Chapter 821: The Stone of God

“Oh?” Earth Serpent blinked. “You can even do this now?”

“Luck,” Qixia replied. “Feel free to say whatever you want. If I find it inappropriate, I’ll naturally stop you.”

Earth Serpent gave a half-convinced nod and said, “In that case, I’ll risk my life to keep you company. After all, I’m in a good mood today and can share a bit more with you.”

“I’m listening,” Qixia said.

Earth Serpent didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he raised his head slightly and said in a louder voice, “I’m going to explain why ‘Zodiacs Never Resonate’ now!”

The air remained silent, with no reaction whatsoever.

“Damn it… you brat actually called it,” Earth Serpent muttered. “The heavens are like a mute—can’t hear a thing anymore?”

“He can’t hear, but I can,” Qixia said. “What exactly is the relationship between ‘Zodiacs’ and ‘Resonance’?”

Earth Serpent thought for a moment before answering, “As far as I know, there are only two ways for a ‘Zodiac’ to obtain ‘Resonance.'”

He glanced upward warily with every sentence, as if still wary of the “Azure Dragon.”

“First, if the person gains ‘Resonance’ before putting on the mask,” Earth Serpent explained. “Then their identity reverses the moment they wear the mask—they shift from ‘participant’ to ‘Zodiac.’ But because ‘Zodiacs Never Resonate,’ they can no longer perform actions related to ‘Resonance.’ This means they become someone who can neither gain ‘Resonance’ nor escape it, effectively becoming a ‘Permanent Resonator.’ However, this method has a major drawback: they absolutely cannot be discovered by any administrator. Otherwise, the next time they meet, they’ll be labeled as ‘ants.'”

“That’s you, isn’t it?” Qixia said. “Because you became a ‘Zodiac’ with an unusual power, it brought you endless inconveniences. So you cultivated this awful personality to keep people from getting too close or touching you. And to avoid being discovered by too many, you came up with that bizarre-sounding ‘Support Group’—so even if someone leaves your venue in tears, you can pass it off as them sharing their life’s suffering. That makes everything seem reasonable. Rather than saying you ‘do as you please,’ it’s more accurate to say this has been your means of ‘self-preservation’ all along.”

Earth Serpent paused for a moment before slowly cracking a smile. “I don’t understand. The person I just described isn’t me. I’m just an ordinary ‘Zodiac,’ nothing more. As I’ve told you, my ‘Support Group’ is purely a way to mock participants—it helps me do my job better. And the reason they leave in tears is because they’re emotionally affected by sharing their tragic experiences here, so naturally, they’re a little sad.”

“Fine, I’ll take that as confirmation,” Qixia nodded. “What’s the second scenario?”

Earth Serpent choked back a retort and simply continued, “The second scenario is all thanks to my esteemed teacher! Even though ‘Earth-level’ Zodiacs don’t need a teacher, he remains the person I respect most!!”

His voice suddenly rose, as if he were speaking for someone else’s ears.

But Qixia noticed something off about his expression—it carried a trace of fear.

“My teacher is so great!” Earth Serpent continued, raising his voice even more. “He single-handedly changed the landscape of this place! All thanks to ‘Celestial Serpent’s Knowledge’—how wonderful it would be if I could achieve even half his greatness!”

The four of them exchanged glances, knowing there was more to the story.

Qin Dingdong thought for a moment before asking, “You mean that deranged ‘Celestial Serpent’ is your teacher? And you call him ‘great’?”

“Of course!” Earth Serpent replied, his voice trembling. “Other than ‘Celestial Serpent,’ who oversees ‘research,’ who else here could be second only to the gods?”

Qiao Jiajin frowned and whispered to Qixia, “I think this albino snake has been scared witless by that guy. I’ve seen underlings like this around plenty of bosses before.”

Qixia nodded and asked, “If he’s in charge of ‘research,’ what do you do?”

“Me?” Earth Serpent blinked, then sighed. “Every ‘Earth Serpent’ has a different role. Some provide ‘test subjects’ for our teacher, others offer financial support, and then there are those like me—who can provide nothing at all.”

“What happens if you provide nothing?” Qixia pressed.

Earth Serpent forced a faint smile, then unbuttoned his suit jacket and tossed it aside.

Under the bewildered gazes of the four, he undid his shirt, revealing his pure white skin.

This was the first time any of them had seen a Zodiac’s body. They truly seemed like half-human, half-beast hybrids—human bodies with beastly heads, but even their torsos bore animalistic traits. Earth Serpent’s body was entirely white, with snake scales scattered across his ribs and shoulders.

Without a word, he turned around with a bitter smile, showing them his horrifying back.

All four gasped, their skin crawling with goosebumps.

His scar-riddled back was covered in dozens of eyes.

Strangely, most of them were injured or outright gouged out, dried black blood staining his entire back. Some seemed to be healing but had already lost their sight.

Only one intact eye remained active—nestled between his shoulder blades, right on his spine.

It darted around frantically, as if unaccustomed to light, filled with terror.

Beyond that, his back bore countless other grotesque scars—burns, cuts, gashes, even bite marks and gunshot wounds.

“Listen up, brats,” Earth Serpent said darkly, still facing away. “For those of us who can’t provide anything and have dirt in our teacher’s hands, we become one of his test subjects. Lucky, huh?”

Chen Junnan swallowed hard. “You call that lucky?”

Earth Serpent still didn’t turn around, as if weighed down by his own sorrow.

“My teacher told me I’m a stepping stone on someone’s path to godhood here,” he answered. “He conducts all sorts of experiments on me to find the best ‘Path to Divinity’ for the upper echelons.”