Heaven Official's Blessing: Vol. 1

The novel continues developing its intricate worldbuilding while exploring themes of The Illusion of Truth and Power and Corruption. Through the interactions between Xie Lian, San Lang, Nan Feng, and Fu Yao and the historical context of the Banyue Kingdom, these chapters emphasize the unreliability of perceived reality and the consequences of power when wielded unjustly. Each encounter—from the possessed cultivator to the buried face in Banyue—reinforces how history is shaped by those who control its retelling, forcing the characters to question what is true versus what is merely accepted as truth.

These chapters also highlight the complex dynamics between Xie Lian, San Lang, and the junior officials, Nan Feng and Fu Yao. Although Nan Feng and Fu Yao often speak in blunt or exasperated tones when addressing Xie Lian, their immediate hostility toward San Lang reveals a deeper truth: They are protective of Xie Lian, even if they rarely express it openly. Their aggressive reaction to San Lang’s presence is not simply about suspicion—it demonstrates that, despite their distancing from him, they still admire and care for him. This tension is particularly evident when Xie Lian restrains them with Ruoye, forcing them to stop fighting. Rather than immediately attacking again, they comply, proving that their loyalty to Xie Lian still outweighs their personal distrust of San Lang.

At the same time, San Lang is, for the first time, viewed through a lens beyond just Xie Lian’s perception. Up until this point, Xie Lian has been the only character actively interacting with San Lang, but in these chapters, he effortlessly asserts himself against Nan Feng and Fu Yao, revealing a sharp wit and an almost confidently playful demeanor. Rather than responding with true hostility, he toys with them, making pointed remarks about their past relationship with Xie Lian. His comment about Mu Qing’s past servitude is a direct attempt to shame them, subtly reminding them that they abandoned Xie Lian in the past while he, San Lang, stands unwaveringly by his side. This unwavering allegiance, paired with San Lang’s ease in asserting dominance over two capable martial gods, subtly shifts the reader’s perception of him from a mere enigmatic wanderer to someone deeply invested in Xie Lian’s well-being.

Despite Xie Lian’s lingering suspicions about San Lang, his deepest instinct is to trust him. Even though he acknowledges that San Lang is far from ordinary, Xie Lian never hesitates to welcome him, accept his presence, and even defend him against Fu Yao and Nan Feng’s accusations. This foreshadows the growing closeness between them, as Xie Lian’s actions suggest that, on an intuitive level, he already sees San Lang as someone fundamentally safe—even if his mind warns otherwise. The novel’s repeated emphasis on Xie Lian’s subconscious trust in San Lang, despite mounting evidence of his power and mystery, hints at a connection that runs far deeper than mere chance.

The contrast between Xie Lian’s lifestyle and that of the junior officials also underscores a fundamental difference in worldview. When Nan Feng and Fu Yao witness Xie Lian’s impoverished living conditions, their disbelief reflects their ingrained dependence on material stability—a privilege afforded to them as members of the Heavenly Realm. To them, the idea that a god could live with so little is almost inconceivable. Perhaps most strikingly, Nan Feng and Fu Yao’s reaction to the revelation that Xie Lian and San Lang have shared a bed highlights their inherent binary thinking. Their discomfort suggests that, whether due to social norms or personal biases, they view closeness between Xie Lian and San Lang as something that should not exist within their structured understanding of the world. Xie Lian, in contrast, remains entirely unfazed, illustrating his detachment from conventional expectations and reinforcing his role as someone who exists outside of the rigid moral and societal structures of the Heavenly Realm.

These chapters repeatedly challenge the notion of truth, highlighting how perception can be manipulated or distorted. One of the most direct confrontations with this theme occurs when Fu Yao attempts to use Unmasking Water on San Lang, a substance meant to reveal a person’s true identity. However, despite drinking it, San Lang remains unchanged. Similarly, when offered the sword Hongjing, which should expose non-human entities, San Lang deflects suspicion by claiming the sword is broken—an assertion later proven true. These moments demonstrate how truth is not always as absolute as it appears; evidence can be dismissed or manipulated, leaving characters questioning what they truly know.

This idea extends beyond San Lang’s ambiguous identity and into the history of Banyue itself. Xie Lian deciphers inscriptions on a stone stele that tell the story of a Central Plains general, a figure venerated by the common people despite his low military rank. Officially, his story is one of repeated demotions due to his unwillingness to sacrifice civilians in war, culminating in his death by a seemingly absurd accident—tripping on his shoelaces and being trampled. However, the fact that both Banyue and Yong’an citizens honored his memory suggests a deeper truth not captured by historical records. The general’s reputation, shaped by those in power, contrasts with the lasting gratitude of the people he protected. By preserving his memory, the people refute the official narrative, demonstrating that true heroism is not always recognized in history books but lives on in the hearts of those who benefited from it. 

The illusion of truth also plays a role in the merchants’ understanding of Banyue Pass. While they acknowledge its dangers, they treat rumors of ghosts and vengeful spirits as exaggerations. Their guide, A-Zhao, provides them with a sense of security, yet Xie Lian remains skeptical of him, subtly questioning whether he is as harmless as he seems. These uncertainties reinforce the idea that people believe what is convenient or comfortable, even in the face of evidence that suggests otherwise. The merchants’ willingness to trust A-Zhao without question mirrors how societies often place faith in authority figures or familiar guides without examining the deeper implications of their actions. This trust makes them easy prey for manipulation, reinforcing the novel’s discussion that ignorance is often more dangerous than deceit. Xie Lian himself is wary, constantly challenging assumptions and pushing for deeper understanding. His experience as a once-revered, then-disgraced god has made him acutely aware of how truth can be shaped, concealed, or manipulated.

The chapters also explore the dangerous intersection of power and corruption, particularly through the history of the Banyue Kingdom and its current state of ruin. Xie Lian explains that despite its small population, Banyue always maintained a disproportionately large military force, emphasizing its culture of aggression and control. The most striking symbol of this cruelty is the Sinner’s Pit, a deep chasm filled with venomous creatures where criminals were thrown to die. The mere existence of such a punishment demonstrates how those in power exert control through fear and violence. This pit serves as both a literal and symbolic representation of oppression—once a place where political dissidents were silenced, it has now become a lingering wound of Banyue’s brutal past, showing that power leaves echoes even after its rulers have fallen.

Power and Corruption is further reinforced by the scorpion-snakes, which serve as both literal and symbolic representations of corruption. As the totem of the Banyue state preceptor, these creatures embody the lingering effects of an unjust ruler’s influence. The myth San Lang shares about their origins—a king’s act of cruelty transformed into a lasting curse—reflects how abuses of power can have enduring consequences. By turning the consequences of his tyranny into a physical manifestation of suffering, the ruler’s crimes are never truly erased, proving that power used selfishly does not simply disappear but festers. The fact that these creatures still plague the region suggests that Banyue’s corruption has not been entirely erased, despite its fall. Just as the Heavenly Realm continues to protect those in power while punishing those who fall, Banyue’s poisonous legacy remains long after its political destruction, showing that corruption is often more deeply ingrained than any empire’s lifespan.

Even the shanyue fern, which serves as an antidote to the scorpion-snake venom, has a sinister history. The revelation that it flourishes due to human remains buried beneath it exposes the disturbing lengths to which those in power went to maintain control. This discovery horrifies the merchants, as it forces them to confront the reality that something they saw as valuable and lifesaving is rooted in suffering. It mirrors how institutions and leaders often justify their actions under the guise of necessity, even when the cost is human lives. In this way, the fern becomes a metaphor for systemic corruption—something that appears beneficial on the surface but is only sustained through hidden cruelty.

The junior officials, Nan Feng and Fu Yao, also show how external forces constrain power. As minor heavenly officials, their abilities are weakened due to their distance from their temples, illustrating how divine power is not absolute but contingent on bureaucratic structures. This limitation becomes significant when they struggle to counteract the dangers of the desert storm and the scorpion-snakes. Their frustration highlights how even those who serve the heavens are bound by rules and hierarchies, limiting their ability to act freely. Despite being part of the celestial order, they experience firsthand how power is distributed unequally, reinforcing that divinity does not necessarily equate to autonomy or control.

This section deepens the novel’s exploration of truth, power, and corruption. Through San Lang’s enigmatic nature, the distorted history of the Central Plains general, and the hidden horrors of Banyue, the story emphasizes that truth is often elusive and shaped by those in control. Similarly, the remnants of Banyue’s cruelty—from the Sinner’s Pit to the scorpion-snakes—demonstrate how power can oppress and manipulate, leaving lasting scars on a society. These themes take on an even deeper meaning when juxtaposed with the Heavenly Realm, where power is similarly entrenched, privilege dictates morality, and those who fall are condemned rather than protected.

Ultimately, these chapters reinforce the novel’s broader message: The divide between righteousness and corruption is not as clear-cut as mortals or gods would like to believe. Whether in Banyue, the Heavenly Realm, or the mortal world, power remains a force that can be twisted to serve the interests of those who wield it. Xie Lian’s refusal to accept surface-level truths, combined with his relentless pursuit of justice despite his lack of status, serves as a quiet rebellion against this cycle. Through him, the novel suggests that true wisdom comes not from authority or divinity, but from questioning the world’s accepted narratives and seeking the truth hidden beneath.