Patrick Laplante
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PtM 16 - Chapter 14: The Origin of Man
🕑 Added 2022-06-01 00:58:11 +0000 UTC2/3 this week!
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Their adventure to the Tribulant Yin Demiplane had ended in failure. They needed to get stronger before their next attempt. Both Cha Ming and Huxian began a new routine as they both intensified their training.
Cha Ming was especially fastidious. He rarely took a break, and only when Huxian invited him over. Often, that involved talking to one or two people over a meal, which was within the limits of Cha Ming’s capabilities.
Most of Cha Ming’s time was spent in the Clear Sky World, because like many, he was determined to make the most of time acceleration to speed up his straining. The trials were conducted under time acceleration, and so was his recovery, giving him an effective ten-fold increase, significantly better than the standard 4-5 time increase he saw others using.
A part of Cha Ming knew he was overdoing it, but a larger part relished in the competition. Completing trials, obtaining points, and preparing for the next great adventure was what he lived for.
Cha Ming’s training was far from monotonous. Since his return from the Tribulant Yin Demiplane, Cha Ming had taken to experimenting with Seventy-Two Earthly Transformations inside the trials. Specifically, he took on many different forms to see if they would improve his performance. Most of the time, they didn’t, sometime, he gained enlightenment that allowed him to improve his mortal shell.
There was a method to the madness, and a reason for his insistence on this approach. To advance to the peak of muscle empowering, Cha Ming needed to master Runebound Transformation.
Unfortunately, this was impossible, since Runebound Transformation relied on the Runebound Clan’s demonic bloodline. As a result, he could only forge a new path despite the great difficulties that entailed.
Ninth months passed, and during that time, he made visible progress but did not pass any additional trials. His performance in the monthly battle trials improved only marginally as well.
The other participants soon overtook him, and he found himself at the bottom of the barrel alongside Petros, the weakest of them by a longshot. And even he was catching up.
One day, he realized that a year had passed since his official entry into the Heartforge Realm. The thought occurred to him just as he was exiting the indigo body tempering trial obelisk.
As always, he returned to the rest area, but he did not immediately enter the Clear Sky World. He simply sat there and let his consciousness sink deep into his inner universe.
He started off like he always did, letting his consciousness drift across the many worlds, not seeing individual people, but noticing the trends of all major populations.
He focused on a single world, chosen at random but with a minimum requirement: the world had to contain a group of people with the basics of a civilization. These people did not wield the power of bloodlines and used weapons of stone and bone and sometimes metal to barely eke out a living.
These people were why he’d continued training as he had these past months. He found these people fascinating despite their weakness, as they had shed everything that made them bestial or demonic. They had become human through and through.
By shifting through forms and experiencing continuous destruction and channeling of strength, he had somehow guided his world towards producing humans at an accelerate rate. It was almost like his inner world wanted to produce humans. Whatever that meant.
Cha Ming’s perspective was god-like, so he could not see the minutia of their lives. Individuals were beneath his notice, but entire societies could be observed as they rose and fell, carving out kingdoms from the poorest of demon lands only to see them reclaimed by the wilderness when those kingdoms fell.
He saw tribes rise and become nations. He empires collapse and break apart. Sometime it was from natural disasters, but most times it was from beasts and demons, powerful entities they could not hope to match in battle.
Sometimes, they were helped by the plane’s other humanoids, who cultivated the bloodline abilities of their ancestors. And sometimes they were taken in, only to be enslaved or relegated to the lowest echelons of society.
Their struggles eclipsed a larger trend, however – the other humanoids were dying out. The old bloodlines were waning. And it was the humans who were the beneficiaries of their disappearance, since a similar trend was happening with the monstrous demons.
Three months ago, Cha Ming had felt the first cultivators rise to power. They’d somehow stumbled into the first realm of qi condensation, which had allowed their society to break free from the oppression of their local demon overlords.
It was a small change, and Cha Ming might not have noticed it, if not for the fact that their appearance had caused a transformation in his inner world. The energy density of this specific mortal plane had started rising ever so slowly.
As much as he would have loved to see the trend continue, the other residents of that world did not like the idea of free and powerful humans. It wasn’t the demons who crushed them but the other humanoids. They began hunting humans instead of enslaving them.
This scenario began to play out countless times over countless worlds. Every time humanity rose, they fell back down again to the point that they might become extinct.
They never really died out in the end. Humans were prolific compared to the other species, and even if they were completely eradicated, it only took a few hundred years for another species to evolve into yet another strain.
Humanity, it seemed, was inevitable.
Today’s meditation session lasted until well past dinner time without Cha Ming noticing. He immediately sent a message to Huxian, as the fox had arranged a one-year anniversary party. As loathe as he was to participate in group events, he also needed to consider Huxian’s feelings.
He took the same winding pathway from the Hall of Trials past the many shops and training facilities and teachers hawking their services.
“Raise your power to the next level! You’re in safe hands with True God Worryburn!”
“Fairy Lux is the only trainer you’ll ever need! All-female training environment. No gawkers guaranteed!”
It naturally wasn’t the gods themselves who were shouting but cultivators they had hired. They handed out small pamphlets and training booklets that looked like smaller versions of what could be found in the free section of the library.
There was only one exception. One very annoying exception.
“You there!” a booming voice called out. “Yes! You! I see you training here very often!” Cha Ming ignored the voice and walked on. “Your inner world has reached a critical point, young man. If you train with me and do as I say, I guarantee that you’ll push past this bottleneck within three months!”
“Not interested,” Cha Ming said, turning slightly. “I wasn’t last time, and I won’t be next time either.”
“You say that, but you always speak to me in the end,” the man said with a grin. He was not like the others who hired cultivators from Heartforge City to bark out meaningless advertisements. The man was none other than Godking Heavenbind, who seemed to have nothing better to do than chat up the Invited leaving the Hall of Trials.
Cha Ming sighed. “If you weren’t so shameless and so expensive, I might consider it.”
“Why hold back on my pricing when I’m the better trainer?” Godking Heavenbind said. “And shame? Who needs it? Shame can’t fill your stomach, my friend, only points can. You know I’m worth investing in by now, don’t you? How did that last trip to the library turn out?”
Cha Ming sighed again. “You were correct as always, Godking Heavenbind. It seems there are a few research papers – many written by yourself – which validate the tailored training theory, which states that a demigod or a god’s advancement must be unique to the individual, or their chances of crossing each greater realm and ascending to True Godhood will decrease by a factor of a hundred.”
“This is the kind of expertise I’m offering,” the Godking said. “The other trainers don’t have what I have. Points are worthless. Time is everything!”
Cha Ming snorted. “At most, it just means you’re well-read.”
The Godking’s eyes brightened. “Good. Good! That’s the spirit! A demigod should have this kind of arrogance, this kind of self-confidence. Alas…” he shook his head regretfully. “This next bottleneck is very different than others you’ve faced, and if you don’t get past it, you’ll never push past the indigo trials.”
“You’ve said that many times, but I doubt it,” Cha Ming said. “And all the things you’ve told me are tidbits I could easily find out for free.” He shook his head. “In the end, you’re just too expensive.”
“How is ten thousand for a consultation expensive at all?” Godking Heavenbind said. “You’d never find such a good deal in the immortal realms. And five thousand per session after that? I’m practically running a charity!”
Cha Ming quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t seem like an altruistic individual, Godking Heavenbind. Are you here because you owe Patriarch Heartforge a favor, or because you’re hiding from an enemy you can’t defeat?”
“That… well…” the Godking scratched the back of his head. “That’s a bit of a complicated question, and you’re just a mortal so I won’t answer it.” Cha Ming rolled his eyes and left the training facility.
Cha Ming rarely used his residence, but he stopped there first to check up on the formation that had been active since his arrival. The place was filled with dust, which he swept away with a flick of his sleeve. He proceeded straight to the immortal energy gathering formation at the center of the room. At the center of a larger room.
Normally, it would take a year to form an immortal jade, but thanks to Huxian feeding it a few top-grade inkwell jades, this timeframe had been accelerated somewhat. But only by a little bit.
“As expected,” Cha Ming said, picking up the single chip of immortal jade, which he tossed into the Clear Sky World. For some reason, it did not have a limit on the quality of energy it could store – though he had to make doubly sure to store it well away from Ninesky, who would devour it in a heartbeat.
Cha Ming almost tripped as he left the room. A chair had appeared since last time. As had a desk. As had a bed. Yes, this place was growing larger.
And it wasn’t just this room. The welcome room was still quite small, but the kitchen was double its original size. It not longer seemed so worn down, and even had basic appliances that he could cook with if he wanted to. The residence was now livable, in contrast to when he’d first arrived.
He made his way to Huxian’s place next. Many pairs of shoes were carefully arranged at the entrance on a cubelike shelf just inside the door. For some reason, Huxian liked guests to wear slippers, which Cha Ming donned even though he was perfectly comfortable walking on his bare feet.
He braced himself before entering the warmly lit room that held a dozen guests huddled around an open fire. Inside the house. With a tunnel to the void overtop of it that funneled the smoke out like a giant ventilated chimney.
“Heya!” Huxian said, appearing in front of him. He was wearing a tropical shirt complete with two flowery necklaces. “You made it! And here I thought you were going to bail.”
“I can still…” Cha Ming turned around to leave, but Huxian grabbed his arm with a firm grip and dragged him inside.
“Great! Glad you could join us!” the fox said. “I cooked extra veggies and sauces, and we have some high-quality drinks. Baleful Vision apparently has some good hard liquor out on the table, and he and Jadefall are having a small drinking competition that involves slapping each other at full power.”
“What? Why is Baleful Vision here? I thought you hated the guy.” Cha Ming had thought all of these people were close friends, but Baleful Vision… he was the enemy. Just the thought of him caused the savagery in his soul to increase by a bit.
Huxian shrugged. “He grows on you. Like a fungus. Just… be nice to him, and he’ll be very nice to you.”
Cha Ming relaxed somewhat. He wasn’t happy about this development, but it was Huxian’s party. It wouldn’t do to be rude to his guests.
He chose a comfortable corner to sit in, and the moment he sat down, two portals appeared in front of him. One was an opening onto the communal fire at the center of the room, and the other acted as a vent.
The first portal was the strangest thing Cha Ming had ever seen – it was octagonal and could be entered from any direction. It was overlaying space and made it feel as though he was physically present beside the fire despite being several table lengths away.
The meal was a buffet and had many styles of cooking. Cha Ming mostly helped himself to the Runebound Clan barbecue since he was very familiar with their cooking.
The ingredients laid out were all very high quality, and the trays they were kept on crystalline trays that Cha Ming immediately identified as being made of sculpted spatial glass.
The cups were also made of spatial glass. At first he was leery of Huxian’s use of such deadly materials, but soon realized that they were the best containers in existence. They did not conduct heat, making them better insulators than vacuum-sealed containers. They did not break. They were light as a feather. In fact, he could probably make a fortune just by opening up a chain that sold void plates and cutlery.
The more Cha Ming inspected the plates, the more impressed he was. They weren’t just made of spatial glass, but were also covered in tiny runes that allowed them to project their own stasis field. Any ingredients placed upon them would age incredibly slowly, making it possible to store something like potato slices on them for hours without browning.
The atmosphere was relaxed. Everyone had their own adjustable chair, and the space in the room was variable. It was possible to adjust the distance between yourself and others in seemingly impossible ways. If you wanted to approach someone, you could send them a polite knock, which they could either accept or refuse.
Cha Ming let nostalgia wash through him as he ate the familiar food from his desert-faring days. He suspected this small portion of the buffet had been prepared just for him.
The warmth he felt fueled another growth spurt for the Seed of Iridescence. It was slight and unaccompanied by baggage and gave him just enough energy to exchange polite greetings with more people than he’d interacted with at one time since his arrival in the Heartforge Realm.
It felt… fine. Which was a great improvement for Cha Ming, since these kinds of meetups usually wore him out.
Most of those in attendance were from the Inkwell Plane. There was Wei Longshen, Xing Tianlong, and two other Daoists from the Imperial Capital, one male, and one female. A brief exchange with Xing Tianlong informed him that, as a disciple of the current emperor, he was technically a prince and one of the few that could succeed the throne.
This came as a surprise to Cha Ming, who’d assumed the Crimson Lotus Empire’s throne was hereditary. The even greater surprise was that most candidates didn’t even want the throne, because every one of them had the potential to ascend. Remaining as an emperor of a transcendent realm for a thousand years wasn’t the most ambitious route to take.
The meeting was also a great chance to catch up on the happenings inside the Crimson Lotus Empire. He learned of what Wei Longshen had been up to, including his becoming one of youngest ministers in history. His appointment was not free from controversy, however, because of his familial ties to Cao Wenluan.
The overly friendly Paper Tiger Clansman, Baleful Vision, also came over to introduce himself, and Cha Ming, not wanting to make a scene, spared him a few minutes. “We’re a bit of a fractured clan, to be honest,” Baleful Vision confessed. “I’m one of what, twelve princes? All of us basically want to kill each other. I’ve survived thus far because I’m the strongest, but my father and I don’t get along.”
“Is it philosophical differences?” Cha Ming asked.
“Indeed,” Baleful Vision said. “All I want is a home for my people to survive without being oppressed by the Will of the World. My father, on the other hand, sees destroying the Will of the World as the only way to do so. And he’s ancient and bears a grudge.
“Alas, you probably heard from Huxian about our tussle in the void, and the constant battles with the Inkwell Clan. I want peace, but most of my people don’t, and neither does the Inkwell Clan. Therefore, I can only fight and hope for the best.”
Cha Ming also exchanged a few words with Jadefall, whom he recognized from his journey through the Kerava Desert. Her companion, Wu, was apparently lazy and hated speaking, so she remained silent. But he could sense a somberness beneath her complacency, a hurt that remained carefully hidden. They exchanged a look that spoke more than words could but otherwise didn’t speak to each other.
“Heavenly Xuanwu Shield is very good defensive spell,” Huxian explained. “It’s the only spell Wu knows, and she’s very good at using it. Her motivation is the only problem.”
“You don’t have to recruit her as one of your friends,” Cha Ming pointed out. “Also, I think there’s more to her silence and laziness than you give her credit for.”
“Fair enough,” Huxian said. “By the way, I noticed you saying the word cow in front of Jadefall. Never do that again.”
“I… isn’t it accurate?” Cha Ming said. “Didn’t you say she had the Fallen Jade Ox Queen Bloodline?”
“It’s considered a derogatory slur in their lexicon, so they all use the term bull,” Huxian said. “If you were anyone else, she would have caved your skull in.” The timing was prefect, because sounds of shattering spatial glass filled the room, and a few people cheered as an unlucky Dao God realized he’d been baited and had done just what Huxian had warned Cha Ming not to do. “Like I said. Never say the c-word.”
Cha Ming saw four other familiar faces at the party. The first was Petros, who was brooding just as much as he was. The three others were Shadestalker and his two other teammates who’d barely escaped the Tribulant Yin Demiplane. They were looking much better now, and significantly stronger than they had been a year ago.
The rest of those at the party were people that Cha Ming didn’t know and didn’t really want to meet. He used scowls to deter them.
A few hours later, everyone had eaten their fill and was sipping on a beverage. Huxian picked up a pot and ladle and banged them together to get everyone’s attention. “All right, everyone, listen up. It’s been a good party so far. Good food. Good drink. Great company. But let’s make it a great party.”
Space twisted in the room, and they found themselves huddled up beside a fire. Wei Longshen, the only person who’d actively avoided Cha Ming the entire time, much to Cha Ming’s relief, took out his flute and began inspecting it. He took his time, possibly to add to the anticipation in the room.
Wei Longshen was very different than his usual self when played. His aura changed, and the fire dimmed in response to it.
His first few notes were a primal melody. The room grew large and darker, and the many lights in the room began to spin and dance.
A gray mist appeared over the fire. It was a writhing mass of simultaneous nothingness and existence. No one knew when it had appeared, or if it had simply been there all along.
“This is the story of the Jade Emperor and the founding of the Nine Heavens,” Wei Longshen said.
“Don’t you mean the Seven Heavens?” Jadefall cut in.
“I meant what I said,” said Wei Longshen. “There is a city in the immortal realms called the Seven Heavens, and it is located on a jade mountain much like the one we are on. But those are not the nine heavens. The Seven Heavens are, in fact, only the first of the nine. The Jade Mountain has six more public heavens beyond the first, but it also has two secret heavens – the Eighth Heaven, which is occupied by the Jade Emperor, and the ninth remains empty.”
He played again, and this time, the melody was one of creation. He then played a second melody simultaneously, a counter melody of destruction that overlaid with the first.
The mists at the center of the room parted into white mists and black mists that immediately began devouring one another. This went on for aeons in the story, but only seconds for those watching.
Whenever the white mist expanded, the black mist faded. Whenever the black mist expanded, the white mist receded. Eventually, the black mist faded away – to where was anyone’s guess – and the white mists were all that remained.
Wei Longshen’s flute music grew solemn and heavy as continents were created. Large creatures appeared, and for a time, their existence was the extent of all living things. They had a glorious dawn, but their ending was tragic.
“It is said that at the beginning of creation, there was a great birthing, followed by a great dying. The great Primordials were born at the dawn of creation. Their power was great, but for all they tried, they could not birth more of their kind. Some died of natural causes, and others to maintain the balance of the universe.
“Desolate beasts were soon born after, and these in turn birthed monstrous demons. The bloodline of the Primordials waned, and thus ended the Primordial Era.” Wei Longshen’s flute let out a piercing shriek that broke the calm certainty of the world. The desolate beasts and demons joined forces to slay their ancestors, forcing them back into the deepest darkest corners of the universe.
“Back then, there was only a single continent, but the fighting broke it up into many pieces. Most of these pieces were large enough to form independent immortal planes. But the smaller ones were unable to support immortal energies and became the first transcendent planes. Their became the countless mortal realms.
“Both the Primordials and Desolate Beasts could not survive in these lower realms. The monstrous demons became their new overlords alongside the elementals that descended from the elemental Primordials.
“A peace was reached in the Immortal Realms, but the fighting continued in the lower realms. Territories often changed hands. Disparities in power emerged, and weaker bloodlines were relegated to less prosperous territories, while the stronger bloodlines maintained an iron grip on the core resources in each region.
He picked up the flute and played a curious tune. A tune one might play as background music for entertaining insects. And as he did so, a small group of creatures appeared inside each demonic world. “The demons evolved continuously, as though driven by some secret mission. Eventually, they produced humanoids, which continued their evolution into humans like it was the most natural thing in existence.
“But these new creatures were weak. Whether it was in the mortal, transcendent, or immortal realms, these humans were practically defenseless. Their only advantage, it seemed, was their rate of reproduction and low resource requirements. They made poor food and were not strong enough to compete against even the weakest of monstrous demons, and as such were able to carve out a niche for themselves.
“These original humans did not know qi. They did not know Dao or cultivation. Their bodies were weak and they did not have godly bloodlines.
“For the most part, the Primordials ignored these creatures. But one day, a few lucky humans stumbled upon the ability to cultivate. They weren’t good at it. They barely knew what they were doing. But it was enough for them to fight for some small portion of the immortal realm.
“They began to channel the natural laws and use these to attack their enemies. It was this that caught the attention of the Primordials and desolate beasts –for they had been trying to grasp these higher laws for aeons, only to fail again and again.”
Wei Longshen began playing again, and this time, his flute screamed. They were the screams of dying men and women and children. The Primordials and desolate beasts were not kindly creatures, and the monstrous demons they controlled unleashed an unprecedented slaughter.
They did not kill for food or resources. They killed for jealousy of humanity’s natural gifts. If it wasn’t for a smaller group of peaceful Primordials, they would have driven the first immortals to extinction.
“These initial humans found shelter and were saved,” Wei Longshen said. “The Primordials who sheltered them were curious to see how they developed.
“There were three Primordials who took particular interest. They pitied the humans and decided on a daring plan. These Primordials were none other than the Jade Emperor, Fuxi, and Nuwa.
“Back then, the universe was still a mess, and the Cycle of Reincarnation did not yet exist. Souls were usually destroyed when a creature perished, though some powerful creatures could reincarnate without shedding their prior memories.
“Nuwa experimented and developed what she felt was an adequate framework for qi cultivation. Fuxi, who was naturally gifted in runes and imprints, developed runic arts that could be used, at least in theory. As for the Jade Emperor, he focused on matters of the soul and culture. He realized that these humans did not have a stable inheritance. Such things were necessary if they were to flourish.”
The three large primordial shadows above the fire warped and twisted until they broke. Their impressive forms became diminutive ones. Cha Ming rolled his eyes when he saw that Wei Longshen had used his spiritual imprint as a stand-in for the Jade Emperor, Huxian for Fuxi, and an amalgamation of the other females present for Nuwa.
“Each of the three Primordials reincarnated on a different mortal world, where they began cultivating and implementing their ambitious plan. With some effort, they were each able to tailor their own cultivation methods and establish three separate human civilizations.
“They cultivated both their bodies and their qi but noticed that most humans were only suited for one or the other.
“They were forced to simplify many of Nuwa and Fuxi’s original works. They also discovered, to their dismay, that only a small percentage of the large human population could cultivate. The rest could only support these cultivators and provide reinforcements with their relatively rapid reproduction.”
Wei Longshen paused then. “Guess what they did next?”
“They ascended, obviously,” Jadefall said.
“If my memory serves correctly, this went on for quite some time,” Baleful Vision said. “Much longer than a single human lifespan.”
“That is correct, Baleful Vision,” Wei Longshen said. He threw his flute up in the air, and it began to play three separate melodies one its own as background music. “Their plan was useless if limited to only three planes and three lives. Moreover, they couldn’t transcend even if they wanted to, as their cultivation experiences were too shallow.”
“Fortunately, their souls were powerful, and they were able to jump from one mortal world to the next, sewing more and more seeds and refining their methods. Then, upon realizing this was far too slow, they split up their origin souls so that they could cover tens of thousands of worlds simultaneously. And after tens of thousands of incarnations with tens of thousands of world each time, they finally had accomplished enough to feel comfortable ascending to the transcendent planes, where they repeated the process before eventually ascending to the immortal realms once again.
“They arrived as both immortals and deities, because in the eyes of so many people, they were deities, and they had been for millennia. The faith of the common people had bolstered their strength to unimaginable levels.
“As the first ascenders in history, they instantly took charge of the scattered humans in the immortal realms and quickly devised a framework to cultivate laws. They did so while avoiding the lazy eyes of the Primordials, who’d grown listless from the dwindling primordial energies in the universe.”
Wei Longshen let out a deep sigh as his flute switched over to a solemn, rhythmic melody once again. Heavy growls of rage filled the room, and the large shadows of the Primordials appeared. Humanity fought bravely, for unlike last time, they had the support of many Primordials. Most importantly, they had the support of the three original human emperors.
“Many legendary figures rose up and distinguished themselves in what is now known as the Second Great Human-Demon War. This included the Eight Immortals, the Three Pure ones, and the Seven Heavenly Emperors, each one named after a separate angelic virtue.
“Together, they managed to mount a successful resistance. They pushed back the demons and created a foothold for humanity. Peace ensued. For a time.”
The flute music grew beautiful and harmonious. The shadows of the many humans in the mist interacted with demons, and not all of the relations were hostile. Things had taken a turn for the better. The two species, humans and demons, could now coexist.
“If things had stopped there, the third war would never have happened. The Primordials and desolate beasts were grudgingly able to accept the presence of this limited population of humans.
“The balance was upset when the Jade Emperor, Nuwa, and Fuxi’s devious plan came to fruition. Ascendants began appearing in the immortal realms. The human population grew unexpectedly quickly, and the demons were pushed back.
“But the Jade Emperor knew that this was not enough. The Primordials were extremely powerful, and he would know – he’d once been one of them. Since their survival was not assured, he was determined to leave something behind even if they failed.
“He and his Seven Virtues discovered a large piece of solid Grandmist and decided to forge a treasure. They used their boundless merit and understanding of laws to create a clear mountain that would serve as a guidepost for all humanity.
“The treasure provoked a reaction from the heavens upon its completion, and even the Brush of Creation appeared to bless it. The Clear Mountain soared to the heavens and communicated with the Dao Origins of the entire universe. In that moment, the paths of Law, Divinity, and Merit were established.
“The clear mountain was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It provoked a powerful response from the Primordial faction. Tyranny, Suffering, and Spite decided to nip the threat of humanity in the bud.
“The Jade Emperor and his Seven Virtues fought with them for over a hundred years. It was a grueling battle that saw the fall of four of the Seven Virtues, each of which passed down their mantle to another.
“In the end, the three emperors won. But the price they paid was heavy, for Primordials were born at the dawn of time, and these three were some of the most powerful. Spite, in his rage, used his blood to form a curse. Tyranny and Suffering chose sacrifice instead of death to spite their would-be killers. The curse was not aimed at the emperors, but the Clear Mountain.
“The mountain the glorious City of Seven Hearts was split in half alongside the Clear Mountain. One half became the Seven Heavens and the Jade Mountain, and the other the Seven Hells and the Ochre Mountain.
Wei Longshen looked around the room filled with shocked silence. “You all doubt my words, but I assure you they are true.”
Xing Tianlong cleared his throat. “I would never dare accuse you of lying, but I hope you can alleviate my confusion on one point. It is said that the Jade Emperor and the Curse Sovereign are brothers. Yet you have not mentioned the Curse Sovereign even now.”
Wei Longshen chuckled. “This was the most difficult part of the story to reconcile. And believe me, I dug quite deep on this one. Stories like to evolve depending on who tells them. The history books you find in the transcendent realms are incredibly unhelpful, and even those that can be bought from famous immortals like Elder Zhong and his Greenwind Pavilion are often contradictory.
“In the end, there is one important clue that many people overlook: The Curse Sovereign and his Seven Sins are more recent developments. If you dig into the history books and speak to demons with well-developed memories, you will find that their most popular adventures are simply add-ons. Fiction.
“I was quite convinced of this and spent a lot of time digging through old manuscripts, to the point that I caught Elder Zhong’s attention. He personally filled me in on a little-known secret: Before the mountain split, the Curse Sovereign didn’t exist. And neither did any of the other hellish sovereigns.”
“Impossible,” Baleful Vision said. “Heaven and hell have always been balanced. It has been way since the beginning.”
“I for one wonder about the timing,” Cha Ming said. “How could two opposing sides possibly pop up out of nowhere given the state of the human-demon war? I’m especially curious about the powerhouses.”
Wei Longshen nodded. “The moment the Jade Mountain came into being, so too did the Ochre Mountain. The Crystal City split into what became known as the Seven Heavens and the Seven Hells. Half of those cultivating what would now be known as the angelic path fell from grace and became devils.
“The Jade Emperor and his Seven Virtues were powerful enough to resist this effect, but as the direct recipients of the three Primordials’ hatred, they were unable to avoid damage. Their souls were split in half, as was their essence. The Curse Sovereign and the Seven Sins were born in that moment.
“The stories that came after are a mixture of truths and lies. Truths because they are based on events that the Jade Emperor and his Seven Virtues at the time had already experienced. But those telling the story did not share their values any longer, so they twisted them to suit their own narratives. After a few aeons passed, there was no one left to contradict them.
“The Jade Emperor and the Curse Sovereign might have started off as the same person, but they are now completely different people. The original Seven Virtues and Seven Sins have long since perished as well.”
Huxian raised his hand this time. “What about demons? My Ancestor wasn’t born yet, so I have no idea how they came about.”
“That is a good question,” Wei Longshen said. “From what I’ve been told, there was a reckoning after the death of the three Primordials. Too many had died in the war, and the Desolate beasts and their progeny were now in a disadvantageous position.
“Those among them gifted in foresight saw a grim future up ahead. To prevent the extinction of all demons, they decided to do as the Jade Emperor, Fuxi, and Nuwa had done. They directly communicated with the Dao Origins, and using their blood as a sacrifice, they created a third great path, the Path of Demons, and from then on, royal demons became the dominant species of demonic life that ruled over their mindless brethren.
“The rest is history. Smaller versions of this war rage on in every plane, whether mortal, transcendent, or immortal. The Jade Emperor is still the uncontested ruler of righteous humanity, and the only cultivator to have ever reached the Eighth Heaven. The Curse Sovereign fulfills the same role within the sinful faction. Many neutral parties exist, but there are too many to mention.”
The story ended, and the flute, which had been playing in the background, stopped playing. The ghostly apparitions disappeared. The audience did not clap, for this was not a happy story, but a tragedy.
Wei Longshen bowed and excused himself, and soon, the audience was speaking in hushed whispers.
Cha Ming did not participate in this after-discussion. He remained by his personal fire, sipping away at at a rather delicious glass of wine.
He couldn’t help but think about the current situation in his inner world, and how wonderfully fitting the story was. Had Huxian put Wei Longshen up to it on purpose, knowing exactly what ailed him, or was he just playing to everyone’s interest in the dual-mountain structure of the Heartforge Realm?
Cha Ming stayed until most of the guests were gone, then excused himself before retreating to his personal cave. Over a decade of exhaustion piled onto Cha Ming at once, and he could no longer resist the alure of sleep.
***
Cha Ming slept for three days and three nights, and in that time, he had a dream. In that dream, he saw countless mortals living out their lives.
Kingdoms rose and fell. Cultures sprang up and died. He felt for these people, for they were like the original mortals that the Jade Emperor, Fuxi, and Nuwa had taken pity on.
Cha Ming wanted to help them, but unfortunately, he had no idea how. Could he do like Jezeriah and Harid Dej had done on the Inkwell Plane and descend upon the many worlds in his inner universe?
And what of the Dao Origins? Were they the same Dao Origins as the rest of the universe, or did a separate set exist?
This, and other things, he thought of.
Seeing as this was a dream, he dared do just that. If he failed… well, it was just a dream, wasn’t it? But even dream-people needed hope, and if he could give it to them, he would.
Cha Ming had seen a lot of mortal grade techniques back in the day, and with his current prowess, it was easy to create a few of them on a whim. He did not worry about the monstrous demons, for they had their own inheritances.
Books, scrolls and jade slips. He made millions upon millions of them, including some on wood and some on stone. He created them not in the Clear Sky World but at the center of his inner universe, where his divinity gathered.
He couldn’t cross the membrane into the mortal realms, and neither could the books and the scrolls. But Cha Ming knew that gods had their methods, so surely he, the creator of this universe, would be able to find a way.
Since gods were primarily the ones to do such things, Cha Ming decided to try with his divinity. He sent his divine blood at the boundary separating the core of his inner universe and its many mortal planes.
Thousands of years passed, but to him, it was mere days. The boundary grew thin, and finally, he managed to tear a hole into it.
Millions of scrolls and books shot out, each one with their own protective bubble of divinity and law. This was transcendent-level energy that exceeded the limits of these mortal planes.
Each plane had its own set of rules, and therefore inherently rejected these protections. Some items, however, made it through. They landed in hidden places near human settlements, waiting to be found.
Cha Ming woke to find himself depleted and wounded. He laughed hoarsely as he realized that this so-called dream had actually been reality. The damage to his divinity was so great that his cultivation was temporarily suppressed to the middle muscle empowering realm. It would take him months to recover. Months with time acceleration.
But Cha Ming had no regrets. The goal in his dream represented his wish in reality. He’d set out with a goal, and he’d accomplished it. He could already see the changes in his inner universe as humanity’s prayers were finally answered.
