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This is a world where belief is food and willingness is punishment. God is not immortal, but a prisoner trapped in the incense. As soon as the incense burns off, the divine body melts and the soul disappears in seven days. The power of wish hides poison, resentment gnaws at the heart, and one becomes crazy in an instant. Jiang He was designed to steal a soul, but unexpectedly recognized the family heirloom and embarked on the road to becoming a god. No foundation, no inheritance, no backing, only a few precarious believers. Outside, there are gods snatching sacrifices, fierce gods devouring souls, evil spirits devouring gods, and murderous intent at every step. The power of aspiration inside is backfired, the fire of karma burns the heart, the Taoist heart is on the verge of collapse, and there is no peace. Everyone in the world envies gods and Buddhas for being so high above, but they don't know that incense and fire become gods, and they are always born toward death. He survived the siege, struggled with resentment, and moved forward in despair. It was not until the end that I realized that the so-called Shinto was just a hunt to fatten up and then kill. And he, from the beginning, was a sacrifice to be slaughtered.