ATEG Chapter 80.2

That time, after he entered the volcano, the volcano’s power suddenly began to behave abnormally.

It was not the kind of power he usually combed and harmonized. It was far greater than what this volcano could contain—great enough to destroy the entire land of Yin.

That violent power kept surging. He had no choice but to remain within the volcano. If he left, that surging power would instantly destroy the land of Yin, destroy the Tang people.

So he remained there, one year, two years, three years… Xuanniao never left the volcano, never watched the Tang people’s songs and dances, never drank the Tang people’s fine wine, never led them in flight beneath the sun until sunset and moonrise.

But it was all right. The volcano’s power would eventually calm, and with Xuanniao’s harmonizing, it would, as before, bring rich soil to the earth, nourishing the Tang people’s inheritance upon the land of Yin, without bringing burns or ash smoke.

Four years, five years, six years… Xuanniao himself did not know how long he had stayed within the volcano. The endlessly surging magma made him weary. He began to miss the Tang people’s laughter and fine wine, to miss the feeling of leading them in overlooking the land of Yin.

His wings were spread wide, receiving the sun’s warmth. When he spread his wings from the stone pillar, countless Tang people would leap from the high platform. Wings would sprout from their shoulders and backs, following behind him in flight, creating a warm crimson stream.

There was no second Xuanniao in this world, but every Tang person was his kinfolk.

He temporarily could not leave this volcano, for it would destroy his kinfolk. But the volcano’s power would calm someday. On that day, he would go out and see how much higher they had built that platform, hear them sing and dance and laugh in the wind and sunlight.

Hear them sing “The Heaven-Mandated Xuanniao descended and gave birth to Tang…”

However, when the day finally came that the volcano’s abnormal power subsided, when Xuanniao burst from the volcano with a most joyful cry, he saw only dense, flourishing forest.

…who dwelt in the vast land of Yin.

This had been a flourishing land. The high platform reached toward heaven, pillars standing like trees. The Tang people took Xuanniao as their totem and thus loved tall buildings.

Yet now, those pavilions and towers decorated with Xuanniao patterns had collapsed. That platform that reached high toward heaven was in ruins. Only that pillar carved with the image of Xuanniao—it lay toppled among the rubble, almost buried by wild grass.

The rich soil brought by the volcano had nourished a dense forest upon the land of Yin, but the Tang people… were gone.

Xuanniao circled above the land of Yin again and again. No Tang people, not a single one. He could not feel the warmth that blood kinship brought him. The world suddenly seemed empty.

Xuanniao burned with fierce flames in the air, but behind him there were no longer any other warm-winged Tang people.

He suddenly felt cold.

Xuanniao landed upon the high platform, but the stone pillar the Tang people had built for him to rest upon had already collapsed. Wild grass and vines had buried it until it was almost invisible. He raised his talons to brush aside those entangling vines and trees, bringing up a shower of grass, vine fragments, leaves, and a white… skull?!

Xuanniao frantically crawled across the ground, using his wings and sharp talons to tear away piece after piece of the weeds and vines covering the ground. Countless broken remains were buried beneath the soil—wing bones snapped, eye sockets empty.

Beneath this land of Yin that he had spent countless years dredging the volcano to nourish, Tang people’s bones lay everywhere.

Who? Who?! Who did this!

But the corpses had long decayed, and no one answered. Vines wound around ribs, roots wrapped around broken wings. Only the wild grass growing from eye sockets swayed toward Xuanniao in the wind.

They had been dead for a very, very long time—so long that without anyone to bury and collect the bodies, they had been buried by the volcano’s soil and the flourishing forest that grew from it.

Xuanniao could no longer feel those connected, pulsing blood ties, could no longer find even a single Tang person.

In this world, of those who controlled fire, loved the sun, and soared over the land of Yin, only he remained.

……

“The Heaven-Mandated Xuanniao descended and gave birth to Tang…” Xuanniao raised the wine jar. No flames burned upon it; the wine was cold.

That day he had collected all the Tang people’s remains he could find and buried them all beneath the high platform.

Beneath the high platform, he had dug up the wine the Tang people had buried year after year…

“There are no more Tang people in this world,” the crimson-robed Xuanniao collapsed drunkenly beside the altar, cradling the empty wine jar. “How then can there be a Heaven-Mandated Xuanniao…”

Xuanniao had followed the deity for a long time. From the day Xuanqing Sect was established until today when the Underworld was about to be established, for thousands upon thousands of years, it had always been Xuanniao managing Xuanqing Sect. But the deity had never reconnected those karmic threads that should not have been severed.

Not because it could not be done, but because…

The deity drank the wine in the cup.

Karmic threads that had been severed, even if reconnected, would ultimately be different. Sometimes, reconnecting karma would cause no problems, but sometimes… it was better not to reconnect.

Xuanniao had always understood this clearly.

So his only request was that after the Underworld was established, he could cast off this body and reenter the cycle of reincarnation…

The wine entered his throat.

The dreamscape shattered with a roar.

Li Chi turned his head, looking toward Mutou.

Upon Mutou’s body, hidden within the thick, dark karmic threads that wrapped him like a cocoon, were countless severed karmic threads. Only short, broken stubs remained, yet they still stubbornly clung on.

“…I wish for people’s longevity…” Hou Li’s singing voice rang out in the courtyard. He tapped his wine cup with chopsticks as he sang. Long ago, when the Li clan still existed, he had heard the Li clan members sing like this.

The pastries were gone. When he sang, Jin Yan closed his mouth.

The full moon had reached the zenith and was gradually sliding westward.

The moon must set after rising. The Taiyin Star traveled across the sky every night. Fullness and waning were the same course to it.

A year had three hundred and sixty-five days and nights. Mid-Autumn was just one ordinary day and night among them, but mortals had imbued it with meaning.

This was verse that only mortals would write.

……

In Zhangning City, the palace did not invite ministers to a Mid-Autumn banquet as in previous years, but instead sent gifts to each household to replace the usual invitations.

Lu Hong sat in a pavilion, with only his wife and children beside him. On this day, he only wished to be with his family.

……

Outside Zhangning City, in a thatched cottage among the suburban fields.

A boy proudly showed an old man the mooncakes in a box. “These were awarded to me by Zhong Daren, because I’m learning characters very quickly! Zhong Daren said I’m now his book attendant, and when I’ve learned more in the future, he’ll take me out with him! Grandfather, try some quickly!”

……

In Shuigu Town, outside the Yun family residence, Yun Ling secretly left a box of mooncakes outside the small gate.

A black dog stealthily entered. He left a flower in the corner of the wall and took the box away.

In the Earth God temple, the deity opened its eyes briefly, then closed them again, pretending not to see.

……

Because of human separation, one gazed at the full moon. Because of short lifespans, one wished for enduring love.

If people could not be together, if eyes could not see each other, if voices could not reach each other’s ears, at least when looking up, they saw the same full moon.

“…May we share the beautiful moon across a thousand miles…” Hou Li slowly finished the last line, his eyes gazing at the moon seeming to hold nostalgia.

Old Turtle was slowly telling stories of the Huai River and its two banks. Mutou was covered with small demons, eyes shining as they stared at Old Turtle.

…After the great calamity, countless different races were exterminated, countless powers collapsed, countless inheritances were severed. Xuanqing Sect was merely one among them. When the great calamity had just ended, their figures could still be seen upon the earth, but not long after that, they completely disappeared. Even the few individuals who had survived eventually vanished one by one…

The words of Huai River Divine Lord still rang in his ears. The true Xuanqing Sect had already been destroyed, its skin stolen and name usurped by the thing that now refined dream beasts into gu.

Beneath the poison pool, within the vine coffin, the withered bones’ soul had scattered, leaving only this piece of wood that had been soaked in poison for thousands upon thousands of years, inheriting some remnant soul of Xuanniao.

One hundred and twenty thousand years ago, Xuanqing Sect’s deity had perished.

Who had gravely wounded Xuanniao, forcing him to have no choice but to be buried in the Soul-Breath Vine to sustain his life? Who had severed the Soul-Breath Vine and thrown it into the poison pool, using its fierce poison to wear away his soul for thousands upon thousands of years?

Who, one hundred and twenty thousand years ago, had already coveted Xuanqing Sect’s existence, and now, one hundred and twenty thousand years later, stripped its skin and replaced its bones?

Li Chi closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he had concealed all his thoughts.

“Mutou,” he called.

Mutou responded with an “Ah,” the smile on that ugly face warm and endearing beyond belief.

“You should go back.” Li Chi said.

Mutou froze, his smile slowly becoming dejected. “Ah… yes, I should go back.”

He still could not leave Poison Mountain for too long.

“Do you like drinking wine?” Li Chi suddenly asked.

“What?” Mutou was stunned.

Li Chi waved his sleeve, and a large wine gourd flew into Mutou’s arms. He raised his hand and drew a passage in the air. Mutou, cradling the wine gourd, looked reluctantly around the courtyard.

“Thank you,” he said softly, then stepped into the passage.

The light particles of divine arts gradually dispersed in the air. That warm little courtyard and the full moon faded together, leaving only the bitter vines in the center of the poison pool and the cold, lonely fireflies.

But the wine gourd in his arms was burning hot. Mutou opened the wine gourd and took a sip.

Warm and hot, as if soaked in sunlight and burning with fire.

Mutou touched his eyes. Why was he suddenly… crying?