Chapter 125#

Creation Nineteen#

The vine was still in its infancy, its vitality limited. After playing for a little while it slowed down, crawling lazily back to the Chief God’s wrist, hooking one end around the other like a tail curling inward, and settled there without moving — its current length couldn’t manage a second loop. The thing even breathed, its leaves rising and falling in the smallest of rhythms.

Yu Feichen: “What does it eat?”

“A Proverb Vine’s growth requires the company of people, and their fresh blood.” At that, He raised his hand. The white sleeve slid back slightly, exposing the left wrist. The vine wound around it docilely, as if it had found a tree to call home for a long time.

With his right hand, the God brought two fingers together, a thin blade of condensed light forming between them, poised to cut open the skin of his own wrist. The way He made this motion was no different from how He had looked at the Resurrection Day — as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

But the cut never landed.

Yu Feichen reached over and caught His wrist.

“Do you have a lot of blood to spare?” he said.

The Chief God genuinely considered this for a second.

After a brief moment’s thought, He found the question novel — no one had ever asked Him that before.

The person asking it was novel too. By now, it had been far too long since anyone had spoken to Him in quite this tone.

So His answer came with equal sincerity: “Not a small amount.”

The vine, seemingly sensing what it was about to be fed, shifted to the right, even its leaves perking up with anticipation.

Yu Feichen: “Is it the same blood as on Resurrection Day?”

The Chief God nodded. He was rather fond of this little plant.

Yu Feichen looked at Him the way one might look at an unreasonable employer.

“Forget it.” Yu Feichen lifted the vine aside and said, “It would die.”

A single drop of this God’s blood fallen on an altar could resurrect tens of thousands of believers across an entire age. If that same power were consumed by a young vine in its infancy, the outcome wasn’t hard to imagine.

Eat too much and you die. That was the immutable truth of ten million worlds.

So Yu Feichen made a shallow cut on his own wrist instead. Blood welled up, and the vine scrambled over at once — the moment the blood touched its body, it was absorbed completely in an instant. The vine’s leaves swayed in contented satisfaction.

The Chief God watched this, a faint smile surfacing beneath his softly lowered lashes.

“That should be about enough,” He said.

Yu Feichen: “What do you mean, about enough?”

Chief God: “It’s had about enough to eat.”

The vine reared up and shook its leaves with great effort.

Yu Feichen: “.”

The Chief God acted as if he had seen nothing, took the vine back, settled it in his own hand, and said softly: “Sleep now.”

The vine looped itself around his wrist again, tying itself into a knot.

The God then gazed into the distance. Beyond the shimmering water, the horizon blazed. The last light of dusk draped itself over the entire divine realm.

Kingdoms, towns, villages. High mountains, rivers, valleys.

Divine officials, subjects, believers.

He looked for a long time.

Yu Feichen watched Him for a long time too. Just as Yu Feichen was about to ask what are you looking at, the God spoke first.

“I love dusk,” He said quietly. “The affairs of the day are about to settle, and the prophecies of the night have yet to be made.”

In the glow of the setting sun, the God’s outline was soft as a dream.

But Yu Feichen could see that the long, still gaze He had fixed on the distance was deeply out of character — less like appreciating scenery, more like someone with a thousand thoughts crowding in at once.

Without knowing why, he had the feeling that He was in the process of making a decision.

A flock of white doves rose from the buildings, crossing from one place to another.

The God turned.

“Yu Feichen,” He said.

Everyone at the Tower of Creation — Claros included — always called him “Little Yu.” Only the Chief God, every single time, took the trouble to say his full name with care.

Yu Feichen said: “I’m here.”

He said: “Come walk with me in Landenwaren.”

His tone was light and offhand, as if He already knew Yu Feichen would agree, and Landenwaren were no more than His own back garden.

Yu Feichen did agree — he had come to keep this appointment, after all, and had no objection to whatever they did.

The eternal-sleep flowers at the mountaintop were already gone, but the ones lining the path down the mountain had not yet been ordered to wither by Sather. The whole way down, the atmosphere carried a faint strangeness; neither of them spoke. Yu Feichen’s intended questions were on the verge of being shelved again.

Then, descending from the holy mountain and looking out at the boundless, thriving cityscape of Landenwaren, a certain God came to an abrupt stop.

Chief God: “…”

Yu Feichen raised an eyebrow.

The last time he’d seen this expression was on Sunset Glow Street when there was no money. Now the scene was repeating itself — odds were He was lost.

According to Claros, His Holiness the Chief God had been slumbering for a very long time, appearing only on each age’s Resurrection Day for a single brief day. Up until two ages ago, He had gone alone into the eternal night and, single-handedly, held back every assault the Outer Gods had launched against Eden.

That must have been a vast and far-reaching war. The mother-ship Yu Feichen had first woken on — perhaps even that entire world — had likely been a fragment of that war, a piece of the battlefield.

And then somehow, through some meeting of eyes, the Chief God had brought him to Eden. At that point He had found him half-wrecked, the Chief God had pulled him out in haste, and had deposited him in Sunset Plaza and left it at that. Afterward He had presumably gone back to sleeping, or back to fighting — busy either way. The next time the Chief God appeared in Eden was when they went to the instance dungeon together.

All of this meant His Holiness the Chief God had perhaps not set foot in His beloved Landenwaren for several hundred, even a thousand years. And time had moved swiftly — Landenwaren had long since ceased to resemble the place He remembered.

— This is why you shouldn’t sleep too long.

“Do you need a map, Your Holiness?” Yu Feichen said, somewhere between a smile and not.

“No need — we’ll…” The Chief God looked around at the several roads branching out before them, then said with composure, “Just wander.”

“Just wander” was more or less equivalent to “pick one at random,” since Yu Feichen didn’t know the way either.

Following a randomly chosen path and continuing outward from the holy mountain, the surroundings gradually became more familiar. A little further on would be the place to board the unicorn carriages.

Just as they reached the transit stop, a sound came from behind them. Yu Feichen caught it in his peripheral vision — from another branching road, a long ornate white vehicle was pulling up. It was some variation of a train: ten or so sightseeing carriages linked together, pulled by a single winged unicorn at the front bearing a weight it really shouldn’t have to. Each carriage, however, had runes and radiant ice-stones set into its sides, enchanted for weight reduction and speed.

At the very front of the procession was a gleaming bald head — and if it weren’t still attached to a body, it would have looked exactly like a headlight.

“Friends up ahead! Hello there!” The clip of hooves drew closer as a voice rang out from behind: “Landenwaren Sightseeing Tour — departing from the Dusk Shrine, midpoint the Dawn Forest, returning to the Dusk Shrine. Seven days of deep-dive exploration of the capital. Resurrection Day holiday discount — only ten Radiant Ice Stones per person — hello there, would you like to board?”

The vehicle stopped in front of the two of them.

The bald-headed tour leader finished his pitch and prepared to level a warm and passionate gaze at his potential customers — and fell into an abrupt silence.

Yu Feichen looked at him.

He looked at Yu Feichen.

Yu Feichen: “.”

Bald tour leader: “…”

“What a coincidence, Brother Yu.” The leader said stiffly. “We made it back. This is our team’s… holiday side job.”

Fair enough.

At least they were more industrious than those people in Eden who were obsessed with the festivals.

The leader snapped to attention: “Brother Yu, sorry to bother you — please, go right ahead.”

“Sightseeing?” Yu Feichen said. “The two of us.”

Leader: “…?”