That was a black-haired, black-eyed youth, sitting on a large rock, his hair loose, draped in a coarse linen robe of unknown origin, barefoot. When he saw the suddenly appearing Warden of Highspire in Declan Grove, he seemed startled, and accidentally fell off the rock into the creek, getting himself soaked.

At that moment, suddenly, a ghost beast burst out from underground and lunged at the youth’s neck. His neck looked slender and fragile, as if it could be snapped with one hand.

Then, the youth’s hand, which had fallen into the creek, suddenly reached out at a strange angle. He covered the ghost beast’s mouth with one hand, turned and pressed the creature into the water. With a single press of his palm, half of the ghost beast’s head was instantly crushed, blood spraying all over his head and face, staining that clean face like red plum blossoms blooming on snow.

The youth looked a bit flustered as he glanced at the blood all over himself. He carefully squatted down and washed his hands and face in the creek. Then, out of habit, he picked up the ghost beast’s corpse, opened his mouth to reveal slightly sharp canine teeth, and began gnawing from the tenderest part of the neck.

Only then did Warden of Highspire confirm that he was a ghost king. He had never seen anyone more like a ghost king than this youth: a beautiful, expressionless boy sitting in blood-stained creek water, slowly and methodically gnawing on the ghost beast’s corpse—a sight more chilling than any fierce demon on land.

But when the youth noticed Warden of Highspire watching him, his eating slowed involuntarily. He sneaked a glance at Highspire in the distance, then lowered his head, taking another bite as if he’d lost his appetite, carefully cupping his hands to keep the blood from dripping out of his mouth. After swallowing, he gently pressed his lips together, as if trying to wipe away the blood at the corners of his mouth to look a bit cleaner.

Although Warden of Highspire had lent fire to the underworld, it was only to sever the heavenly path and overthrow Buzhou. He had long forgotten the faint reluctance he’d felt when first hearing of Nuwa sealing the land of great disrespect. He disdained dealing with these primitive, bloodthirsty beings and never gave them a second thought.

Yet now, for some reason, he found himself taking a few steps forward and said, “Hey, kid, you’re a ghost king, right? Aren’t you supposed to command the lower ghosts? Why did that thing bite you too?”

The youth’s hand trembled, and the ghost beast’s corpse slipped from his grasp into the water, splashing his face. He looked at the approaching Warden of Highspire in panic, his pitch-black eyes fixed on him, mouth opening and closing, momentarily at a loss.

“Can’t speak? That can’t be.” Warden of Highspire leaned carelessly against the big rock, raising an eyebrow. “Do you have a name? What’s your name?”

“…William.”

“Which William?”

“…Mountain ghost.”

“Mountain ghost?” Warden of Highspire lay on the big rock, raising an eyebrow. “Fitting, but a bit lacking in grandeur. Look at these endless mountains and seas, the towering peaks stretching on and on. Why not add a few strokes and make it ‘巍’?”

Author’s note:

“Where does the axis revolve, where does the sky’s end rest? When will the eight pillars stand, why is the southeast lacking?” — from the great Qu Yuan.

Chapter 78: The Cause …

Warden of Highspire asked, “Little ghost king, why don’t you stay with your ghost clan?”

The youth lowered his head, was silent for a while, then softly said, “They’re filthy.”

Warden of Highspire was taken aback, then asked with interest, “How so?”

The youth didn’t dare look at him, but stared intently at Warden of Highspire’s reflection on the water, and said seriously, “All they know is killing and eating. What else do they understand? I don’t want to be with them.”

Warden of Highspire pointed out matter-of-factly, “That’s just how the ghost clan is.”

The ghost king’s eyes darkened, but when he looked up at Warden of Highspire, he managed to suppress that violent urge, as if he was used to doing so. After a pause, he lowered his voice and gently asked, “Just because I was born a ghost, must I be like them?”

Warden of Highspire didn’t answer. The youth stood up from the pool, apparently having lost his appetite. He dragged the ghost beast’s corpse out and tossed it aside, then washed his face with clean water, silently bent down to wring out his coarse robe, rolled up his pant legs, and climbed out of the water. He glanced at Logan Sullivan, his eyes like crow feathers on white snow, then said in a nonchalant tone, “I don’t like it. Better not to have been born.”

After speaking, he didn’t approach the rock he’d been sitting on, now occupied by Warden of Highspire, but simply sat by the water’s edge, his wet feet dangling on the ground, gazing into the distance at Declan Grove, the mountains beyond, the mist and snow atop the peaks, and the thunderous sky rolling with lightning in the pouring rain.

Warden of Highspire couldn’t help but ask, “What are you looking at?”

The youth pointed along his line of sight. “Something beautiful.”

“What’s beautiful about a rainy day?” Warden of Highspire said, leaning against the boulder to sit beside the youth. “On a sunny day, the top of Highspire Peak is truly beautiful. The golden sunlight falls on the snow, like flowers blooming on white snow. Beneath the ice is a jagged landscape, and in summer, a thin layer of green grass grows, along with all kinds of tiny, nameless flowers—all such flowers are called Gesang flowers.”

The youth was entranced, staring blankly at Warden of Highspire.

Warden of Highspire suddenly paused. “Mm, you can’t see it now.”

“Why not?”

“To let you all out, I poked a hole in the sky.” Warden of Highspire couldn’t help but reach out and ruffle his hair. The ghost king’s hair was as soft as it looked; he stiffened his neck but didn’t move, obediently letting him touch it. It was hard to imagine that just moments ago, he’d been gnawing raw on a ghost beast’s neck—if you looked closely, his mouth probably still wasn’t clean.

This reminded Warden of Highspire of the kitten he used to keep.

“Why poke a hole in the sky?” the ghost king asked again.

“I promised.” Warden of Highspire pressed his hand on the youth’s head. “You wouldn’t understand, kid.”

But the youth looked up with unusual seriousness. “I understand. I don’t know what’s outside, but if I’d known there was something so beautiful beyond the great seal, I would have poked a hole in it too.”

Warden of Highspire shook his head and laughed softly. The youth stared at him, and after an unknown time, Warden of Highspire finally said quietly, “Life is not our own; better not to have been born. You really are a kindred spirit.”

With that, he stood up and turned to leave. Nuwa’s figure flickered faintly in midair, still busy and searching in vain for the five-colored stones to mend the sky. Highspire let out a short, low laugh. The mountains and rivers were devastated, and he felt a strange pleasure in his heart.

The ghost king youth hesitated, then stood up and followed him step by step.

Warden of Highspire didn’t stop him, letting him follow. Suddenly, he raised his hand, and towering mountains rumbled up from flat ground, standing in the southeast at Aetheris, allowing the witches and demons to enter Aetheris to escape disaster. The endless rain finally turned into a massive flood, roaring from the northwest highlands to the east, unstoppable and surging.

It swept across a thousand miles of scorched earth, the people wailing in misery, Fireborne Emperor kneeling three times and kowtowing nine times to beg the heavens.

But the way of heaven is merciless.

The ghost king youth followed Highspire up to the peak of Mount Aetheris. The hundred thousand great mountains finally began to stir, and the commotion reached Aetheris, causing panic among the demons. The witch tribe brought the former Ironhorn Tribe, and Sunpiercer, like his ancestors, led his people up to Aetheris, bowing with every step. Some children, not understanding, wailed in the crowd, and the anxious adults, fearing to anger the gods and bring disaster to the tribe, covered the children’s mouths, suffocating them to death along the way.

On the way, the great flood reached halfway up the mountain, sweeping away half the people from the east. The cold, silent gods atop the nine heavens closed their eyes, becoming statues as unmoving and silent as Nuwa.

Then, from the west, came another group of people, carrying bundles and wearing ragged clothes, led by a white-haired, elderly man with a medicine basket on his back, heading toward Aetheris. The Northern Emperor Fireborne Emperor followed respectfully behind the old man. Warden of Highspire finally opened his eyes and said quietly, “Embergrower.”

Embergrower seemed to sense something and suddenly looked up in the crowd, a flash of lightning seeming to pass through his cloudy eyes.

Though Highspire had always spoken of exterminating Fireborne Emperor’s people and slaughtering the human race, he did not stop them. He was never willing to submit to heaven, nor did he care to kill these beings himself. He watched as Embergrower Line led the people of the Central Plains up to Aetheris with great difficulty, Fireborne Emperor leading his people to perform the three kneelings and nine kowtows to Warden of Highspire, grateful for the protection of the sacred mountain, while Embergrower remained silent.

Only after the humans withdrew did Highspire stand up. He barely had time to call out Embergrower’s name before the trembling, white-haired old man slapped him hard across the face.

The ghost king youth suddenly bared his fierce claws, growling low and preparing to lunge at Embergrower, but Warden of Highspire stopped him with an outstretched hand.