The goddess before her bore little resemblance to the grand idol enshrined in the temple. Her simple attire made her appear no different from an ordinary housewife, yet her presence radiated quiet divinity.
Lin Xiang subtly assessed the deity's strength and was astonished—though her aura rivaled that of a Middle-Tier god, she possessed no discernible divine rank or formal godhood. Yet the oceanic essence within her was vast and unmistakable, echoing with the prayers of fishermen and seafarers. This protective force, rich and resonant, undeniably marked her as a true goddess.
Such a phenomenon was unheard of in Lin Xiang's long existence as Tyche. Never had she encountered a deity so powerful, yet devoid of formal divinity.
The goddess waited patiently for her reply. Carefully choosing her words, Lin Xiang answered, "I come from across the sea."
A soft sigh escaped the goddess' lips. "It has been many years since I last saw one who came from that land."
At this, the elderly caretaker and kind woman bade each other farewell, and the old man led Lin Xiang toward a modest room in the back. Seizing the moment, she quietly asked him, "Sir, which goddess is enshrined here?"
"The Lady of Heavenly Stillness," he replied without hesitation. "The Guardian of Safe Voyages."
He then added gently, "Remember to add oil to the eternal lamp at dawn and dusk. Should it ever go out, those who prayed by its light may believe the Lady has turned her favor away."
Lin Xiang was familiar with Mazu's name—among Chinese folk deities, she was among the most revered, especially along coastal regions where sailors and fishermen sought her blessing before every voyage. Alongside Bixia Yuanjun of the north, her worship endured through generations of unwavering faith.
Perhaps sensing Lin Xiang's unease, the goddess kindly gave her space. The caretaker left after settling her into the small but tidy room—its worn furniture well-kept despite age.
Knowing full well she had little right to be choosy—especially penniless—she lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Soon after, the caretaker returned bearing dinner—a typical Chinatown dish of fried rice and sweet-and-sour pork. But what caught Lin Xiang's attention was the fizzy drink beside it. At last, some comfort. She allowed herself to relax and enjoyed her first meal in this world.
Once sated, she attempted to probe the threads of fate to understand the nature of this realm's laws. For the first time in her existence, the power of Fate failed her.
Nearby, countless karmic threads coiled around Mazu—so many that Lin Xiang could barely comprehend their number. Such entanglements were dangerous; should they unravel all at once, even a deity as beloved as Mazu might not escape destruction.
As if sensing this scrutiny, the goddess appeared before Lin Xiang in an instant.
Instinctively bracing for confrontation, Lin Xiang tensed—but Mazu only smiled gently.
"There's no need to fear. I know your intentions are pure."
She studied Lin Xiang thoughtfully. "You seem to have forgotten much… Could it be due to rebirth?"
When Lin Xiang remained silent, the goddess did not press further. Instead, she asked softly, "Where is the believer who carried you from your homeland?"
"I have none," Lin Xiang admitted cautiously.
Meeting Mazu's knowing gaze, she hesitantly asked, "Is that a problem?"
Mazu nodded gravely. "Without believers, you cannot return from death through faith. Tell me—do you remember your name?"
For a moment, Lin Xiang struggled to recall any title fitting her former divinity. After a pause, she confessed, "I have no name in the lands beyond the sea."
Mazu's expression softened. "Many gods have been forgotten by history. Some rise again when fragments of their stories are rediscovered."
"You may be one such being—your name lost to time, now reborn through scattered whispers."
Reassuringly, she continued, "We cannot exist without faith. Your immediate need is to find worshippers to sustain your form. Without belief, you will weaken—age, fade, and eventually vanish entirely."
Though Lin Xiang had intended to refuse mortal devotion—reluctant to bear its burdensome consequences—this revelation shifted her resolve. Immediate survival outweighed distant peril.
"Thank you for helping me," she said sincerely.
"The old gods are already at a disadvantage. If we do not stand together, our plight will only worsen."
Mazu offered this explanation before hesitating slightly. "But your legends have faded. You must take on a new identity to gain recognition."
Lin Xiang smiled faintly. A ripple of golden fortune shimmered within the unseen waves surrounding her. "I shall bring luck to those who dare the sea. Who would turn down fortune?"
Mazu nodded. "I protect those who make their living upon the waters. We can work together to grow our following."
Her gaze drifted toward the shrine's subsidiary idol—the Goddess of如意, or "Wish Fulfillment." An idea sparked.
"From now on, let us be sisters. You may walk among mortals under the name如意."
It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Mazu would gain expanded influence, while Lin Xiang obtained a credible cover.
Mazu's worshippers spanned boatmen, sailors, travelers, merchants, and fishermen. Even a fraction of the faith flowing through her would suffice for如意's needs.
Under Mazu's guidance, the caretaker announced to the congregation that a newly acquired statue of如意had arrived from the homeland, to be enshrined alongside Mazu.
Elder immigrants, untouched by Western assimilation, flocked to the temple. Many still clung to their ancestral beliefs. On the very first day, Lin Xiang received a flood of prayers.
如意was born from fishermen's hopes for safety and abundance, sharing overlapping domains with Mazu. Many viewed them as sister deities, so the dual enshrinement raised no objections.
They prayed for loved ones separated by oceans, yearning for reunion. Devout followers visited the temple every first and fifteenth day of the lunar month, offering incense and prayers.
With steady nourishment from belief, Lin Xiang quickly regained strength. Within two or three months, she had reached the level of a Weak-Tier Deity.
Now restored, she began bestowing subtle blessings upon her devotees. Fishermen found rare catches, pearls, and even ancient coins from sunken ships. Word spread swiftly—luck followed如意's name.
The temple doors never closed, and the faithful never ceased their coming.
The alliance between the two goddesses flourished, their combined influence growing steadily. As Lin Xiang absorbed the ebb and flow of belief, she gradually unraveled the fundamental laws governing this world.
Here, faith was everything. No deity could survive without it. To be completely forgotten by mortals meant true death—irreversible and absolute. Even a powerful god, weakened by fading devotion, could perish from something as mundane as a single bullet. Rebirth through belief was possible, but only if even a single soul still remembered.
Unlike the Olympians, who wielded divine ranks bestowed by cosmic forces, the gods of this world were bound solely to the will of their worshippers—no longer favored children of the cosmos, but weary laborers sustained only by mortal devotion.
Faith both shackled and empowered them. It elevated them to greatness, yet cast them down when memory waned. A forgotten god might slumber for centuries, only to awaken anew the moment a mortal spoke their name once more.
Lin Xiang had no desire to experience such resurrection. For now, she remained within the temple walls, tending the eternal lamp with quiet diligence. The caretaker, though reverent of her true nature, chose not to pry, appearing only to deliver meals upon request before vanishing again into his own routines.
Mazu began recounting the landscape of divinity across this land. Asian immigrants carried their ancestral deities with them, while African slaves brought forth spirits of their homeland. Yet as generations passed, descendants abandoned the traditions of their forebears. Time wore away at worship like water against stone.
She sighed heavily. "Before me came the Kitchen God, once honored in every home. Now, with gas stoves replacing hearths, he has faded into oblivion. His final believer died long ago, and in despair, he ended himself."
A pause. "A god who chooses death cannot return. We could do nothing to save him."
As tensions escalated toward civil war, deities took sides. Yoruba gods led their followers to liberate enslaved souls in the South, securing freedom before retreating into obscurity. For a time, these gods feasted on the blood and prayers of liberated believers—but it was merely the last flicker of a dying fire.
For new gods had risen.
Technology, media, urbanization—these became the new altars. Mortals spent hours before glowing screens rather than incense-lit shrines. The old gods, scattered and disorganized, found themselves fading, left behind by an age that no longer needed them. Some surrendered their dignity, pledging allegiance to the new pantheon. Others, unwilling to accept obsolescence, plotted rebellion in the shadows.
"Which side should we take?" Lin Xiang asked, sensing the brewing storm. "What is your plan?"
Mazu shook her head. "Our faith dwindles daily. War is inevitable. But I cannot trust the promises of the new ones—they wear civility like a mask, hiding greed and deceit beneath."
Indeed, each generation grew further from tradition. The younger ones revered neither ancestors nor spirits. This was a warning—an omen of slow decay.
Lin Xiang frowned. Though the loss of this fragile vessel would not destroy her entirely, returning here was uncertain. Another journey through the Chaos Sea might never lead back to this world.
"We may never return to our distant homeland," Mazu mused softly. "Perhaps fading into silence alongside our believers is not so terrible after all."
To her, peace lay in preservation, not conflict. So long as her people remained safe, she would not raise arms.
Lin Xiang disagreed. "This peace is illusion. True safety comes only from strength. We must become a third force—one neither old nor new dares provoke."
Mazu did not argue. "If they threaten my believers, then they will know my wrath."
Silence settled between them. Lin Xiang understood—the longing for peace among displaced souls had shaped Mazu's heart. Yet belief, ever shifting, threatened to erode a god's very will. That was a danger she could not ignore.
Though grateful for Mazu's aid, Tyche refused to surrender to slow oblivion. At least until her true self could cross into this realm, she would not let this vessel vanish.
Mazu offered no objections. Instead, she handed Lin Xiang a folded parchment—a property deed.
"Go forth. Build what you will. Whatever path you choose, my door remains open to you."
With deep gratitude, Lin Xiang stepped beyond the temple gates.