Chapter 7: Heartless

Lower Realm, Kunlun.

Little Chuci was still at a playful age. After obediently staying in Kunlun’s courtyard for a few days, she ran off to play by herself again. Born a demon, even with only half a primordial spirit, she would attract many demonic creatures. Before she went out, Kunlun urged her repeatedly not to run down the mountain again. Although she bore the brand of Kunlun’s own aura, the further down the mountain she went, the less control Kunlun had, and there would inevitably be places beyond her reach.

Little Chuci patted her little chest in promise, then vanished in a flash.

Watching her retreating figure, Kunlun tilted her head, as if puzzled by something. She asked: “Meng Zhaozhong, what emotion should I be feeling right now?”

Meng Zhaozhong: “For mortals, when Little Lord Chu goes out to play alone and you’re at home, you should be worried.”

“Worried? Then should I make a worried expression? Like this?” Kunlun furrowed her brows gently, then consulted Meng Zhaozhong. “Does this worry seem too mild or too heavy? When she returns, I should be joyful, right?”

She had said “should” twice in succession, as if she had no instinctive reactions at all, judging only by experience.

Meng Zhaozhong: “Yes, Mountain Saint.”

“Alright.” Kunlun said, “I have another question for you. Now that Chuci has grown a few more years older, what should I do with her in daily life? You have younger siblings in your clan, what did you do before?”

Meng Zhaozhong scratched the back of his head, chuckling: “The younger ones in my clan don’t grow nearly as slowly as Little Lord Chu. They reach adulthood in a thousand years. Childhood is only a century or two. It was mostly about taking them to ride Dragon Horns, listen to Dragon Chants, and play tricks in the water. Sometimes we’d go to the Mortal Realm to find some new and interesting toys from mortal children for them. Two hundred years pass very quickly.”

“Riding Dragon Horns? I rode on her head when I was little. Hmm…” Kunlun thought for a moment. “I was also often held in her mouth. She said it was for riding the wind.”

Meng Zhaozhong burst out laughing. “Mountain Saint, you were tricked again. Just set up a wind-barrier spell on your body. Why would you need to be held in the mouth? For our Divine Dragon Clan, the largest of all dragon clans, a mouth can only just barely hold one person. Is Little Lord Chu’s original form even bigger than our Divine Dragon Clan’s?”

Kunlun looked at him. “Hmm, show me your original form. I need to measure.”

So Meng Zhaozhong roared and transformed into the white-giant dragon that soared through the Ninth Heaven. His dragon whiskers billowed, rolling amidst the clouds. His huge dragon mouth opened and shut, as if the earth cracked and mountains crumbled: “Mountain Saint, between Little Lord Chu and me, who is bigger or smaller?”

Kunlun’s eyes rapidly measured through the air, then beckoned him down with a laugh. “Body length is double yours. Overall, about ten times your size. Forget Chuci—long ago, I knew a little Cultivated Snake. If it hadn’t died, it would also be bigger than you now.”

Meng Zhaozhong: “…”

Meng Zhaozhong had just turned thirty-four thousand, nine hundred, and ninety-nine years old this year. He had followed Kunlun for thirty-four thousand, six hundred, and sixty-six years. As far back as his memory, his grandfather’s, and his grandfather’s grandfather’s memory stretched, this mountain range had always been under Kunlun’s governance. He had been saved by Kunlun when in danger as a child. His grandfather’s grandfather said this was a supreme god, so he had Meng Zhaozhong follow Kunlun to cultivate. True enough, he was now the most powerful dragon in the Divine Dragon Clan.

Yet, it seemed he had never asked about those matters from the ancient past.

When Meng Zhaozhong began following Kunlun, he was only just over three hundred years old. Kunlun was also simple and uncalculating, never putting on airs like the Heavenly Emperor. This led to Meng Zhaozhong growing up strong-limbed and simple-minded, speaking without much restraint. So he directly asked bluntly: “Mountain Saint, just how long have you lived?”

“Hmm?” Kunlun looked at this big fool with a rather strange expression. “No one has ever dared ask me that. There’s a saying in the Mortal Realm: casually asking a woman’s age is very impolite.”

Meng Zhaozhong scratched his head.

“But it’s nothing to be taboo about,” Kunlun suddenly smiled, pointing at the painted cloth spread on the ground from when she’d been playing with Chuci earlier. “Come, sit and talk. I haven’t spoken of the past for so long; if I don’t, I’ll soon forget it.”

Kunlun tied her long hair back, gathered it over her chest, and sat on the ground. It was convenient for her. But it was hard on the long-limbed Meng Zhaozhong. Needing to keep some distance from Kunlun, he tried his best to shift aside, but being so large, he ended up sitting half on the cloth, half on the bare earth. It had just rained a couple of days ago, so he immediately felt a cool dampness on his left buttock.

“If we count from when I had no consciousness, then I’ve existed from the very moment Father Pangu cleaved Heaven and Earth apart. If we count from when I took human form, then it should be…” Kunlun pursed her lips, fingers calculating back and forth. “Almost two hundred thousand years now. But I spent one hundred thousand years just reaching adulthood. Hmm, probably one of the slowest to mature. I just don’t know how long Chuci spent underground. Likely similar to me.”

Meng Zhaozhong’s jaw dropped. “You mean Little Lord Chu? Is she as old as you, too?”

Kunlun: “…”

“Meng Zhaozhong, oh Meng Zhaozhong, what am I to say to you?” She patted his shoulder, speaking earnestly. “Being frank and outspoken isn’t wrong. I usually like your frankness. But are there no women in your clan? Find a different word, and I can continue telling you the story.”

Meng Zhaozhong: “Ah, then… then, blessed with long life. Is Little Lord Chu as blessed with long life as you?”

“What blessed with long life or not? Long ago, I should have perished, just like Fuxi and Nuwa. But Chuci refused to accept it. She used some means to preserve me. That person… she’s full of rebellious bones, her conduct always preferring to defy Heaven. And furthermore, at that time, I…”

She said: “I made a mistake back then. Afterwards, she was executed by the combined forces of all the gods and buddhas of Heaven. I know she is an indestructible, immortal being. The Heavenly Emperor isn’t truly bad by nature, but he is far too proud, somewhat extreme. Struggling on borrowed time, he’s nothing but a jumping clown. Prancing around these years, sooner or later Chuci will retaliate with double the fury, and a great calamity will surely follow.”

Kunlun spoke these words in a flat, even tone, seemingly without any emotional fluctuation: “However, even if the Heavenly Emperor hadn’t pulled this stunt back then, Chuci wouldn’t have tolerated Fuxi and Nuwa’s son setting up some Heavenly Court, vainly trying to control the order of the Three Realms. She dislikes restricting others and dislikes being restricted. She believes that for all living beings under Heaven, the strong should survive. The longsword is order, magical power is order. She—is order.”

“Then…” Meng Zhaozhong stammered, “Then should all those weak ones just die?”

Kunlun glanced at him in surprise: “You think they shouldn’t?”

Meng Zhaozhong said solemnly: “Of course they shouldn’t. All beings in the world inherently have strength and weakness. If the weak should die, then should my mother die just because she’s old? I was just a weak little dragon whelp when I was born—should I have died too? Now there are more and more elderly in the clan; should we kill them all just as they start to age and throw them into the Dragon Tomb? Heaven gave me a strong body not just for my own survival, but to protect my family.”

“If Mountain Saint grows old,” he said, “I will protect you too.”

Kunlun smiled. “A commendable notion. It’s just… I won’t grow old. I will die, and no one can help me.”

Meng Zhaozhong was stunned for a moment, finding his simple brain completely incapable of processing such a complex issue. He could only state firmly: “Then I will still protect Mountain Saint, even unto death. I’ve followed you since I was just a little dragon whelp, and I’ll keep following you forever.”

Kunlun shook her head, speaking slowly: “What nonsense. When Chuci returns, you will leave me. No matter where you go, just go far, far away.”

“Why?”

“No reason.”

“Oh.” Meng Zhaozhong agreed, but inwardly he thought: when the time comes, my legs are on my own feet; how would Mountain Saint control whether I leave or not?

He remembered another thing he’d always wanted to ask, a question that had lingered in his heart for the past thousand years: “Mountain Saint, why do you always say ‘should’ about your own emotions or feelings? Like, you should smile when seeing Little Lord Chu, and you often practice expressions in your room with paintings. Shouldn’t such feelings be natural? Why do you still ask me?”

“Because…” Kunlun sighed slightly, her eyelids lowering. Softly, she said: “I have no heart. And because I have no heart, I made that mistake forty thousand years ago.”

Meng Zhaozhong stuttered so badly he could barely speak: “W-w-w-why?”

“That year, the Mysterious Lady of the Ninth Heaven was at odds with Nuwa. She sent Gonggong to aid Chiyou, who fought against the Yellow Emperor, whom Nuwa supported. The Yan Emperor ambushed Chiyou’s troops in the Southern Wild of Zhuolu. Gonggong went to meet the attack, holding his own alone against four mighty generals under the Yan Emperor—Zhurong, Limu, Goumang, and Yingzhao—without being at a disadvantage. Later, Nuwa set up an altar at Buzhou Mountain to seal Heaven, preventing Chiyou’s forces from retreating. Gonggong flew into a rage, cursing the gods in Heaven for their injustice. Then, he rammed his head into Buzhou Mountain and died, breaking Nuwa’s Sky-Sealing Array, allowing the Jiuli Tribe’s army to flee after their defeat.”

“Buzhou Mountain collapsed, the Heavenly Pillar crumbled. There was great drought in the south, massive floods in the north, raging fires in the east, and demons ran rampant in the west. Nuwa searched everywhere for materials to mend the heavens. I am the spirit entity of Kunlun Mountain, a natural stone being, gestated over tens of thousands of years. My heart, which contained the Seven Emotions and Six Desires, was the best patch material—the Five-Colored Stone. Later, Nuwa found me and begged bitterly. Grateful for Father Pangu’s grace in giving me life, and unable to bear seeing Heaven and Earth collapse, I agreed.”

Meng Zhaozhong: “Then what mistake did you make?”

“It’s been too long,” Kunlun’s gaze turned hazy. “At that time…”

“Kunlun, I’m back!” It was Little Chuci.

Kunlun’s voice stopped abruptly. She then showed a joyful expression and stood up from the ground.

The little white Fox Fur Cape Little Chuci had just had made was now stained with black mud at the sleeves and hem, torn with rips and holes here and there. Who knew where she’d been running wild again. She was clutching a small snake, black body with a blue head.

Little Chuci bounded over to Kunlun in a few steps, pulled her away to a spot far from Meng Zhaozhong, then pricked her ears up high and bared her teeth at him.

Well, of course, Little Lord Chu.

Meng Zhaozhong obligingly retreated several more steps.

Kunlun recalled asking Meng Zhaozhong not long ago: “What emotion is it when your child brings back something dirty from outside?”

Meng Zhaozhong had answered: “It should be anger.”

So Kunlun pulled over the snarling Little Chuci by the arm and said “angrily”: “Where did you bring this thing back from? What if it’s dangerous?”

Although, this snake looked somewhat familiar. Had someone picked one up like this before?

The “thing”, Jiang Yang: “…”