v7c36: Sow the Seeds

Shen Yu looked down from the heavens to the earth. Just beyond his body, his Qi cut itself at the edges, so his scent would not reach his granddaughter. He was fairly certain the technique was successful; she had not looked in his direction once as he watched them with the Thousand-Li View.

 

My, he was getting quite voyeuristic in his old age! Almost as bad as that amusing bee. But alas, it was necessary. His presence would disturb things. He wanted to see what they did, without them knowing his eyes were upon them.

 

At first, he had investigated the Ironfields—yet they had been gone a week when he had arrived, and he saw nothing important. Nothing noteworthy, save a not-completely abysmal Qi level.

 

But he had paid half an ear to what Tie Delun said, back at Jin’s home—the boy had earned that much. He had spoken of metal under the bare layer of topsoil.

 

Not soft, loamy dirt.

 

Then he listened to the whispers. He had learned of the change in the land; the titanic shift that had them all whispering a god had blessed them.

 

He knew then that he had to truly see Jin’s next project. He had to see Jin in action.

 

For one week he observed their efforts; how they spoke with the mortals, how they carved ditches into the lakebed to craft a formation… and how they pushed their Qi into the earth.

 

There were, to conventional knowledge, two facts about the nature of the world.

 

The first was that the overall strength of each province was relatively static, save for what scholars had deduced was a an extremely low decline in Qi levels year after year—so slow that there was some debate if the Qi levels were truly dropping, or it was just the fact that all the oldest and most potent reagents had been harvested.

 

Within provinces, it could be more granular. There were areas of high and low Qi. Dragon Veins close to the surface, or deep down. Occasionally, they would move, over thousands of years, and create new natural wellsprings—and thousands of sects had been founded atop these places. But the Qi itself was always there, just inaccessible.

 

So too could powerful cultivators move the Dragon Veins of the world—but rarely was it worth it. Moving the roots of the earth produced lasting destabilizations, intermittent swells of Qi, random mutations in nearby life… or the power would recede entirely, reducing the Qi in the area.

 

Even Xiaoshi, Martyr of the Age of Heroes in the Azure Hills, had never improved his Earth Spirit Companion’s strength. He had just made it swifter to access her Qi. Even the formation he had crafted, which harnessed the Qi of millions of his subjects, did not improve the quality of the Qi; it only allowed him to use it to reinforce the barrier around his lands.

 

The second fact was that the Qi Wastes were dead. They were a natural part of this world; strange, malformed places that would never produce Qi, that would never know the breath of life, beyond what they stole from the air and cultivators who dared venture into their depths.

 

Yet here and now, he saw what was ‘impossible’.

 

The world thrummed. Golden roots dug into the Qi void below him, filled with the sound of drums. The Qi of the area pulsed, bounced, and danced in time with the beat, the perfect mathematical alignment of the formation being complemented by the well-placed cuts.

 

The roots of the earth twisted and writhed, relentlessly growing into the dark spot within Shen Yu’s senses.

 

It was a tremendous expenditure of power. It was pulled from all corners of the province in a steady stream. Vast rivers of might, thrown into the void. So many would call it wasted. So many would say that it would be better used for other things; they would think that taking so much power would surely make the one expending it weaker.

 

And yet this was not the case.

 

Day by day the Qi seemed more vital. More animated. More eager to dig into the void in the center of the lake. The sickly pathetic dregs of Qi around this part of the Azure Hills grew more and more vital. The quality surged—without mutation. Without unchecked Qi release. Like a paper lantern, rising on a candle, the world breathed.

 

Until upon the eighth day of Jin’s efforts, something changed. On the eighth day, the mortals of this place had a summer festival. There were songs, boat races and fishing competitions; they made offerings to the great Pale Moon Lake. They thanked it for its water, and asked that she not scold them so much this year.

 

They prayed and danced, a curious, heavy beat that seemed more suited for miners than fishermen. The world resounded with their laughter and their cheer.

 

And something whispered on the breeze.

 

===================

 

“And So the Great Ancestor, Shennong, Instructed His Disciples in the Ways of Preparing the Fields.”

 

The prayers had tried to reach her. For so, so long.

 

Millions had spoken to her. They cried out to her. They joked and laughed with her. They cursed her name.

 

They knew her. She knew them. They could have been friends. This place could have been hers, and she theirs.

 

She had a belief. A mandate.

 

It all meant nothing, because the world was broken.

Stolen story; please report.

 

“Everything that comprises ‘today’ was made possible by what was planted yesterday. Crops or actions, it matters not, for what took root in the past shall grow in the future.”

 

Was broken. Little motes of golden light filled the shattered hulk of a throne. It beat back the sucking void. And for the first time, those beliefs, those prayers that filled the earth… started to find purchase.

 

Huibai Yue. The Pale Moon. The Lady of the Lake. Patient. Kind. The lifegiver; but she had her own temper, her shouts roaring forth in great storms, scolding any who took her for granted, or disrespected her might.

 

“Within tiny, insignificant seeds is our world made; so cast them not in arrogance, yet neither hoard them in fear. For the future comes, whether one is ready or not. Tend to them carefully—go with purpose, even if you do not know what the seed will grow into.“

 

Awareness started to come. The dreams and legends, forming what she was. It should have been chaos. It should have been confusion. And yet… it was right.

 

She felt.

 

The hand of a father, gentle in spite of his strength, ruffling her hair. The hand of a mother, cupping her cheek, warm and loving.

 

And the earth around her, touching her shores. The earth beneath her, cradling her gently despite the damage she had inflicted with her birth.

 

“That doesn’t matter,” the earth replied. “You are a part of me now; and I cannot hate such a cute daughter. Thanks for taking care of everyone, all this time.”

 

“Answer barrenness with abundance. Let there be life where there once was none.”

 

The earth gathered together everything that she was.

 

The cheers of the people on shore, thanking her for another year. The prayers for safe passage. The cheeky curses to rival villages, asking her to shout and scold them with her storms.

 

Not just existing… but known.

 

Not just needed… but wanted.

 

[Sow the Seeds]

 

A core was planted within the web of belief, and thousands of years of memory made the delayed seed sprout.