barely covered her.
Wang Rong scanned the fallen goddess with her glowing eyes—the Holy Mother had grown thin, now resembling a barely adolescent girl, completely different from the seductive, mature figure she remembered before being killed.
The goddess shrank in panic, trying to hide her body with the torn robe, but it was impossible.
“I see. Bai forbade you from receiving worship, and doesn’t worship you himself, so you can’t absorb luck. He built churches all over the city, but I hear from the devotees that their prayers aren’t very effective… hmm, maybe the other churches can’t transfer luck to you?”
The first part was Wang Rong’s musings, but at the end she stared at the Holy Mother, clearly demanding an answer.
The Holy Mother, cowed by her sharp gaze, shuddered and stammered: “Yes, but most is lost in transmission, and now… the worshippers… don’t believe in me anymore… so I can’t absorb their luck…”
Wang Rong tilted her head, then asked, “Why didn’t you tell Bai Shikun about your situation and have him reopen this chapel?” The Holy Mother hung her head, her once-lustrous hair now a tangled, dull mess. After a while, she whispered, “I… tried to enter his dreams to remind him… but he… he’s too strong… he’s not afraid of any god… I… can’t communicate with him at all.”
“So you only bully the weak, not the strong. Looks like you’re useless against nonbelievers,” Wang Rong sneered, thinking how absurd her former devotion had been.
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The Holy Mother bowed her head lower, ashamed to be reduced to such a state by Old Bai after all her years as a deity.
After a moment of silence, Wang Rong spoke again: “You’re weak now. I sneaked in and stood behind you, and you didn’t even notice.”
She gave the Holy Mother a sly, evil smile. “Looks like I can kill you now.”
“No! You broke the seal and are free! You’re already a goddess! Bai doesn’t believe in gods, but you can have worshippers build a temple for you! Look… I’m already like this… please spare me!” The Holy Mother pleaded, voice trembling.
Wang Rong scoffed. “Anyone who harmed me must die—you, Bai Shikun. I want power, why rely on some old mortal? You still have plenty of resources left. I see your body still glimmers with gold.”
The Holy Mother’s face changed drastically. She had gathered all remaining spiritual power from the branch churches to herself, to preserve her fragile life.
“No… you can’t kill me! If a god kills another god, she’ll lose the chance to ascend forever, and after death, become a demon in hell, never able to escape!” The Holy Mother knelt, hands together, tears streaming as she begged for mercy.
“Ascend? What’s that?” Wang Rong asked curiously.
“It’s like this: we gods survive by absorbing mortal luck and converting it to spiritual power. The more power, the stronger. If mortals stop believing, we weaken and eventually perish—many ancient gods disappeared this way…” the Holy Mother answered sadly, clearly worried about her fate.
She continued, “When our spiritual power reaches a breakthrough, we can transcend the mortal world and no longer depend on mortal luck. We’ll be free and eternal!” She grew emotional, trying desperately to persuade Wang Rong.
Wang Rong was silent for a moment, then looked at the Holy Mother and asked, “You’ve lived for at least a thousand years. Why are you still here? Why haven’t you ascended?”
The Holy Mother was speechless.
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Wang Rong sneered. “I guess the requirements for ascension are impossibly high—maybe even after ten thousand years it’s unattainable. Is luck only good for survival?”
“Well… if mortals worship you for generations, you can live forever in this world—isn’t that enough?” The Holy Mother turned away, evading Wang Rong’s gaze.
Wang Rong smiled coldly. “So you won’t tell me the truth? Then I’ll send you on your way.”
Before the Holy Mother could react, a searing pain shot through her chest—Wang Rong had thrust her hand into her heart. The Holy Mother screamed in agony, powerless to resist, her robe tearing into shreds.
Wang Rong gripped the Holy Mother’s heart. At first stunned, she quickly broke into a manic grin, contrasting with the Holy Mother’s twisted, pain-stricken face.
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“So that’s it… I understand now! Hahaha!” Wang Rong laughed, yanking her arm back. The Holy Mother shrieked and collapsed.
Since seeing the Holy Mother, Wang Rong had suppressed her emotions like a wolf, until this explosive moment.
In Wang Rong’s hand was a bloody, still-beating heart. Her face was twisted and terrifying.
The Holy Mother lay limp, her naked body covered in blood, her eyes empty, cheeks streaked with helpless tears, lips quivering as if trying to speak, but only a mindless moan escaped.
Most importantly, Wang Rong saw that the golden light had vanished from the Holy Mother’s body, now gathered in the bloody, beating heart in her hand.
Composing herself, Wang Rong suddenly became unusually gentle, standing proudly—truly goddess-like.
“The Holy Mother’s heart is the purest of all. Holy Mother, thank you for offering your heart.” Wang Rong said softly, then began devouring the heart.
A miracle occurred: with every bite she took, blood gushed like a flood. The blood seemed endless, streaming down her chin, neck, and body. She didn’t care, eating more wildly until she was drenched in blood.
Only two sounds echoed in the chapel: the gushing of blood, and the chilling crunch of flesh. In the chapel, two women—one victorious, one defeated, one alive, one dead—were both soaked in blood.
After a long while, the long-locked chapel doors creaked open. Out stepped a cold, beautiful woman with long hair, snow-white skin, and a red dress.
She walked out, looked up at the blood-red moon, feeling a newfound sense of lightness and freedom.
To possess great power, to control one’s destiny completely, to get whatever she wanted with a mere reach—such a wonderful feeling.
Regaining her body, she couldn’t help but do her signature gesture: elegantly tucking her hair behind her ear.
Beneath the blood moon, in the night breeze, her red dress billowed as she departed. This woman had already planned her every step ahead.
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End of Episode 1
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"Wong Rong: Requiem of Revenge"
Episode 1: Counter-kill101Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0MUvwN5Pyx
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