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Chapter 48: Heaven Unerring [Epilogue]
🕑 Added 2025-04-15 13:35:08 +0000 UTC~~~
“Bury the Demon beneath the Earth, where the light of Heaven cannot find him. The world has no need for the likes of his madness, and our people lack the strength to suffer the price of his ambitions.
However, should the Divines ever come to reap the lives of our kin, remember that Demon. Hand over to him your flesh, and unleash his hunger upon the very Gods we worship.
Among Heaven and Earth, none will equal that Worm’s voracity.”
– Final words of Patriarch Yang, moments before he succumbed to his wounds incurred at the Battle of the Five Hegemon Immortals.
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Two thousand years ago…
It was the Third Celestial Millennium of His Jade Majesty’s reign, and the world was at peace.
At the centre of the world was Mount Tai, a breathing God Mountain that had speared the very stars themselves to bathe in the universe's Qi-giving cosmic rays. It was here that the Celestial Court existed, home to the Divines who governed the world below Heaven. Upon those sacred peaks steeped in ancient magic and profound mysteries, the Gods ruled supreme, led by their Creator and Sovereign, the illustrious and ethereal Jade King.
Far beneath the lands of the Celestial Court was the continent of Qiangyu, where the common mortals crawled on their knees and worshipped before the feet of Mount Tai — a position that well-befitted their place, for only through supplication were the most faithful and blessed few ever noticed by the Gods and bestowed the coveted arts of Cultivation.
In exchange for these divine gifts, these ‘Cultivators’ were bound by servitude and loyalty, dedicating their lives to the capricious whims of the gods.
Armed with the barest of Celestial secrets, the first exalted mortals learned to harness the energies of the universe and ascended far beyond their human peers. Revered and envied by their fellow men, they live the most extraordinary lives a lowly supplicant could ever aspire to.
Yet such boons were but chains that bound them as short-lived slaves. Disparaged and subordinated by the Ancient Divines, the human cultivators were treated as disposable pawns to be sacrificed in the twisted and petty feuds between the factions of the Celestial Court. Such was their usefulness in serving as fodder that the Gods would willingly sacrifice thousands upon thousands of them simply to gain the slightest advantage over their rivals.
Men died in droves so that they might entertain the Divines, as was right and proper. With their deaths ensuring the Gods’ amusement, the Kingdom of Jade progressed through the centuries with transcendent peace and prosperity.
It was an Age of Gods, resplendent in its celestial radiance, and all was just.
Yet, in every age, there were fools who dared overstep their place. Rather than be grateful to the heavens for their continued existence, these mortals instead craved more than what their station rightfully permitted.
A more wretched and distasteful creature there never was — mere ignorant Worms who thought themselves deserving of more than what was already generously given. They starved for power beyond what they could comprehend with unsightly voraciousness, instigating rebellion and sowing chaos within the mortal realm.
Those lowly, greedy fools were of little consequence, however. The cultivator armies of the Celestial Court were faithful and plenty. Any hints of organised resistance were quickly suppressed and made a brutal example of. Any illegal cultivators found were swiftly eliminated with utmost prejudice.
And should even a mortal cultivator manage to escape the eyes of the Celestial Court, what threat could they possibly amount to? A mere thief of scant secrets could never compare to the sheer majesty of the Divines. And a mere Worm alone could never hope to rebel against the inviolable might of the stars.
Yet, in a cell far from the peaks of Mount Tai — buried deep within the earth, where the cosmic lights would never shine, and the rot of flesh was craved as a delicacy — a mere Worm sits and waits.
Because that Worm understands that with enough cravenness and hunger, even it may one day grow fool enough to swallow the Gods whole. All it simply must do is wait for the fated day to arrive. And so the Worm waits…
And waits…
~~~
And waits longer still.
It appears the day of his righteous apocalypse was fated to be annoyingly far away.
The man sighed, pondering the wretchedness of his present situation: trapped in a cell far beneath the earth, with little chance of escape or rescue.
How deplorable. And to think he once sought to usurp the Jade Tyrant in Heaven. The Gods of that damnable Court must be laughing at him now.
Surrounded by freezing filth and muck, days spent listlessly brooding. Devoid of sustenance, of good company, of even light…
It was an unenviable fate for any sentient being.
“Yours is the just fate given to the arrogant and the foolish. Had you the modesty to know your limitations, you might well have avoided this shameful incarceration.”
Hervoice, again. Ringing in his mind. As if his current circumstances were not mockery enough.
His pit was devoid of other prisoners, for his jailers knew to bereft him of all sources of nutrition. Save beyond the insistent dripping of water from a stalactite above and the occasional clinking of his chains, there was nought but silence to accompany him.
“Would that you were deserving of silence. Providence saw fit to bind my flesh in yours, so that you might never know a moment’s peace. So that you might never forget your mistakes.”
The man looked pointedly around his cell, amber eyes lingering on the damp surface walls, the iron hatch above his gaol, and the chains wrapped around his limbs.
“You would find I need no such reminder, I think.” His voice was but a thread whisper; the barest exertion of effort required to produce a voice, made to address a room void of any discernible company save his own.
It was enough. The intended recipient of his words heard them. With luck, she would leave him be such that he might languish privately in the pains of his silent starvation.
Hunger has infested itself into the very fibre of his being. His emaciated body howled for sustenance, having long since cannibalised every last ounce of disposable fat and muscle stores that it could claim its ravenous claws on. His very soul was dying, forced to use its dwindling vitality to fuel his famished physical shell, lest death take him completely.
It was rather unpleasant, the man would admit. But even worse than the gnawing, gnashing agony was how tortuously tedious the whole ordeal was. A part of him almost wished his captors had simply chopped his head off rather than subject him to this unbearable boredom.
“One finds greater satisfaction in killing a God through the slow knife of privation, for Hunger is the sentence condemned only to the plagued, the forsaken, and the lowliest wretches of the world.”
The man snorted. “Clearly, you have never been in a famine before. Hunger does not discriminate. It comes in Winter’s Woe, in Harvest’s Blight, or in a thousand, thousand other potential misfortunes that might deprive a man of his grain or cattle. Hunger haunts all living creatures equally.”
“And yet, though you need neither consume grain nor cattle for sustenance, you suffer the perverse touch of famine all the same. Do not equivocate your suffering with those of mortal banality. Yours is the Hunger that once drove Dynasties and Divines alike to madness.”
“Did they take this long to starve as well? Maybe it was boredom that drove them first to madness…”
The entirety of his existence was being sieged by starvation; the key word being sieged. Given his advanced cultivation standing, the gruelling process had to be stretched over an insufferably long time, and there was nought he could do about it except wait.
What cowardly dogs his jailers were… Honestly, how could an entire Clan devoted to the pursuit of Immortality be so spineless that they would resort to starving him to death rather than simply executing him?
All this time and resources — wasted instead of a swift beheading — because of mere fear? The thought was laughable.
“Why shouldn’t they fear a God? Doubly so, given the nature of your unholy existence. You, who were born to devour Divine Destiny.”
“I don’t feel like much of a God right now,” he retorted, to no one in particular. “And at this point, I would settle for eating a rat, much less something as cumbersome as Divine Destiny. Consuming the Dao does not sate hunger.”
“Neither do the rats, yet you keep eating them all the same.”
“You find me something better to chew on, then.”
For all his complaints, the man couldn’t deny that the Clan’s method wasn’t working. The cell was void of spiritual energy. Cultivation was next to impossible. He could not recover his strength, and his limbs were wrapped in chains crafted by the master alchemists of the Kunlun Mountains themselves.
Trapped with no other options, the man could only settle in and wait. Thankfully, his mouth was still free to move, so he had room to entertain himself, limited as it might be. Sometimes, he would sing, crafting poetry that would no doubt leave the fabled wordsmiths of the Jade Palace weeping, if only for how bad they were. Sometimes, he would paint, although doing so with only the mud of his enclosure and his tongue to draw with was highly unpleasant.
And sometimes, he would catch the occasional vermin that scuttered into his gaol with his teeth, earning himself a well-deserved meal and temporary relief from his hunger.
A pity they had stopped coming. The pests have learned to leave his damp cell alone after he had viciously devoured the first few dozen, leaving not even bones or offal for the insects to eat.
“Neither beasts nor vermin of sentient mind ever dared enter the maw of Voracity Incarnate.”
“There are easier ways to call me greedy. No need to wax poetics. Badpoetics, if I might add.”
“Pity there is nought else to do but insult you as we waste away.”
“Pity me instead. I’m the one stuck with you lodged in my Heart.”
How long had he been imprisoned? Years, decades? Surely it had not already been a century? The man doubted his qi reserves would have lasted him for so long. He had already expended most of it during his last fight, and there had been hardly time for him to recover before his opponents had captured him.
“It has been ten months at most. Cease your attention-mongering. It’s unbecoming.”
“You can’t possibly know that! Did you count the seconds since we have been stuck here?”
“One does not necessarily need eyes to know the majesty of Mount Tai. Nor does one need the illumination of dying Suns to know the phantom pain of a wasted day’s end.”
A lesser being would have already long given his mind to insanity — for the relief it would bring, if nothing else. But he was a Cultivator of the highest order. The long passage of time spent in dull isolation and starvation will not break him. In time, this suffrage would be but a mere drop in his long quest for immortality.
Assuming he got out, of course. He was still waiting for the opportunity to do that.
He longed to be free again, to fly among the skies with his wings. To feel the rush of storm winds arcing along the length of his body — the heat of the cosmic rays shining against his face! — as he rushed above the Jade Clouds, chasing his prey. To wield the powers of the Morning Star in his hand as he destroyed his foes and brought fear and awe in equal measure to his mortal followers below.
To be reduced to a chained, rat-devouring prisoner by cultivators too cowardly to try and kill him…
It was hilarious./ “It is a disgrace.”
Ah, if only his Teacher could see him now. She would have laughed herself into a fit before beating him senseless for letting such dishonour happen to him. Although he would have gladly allowed it, if only for the chance to see her smile again.
“Great General of Karma. First of the Ten Principals. The Wise Old One… and also a violent hag too eager to dispense physical punishment during your tutelage under her.”
“Learning under her was your idea, not mine. I would have sooner avoided that crazed fairy entirely.”
He wondered how his disciples were doing. Were they still alive? Surely they would not have been foolish enough to try and save him? The thought had crossed his mind during the early days of his captivity, but as time passed and there was no sign of a rescue, he had ceased thinking about them too much. Either they were foolish enough to challenge the Hegemon Clans and die in the attempt, or they were smart enough to move on and continue their Path to Immortality elsewhere.
He sincerely hoped it was the latter. His disciples were foolish and slovenly, more focused on helping mortals than developing their cultivation, but he wished for them to live all the same — those pair of ridiculous, virtuous human twins that he had grown to care for.
“The Wine-drinking Recluse, and the Sword-grafting Lunatic. Grown in your hungry shadow, little wonder their madness reflected yours.”
“I assure you their peculiarities were their own. If anything, my presence was the counterbalance to their constant insanity.”
And what of his armies and allies? Had they also perished after seeing their leader fall in his final, valiant fight? The man hoped that they had fled after the slave cultivators of the Celestial Court had managed to take him down with that abomination of a sealing technique.
“Sworn Brothers, Inhuman Devils, and Lowly Peasants all. Those who dared dream, followed you. Those who dared dream, died for you.”
“We don’t know their fates yet. They might yet live. Maybe.”
Without his presence stemming the tide of nature-defying arts aimed at them, he doubted the rest of his forces would have lasted long, not against that many of the Court’s lapdogs. He had to hold faith that some of them had survived.
Except for the Fox and the Primate, perhaps. That damnable vulpine had always been a thorn in his side, even as an ally. Although, if he was being honest with himself, he greatly doubted she would have fallen. Wily vixen that she was, the Nine-Mouthed Calamity would have been the first to escape the moment she sensed the tides of the battle turning.
She was likely somewhere far away now, laughing at his plight while ruining some other Divine’s day.
“When the last of the nine tails falls, the world shall not remember the Fox, but instead the woman who once slithered beneath the skin of Heavenly Kings.”
“Calling that vile schemer a whore would suffice.”
As for the Primate… the less said about that one, the better.
“... He was an annoyance, wasn’t he?”
The man blinked.“What, no cryptic poetry for him?”
“He doesn’t deserve it. Among all your companions, his heinous presence was the most unbearable, second only to the Fox. You should have killed the licentious monkey centuries ago.”
“I wasn’t exactly at liberty to turn away competent fighters, especially ones of his calibre.”
Once, the man had been surrounded by the endless clamours of his subordinates and allies, with nary a moment to himself. So many times, he wished for a moment’s peace, and now that he had it, he longed for a voice to talk with once more.
“None left but the Devil who sleeps within your Heart.”
The man sighed. “A lifetime of moral indigestion and stifled advancement is enough from you. Had I known I would be bound to you for all my life, I would have left your corpse well alone when I found it those aeons ago.”
A quiet laughter chimed in his head, twinkling like bells.
“I did warn you. In truth, I had not thought you capable of surviving the putrid pungency, my foolish God. My flesh was hardly fit for the palate of Divine Cannibals. Though the turning of meat may sweeten its flavour, the rot of bodies should not be treated as a delicacy, no matter the depths of its succulent virtue…”
“Nor the boon of Fleshborne Divinity you sought within.”
As if he had a choice… He still remembered the Hunger, the nectarous scent of her Crawling Corpse.
The revolting saccharinity of that Flesh shared, and the Pact they made under dying moonlight…
Despite everything, he smiled fondly. “Woe to me that I proved you wrong, then.”
“And so you did.” Another chuckle from her. “Again and again, until you brought this lowly Worm to the slopes of Mount Tai itself, despite the Gods that stood in your way.”
“A pity I did not reach the peak before the end.” The man gazed up, staring at the unmoving hatch of his cell. “I would have loved to see you placed upon the Throne of the Star-Eating Mountain, as I had promised. It would have brought me great satisfaction to see our bargain and covenant fulfilled.”
She went silent for a time after that. The man felt himself weak. For all his bravado, he knew his end was approaching with each second.
His end… The end of the Morning Star. Fitting that one who sought to devour the Tyrant of Heaven would be fated to die through Hunger.
Ah, but that was enough reminiscing. What to do now, then? He could try mud painting again, he supposed. There wasn’t much water to work with, and drawing with his tongue always felt grating, but it was something to do at least—
Wait. He heard something.
Something that wasn’t dripping water, his breathing, or the scraping of his chain. His ears perked up. Another rat, perhaps?
But… No. The noise was faded, barely perceptible, but it felt too heavy to be the scampering of a rat.
Were those… footsteps?
“And so comes the turning of our fates…”
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Cultivation
Cultivation, once a sacred practice guarded jealously by the Celestial Courts, is the art of ascending a creature’s natural state of being into a higher stage of existence through the manipulation and condensation of spiritual energy — also known as qi — into one’s body and soul.
The rewards of cultivation are varied and numerous, with boons such as a longer lifespan, the ability to perform otherworldly feats of power, elevated physical capabilities, refined appearances, and so much more.
At a certain level, one may even ascend to an existence beyond their physical shell and become an ‘Immortal’ — an entity whose soul has become separated from its material body and is no longer dependent on the Cycle of Samsara to maintain its continued existence.
The benefits of advancement are as countless as the stars that fill the cosmos, but as one ascends further away from their fundamental origin, it might be wise to stop and consider if what is being gained still outweighs what is being lost.
Or rather, if what was gained on the Path had ever outweighed what was lost.
No one ever does, of course. Just because a thought is insightful does not mean it is worth pondering over.
After all, when compared to Immortality, how much value could our Humanity possibly hold?
— Excerpt from Of Jade’s Lacking, unknown author. Possession of the heretical text in any capacity is banned under the Jade King’s Decree, on pain of treason and death.
